He didn’t even blink when I slapped him upside the head. Clearly, I was losing my touch with the kid because all he could do was grin at my meltdown.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” I warn Pita. Did I care it’s been almost two days since he called to tell me he needed a phone charger? No, I didn’t. Because I had thought the worst. In my mind, he was tied up in a ditch or dying of starvation in a closet. Instead, he lost his charger and was wanting to use mine. Kids today really had to prioritize what constituted an emergency. And since I was his unofficial guardian, I was going to need pills.
“I said I was sorry, twice. Moving on, what’s on the books for today?” he asks, stealing my cucumber.
“I’m trailing another cheater.”
That, and I was avoiding Dion. It was a chicken shit thing to do but his intensity and surety about us was hard to wrap my head around. He speaks of our future as if it’s a done deal and we haven’t dated, let alone had sex yet.
The one sexless night with him was spent with Dion constantly pressing me for more, and while I wasn’t necessarily opposed to it, I wanted the chance to think it through. I mean, is it too much to ask that we grab a pizza first? Maybe run a background check and devise a pros and cons spreadsheet? At the very least, I need to see what’s behind his slacks. What woman goes all in without touching the merchandise?
Plus, all my life I’ve lacked impulse control. While it’s served me well in some cases, in others it’s blown up in my face. If I wasn’t careful… this had nuclear disaster written all over it.
Because I liked Dion, I liked spending time with him. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to spend all my time with him. Because I was a free bird, a man clipping my wings wouldn’t work for me or him. Before I left, he had outlined all the things he wanted together. As in, this week. And I freaked out, internally. Externally though, I played it cool.
Plus, I did have jobs to finish and dealing with my feelings would have to wait.
“We are trailing a cheater,” he wags his eyebrows at me. From what I knew so far, the man in question was harmless. I mean yes, he was a cheating pig, but a harmless one. Giving in to Pita I say, “Fine you can come.”
“Yes!”
“But, it’s to observe. Think of it as a training exercise.”
“Whatever you say, boss lady.”
After paying the bill, we climb into my car and head toward the tip I was given. The wife who hired me had dug up so much on her husband, I nearly offered her a job. Seriously, pissed off women get shit done.
Twenty minutes into surveillance, and Pita was already antsy. He was changing the radio station every three seconds and tapping his foot. The kid would need to learn patience if he ever wanted to make it in this business.
“Stop fidgeting,” I snap at him because it was making me fidget.
When a song he liked came on, he started rapping and I wondered how hard it would be to get blood off the upholstery. “Pita. Pita. Pita, Pita, Pita, Pita. I got broads in Atlanta, twistin’ dope, lean and the fanta –”
“What in the hell are you saying?”
“It’s called Panda but I changed it to Pita. Do you like it?”
Turning it off, I explain, “I can’t like what I don’t understand.”
“I’m sweaty,” he complains still fidgeting. “Why does your car smell like feet?”
“Excuse me,” I point at the floor. “But that smell is coming from your feet.”
“Oh,” he mumbles leaning down to get a whiff. “My bad. Anyway, we followed him here, watched him go inside with a woman who is not his wife and we haven’t busted him yet. What are you waiting for? The second coming of Christ?”
“While the odds are slim, it is possible she is not the other woman. Yes, my gut says I have all I need but, his wife will require actual proof. This is not a job where people take you at your word. You bust your ass and give them as much information as you can so they can never turn the tables and blame you. Especially when it comes to marriages. People do crazy shit when hearts and alimony are involved.”
“Like what?”
“Like sticking by the cheater, looking the other way, choosing denial and accusing you of wrong doing even though they called you in the first place. Divorces are confusing and painful. You convince yourself the person you loved was good and finding out they’re not can mess with your head. For some, they cut ties and move on. For others, they can’t. They go back and spend the rest of their lives…wondering.”
“Did you do that?” he asks randomly. “Go back?”
“No,” I say staring out of the window unwilling to dwell on my past or talk about it. “I didn’t go back.”
“You’re too bad ass for that, Boss.”
“But I haven’t moved on either.”
“Why not?”
Just then the man and woman in question exited the building hand-in-hand saving me from saying shit I shouldn’t be saying. Honestly, I don’t know what prompted me up to open my mouth at all.
Wait, yes I do.
Dion.
The man who I want but do not deserve.
“Mercy?” he asks bringing me back to the present.
“Sorry,” I say grabbing the camera and taking as many photos as possible from the car. Zooming in, I capture him kissing her and noticed he was sloppy, rushed and not wearing his ring. He kissed nothing like Dion. Ugh, I needed to focus. Once she drove off, I waited for him to do the same and when he passed by us, I leaned out of my window snagging a photo of his plate before he got inside of his car.
“Stay here,” I advise Pita, using my boss voice.
“Where are you going?” he questions anyway.
“Just stay put,” I growl. “And make sure my car doesn’t get stolen.”
Crossing the street, I walk inside of the building and straight to the front desk. Showing my badge, I ask the clerk who the couple was. The initial hesitation was taken care of when I slid two tickets for the Lions game across the desk. It’s a thing I do. I’ve got tickets for everything, good tickets. I also have vouchers for strip clubs, bars and private events. Huh. Maybe I should get Dion in on this.
The tickets of course, did the trick because the kid couldn’t wait to spill.
“Thanks,” I say offering a fist bump and I no sooner cleared the door, he was on the phone sharing his luck.
I had just handed Pita my camera when a force hit me lifting me off the ground sending me straight to my back.
With an oomph, I went splat but refused to stay down and play vulnerable.
Quickly coming to my feet, I loosen up my arms, taking a defensive stance.
“That bitch hired you to follow me,” he spews. Well, so much for being harmless.
“I have never seen you before in my life,” I lie.
“I saw you taking photos of me.”
“Sorry,” I shrug. “If I was taking photos it wasn’t of you. Let’s be honest, the camera doesn’t love you.”
“Give it to me,” he orders.
“About that,” I say stepping forward. “I’m going with no.”
“You will give me that camera or –”
“Or what? You’ll wait until I’m not looking to ransack me again?”
“I want that camera!” he roars lunging forward.
Clamping down on his wrist, I twist, applying pressure at the same time. When he squeals, taking a knee, I give him another tweak before jacking him in the nuts. Keeling over, I yell to Pita, “Camera.”
Tossing it to me, I snap this man's bad luck at every angle. Camera in hand, I squat next to him and tsk. “When will you men learn; no means no?”
“Do-you-,” he likely coughs up a testicle. “Know who I am?”
“I’m thinking broke, divorced, and pissing sideways. Would you like to add an assault charge?”
“—Pay for this,” he threatens weakly.
“Maybe,” I shrug. “But not today, man-whore. Buh-bye now.”
My final scene was zapping his ass for good measure. Leaving him flopping around in the road, I slide into my car handing Pita the camera. “File’s in the door. Send everything to the wife within the next hour.”
“Holy shit,” he wheezes with round eyes. Dammit, that scene was not supposed to happen in front of him. Actually, it shouldn’t have happened at all.
“An hour, Pita, can you do that?”
“Duh,” he says sarcastically. “But when are we going to talk about the smackdown you just gave back there?”
“Let me check the time. Oh, we’re not.”
“Like hell we’re not,” he argues. “How did you learn to do that?”
“It’s called practice and patience,” I explain. “Two things you have absolutely zero of.”
“You gotta teach me!” he begs bouncing in his seat.
“I don’t gotta do anything,” I say, making a right and heading to my office. “But, if you can get that file out in time, I’ll consider showing you a move or two.”
Pulling in, I grab my bag, leaving the rest to Pita. Waving to Ember who was giving advice to a customer, I yanked Pita with me when he stopped to be nosey. “Move it, pervert.”
Inside my office, I sync up my music giving Pita my desk space to work. For the next fifteen minutes, I zoned out hoping to clear my mind.
Checking my phone, I read the text from Dion telling me to dinner. I decided to deal with his bossiness later. Because my immediate response was yes but I wasn’t sold that it should be. Playing hard to get was a lost art, I was certain of it.
Opening my own laptop, I was checking messages and invoices when Pita announces, “Done.”
“It’s scary how fast you are,” I mumble in pride.
“Motivate me with rewards and I’ll come through every time.”
“I’ll remember that,” I chuckle.
“Why set up shop in a toy store?” he asks snagging an apple.
“The proper term is adult novelty store,” I correct. “And why not?”
“You work with dicks all day,” he says smirking at his own joke.
“Which is no different than my previous employment. However here, I’m the boss and I needed the write offs.”
Not exactly true but the kid is nineteen and I wasn’t giving him a lesson in hiding money and tax exemptions. He was learning enough from Ember about the benefits of ball gags, lube and safe words.
“Hook me up with Ember,” he says watching her from the monitor.
My best friend is hilariously nutty. She’s been perpetually dating since junior high and happened to be an excellent sales woman. Truly, she can make you buy anything. So why not dicks, dildos, porn and lingerie? When I bought this place, the intent was to hold onto it until my funds were clear. Then one night at happy hour I spilled my guts, shared my idea and Ember said, “I want in. I’ll be the best dick slinger in the Mid-West.”
And she was. Our store brought in almost just as much as my investigative work.
Turns out A Dick in Your Box was a crowd pleaser.
“You’re not ready for Ember.”
“I’m not ready for field work, I’m not ready for Ember. So, what am I ready for?”
“Would you rather I tell you-you can have and do whatever you want? That you don’t have to work for it? Should I say if you pout enough, someone will give it to you? Or, do you want me to say you tried and that’s what counts?”
“Let me think about it,” he says looking at the ceiling. “Yes!”
“No one gives you anything for nothing, Pita. You fight, you hustle and then you wake up and do it again. When you fail, you suck it up, learn from it and keep failing until you get it right. You say you want to learn this business.”
“I do,” he insists.
“Then you show up, you pay attention and you learn.”
“I gotta pay my dues,” he mumbles.
“You have to earn it, Pita. The right way. The safe way. It took me years to make it this far and none of those years were easy. I had no help. No one to guide me or teach me. I failed until I got it right.”
“Well,” he says turning his laptop to face me. “It looks like I got something right.”
Looking at the monitor I groan, “You filmed me?”
“Hell yes I filmed you and it’s already got over five thousand views.”
“When did you post it?”
“While we were driving.”
“Less than an hour ago?”
“Yeah,” he grins. “Am I good or what?”
Starting it from the beginning, I watch myself take the man down and wince as Pita narrates. Pointing to the screen I ask him, “What does that mean?”
“That is the number of times the video has been shared.”
Dropping my head into my hands I knew two things.
1) I never should have allowed him to film me in the field and,
2) This was going to absolutely bite me in the ass
When Pita told me he was good with computers, I had him do my website. Then he designed my marketing ads, business cards and invoices. He was wiz and I appreciated the help since I sucked at technology. So roughly nine months ago, when he told me about his passion for film, I was so happy he was opening up to me, I agreed to let him take video literally thinking it would go nowhere.
I never logged on to watch it. I wasn’t into social media. Honestly, I could barely type. When Pita said I had followers, I never bothered to ask what he meant. And I had no one but myself to blame for letting it go this far. And by far, I mean, out of control.