Raid
Page 23
None of this made me happy, most especially my friends duping me and putting me in danger of being arrested for a felony I had no knowledge of, but also me being such an idiot. Heck, I actually paid Heather to do it. But there was nothing I could do about it except feel relief it was over.
The other part of my day was spent calling the boutique owners that were in the areas the police suspected the drugs were shipped to and, luckily, Bodhi was right. None of them were the wiser. They had no idea and Sherriff Joe advised me not to tell them.
“What’s done is done and unless they read the Willow Chronicle, they’ll never know and don’t need to know.”
I decided to take him up on his advice.
For some reason, Bodhi had used his one phone call to call me, and when I picked up he said, “Banana.” Banana was his what I once thought was sweet, now I thought was unoriginal and grating, nickname for me. “Please don’t hang up. Heather and I wanna ex—”
I’d hung up.
I also told Raiden about this call.
He seemed less happy about it than I was.
“Any more attempts at contact, honey, you disconnect and call me immediately. I’ll shut that shit down,” he’d ordered and the way he did, in his rough and commanding voice edged with more than a hint of anger, I just nodded.
Close to the end of the meal, Raiden had asked, “How’s Miss Mildred about all this shit?”
This was another part of my day I didn’t like, and it was the part I didn’t like it most of all.
“She was shocked,” I answered, a quaver in my voice. I cleared my throat to wash it away. “Upset for me. Worried in general about the state of the world. Rocked that something like this could happen in Willow. Shaken that it happened, and that it happened to me.” I locked eyes with him and concluded, “Not good.”
“Church tomorrow?” he asked, and I nodded again. “She got someone with her tonight?”
“Eunice, her widowed neighbor, is over. They’re watching movies.”
“Good,” he muttered.
“I’m going to keep a closer eye on her for a while,” I told him. “She acts eighty, which everyone knows is the new sixty-five, but she’s not and I can’t forget that. I did manage to talk her into not calling my folks or Jeremy.”
At that, Raiden’s brows shot together before he asked, “Why the f**k did you do that?”
“Uh, sweetheart, Grams freaked. You think I want my parents to freak?” His chin weirdly jolted back when I said the word “sweetheart”, but I ignored that and kept going. “Like Sherriff Joe said, it’s over and they don’t need to know, which, for them, means they don’t need to worry.”
“Baby, not sure that’s a good plan,” Raiden noted gently.
“Sat with Grams and saw her face, Raiden, her hands shaking,” I replied and finished firmly. “It might not be good, but it’s my plan.”
He let it go for which I was grateful.
Now we were at the Deluxe after he’d paid for dinner and tipped his sister. He paid for the tickets and paid for movie refreshments we did not need after a big sandwich and Rachelle’s Colorado-wide famous seasoned shoestring fries.
I knew without worrying even a second about it that this date, without a doubt, was going well, and after our two kisses I was nervous, but excited, about what came after the movies.
But first, I got two movies.
I slid down the aisle and did it babbling, “Film noir night. My favorite night of the year at the Deluxe. And best of all, this year, Sunset Boulevard and Chinatown.”
I sat, immediately tossed my purse in the empty seat beside me and shifted up the armrest—after a huge fundraising drive, the Deluxe had updated their seats two years before. They rocked. They reclined. You could lift up the armrests. They had cupholders. They were awesome.
I reached up to Raiden and divested him of my drink and slid it in my cupholder. As he folded into his seat I relieved him of the popcorn and plonked it down in the area between us that was freed by the raised armrest.
Perfect for both of us to get to.
I also kept blabbing.
“My two favorite noirs, though Touch of Evil and Double Indemnity are up there, and Chinatown is a little creepy, you know, considering the whole Faye Dunaway-John Huston thing, which is gross. I won’t ruin it if you haven’t seen it but… serious ick. I mean, it also isn’t classic noir because it was released in the seventies, but it still kicks noir booty. And Sunset Boulevard is otherwise known as noir lush, this, obviously, according to me. But Billy Wilder may be my favorite director and screenwriter of all time. Sunset Boulevard. Double Indemnity. Sabrina. The Apartment. Some Like It Hot. Noir. Romance. Comedy. He was the master of it all. Seriously, sheer talent.”
Suddenly, Raiden yanked the popcorn from between us and kernels flew everywhere. His arm went around my shoulders. He tugged me into his side and dumped the bucket in my lap. He then lifted his hand to my jaw, tipped my head back and laid a hot, heavy, wet, long kiss on me right in the Deluxe that was not even half filled, but still.
He came up for air, which luckily gave me the chance to suck some in at the same time I was trying to control my rapidly beating heart and the pulse throbbing between my legs.
“Not pissed about the double feature anymore, seein’ as you’re so fired up about it,” he murmured.
“Okay, well… good,” I replied, my voice breathy. I got control of the breathy before I went on to inform him inanely, “You got popcorn everywhere.”
“Don’t f**kin’ care.”
There was no reply to that so I made none.
“I’m gettin’ you really like movies,” he noted.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
His hand, still at my jaw, slid back into my hair. “Then live it up, honey.”
He tipped my head down and kissed my forehead before his hand slid out of my hair, taking its time, traveling the entire length. He curled away from me, but held me close with his arm still around my shoulders.
I focused on regulating my breath.
Then, as the lights went down, I said, “I hope you like the movies.”
“I’ll like ‘em,” he replied, and I twisted my neck to look up at him.
“You like noir?” I asked tardily, then continued, “Have you already seen these films?”
“Not a movie person, or never was. Haven’t seen either. But bein’ in the dark with you close, givin’ you something you like to do, don’t give a f**k what it is. Just glad to be doing it.”
The other part of my day was spent calling the boutique owners that were in the areas the police suspected the drugs were shipped to and, luckily, Bodhi was right. None of them were the wiser. They had no idea and Sherriff Joe advised me not to tell them.
“What’s done is done and unless they read the Willow Chronicle, they’ll never know and don’t need to know.”
I decided to take him up on his advice.
For some reason, Bodhi had used his one phone call to call me, and when I picked up he said, “Banana.” Banana was his what I once thought was sweet, now I thought was unoriginal and grating, nickname for me. “Please don’t hang up. Heather and I wanna ex—”
I’d hung up.
I also told Raiden about this call.
He seemed less happy about it than I was.
“Any more attempts at contact, honey, you disconnect and call me immediately. I’ll shut that shit down,” he’d ordered and the way he did, in his rough and commanding voice edged with more than a hint of anger, I just nodded.
Close to the end of the meal, Raiden had asked, “How’s Miss Mildred about all this shit?”
This was another part of my day I didn’t like, and it was the part I didn’t like it most of all.
“She was shocked,” I answered, a quaver in my voice. I cleared my throat to wash it away. “Upset for me. Worried in general about the state of the world. Rocked that something like this could happen in Willow. Shaken that it happened, and that it happened to me.” I locked eyes with him and concluded, “Not good.”
“Church tomorrow?” he asked, and I nodded again. “She got someone with her tonight?”
“Eunice, her widowed neighbor, is over. They’re watching movies.”
“Good,” he muttered.
“I’m going to keep a closer eye on her for a while,” I told him. “She acts eighty, which everyone knows is the new sixty-five, but she’s not and I can’t forget that. I did manage to talk her into not calling my folks or Jeremy.”
At that, Raiden’s brows shot together before he asked, “Why the f**k did you do that?”
“Uh, sweetheart, Grams freaked. You think I want my parents to freak?” His chin weirdly jolted back when I said the word “sweetheart”, but I ignored that and kept going. “Like Sherriff Joe said, it’s over and they don’t need to know, which, for them, means they don’t need to worry.”
“Baby, not sure that’s a good plan,” Raiden noted gently.
“Sat with Grams and saw her face, Raiden, her hands shaking,” I replied and finished firmly. “It might not be good, but it’s my plan.”
He let it go for which I was grateful.
Now we were at the Deluxe after he’d paid for dinner and tipped his sister. He paid for the tickets and paid for movie refreshments we did not need after a big sandwich and Rachelle’s Colorado-wide famous seasoned shoestring fries.
I knew without worrying even a second about it that this date, without a doubt, was going well, and after our two kisses I was nervous, but excited, about what came after the movies.
But first, I got two movies.
I slid down the aisle and did it babbling, “Film noir night. My favorite night of the year at the Deluxe. And best of all, this year, Sunset Boulevard and Chinatown.”
I sat, immediately tossed my purse in the empty seat beside me and shifted up the armrest—after a huge fundraising drive, the Deluxe had updated their seats two years before. They rocked. They reclined. You could lift up the armrests. They had cupholders. They were awesome.
I reached up to Raiden and divested him of my drink and slid it in my cupholder. As he folded into his seat I relieved him of the popcorn and plonked it down in the area between us that was freed by the raised armrest.
Perfect for both of us to get to.
I also kept blabbing.
“My two favorite noirs, though Touch of Evil and Double Indemnity are up there, and Chinatown is a little creepy, you know, considering the whole Faye Dunaway-John Huston thing, which is gross. I won’t ruin it if you haven’t seen it but… serious ick. I mean, it also isn’t classic noir because it was released in the seventies, but it still kicks noir booty. And Sunset Boulevard is otherwise known as noir lush, this, obviously, according to me. But Billy Wilder may be my favorite director and screenwriter of all time. Sunset Boulevard. Double Indemnity. Sabrina. The Apartment. Some Like It Hot. Noir. Romance. Comedy. He was the master of it all. Seriously, sheer talent.”
Suddenly, Raiden yanked the popcorn from between us and kernels flew everywhere. His arm went around my shoulders. He tugged me into his side and dumped the bucket in my lap. He then lifted his hand to my jaw, tipped my head back and laid a hot, heavy, wet, long kiss on me right in the Deluxe that was not even half filled, but still.
He came up for air, which luckily gave me the chance to suck some in at the same time I was trying to control my rapidly beating heart and the pulse throbbing between my legs.
“Not pissed about the double feature anymore, seein’ as you’re so fired up about it,” he murmured.
“Okay, well… good,” I replied, my voice breathy. I got control of the breathy before I went on to inform him inanely, “You got popcorn everywhere.”
“Don’t f**kin’ care.”
There was no reply to that so I made none.
“I’m gettin’ you really like movies,” he noted.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
His hand, still at my jaw, slid back into my hair. “Then live it up, honey.”
He tipped my head down and kissed my forehead before his hand slid out of my hair, taking its time, traveling the entire length. He curled away from me, but held me close with his arm still around my shoulders.
I focused on regulating my breath.
Then, as the lights went down, I said, “I hope you like the movies.”
“I’ll like ‘em,” he replied, and I twisted my neck to look up at him.
“You like noir?” I asked tardily, then continued, “Have you already seen these films?”
“Not a movie person, or never was. Haven’t seen either. But bein’ in the dark with you close, givin’ you something you like to do, don’t give a f**k what it is. Just glad to be doing it.”
