“Yeah,” Joseph said slowly. “Yeah, she’s good.”
“We’ll need to find another server. Do you know anyone?”
“I can find someone,” he said.
She’d called Sam. Had Evergreen squared away, to the extent that it could be.
One thing left on her to do list.
Bobby.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to go looking for him. He leaned against the end of the bar, having a glass of wine, holding up the goblet and checking out the red’s legs.
“Hey, Emily,” he said.
“Bobby.”
He could have someone at the airport. Someone in the restaurant. A customer. A busboy. The bartender. And it didn’t have to be sinister. Just, “give me a call when Emily gets in, okay?”
“You have a few?” he asked.
“Sure. Let’s take a walk.”
No way she wanted to have this discussion inside Evergreen.
Fog dripped onto the flagstones of the plaza, and someone had hung a large red bra from the outstretched arm of the McKinley statue. Double D?
Bobby adjusted his Kangol hat low on his forehead. Michelle zipped her fleece up to her chin.
“So, I guess Jeff ran into some trouble,” Bobby said.
Michelle nodded.
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s doing okay.”
“Does he… I mean, do you need anything, or, is there something I can do…?”
Can you get him out of jail? she wanted to ask. “Not really.”
Bobby paused at the foot of the statue. It was a quiet night on the plaza. The fall term hadn’t started yet. A group of homeless men, passing around a paper bag. A couple of tweakers, a guy with a neck tattoo and a woman with sunken cheeks and skeletal limbs. A few knots of college kids who lived in town kicked a hacky sack around, and a violinist dressed in a 49ers hoodie played a concerto-a famous one, but she couldn’t remember what it was called. No one seemed to be listening.
“Look… Jeff does me a solid, I’ll do him one. You know?”
“No, I don’t know,” she said, irritated. A “solid”? Who talked like that, other than a frat boy? And Bobby was somewhere in his fifties. “What are you saying, exactly?”
“Just that he stands up for me, I’ll stand up for him.”
“And what, what does that even mean, you’ll stand up for him?” she snapped. “What can you actually do?”
Bobby glanced around. Made sure no one was in earshot. “I’m not tied to any of it, okay? I mean, whatever he says, there’s nothing to back it up.”
“He hasn’t said anything. Jesus.”
“I know, I know,” Bobby said quickly. “Jeff’s a stand-up guy, no worries about that.”
“If you’re not worried, then what’s this conversation about?”
He readjusted his cap once more. Michelle fought the urge to knock it off his head.
“Just checking in. Making sure we’re on the same page. Because there’s some guys who’re pretty pissed off they didn’t get their delivery. They’re gonna want to take it out on somebody. So we need to stick together on this. Right?”
He stared at her a moment, his eyes unusually steady behind his round tortoiseshell glasses.
“Right,” she said.
Chapter Nine
She booked an extra day in San Francisco. She needed a break between the obligations that she had in Arcata and the craziness she’d committed to in Houston.
Also, she needed to do something about her hair.
She’d always worn her hair shoulder length or longer. “Don’t cut it,” Tom had murmured, twining her hair in his fingers. “Don’t ever cut it.”
“You have such great hair,” everyone had always said.
The problem was, the last thing she needed was her face turning up on CNN or whatever, her standing at the shoulder of Caitlin O’Connor looking exactly like the Emily that people knew back in Arcata.
Changing her hair wasn’t foolproof, but at least it might discourage people from looking twice.
“I’m thinking short,” she told the stylist who stood behind her chair, the two of them staring into the three-sided mirror. “And maybe we should have some fun with the color.”
“You want to just go for blonde? I mean, obviously fake blonde.” He framed her face with his hands. “I think you could pull it off.”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Oh, I love the hair!”
Michelle smiled and twitched a shrug. “I figured it was time for a change.”
“Change can be good, or so everybody tells me.” Caitlin laughed. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure they’re full of shit. Change is overrated, in my book.”
As before, Michelle had met Caitlin in the Great Room. It was just after 4 p.m., and Caitlin had a bottle of chardonnay on ice. She looked to be on her second glass.
“I guess it depends,” Michelle said. She’d been ready to leave Tom, at the end, or so she told herself, but who knew if she actually would have gone through with it? When the change had finally happened, she hadn’t had a choice.
She thought about Danny. “I’ve had both good and bad,” she said.
Danny being both.
Caitlin poured a fresh glass of chardonnay and held it out to Michelle.
“Thanks, but I should probably get settled in first.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Caitlin waved like she was shooing off a fly. “We can start tomorrow. I don’t have anything going on till that fundraiser in… I think it’s Los Angeles. But it’s not till next Tuesday.” Her brow wrinkled. “Or maybe Wednesday?”
“I’ll make sure to check.”
She’d gotten into Houston yesterday. Rented a car at the airport. Gone to the corporate housing Porter had recommended, on the outskirts of River Oaks but still only a ten-minute drive to Caitlin’s house. The rental office was sleek, soothing, a large room that resembled a community center at a condo complex, with tall ceilings, fabric-draped walls highlighted by sconces, a coffee urn and water with lemon slices, and a large salt water aquarium.
She’d picked the smallest, cheapest unit available. One bedroom. Second floor. Two easy points of entry, the front door and a window close to it. She’d have those wired with a cheap alarm system. Nothing that would stop a pro, but it might surprise someone who didn’t expect it.
The apartment was furnished with industrial upholstered chairs and a love seat done in rust and hunter green. The back window overlooked a main street, which in the direction of Caitlin’s house was lined largely with oaks and the backs of estates. Then, at the intersection where her complex was, it shifted to a mix of businesses: restaurants, realtors, a florist. From her window she could glimpse the sign for a “gentlemen’s club” called The Zone Erotique.
Was there any zoning in Houston, she wondered?
Think of it as a hotel room, she told herself. That’s all it really is.
After that, she’d gone to the AT&T store to get a new phone, and a new number. Michelle could have a real phone now, though she’d have to be careful with it. Anything other than a burner, anything attached to a regular account, with GPS, with useful apps, Gary could easily track.
I need to buy more burners, she thought.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with today?” Michelle asked Caitlin now.
“No, I don’t think so, hon. Come on by tomorrow morning, and I’ll make sure someone’s here from the office to help you get set up on the computer here, and bring you over a laptop for the road. Make sure we get our calendars in sync.”
“All right.” Probably for the best. She needed to do some shopping, buy bedding and a coffeemaker and a few other things for the apartment.
Michelle took a last sip of her chardonnay. Too bad she shouldn’t finish it. Much better than what Caitlin poured the last time.