Water Mark by J.M. Redmann

Author:J.M. Redmann [Redmann, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781602821798
Google: ufcaQwAACAAJ
Amazon: 1602821798
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2010-09-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Torbin insisted on taking me to his house. He knew that Cordelia and I were still wallowing in relationship limbo, that I wasn’t likely to go to the house in Treme with heat, and that my office down in Bywater still lacked gas service. He tossed me in one bathroom and Liz in another, with instructions to get ourselves in some hot water.

Halfway through my shower, the door briefly opened. Torbin shouted, “Incoming,” and tossed a heap of sweatpants, Tshirts, socks, and just about anything else I might want to wear. I let the water wash over me. After having been so chilled, I felt like the world had possibilities again. A voice whispered in my head that it was okay. I had warm water and Torbin was on my side, still willing to rescue me. And lend me his clothes. I quickly dressed, wanting to keep the warmth from the shower caught in the cloth.

When I emerged, Torbin and Andy were in the kitchen making hot chocolate, the real kind with milk and cocoa.

“We all got a little chilly,” he said.

Liz joined us. Torbin and I are close to the same size, so I wasn’t quite as lost in the borrowed clothes as she was.

He handed me a steaming cup and I took a sip. “Ah, chocolate and being toasty warm. Life is good.” At the moment, it didn’t even feel like a lie to say it.

Out of the seeming blue, Torbin asked, “Can you find out what kind of car that woman drives?”

“Patty What’s-Her-Name?” I asked. “Why?”

“No one pushes my lavender cousin into a swimming pool in December and gets away with it. It’s time to go nuclear. Shrimp in the hubcaps.”

Taking her cup of cocoa, Liz asked, “Shrimp in the hubcaps? Why?”

Andy answered. “Revenge is a dish best served cold. Put the shrimp in when the weather is like this and no one will notice for a while. Then have a few hot days and the car will smell like rotting fish.”

“And no one ever looks in the hubcaps,” Torbin said with glee.

“I am never crossing any of you,” Liz said, but there was admiration in her voice.

“Many times merely the plotting was enough,” Torbin said, “but this might have to be one of those times when the fantasy just doesn’t do it.”

“I can probably find out what kind of car she drives,” I offered.

“Do so,” Torbin said, “and we’ll take it from there. We have to make sure it is indeed her car. It’s too tacky to shrimp someone else.”

“I’m glad you have some morals,” Liz said wryly.

“Only the most immoral kind,” Torbin clarified.

From our nefarious plotting we moved to sorting out practical details. Liz’s rental car was still Uptown where we’d parked it. She was polite enough to offer to get a cab, which Torbin turned down. She seemed relieved, like whatever happened here was a much better adventure than going back to her hotel room alone.

We decided that cars could wait until tomorrow. That left sleeping arrangements.

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