So up to Harker’s Wood I went when no one could see me. I looked around, combed that wood so thoroughly that by now I knew it like the back of my hand.
But I never found anything.
I also, like Benji and Serenity, never gave up.
Until now.
I hadn’t shared the recent events because both of them were openly hoping that our activities would reach a desirable conclusion, make Chace take notice of me and then, promptly, fall head over heels in love with me.
Obviously, this wasn’t going to happen.
So now it was time for us to stop trying to do what we were never going to do anyway. Even if Benji had hacked into the Carnal Police Department’s computer server and Serenity had somehow managed to hack into and follow along with conversations and text messages on more than a dozen cell phones.
And what we were trying to do that we’d never do was find Misty Keaton’s murderer.
Furthermore, even before the recent unpleasant and confusing (but unfortunately, for several beautiful moments, also excruciatingly exciting) Chace Encounters, I was getting worried.
This was because Serenity was turning up names that my own lame, internet searches showed were wealthy, powerful people. Big money. Old money. Judges. Businessmen. Politicians. Powerbrokers.
Serenity was convinced that the now dead ringleader of a dirty band of dirty cops, Arnold Fuller, had these guys in his pocket. And Serenity was convinced that even though Fuller was very dead, a man like him couldn’t yank the chains of men like that unless he had the goods on them. And last, Serenity was convinced that these goods did not die with Fuller.
They were out there.
She also thought that if we found Misty’s murderer, we’d find this. In the brouhaha that followed Ty Walker’s exoneration and the exposure of corruption in Carnal, none of this came out.
So Serenity was convinced there was another shoe that would drop and the best way for a shoe to drop without causing any damage was to aim it yourself.
As you could imagine, this did not fill me with glee. It didn’t even fill me with trepidation. It filled me with the desire to run screaming from this pet project and never look back.
Alas, Benji and Serenity were dug in. Fortunately, Serenity’s real identity was hidden so far behind a wall of her computer cunning that it was likely no one could hack it. And Benji lived in England so, hopefully, the long reach of Colorado money and power wouldn’t extend that far.
But I was done. Chace had called my charms “limited” and my kiss “bullshit fumbling” so I wasn’t actually done. I was done. I didn’t want any reminders of him. Luckily, I worked in the library, a building, to my knowledge, he’d never stepped foot inside of in thirteen years. And since I was the only paid employee at the library, I figured it was safe to say he never had and therefore never would. And I wasn’t going back to the diner. I was also giving up La-La Land coffee. This stunk. Shambles and Sunny’s coffee was awesome and Shambles’s baked goods were to die for.
But these were the only times my path could cross with any regularity with Chace Keaton’s so until the burn of his words faded away, I was avoiding them.
Benji and Serenity, I couldn’t control. They were adults (I hoped) and they were far from stupid. Maybe less involved in the real word even than I was but not stupid.
And for my part, I’d just keep warning them.
Benji, we weren’t, I typed. And I’m not comfortable with what we’re uncovering and you shouldn’t be comfortable with it either. It’s really none of our business. Things are good in Carnal again. I have a strong feeling, a very strong one, we should let this sleeping dog lie.
But what about Chace? Benji typed back and I closed my eyes.
Then I opened them in order to lie again.
He has a girlfriend.
What!?!?!?!
I pulled in a breath and kept lying.
Yeah. I saw him with her the other day. They look really close. She’s super pretty.
OMG! Why didn’t you say anything?!?!?
I just needed some time to give up a dream.
Oh Inara (this, by the way, was my screen name because Nathan Fillion’s character was in love with Inara’s character on Firefly – actually my full screen name was Inara000 since there were a gazillion Inaras out there) don’t say that. Is this thing new with him? Maybe it won’t work out.
That isn’t part of caring about someone, Benji, even if you care about them from afar, hoping they won’t be happy. He wasn’t happy with Misty. Now he looks happy with this new lady. He’s moving on. I should too.
Don’t give up hope. You never know, Benji replied.
No, what I know is, I’ve been home from college for seven years and he hasn’t noticed me. He’s been a widower for seven months and he hasn’t noticed me. This means he’s probably never going to notice me. I have a life to live to, Ben. And I should probably start living it.
My eyes remained on the screen as nothing came back from Benji for a while then it did.
I’m sorry, Faye. But you’re probably right. Still, I hope you find someone spectacular because you deserve that and when Chace Keaton finally gets his head straight and notices you, then he can feel a little of what you’re feeling now, knowing you’re happy and that happy isn’t ever going to be with him.
I wouldn’t hold my breath for that to happen.
This I did not share with Benji.
A Benji that, reading his words, I was reminded of all the reasons why, even though I’d never met him and probably never would, I loved him.
Instead, I typed, It’s getting late here, Ben. I need to go to bed.
Right, he returned, I’ll let you go. Back tomorrow?
Probably, I answered and I probably would be back tomorrow. Sitting in my apartment at my computer talking to people I knew well but had never met. Nor would I probably ever meet seeing as they were social misfits.
Like me.
Twenty-nine and never been laid. I’d hardly ever been kissed and I was pining for a man I’d never have who was real and another one who was a fictional character on a long-since cancelled television show.
“Yep,” I whispered as I typed, Later, Ben. “I need to get a life.”
I read his farewell then shut down my computer.
Then I wandered to my couch.
There was one thing in my life that could be considered kickass. This was my apartment.
It was the space over Holly’s Flower Shop on Main Street. This meant, on frequent occasions, it smelled like flowers. It also meant I could walk to work. Considering my car was a dark green junker Jeep Cherokee my Dad handed down to me seven years ago upon my graduation from college, being able to walk to work and anywhere else I needed to go in my narrow life was a good thing.