“Well, you’re just making this a habit, aren’t you?” Kami asked as I walked into her shop.
“Hey there, Kami.”
“So what’s wrong with your life today?” Kami asked.
“So. Fucking. Much.”
“Perfect. Come back into my office of coping mechanisms and take your pick.”
When I woke up yesterday morning alone, I knew I had to leave Brookings. I couldn’t do this back and forth with Zach any longer. I couldn’t start something with a man that was nine hours away.
How the hell was I supposed to come clean with him and then expect him to move forward with me? How the fuck was I supposed to take a man I had been watching and somehow turn it into a productive relationship? The only logical decision was to leave it all behind.
But when I fell asleep last night and dreamed of Zach’s smile, I knew I was in trouble.
Kami gestured around at the variety of desserts. “We’ve got sin-namon rolls and red velvet cupcakes. I’ve got a German Chocolate cake that’s about to be finished. And I’ve perfected my blackberry cobbler.”
“Then the cobbler’s what I’ll have. The last time I tried it, it was shit.”
Kami smiled sweetly at me. “Thanks, bitch. Now, spill your guts.”
“Aren’t you going to have any?” I asked.
“I’m waiting for the cake. When did you get back into town?”
“Last night.”
“And you didn’t come straight here?” she asked. “What kind of best friend are you?”
“The kind that needed sleep,” I said.
“Well, you’re not in the office, and it isn’t lunch time. What’s going on?”
“The job got called off,” I said.
“The one with the guy in Oregon?” she asked.
“Yep. That one. My client—well, Mr. Kent—said he would still pay me the full sum, even though I only worked for, like, a week.”
“Wait, Mr. Kent?” she asked.
“Yeah. The man that owns Kent Enterprises.”
“Your fucking client was Kent Laine? Why the hell have you been calling him Mr. Kent and not Mr. Laine?”
I ignored her question. “You know who that is?”
“I’m shocked you don’t. How the hell do you live in Seattle and not know who that man is?”
I shrugged. “Anyway, yes. He was my client. And he called off the job for reasons I still don’t know. He said he’d give me a raving review to my boss or some shit like that.”
“Well, this is a good thing if you ask me.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Now you can quit your job and focus on your painting. You did say this was your last job with them, right?”
“I guess.”
“Then it’s settled. You can focus on your painting, and in the meantime, you can come work for me.”
“Work for you?” I asked. “With what baking experience?”
“Shit, girl. You wouldn’t bake a damn thing, but I need help around here. Cleaning, customer service, taking orders. It would be a full-time gig. It won’t pay you what you’re making now, but you’ll break even without tapping into whatever you managed to stow away.”
“Hey, I’m not bad at saving money,” I said.
“Whatever. The point is, now you can work on being happy.”
“That’s the thing, though,” I said. “I’m not sure quitting my job would make me happy.”
“But you’re miserable there. You told me yourself.”
“I know, and I am. I was. I don’t know. Fuck, you know how I am with loose ends and shit.”
I stabbed my cobbler before I scooped a spoonful and took it between my lips. The sugary sweetness ignited in my mouth, causing me to moan. I could feel Kami’s grin bearing down on me as I took another massive bite, chewing as quickly as I could and swallowing it whole.
“Whoa, slow down there, Augustus Gloop.”
“This is fucking amazing, Kami. You need to sell this shit in stores.”
“If they want it, they can come get it from me,” she said. “Now, what’s this shit about not being happy? You know your painting makes you happy.”
“It does, but I just don’t feel like painting right now.”
“Why not?”
I thought back to the half-finished painting in the back of my car and sighed.
“No inspiration, I guess.”
“You just spent time in an oceanside city in Oregon, fucking a man you still aren’t quite sure is innocent. How the hell is that not inspiration?”
“It’s just not, okay?!” I startled even myself with how loud that statement came out.
“Okay, girl. Just take a breath. You’re wound really tightly right now.”
“No fucking joke,” I said, sighing. “I thought a good night’s rest would help, but it only made it worse.”
“Did you dream?” she asked
I felt my body lock up at her question as my eyes panned up to hers. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Sometimes our dreams can stress us out or make us feel things we wished we didn’t. Like nightmares and waking up scared. What did you dream of?”
“I didn’t say I did.”
“You’re getting defensive. That means you did dream, and that I’m on the right track. Just let me work my magic for a second. I’m too tired to pull this shit out of you.”
“Fine. Yes, I had a dream about Zach.”
“The guy from Oregon?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like a fun little case of a broken heart,” she said.
“I didn’t fall in love with him,” I said.
“But you got accustomed to him. You spent enough time around him for your body to get used to him, and now you’re experiencing withdrawals.”
“I’m not addicted to him,” I said.
“I didn’t accuse you of being anything but attached to him. You got attached—however that’s registering emotionally in your body—and now he’s not here. And it’s freaking you out. Coupled with this shit with your job and all the unanswered questions you now have to live with, I can see why you’d be stressed.”
I twirled her words around in my mind before I drew in a deep breath. “So, what now?”
“You quit, Paige. You’re miserable at that job, and that’s a fact. And if you don’t wanna work here, then we’ll find you another job. Something that’ll give you time to paint. Because if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s how much you fucking love to paint.”
She was right. Even though I didn’t feel the spark of inspiration now, eventually that would fade. My passion for my art would come back, and it would consume me, swallow me whole, and wrap me in its embrace, and never let me go.
Shit, I was thinking of Zach again. When the hell was that going to stop?
“I gotta get to the office and submit all the shit I had on this case,” I said.
“And then you’ll quit?” Kami asked.
“I’ll call you the second I walk out for good.”
“I’ll be waiting by my phone.”
I finished my cobbler and drove to my cramped little office to gather up my things. I didn’t have much here that was mine. I could carry the whole of my private investigator career in the palm of my hand.
I shoved everything into my purse before I started gathering up Zach’s profile. I took all the information I could find, and I shoved it into the manila envelope Mr. Kent had given me. My boss would be waiting to file away all this shit as soon as I could get it to him.
Something told me to sit down at my desk, so I did.
Even though I hated this job, I reminisced. I thought about all the client meetings I tried to have in here before I relented and started having them at the coffee shop up the block. I thought about all the sleepless nights I spent in this office, dreading going to my apartment because of how unsafe I felt there. I thought about all the people who came to find me, crying and hugging me and telling me how much my work had meant to them.
I decided to send an email to my connections to let them know I was retiring.
I pulled up my email to write my farewell letter when something caught my eye. It was an email I hadn’t read yet, and I snickered when I saw who it was from. I’d emailed this joke of a contact when this case first began. I’d wanted him to unlock some shit I couldn’t access with regard to Zach’s past.
“A bit late for that now,” I said, murmuring.
Still, I opened up the email to see what he’d sent me. I found a slew of PDF files that popped up in front of my eyes. I scanned the documents, and the pieces quickly fell together in my mind.
Holy fucking hell, Zach had changed his name when he turned eighteen. His original last name was Laine, just like Mr. Kent’s. Interesting.
I clicked through the other documents, seeing records of multiple hospital visits Zach made as a child. I saw other documents proving to me that the information Mr. Kent had handed to me was false.
But it was the document at the very end that caught my eye
I printed everything out and shoved it into the manila envelope. My boss could deal with everything else with regard to Mr. Kent. I didn’t want to stand in the presence of that man ever again. If I did, I wasn’t sure I could be held liable for what I would do to that man.
The very last document didn’t go in the envelope. I kept it for myself. It was an avenue I was going to explore personally. An issue I was going to take up with Zach.
I scribbled a note to my boss, telling him that I was quitting, and then I taped it to the envelope and ran it over to his office. I shoved it underneath his door without even bothering to see if he was there. Then I ran to my car. It was going to be a long drive, but no matter how things ended up between Zach and me, he deserved to know what I knew.
At the very least, I needed to see him again to ask if he knew.