Because Dion rode over with Roger, he was my passenger for the drive home.
And don’t freak out, I was totally sober. Diane needed the liquid courage today not me. After explaining this to Dion for the second time, I snagged the ticket from my windshield, crumbled it up and ask him to, “Shove it in the glovebox for me.”
Opening it up, when the rest of my infractions fall out he sighs, “Jesus, there’s got to be sixty tickets in here. You do plan to pay these, right?”
“I’m saving up,” I say pulling into traffic.
“The money?”
“No, the time. I’d like to knock it all out in one trip.”
“I’ve got a question,” he says shoving them all back.
“Odds are good that I have an answer.”
“You owned a sex shop so, where are all of your sex toys?”
“I have a bullet and a clutch vibrator, what more do I need?” at his silence I ask, “Did you think I sat around trying them all out?”
“No,” he grins. “But I was hoping you did.”
“If you ask nicely, I’ll give you a live demonstration.”
“You’ll give me one, regardless,” he says squeezing my thigh. “You can’t say no to me.”
“True. And you know, my liquid courage theory is officially iron clad. Diane is scientific proof that I’m right.”
“How did you know she’d do it?”
Being honest I admit, “At first, I didn’t. But I had high hopes and was there in case she froze.”
And then when I ran over a curb Dion started groaning, “Fuck, Mercy, do you have any idea what curbs do to your under carriage?”
Waving him off, I explain, “I care about my under carriage because? The only one who will see it is the one I run over, so why stress it?”
“You’ve run a person over?”
“What, are you the cops?”
Laughing, he takes my hand in his and squeezes. “No, I’m not the cops.”
“Then sit there and look pretty.”
“I hate to kill the moment but we have things to discuss.”
“Way to preface killing the mood by actually doing it,” I deadpan.
“We’ve still got no leads on who was responsible for the damage to your shop, touched your face and strapped you to a God damn chair with enough fake C4 to level a small country. This is not typical PI shit we’re dealing with here and I think we need to go to the police. We need help, resources.”
“You can say bomb,” I inform him. “Some fuckwit used a bomb on my shop. Likely the same son of a bitch who Tyson’d my face and strapped a fake exploding vest to my chest. And I am the help and the resources, Dion. Hell, we don’t even know where to start, so what makes you think the police will? They may ask for my help from time to time, but my career choice is a running joke to most of them. Bottom line, we’re on our own.”
“This needs our total focus, Mercy. Your safety is too important to ignore.”
“I’m not ignoring anything,” I say with attitude. “But until I have something to go on, I’m no closer to answers than you are.”
“Why are you not more upset about this?” he asks tensely. “You don’t look over your shoulder or take extra precautions. You can’t pretend this didn’t happen.”
“Dion,” I sigh. “Just because I play it cool doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention. Over the years, I’ve pissed off enough people that it would take a miracle to figure out who it is and I’m not a fan of guesswork. All I know is, if this person or persons wanted me dead; I’d be dead.”
“You think they’re toying with you?”
“I think they’re warning me off; but the question is, off what? And until they fuck up and show their hand, which they will, criminals always do, all we can do is prepare for it.”
“If I asked you to lay low, take some time off, would you do it?”
“Nope.”
“That’s what I thought,” he says with pure frustration.
“You wanted to partner up,” I remind him. “So, this is me asking you to do exactly that. We don’t run, we don’t hide, and we don’t lay low. We have each other’s back without question. So, I guess the big question is, are you still with me, Dion?”
Letting out a harsh breath, he squeezes my hand and vows, “Yeah Mercy, I’m with you. And when we find out who’s behind this, I’m killing them, slowly.”
“God, I love it when you talk dirty.”
“When I get you home,” he says in a gravely tone. “I’m going to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you. But first, Roger and Diane want to celebrate her violent side by treating us to dinner tonight.”
Giving him my biggest smile, I clap enthusiastically and laugh when he grabs the wheel so we won’t crash.
“I’m requesting you wear a dress,” he says seductively. “Never seen you in a dress, Mercy.”
“For you,” I say glancing his way. “Anything.”
Searching my eyes, he asks, “Anything?”
“Until I fall asleep and again when I wake up.”
“I’ll always know. I can sense it. I can see it, smell it, taste it. I’ll always know what you need.”
I know this to be true because two and a half hours later, Dion knew I needed Benadryl.
Turns out, I’m allergic to oysters.