“Save our parks!” I yelled the next Tuesday morning, holding up my sign and standing with the hundreds of others who’d shown up to protest the Walmart that was scheduled to be built on park land.

“Recreation not retail…iation!” Izzy shouted then giggled at her made-up word. Since Corey had wanted to catch up with some friends before flying out to see his parents, it worked out perfectly and she could attend the protest with me, her payback, she’d said, for all the times she’d left me alone at parties. Huh.

“More peddling bikes, not peddling wares!” Chet hollered through the megaphone he held and from where he stood at the front of the crowd.

The three of us had met at the Starbucks down the block an hour and a half earlier where we’d made our signs then headed over to the park where razing equipment—bulldozers, backhoes, excavators—was in abundance and we’d succeeded in stopping the carnage for now. Everything had gone great until I heard loud voices behind me.

I turned to see one of the protestors standing by some huge contraption—Chet told me later it was a front-end loader—and confronting a burly construction guy who looked like he was ready to blow his top.

“You’re ruining our city!” the protestor screamed, holding his arms out and blocking the guy from getting into the machine.

“I’m just trying to feed my family!” the worker yelled back.

That was all well and good until the protestor, a man who looked to be in his forties, took a swing at the hardhat and ended up on the ground with his arm twisted behind him. And chaos ensued. Pushing. Shoving. Arm twisting. Ergh.

Tossing my sign (yep, I totally littered), I grabbed Izzy’s hand and turned to make a dash for it. And ran smackdab into a solid blue wall.

“Oof!” came out of me as I bounced off and down onto my butt.

Looking up, up, up scanning long, powerful legs, a trim waist and broad shoulders, my eyes realized Zane in all his navy-uniform glory was looking down at me through aviator glasses with that damned dimply smirk.

“Having fun?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes and grabbing Izzy’s hands she held out to me, stood. As I wiped the dirt from my rear, I answered sarcastically, “Tons.”

His face then went serious. “You ladies need to get out of here before you get arrested.”

He didn’t have to tell us twice. Izzy and I took off jogging for the Starbucks where I’d parked, but not before she turned, yelled “Hey!” at Zane and holding her hand to her face, thumb at her ear and pinky at her mouth, imparted, “Call her!”

“Are you serious right now,” I hissed, wanting to smack her upside the head.

At my car, we stopped, both of us with our hands on our knees as we tried catching our breath.

“Thank God I’m in shape from Corey and me screwing like rabbits the past two days or I’d probably pass out right now!” she said. “Whew!”

“I can’t believe you did that,” I muttered, getting in the driver’s side.

“Screwed like rabbits?” she asked as she put on her seatbelt.

“No! Told Zane to call me!”

She giggled. “Well, now the door’s opened and we’ll just see if you’re only a booty call!”

As we drove away, shaking my head, I scolded, “What if I didn’t want the door opened?”

~*~*~*~

That afternoon, I hollered at my boss who was in the back office, “Randy? Do we have ELO’s Out of the Blue album?”

“Just sold the last one a couple months ago, but get their number and I’ll make some calls and see what I can come up with,” he yelled back.

I passed on that information to the customer on the phone, got their phone number and hung up. Then I continued reading the Seattle Times as I sat at the counter. I’d already checked to make sure all the albums and 45s were alphabetized, dusted then swept the entire store and taken inventory of the items in the case that included signed t-shirts, guitar picks and straps from various rock bands from days gone by.

I loved my job at the record store. It was fun, easy (bonus!) and I loved the Grants, especially Alicia, Randy’s wife. When I’d first come to Seattle, after moving in to Chet’s, I’d applied various places in search of a job that’d work around my class schedule. I’d gone into the sandwich shop next door to apply as a waitress and on the way out had seen the Help Wanted sign in Vinyl Impressions’ window. Thinking I had nothing to lose, I went in, talked to Alicia for a few minutes and she hired me on the spot. I’m pretty sure the fact that we both had purple hair at the time sealed the deal, as she’d informed me it was her trademark color and that in the sixties, she’d had to use grape Kool-Aid to dye it. I also learned that when she was eighteen, she and her friend—without telling their parents—hitchhiked cross-country to go to Woodstock, which is where she met Randy. She said it was love at first sight when she’d seen him playing air guitar while Santana was on stage. Randy had noticed her watching him and come over to introduce himself, then they’d had “two glorious days together.” When the festival was over, he promised he’d come for her. They kept in touch and two years later, he showed up on her doorstep asking her parents’ permission to marry her. They objected saying he was “a worthless hippy,” but what they didn’t know was he’d invested in some stocks and had made a hefty sum of money. To her parents’ dismay, they eloped a year later, and they didn’t speak for ten years. But Randy kept investing—Apple, Microsoft, Nike—which paid off big time, and seeing his success and wanting to be a part of their grandkids’ lives, her parents finally forgave her (which I thought no forgiveness was necessary as she’d done nothing wrong and I told her they sounded a lot like my parents, but whatever) and accepted Randy, who’d gone on to become a venture capitalist—and even wealthier—and just a year later, they’d been set for life. She said the record store was just a hobby for them as were the video game store, carwash and rent houses they owned, but she loved the record store the most, which I totally understood because it was an awesome place.

The Grants insisted on paying me five dollars above minimum wage which I at first balked at, but since they paid the other workers, Kelvin and Chance, the same, I took it. I tried doing as much as I could to justify getting paid that much, sometimes falling flat, but at least I tried.

So there I sat reading the paper when I saw in big letters on page three:

Powers Moves Up in Rank, Promoted to Detective  

by Scout Powers

My eyes flitted through the article quickly where I found that Zane had gone through detective training, a Sergeant Dillard praised him, saying he “felt Powers would be a positive addition to the department,” and Zane Powers himself was quoted: I look forward to my new position, and I’m ready to work alongside the other detectives in helping to make the city a safer place.

That sounded so Zane.

Or at least what I knew of him it did. Which wasn’t a lot.

And who was this Scout Powers? I wondered if he was any relation. Or was it a she?

I had so many questions I needed answered when it came to Zane Powers.

And there I went again, my inquiring mind wanting to know all about him while not really wanting to share much of myself.

~*~*~*~*~

Ever have that feeling you’re being watched?

As in, you’re fast asleep and something lets you know you need to open your eyes now?

That was me the next morning at the crack of frigging dawn.

My senses immediately alerted me that something wasn’t right, and I sat up in bed looking around to see what had me frazzled.

“What the fuck!” I screamed seeing someone standing at the foot of my bed. I grabbed my glasses (the boring ones I used at home) and shoved them on. “Rusty! What the hell are you doing?” I yelled again, pulling the covers up to my tank-top-covered chest.

“Heard you’re seein’ a cop,” he said, his tone accusatory.

I frowned and squinted at the same time as I ran my fingers through my messy hair to get it out of my face. Rusty and I had never really chatted and he’d damn sure never come into my room before. So, although I knew him, I didn’t really know him. “What’re you talking about?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Jimbo saw you at O’Leary’s the other night gettin’ friendly with a cop. Said you went in the bathroom and he followed.”

Holy shit.

I blew out a breath, fully awake now. “First of all, it’s none of your business who I see. Second, I’m not seeing him. Third, what does it matter if I am?”

“Just watch yourself, you feel me?”

Ugh. I hated that saying since he said it all the damned time.

“What?” I asked incredulously.

Thing is, while Izzy had speculated on what Rusty and Chet did, I honestly hadn’t given it much thought. Naïve I know, but I figured since Chet planned rallies for saving the earth, he couldn’t be a bad guy. And if he wasn’t bad, he wouldn’t be hanging out with someone who was.

Eyes still narrowed, I asked, “Are you and Chet involved in something illegal?”

He let out a dark chuckle. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Jillian,” he said creepily and took a step forward.

“Chet!” I screamed as I threw the covers back, springing out of bed and running out of my room, not caring that along with the tank top, I was wearing boy shorts. As I ran down the hallway, I shouted again. “Chet!”

“What?” I heard him call from the living room, and as I rounded the corner, I ran right into him.

I turned to see Rusty chasing me, ready to throw me down and do whatever vile things he could, but he wasn’t there.

Holding me by my shaking shoulders, Chet asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Rusty was in my room when I woke up! He told me to stop seeing this cop I’ve only been with a couple times! What the fuck, Chet? He was in my room!” I heard laughing from behind and broke away from Chet’s hold turning to see Rusty, arms crossed and leaning against the hallway door frame smiling.

“What’s going on?” Chet asked him.

Rusty snorted. “Nothing. I was just being ornery and went in JB’s room to tease her.”

Tease me? WTActualF?

I stared at Rusty like he was the crazy freaking asshole he was. “You were not teasing,” I spit out.

He snorted. “Oh, Jilly Bean, I’m just drunk and wanted to rile you up. Mission accomplished.” He turned to go to his room but looked back at me. “Learn to take a joke. Jesus.” I heard him chuckling all the way down the hallway to his room.

Looking up at Chet, I whisper-hissed, “That bastard is fucking crazy. He was in my room!”

“He didn’t touch you, did he?”

“No. Just creeped me the hell out.”

“I’ll talk to him, okay? Guess you’re gonna have to lock your door from now on, though. But if you or I catch him again, he’s gone, all right?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, still freaked out. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What is it you guys do when you go out at night? Iz thinks you’re drug dealers.” I watched his face to see if there was any tell-tale sign like a twitch or something but got nothing. “She also says you could be gigolos.”

He barked out a laugh. “I’d be living in a fucking mansion if that were the case. You know I’d get top dollar for this body.” He winked but I only gave him a halfhearted smile. “Hey, we’re not doing anything bad at all, JB.” He shrugged. “Usually, I find a high-stakes poker game to jump in on. Other times, we meet with a guy named Rod who’s trying to get his video game company launched. I told him I’d go in with him as a partner whenever he’s ready. The games Russ and I play here are ones he’s developed and they’re pretty kickass. He’s just waiting for another investor and then we’ll be good to go.”

 “And Rusty’s with you the whole time when you’re at these places?”

“Well, no. I’m not his babysitter. He has shit to do, so he does it then we usually meet back here later.” He shrugged innocently.

Hm.

“Does he work?” I questioned, extremely suspicious of my other roommate now.

“He works the nightshift at that little grocery store near downtown. You know the one that has all the fresh fish outside? Works for a guy named Theo Antonius.”

“It’s open all night?”

“No. But Rusty stocks shelves and picks up orders. You know how some fishermen only go out at night. Russ meets them at the dock and brings the catch back in.”

“What if he’s doing illegal shit for this Theo guy? What if he’s a drug dealer? You ever thought of that?”

Chet shook his head. “I’ve gone with him before. Usually, it’s just what I said. We wait for a boat to come in, Russ loads the fish barrels in the truck and takes it back to the store and unloads them into the freezer.” He scratched the side of his jaw. “I know it sounds kinda, well, fishy, but I’m pretty sure it’s on the up and up.” His look of uncertainty had me on edge.

Voice low, I questioned, “Do you really want someone like him living here?”

“Like what?” Rusty asked, walking around the corner into the living room, arms across his chest again.

“Like you. You’re probably doing bad things for this Theo guy,” I accused.

Rusty chuckled. “Theo practically raised me. When my dad died, I was only fifteen. I had to help my mom out with the bills. Theo found me at the poolhall on Hudson one night and took me under his wing. I’ve worked for him since.”

He walked to the kitchen where I heard the fridge open, and I cut my eyes at Chet letting him know I was not happy with the arrangement any longer just as Rusty came in drinking a beer.

“You two want one?” He put his thumb over his shoulder, pointing back at the kitchen. “I can go get you one.”

I glared as Chet told him no, and I swear you could’ve cut the tension in the room with a knife.

“Look, all I do is pick up fish and stock the freezer. I make sure the shelves are full for the next day. That’s it,” Rusty explained.

He was lying. I could tell because my Spidey sense was at its spidiest. My lips thinned and I gave him a look. “Do not ever come into my room again.” I made to go to my bedroom but stopped and turning back added, “You feel me?”

His eyes let me know he wasn’t happy with me but I didn’t care. I went into my room and slammed the door, locking it before going back to bed.