“Sweetblossom,” he said without turning.
“How’d you guess?”
“I’m a detective, ma’am,” he turned to give her his little-boy grin, “paid by the City of Maddington to deduce these sorts of things.”
“Hey, deduce this.” She waved his bottle at him and set it on the table. “And don’t use that name in front of anybody else.”
He held his dirty hands away from her and leaned over to kiss the side of her neck in an awkward gesture.
Awkward, but effective.
“I hate that name,” she said. “But you, sir, can call me that anytime. As long as we’re alone.”
“Sweetblossom. Sweetblossom,” he whispered into her neck and kissed her again, then straightened up and washed his hands in the outdoor sink next to the grill.
“Take a load off, darling,” he said. His drawl was half-real, half-act.
“After what I was just threatened with,” she said, “sitting down doesn’t sound good.”
He shook the water off his hands and looked at her while she told him about her meeting with Bentley.
Joe said, “Bentley’s the same guy who cut the police budget and wants us to buy our own bullets, at least for practice. Said the city would still pay for any bullets that actually killed someone and accomplished something. Said teachers were glad to buy their own supplies, and we should be proud to support the city, too.”
Serenity took a long pull of her beer. “Hell, I’d be glad to pay for a big grilling fork like the one you’ve got there, heat it up over the grill, and take Bentley’s temperature by shoving—”
He put a finger on her lips like he was stopping her, but she knew it was just an excuse to touch her.
He looked into her eyes and said softly, “You never used to be so mean.”
“Who’s to blame for that? You’re the one who made me a Hammer. Before that, I was Serenity Sweetblossom, born in the back of a VW microbus and named by two of the most clueless old hippies who ever lit a joint.”
“I like your parents. They are who they are.”
“I like them, too. I just don’t want to be them. I used to dream of marrying somebody normal named Jones or Smith, maybe change Serenity to Sheila and fade away to a quiet white, picket fence life—a quiet life like a small-town librarian. Instead, I wound up a Hammer and spend my life fighting losing battles.”
“Aw, darling, you were always a hammer. Way your momma tells it, you were such a terror as a child, they had to change communes every six months. I just gave you the name.”
“When I was young,” she paused several seconds and he gave her space, “I didn’t give up, didn’t give in, didn’t put up with crap, and I didn’t suffer fools gladly. I rebelled against everything in their hippie world and kept threatening to run away to the ‘normal’ world. Now that I’ve been in the normal world for twenty years and should be some kind of pillar of the community, it seems all I do is smile and pretend and take crap to keep my books alive. Smile and take crap. Even that’s not enough anymore.” She leaned into him. “Here at home is the only place I can get away and be with somebody I can always be honest with. So, what you got for me tonight?”
“Grouper steaks, with a Mojo rub I’m trying with a little Slap Yo Mamma added. Black beans and heart-of-palm salad. All for my Sweetblossom.”
She put her arms around his neck, her bottle resting on his back. “You don’t do the cooking to impress me. You cook because your favorite detective hero, Spencer, was always cooking.”
“Always honest, Serenity,” he said. “But Spencer was from Boston, and he cooked. In Alabama, men grill. For their womenfolk.” He kissed her and she had to pull away when she got hot and bothered.
“That’s one reason I’m proud of my sweet home Alabama. I’m also glad to have a husband who’s always honest with me.” She hesitated. “I’ve got to tell you something, though. I’m not sure how honest I was about something today.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“No, I didn’t lie to you. I’ve always been honest with you. Somebody else. But we’ve always made a big deal about our honesty. If I’m going to start telling lies, it’s going to affect your reputation, too.”
His eyebrow stayed up.
“You know Janice at the internet provider? I absolutely promised her I would have full payment to her by Friday. I’ve got no idea how to do it.”
He exhaled. “Oh, honey, you always find a way to make these things work. The Hammers have a way of doing things right.”
“Law and Order Joe.”
“Law and Order Hammers.”
“I guess,” she said. “I just wish to hell that people would stop patting me on the head and telling me I’ll find a way to do the impossible.” Even you.
“You can always quit and do something else,” Joe said. “I always thought you’d be a better cop than a librarian.”
“And I could carry a gun and shoot my troubles.”
“That’s the way it works. Believe me, Serenity. You’ve got a book of rules to follow in your world. I’ve got another book in mine, and mine is much dirtier. Stay where you are in the nice little library world.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Stay where you are, little girl. Play by the nice normal book, and beg for scraps. Think I heard a stronger version of that earlier today.”
“For right here, right now, let’s play by our own book.”
She looked far away, then blinked and nodded.
They chattered, teased, and bantered while Joe cooked. Then they ate standing up at the bar at the railing, watching a blue heron circle the lake. When the eating was done, Serenity said, “That was the best thing I’ve had all day.”
“Maybe we can make it second best,” said Joe. “You tired of standing?”
“Oh,” said Serenity. “You think I’m ready to sit down?”
“Oh,” said Joe. “I wasn’t thinking of sitting.”
Later, she propped herself up on one elbow and watched Joe snore. In a world where nothing else seemed right, there were still some things the two of them could make work. She studied the lines in his face. Yes. Still Waylon Jennings, she thought. Maybe with a touch of a graying Clint Eastwood.
seven
doom goes to hell
IT WAS THURSDAY MORNING, and Serenity had Doom in her office. Amanda Doom, actually, who was so mad that she was shaking.
What a start for a Thursday morning.
Doom was standing with her feet apart in a superhero pose she had probably picked up from the manga stack. One hand was on the hip of her skinny, black designer jeans. She wore them today with a tight blue Superman jersey with the big red “S”, dressing with as much power as she could muster. She dropped the other hand that had been pointing at Serenity like a loaded gun.
“Ms. Hammer,” Doom said, still shaking. “I worship you and I know you’re my boss.”
Serenity took a sip of her coffee and thought it might already be time to switch to rum. “Why do I always know that, when you start like that, I’m about to catch righteous bloody hell?”
“It’s not right,” she said. “Our mission here is to work for books and readers. You told me that when you hired me.”
“I know I told you that, but the city is right in that we work for them.”
Serenity tried to wave Doom silent but keeping Doom silent today would take more than a hand wave. “Bentley is behind this. Any man who’s trying to imprison books is wrong about everything.” She threw her head back and yelled. “Freeee-doom.”
Serenity studied her. “You came in ready to fight today.”
“Ready to fight after this.” She waved a wadded-up piece of paper at Serenity. “We are not going to do this.”
“I got the same memo and I hate it as much as you do. But they’re right. We’re city employees. If the city wants you in the computer room,—”