Power of the Mind (Shadowy Solutions Book 2), page 36
The knock came a few minutes later. Soft and tentative. Bracing, I opened the door and found Diem on the other side, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders bunched by his ears, thick scruff covering his jaw, and torment swimming in his gray eyes. Faint traces of cigarette smoke surrounded him, but I didn’t smell alcohol.
He didn’t look at me and focused intently on the carpet underfoot and the room over my shoulder. Once, he glanced down the hall like he wanted to escape instead. Usually, on nights he showed up looking for a random fuck, he wasn’t hesitant. He was also never sober.
He didn’t speak for a long time, heaving weighted sighs and scuffing his shoe on the baseboard in the hall more than once.
I waited, sensing a reluctance in his demeanor.
Diem’s lips moved like he was silently rehearsing lines, and then he glanced up. “I’m gonna royally fuck this up.”
I couldn’t help the smirk. Tilting my head to the side, I asked, “Royally fuck what up?”
He blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Look, I… I don’t want you to have to bring stupid ass fucking cases to my desk anymore. I hate it.”
“Okay.” I crossed my arms, uncertainty sinking in. “Meaning?”
“I don’t… That’s not what I meant. Fuck” He kicked the wall, spun, then faced me again. “What I mean is… I don’t want to… When I’m… Tallus.” My name quivered, and he clenched his jaw.
“I’m listening, D. Just say whatever you have to say.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know. Let it out.”
His chest heaved, and he swiped his mouth again, nodding. “I don’t know how to be intimate. I can’t figure out… I want to touch you, but… I would make a shitty boyfriend because I’m fucking crippled in the bedroom. I have issues with touch, and I don’t know if I can share a bed with someone without losing my fucking mind. What you want is something I don’t think I can give you, but… but… Jesus.”
He paced down the hall, hands clutching the back of his bowed head like he was trying to hold it together. When he returned, he continued, “I’m probably going to lose my cool and put a fist through a wall because the clerk at the store didn’t bag my groceries properly, or some idiot cut me off on the expressway, or because I fucking hate myself because I said or did something stupid.
“I can’t stop smoking or drinking because I’m fucking stressed every minute of my goddamn life simply trying to be a normal fucking person. And I have a snake you hate. And my father still lords over my mind and life, but because my grandmother lives with him, I can’t cut him out. I can’t go a fucking week without chancing an encounter because Nana’s dying, and I refuse to stay away. Someday I’ll kill the motherfucking asshole. That’s not a joke. It’s a matter of time. I’ve thought far too much about it, and the thing is, I wouldn’t be sad. So maybe I am a homicidal maniac, and that’s the last thing you need in your life. Plus, I’m in therapy, and I will be until the day I die.”
He was unraveling before my eyes. His breathing turned thready. His muscles were so tightly coiled he shook uncontrollably.
“D?”
He squeezed his eyes closed and growled before opening them again, meeting my gaze for the first time since he’d arrived. He looked utterly wrecked. “I know I’m rambling, but please let me finish.”
“Okay.”
He swallowed several times and worked his hands open and shut. “Tomorrow is Friday night.” His voice remained strained. “If you’re absolutely sure you want to put up with a wreck like me… I would love to take you out for dinner. Like a date. As… Maybe as a…”
“Boyfriend?”
He nodded and looked at his feet.
Good lord, my heart couldn’t take it. I nudged his foot, and when he lifted his head again, I couldn’t stop smiling. “Let me get this straight. You, Diem Krause, are asking me out on a date?”
“I’m not a good bet, Tallus. I’m serious.”
“A date?”
“Yes. I fucking miss you. Not having you around is… It’s fucking me up even more. I’m going ballistic. I’ll do my best. I swear. It might not ever be good enough, and I’ll probably disappoint you, but—”
I closed our distance, took his face between my palms, and kissed him. He whimpered and staggered on his feet, but he kissed me back. Then Diem, the man who’d bared his heart and claimed incompetence when it came to relationships, gently rested a hand on the back of my head and drew me closer.
When we came apart, I was in his space. “You are so good enough, and I’d love to go out with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Then I swear to fucking god, he smiled.
37
Diem
On Friday night at seven, I parked outside Tallus’s building, popped another piece of Trident into my mouth, and pulled down the vanity mirror to see my reflection. Clean-shaven jaw. A fresh buzz. Clear eyes—however strained at the edges. I touched the more prominent scar on my face and cursed its existence. It stood out more when I went without scruff, but I was determined to look put together for this date, considering it was the first one I’d gone on in over a decade.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since I’d smoked my last cigarette, so the internal itch was ferocious, but I was hell-bent on quitting. This time for real.
After leaving Tallus’s place the previous night, I’d tossed the remainder of my cigarette pack into the garbage. With no alcohol in my system and no nicotine to alleviate my nerves, I was skating on the edge of a panic attack, focusing on everything that could go wrong instead of everything that might go right.
The evening had too many surreal qualities. While driving across the city, I almost convinced myself I was dreaming and would wake up alone in bed, single, and best friends with a red-tailed boa.
I checked my pocket for the form I’d printed earlier that day and gave myself an extra minute to allow that decision to absorb too. So many changes. I wondered what Dr. Peterson would say at our next appointment. I wondered what Nana might think if she was well enough to understand. I liked to imagine she’d be proud of me. That Boone would be proud too.
I got out of the Jeep and checked my clothes. Nice jeans. Polished army boots. A new shirt—nothing fancy, but it had buttons and a collar, and although too restrictive for my tastes, the guy at the store had assured me it was suitable for a first date.
Fuck me. A first date.
Unsteady and lightheaded, I aimed for the front lobby and buzzed Tallus’s apartment, reminding myself to use words to communicate. Sentences, if I could manage.
“I’m on my way down,” Tallus said instead of saying hello.
When he came out of the elevator, my breath caught. Tallus was gorgeous on a regular day, but spiffed up for a date was enough to make me swallow my tongue. If only his glasses weren’t broken.
He met me in the lobby, smiling with sultry mischief as he swayed. “See something you like, Guns?”
I nodded, still scanning the outfit. Black trousers. A shimmery, silky dress shirt splashed with turquoise, purple, and navy blue. Glittering buttons. A fringed scarf. Hair gelled in his signature just-been-fucked style, and was that a touch of eyeliner?
“Jesus.”
His hazel eyes sparkled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You look… amazing.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself. New shirt?”
I nodded.
Tallus ran a hand over my clean-shaven jaw. “Sorry I don’t have my glasses. I know how much you like them. Next week.”
I nodded mournfully. “When you get them back, give me the bill.”
“You’re not paying for them again. Not this time. I talked to my mother, and she’ll loan me—”
“Hilty’s paying. He owes me.”
Tallus tipped his head to the side in a manner that meant I should elaborate. “I convinced Doyle to keep Hilty’s name off the books. He wanted to question him about the little hostage fiasco in my office where he took you at knifepoint, but I made him swear not to. He was told to stick strictly to questions regarding his receptionist and ex.”
Tallus touched his neck where the cuts had long healed. “And Doyle was okay with that?”
“No, but he agreed. In exchange, that asshole Hilty is paying for your fucking glasses.”
“Fair enough. Does that mean you’ve talked to Doyle?”
“Yeah.”
Tallus huffed and planted his hands on his hips. “Wow. That shit hasn’t said a word to me. This was my case. Does he know that?”
I pressed my lips together and gestured to the door. “We’ll talk over dinner.”
Tallus’s animosity melted away and was replaced by a soft smile. “Sounds good. Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
I’d spent all day researching decent restaurants and choosing something I hoped Tallus would like. Getting a reservation on short notice on a Friday night was tricky, but I’d managed. It was a quiet, romantic spot near Pearson, highly recommended by the guy who’d sold me the shirt. Dim lighting, soft music, and private tables interspersed with plants and other decorations.
Our waiter showed us to a corner table and listed the specials. Tallus asked for a bottle of wine, and I went along with it, even though wine wasn’t my preference.
We chose our meals, and once the waiter had poured two glasses of red and wandered off, Tallus asked about the case. I knew it would be the focal point of the evening, so I figured I’d get it out of the way before presenting the other thing.
“Brodie Newall cracked in his interview. The minute he understood he was looking at eleven potential counts of manslaughter, he unraveled. He’s been dealing drugs since high school. Money was tight at home. His mother found out, but instead of reprimanding him, she made him a deal. He split his profits, and she would let him live at home for free and not report him to the cops.”
“Wow. She’s a winner.”
“Yeah. Brodie said his mother was always looking for ways to earn fast cash. She lived beyond her means and was constantly in financial trouble.”
Tallus’s fingers twitched, and he reached for his glass of wine, downing a hefty gulp. I had a feeling he commiserated with Sally Soape Opera but was too proud to admit it.
“Sally, or Sandra, has been helping field dejected clients to Rowena for years. People don’t always take to hypnotism or Hilty’s methods, and she underhandedly contacted these people after they left and suggested another option. Rowena paid her to bring in business. In fact, it was Rowena’s idea for Sally to apply at Hilty’s office.
“About a year and a half ago, Brodie got introduced to kratom and was doing a decent business with high schoolers. Sally must have mentioned it to Rowena, and Rowena, having done her own research, made a proposition. She believed it would help with client retention. The longer she could convince someone to seek therapy”—I added air quotes—“the more money she made. These people were in a lot of pain, and kratom would help alleviate it. And so it began. When Sally plucked files from Hilty’s discards, she not only suggested Rowena as an alternative, but she roped Brodie into giving up some product, and Rowena offered it as part of a free trial package. Once they were hooked, it meant more business for the psychic and cash in Brodie and Sally’s pockets. Not all took to it, but many did.”
“And they didn’t consider that most of Hilty’s clients were on several prescriptions already that kratom would alter how their drugs worked?”
“Exactly.”
“So Brodie was a pawn.”
I shrugged. “He was still dealing. Stole generic bottles and empty capsules from Janek’s store, printed his own labels, and sold them on the street to his friends. I’d say he’s just as accountable, but it’s not my call.”
“Wow. So the people in the files who didn’t die?”
“Either didn’t fall for the ruse and never continued taking it, or they weren’t as affected by the mixing of drugs.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Rowena’s license has been temporarily suspended while they investigate. Not sure what happens from here, but Doyle will figure it out.” I shrugged and swished the wine around the glass before setting it down without drinking it.
“You don’t like wine, do you?”
“It’s fine.” What I didn’t want was to be drinking at all.
Our meals arrived, and we chatted about the case as we ate, but even that died down after a while. Silence prevailed, and I didn’t know how to fill it. The incompetence I’d worried about surfaced. I was failing.
“You’re thinking too much,” Tallus said, smiling over his dinner.
“What?”
“You’re over there worrying yourself into a knot because the conversation grew quiet for five minutes.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Then say nothing and enjoy the company.” He winked and ate.
Could it be that easy? Was I overcomplicating it?
We finished our meals, and the waiter cleared our plates. Tallus ordered dessert, but I declined.
“I um… I have something to… show… to offer you.” I plucked the folded sheet of paper from my pocket as Tallus arched a brow.
“It’s um…” I unfolded it and hesitated before passing it across the table. “You can say no.”
Tallus read the sheet, his brows rising to his hairline before he glanced up. “Are you for real?”
“I can’t afford to hire you full-time, but if you pass the PI training course… I thought… I’m not good with people. I lose more jobs than I gain because I scare potential clients away. I’ll pay the enrollment fee. It’s fifty hours of online work, but—”
“Say it, D.”
“What?”
“Say it.”
I wrung my hands. “I thought maybe you’d like to graduate from nonpartner to… partner. You can’t quit your job. I’m serious. I don’t make enough to… I could probably swing a few hours a week. I mean, if you helped, if I could take on more jobs, then…”
Tallus took my hand. “You’re rambling.”
“I’m terrible at this.”
“Actually, you’ve gotten much better.”
“Do you wanna take the course?”
“Fucking right I do. I can’t believe it’s not a YouTube thing.”
I deadpanned.
“Or is that where I learn the extras like lockpicking?”
I tore the page from his hand. “Forget it. I changed my mind.”
“Nope. No takebacks.” He tried to grab the paper, but I tucked it away under my ass. Instead, Tallus leaned over the table and softly kissed my mouth. “You’re pretty amazing, Diem.”
And what blew my mind was that he meant it.
Smiling, I whispered, “You’re pretty amazing too.”
Tallus’s dessert arrived. The silence from before vanished. He rambled as he ate, chatting about work, Ruiz’s daughter’s princess birthday party, the shirt he owed Memphis but couldn’t afford, and how when he got his PI certification, he was going to redecorate my office because how could I work in such dreariness? Apparently, it needed pizzazz, whatever that meant.
His smile and energy were addictive. I could listen to him talk for the rest of my life and never get tired of hearing his voice. I might never figure out what Tallus saw in me, but he made me want to be a better person. I would learn how to be a good boyfriend. I would learn how to communicate, to be intimate.
I would do everything in my power not to fuck this up.
***
Stay tuned for Book 3 in the Shadowy Solutions series…
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