Time's Undoing by Cheryl A. Head

Author:Cheryl A. Head [Head, Cheryl A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

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The Crimson Bowl offers Asian-fusion fare and salads with lots of delectable options. I order a salad with plum tomatoes, bean sprouts, snow peas, cucumbers, and artichoke and add a skewer of grilled shrimp. Darius’s salad is basically surf and turf on a bed of greens.

“I bet vegetarians are stunned when they see this menu,” I say, staring at his six-ounce medium-well filet mignon next to a crab leg and surrounded by onion rings.

“It’s a salad. It’s healthy,” Darius announces, shoving a chunk of meat in his mouth.

“Right. Is that a lonely cucumber I see peeking out from under the crab?”

We share a bottle of Riesling, and our salad comes with a personal-size loaf of bread. The place is filled to capacity, and a few people are waiting outside the door. The dining room is decorated in white and citrus colors, giving it a fresh, modern look, plus the food is delicious. It’s easy to see why the place is so popular.

I tell Darius about my visit to the funeral home, my appointment tomorrow with the secretary of Monique’s church, my interview request with the police chief, and Kristen’s intercession with her father. He seems interested, but he’s quieter tonight and doesn’t ask a lot of questions. He agrees that reaching out to Kristen’s father is a shrewd strategy and offers to ask the mayor to intercede with the police department if I need another way in.

“You seem tired. Did you overdo it with the weights?” I ask, putting a tiny pat of butter onto my sourdough bread.

“Naw. I have a regular routine. I’m following it until my trainer says I need to do something else.”

Darius wears a cream-colored zip-up sweater, but earlier—on the elliptical, when he was wearing shorts and a sleeveless tee—I couldn’t help but notice his sculpted arms, thighs, and calves.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he says.

I look up from my bread, smile, then avert my eyes. “Well, I was thinking that since you have such great arms and legs, whatever you’re doing seems to be working just fine.”

He smiles and grabs his napkin to wipe it across his mouth, then leans toward me.

“And I was impressed with your parking and driving. You do Detroit proud.”

“I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“You do a lot of things well. You did that flip thing at the wall while you were swimming,” he says twirling his finger.

So he had been watching me.

“I was on the swim team at Stanford. Not a standout, but I held my own.”

“I’m sure you did. You’re an intriguing woman in many ways. I’ve been thinking a lot about you. It’s time to set that date.”

The night is mild, slightly muggy, and a full moon hovers so low over downtown Birmingham it looks like one of those man-made cityscapes at Disney World. Darius has suggested a drive to Vulcan Park—one of the city’s main tourist attractions.

The park and adjacent museum on top of Red Mountain are still open, and visitors pour into and out of the site.

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