The Roommate Arrangement Page 7

  Kim nodded as if sensing her unasked question. “He—”

  “Looks like you might need this.” Rae stood in the doorway, holding out Steph’s small, red toolbox. “Your sister found it in the box with your underwear.”

  Steph stared at her. “Um, why is she unpacking my underwear?”

  “Because you didn’t label the boxes, and she had no idea what was in there before she opened it up,” Rae said.

  She had a point there. Why on earth had she stuck the tools into the box with her underwear? “Great. That’ll definitely make it into Gabe’s stand-up routine.”

  Rae crossed the room, stepping carefully over the shelves scattered throughout, and handed her the toolbox. Her gaze searched Kim’s, and she radiated a protectiveness that seemed to engulf her friend. “You okay?” she asked so quietly that Steph nearly didn’t catch it.

  Kim nodded and got up from the floor. “I’m fine.”

  Steph swallowed against her dry mouth as she watched them interact. Clearly, there was some kind of bond between them, and she had a feeling it wasn’t only happy memories that tied them to each other. “If you need your helper back, I can manage the rest on my own.”

  Instead of once again declining any help, Rae nodded. “Thanks. I could use a second pair of hands in the bedroom.”

  “That’s what I always say,” Steph quipped because she couldn’t stand the sudden tension anymore.

  Kim smiled and patted her shoulder as if she knew exactly what Steph was doing.

  Rae followed her friend to the door, where she paused, glanced back at Steph, and gave her a curt nod.

  Toolbox in hand, Steph stayed behind, not sure what to make of her new roommate at all.

  Rae was breaking down the moving boxes she had already unpacked when Steph knocked on the open door. “Hey, it’s starting to look like someone lives here instead of a construction zone.”

  “Yeah, it’s getting there.” Rae let her gaze trail through the room. Compared to Steph’s room, which was crammed full of mismatched furniture, a huge scratch-off map of the world, photos of Steph with half a dozen different dogs, and more pictures of Steph with friends and family, Rae’s room looked pretty Spartan.

  Aside from her queen-size bed, there was only a dresser, a bedside table, a small desk, a chair, and the shelf with her books. Other than the dumbbells in the corner and the eye drops on the bedside table, she hadn’t left out any personal items.

  After growing up with parents who had elevated reusing and recycling to an art form, never throwing anything away and hording all kinds of clutter, this was how she liked to keep her home.

  Steph pointed over her shoulder. “I’m ordering pizza for the hungry masses. What kind do you want?”

  “I’m good, thanks. I’ll get something later.” Rae opened the next box, hoping Steph would take the hint.

  Instead, Steph leaned against the doorjamb. “Oh, come on. Pizza on moving day is a tradition. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who act as if eating a few carbs every now and then will be the end of civilization as we know it.”

  A ball of wadded-up newspaper arced through the air from the kitchen, where several people where unpacking dishes. It bounced off Steph’s head and rolled across the hardwood floor.

  “Hey, I said I’d eat a slice,” Claire called. She walked over and picked up the newspaper ball. “But if you had a job where you sit on your behind for most of the day, you’d have to watch what you eat too.”

  Steph rolled her eyes. “Just say it, Claire: ass.”

  Rae watched them banter back and forth. Unbelievable how different siblings could be. If they didn’t have the same blonde hair and pale gray eyes, she would have been convinced one of them had to be adopted.

  Finally, Claire’s fiancée ended the playful argument by interrupting Claire with a soft kiss and drawing her away.

  “So?” Steph turned back toward Rae. “Pepperoni okay? Kim said you’re not a vegetarian.”

  “Is she staying and having pizza with you guys?” Rae asked.

  “Yes. You’re the only holdout.” Steph tapped her fingers on the doorframe and sent her an expectant look.

  Well, if Kim was staying, Rae didn’t want to make it awkward for her by hiding out in her room. She suppressed a sigh. “Double cheese, please.”

  A grin spread over Steph’s face. “Got it.” She hurried off, the phone already pressed to her ear, rattling off an order for enough pizza to feed their entire neighborhood.

  An hour later, empty pizza boxes littered Steph’s coffee table and the moving boxes they’d pushed together to serve as an additional table. One of the comics had even brought a cooler full of beer, but Rae knew she’d have to drop off the U-Haul and get her car soon, so she didn’t want to drink.

  Besides, being in a room full of so many people chattering like a flock of scrub jays was already giving her a headache, even without any alcohol. She’d never been a people person, but since the shooting, social interaction seemed to have become even more exhausting. Under the pretense of getting some water from the tap, she escaped to the balcony and slid the glass door closed behind her, leaving only a tiny gap.

  As soon as the sound of too many voices faded away, the tension in her shoulders receded. Exhaling deeply, she leaned against the balcony railing and watched the breeze play with the leaves of the potted trees in the courtyard.

  They had really lucked out with this apartment, even though it was too soon to tell how lucky she’d been in the roommate department.

  Laughter drifted through the glass, pulling her attention back to the living area.

  Steph sat perched on one of the moving boxes, gesturing with a half-eaten slice of pizza while she regaled her friends with a story of her adventures touring the country. Clearly, she was in her element among so many people, and Rae wasn’t sure if she should pity her or envy her.

  One of the comics threw a work glove in Steph’s direction, which she ducked with a grin.

  The good-natured teasing between Steph and her comedy buddies and the slightly twisted sense of humor they shared reminded Rae of the camaraderie she used to have with the guys at the station. God, she missed it.

  Steph threw back the glove.

  Rae couldn’t hear what she was saying, but Claire seemed to nearly choke on the bite of pizza Lana had fed her, and Kim doubled over, laughing so hard that she was clutching her sides.

  A reflexive smile curled Rae’s lips, and that felt as unfamiliar as the sight of Kim laughing. This was the first time she’d seen Kim laugh so freely since Mike had died. Warmth filled her, and she was glad she’d accepted Steph’s invitation to join them for pizza. Still smiling, she turned back around and watched a cat cross the courtyard.

  The glass door slid open behind her. The noise of laughter and chatter hit her like a brick wall before the door was closed again, shutting Rae and whoever had joined her off from the rest of the group.

  Well, the peace and quiet had been nice while it lasted.

  Rae turned.

  She had expected to be faced with Kim or maybe Steph, but instead, Claire stood in front of her. Even though she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, like most of the other helpers, hers were obviously brand-new, and the bottle of beer in her hand looked somehow out of place. She set it on the floor as if she didn’t quite know what to do with it.

  Claire stepped next to her at the railing and looked down at the courtyard for a while. Just when Rae thought she might get away without having to make small talk, Claire pointed over her shoulder. “I needed a breather. They can get a little rambunctious.”

  Rae let out a noncommittal hum since she wasn’t sure what answer was expected, plus she didn’t want to encourage a drawn-out conversation.

  “Yes, I know, I know.” Claire chuckled. “You’d think a psychologist would be much more of a people person, right
?”

  “You’re a psychologist?” Rae struggled not to take a step back. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t help it. After a couple of mandatory counseling sessions with the department shrink, psychologists were to her what dentists were to other people.

  Claire gave her a mild smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to psychoanalyze you, no matter what my little sister might have said about me in her comedy routine.”

  “Actually, I’ve never even seen her routine.”

  “Ah, so you just don’t like psychologists.” Claire was still smiling. Even though she and Steph looked a lot alike, her more reserved smile was nothing like her sister’s carefree grin.

  Rae shrugged. “Don’t take it personally.”

  “I won’t. I’m used to it. When I first met Lana, she wanted nothing to do with a psychologist either.”

  Rae followed Claire’s gaze through the glass to where Lana had flopped down unceremoniously on the living room floor. She turned her head as if sensing her fiancée’s gaze on her, and a warm smile spread over her face as she gave them a wave.

  This time, there was nothing reserved about Claire’s answering smile. It transformed her carefully controlled expression into one of unrestrained love and adoration.

  Watching them together made Rae vaguely uncomfortable, maybe because it felt as if she was intruding into something very private. “Guess she changed her mind.”

  Claire laughed, and the rest of her reserve disappeared. “I’d hope so. We’re getting married next year.”

  “Congratulations,” Rae said.

  “Thank you.” With obvious reluctance, Claire took her gaze off Lana to study Rae. “What about you? Are you like Steph, enjoying single life too much to ever consider settling down?”

  Rae squinted over at her. This was starting to feel like her fitness-for-duty evaluation. Was Claire being a protective older sister, questioning her to find out if Rae would try to seduce her baby sister?

  Before Rae could answer, Steph pushed open the sliding door a bit farther and stuck her head through the widening gap. She didn’t step outside as if sensing that the last thing Rae wanted was more company.

  But at the moment, Rae was actually happy at the interruption.

  Steph narrowed her eyes at her sister. “You’re not telling Rae about all the stunts I pulled as a kid, are you?”

  “No,” Claire said. “Even the abridged version would take us a week, and I doubt Rae has that much time on her hands.”

  “Haha. And they say I’m the comic in the family.” Steph turned toward Rae. “Hey, I was thinking. Why don’t we take the U-Hauls back together? Gabe can follow us in his car and then drop you and Kim off at your old place so you can get your car.”

  “I can take an Uber,” Rae said.

  “I know you can, but why would you? We’re roommates now.”

  Oh Christ on a bike. If she added, That practically makes us family, Rae would be out of here.

  Chuckling as if she knew exactly what Rae was thinking, Steph called over to the living area, “We’re leaving to drop off the U-Hauls, guys. That means everyone out!”

  Even though Rae didn’t like owing her yet another favor, she had to suppress a chuckle at Steph’s frank approach. If she’d known it would be so easy to get rid of the crowd, she might have tried it earlier.

  CHAPTER 6

  Sometimes, being a comedian sucked. No health insurance, no retirement plan, no respect from her family, and the pay was shittier than that of a waitress. But stand-up comedy came with one unexpected perk: it was a chick magnet. Most women—and many men—thought it was damn sexy how she could hop up on stage with confidence and make a room full of strangers laugh.

  Inviting a date to one of her shows had never failed to work its magic, and judging from the way Allison was nibbling her neck now, it was definitely working tonight.

  The show in the tiny room of a comedy club in Burbank had ended half an hour ago, but they were still standing next to their cars in the parking lot, making out like two teenagers.

  “God, that was good,” Allison said when they came up for air.

  Steph trailed her index finger along the curve of Allison’s collarbone, which her low-cut top revealed. “Never had any complaints.”

  “Mm, that too, but I was talking about your show,” Allison said. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen any good stand-up, but you blew me away.”

  Steph gave her a playfully rakish grin. “If I’m that good up on stage, image what I can do in bed.”

  Allison giggled like a schoolgirl, but the heated look she threw her was quite adult. “Why just imagine it? I’d be willing to find out if you are.”

  No games. Straight to the point. Steph liked that in a woman. But she wanted to make sure they were on the same page anyway. “I’m game. But I need to make one thing clear before we take this any further. I think you’re really great and fun to hang out with, but I’m trying to get my big break in comedy, so there’s no room in my life for a girlfriend.”

  “Good,” Allison said. “Because I’m not looking for one either.”

  Steph beamed at her. “Great. So, your place or mine?”

  “Yours. My sister and her two little ones are staying with me right now. Wouldn’t want to traumatize them.”

  For a moment, Steph thought of Rae, who would be right next door if she took Allison to her place. Not that she would be traumatized by hearing two women having sex. A cop’s uniform was a chick magnet too, so Rae had probably slept with her fair share of women. Still, it was a weird feeling. Oh, come on. Steph had lived with roommates for most of her adult life, and it had never stopped her from taking a one-night stand back to her place. That wouldn’t change now.

  With determination, she unlocked her car. “Follow me.”

  It was always the smells that got to her—the smells and the sounds.

  Radio static crackled, and her own voice, calm but commanding, cut across the parking lot.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, quickly growing louder. Patrol cars screeched to a halt behind them.

  “Down!” Mike bellowed next to her.

  A thunderous boom, then something hot slammed into her. Searing pain exploded in her head, and she went down.

  Someone screamed. Rae thought dimly it might have been her. Or maybe it was the perp who’d shot at them, because the guys from the unit behind theirs were now squeezing off several shots.

  The smell of gunpowder stabbed her nose and mingled with the metallic odor of blood.

  No gunfire came from next to her. Why wasn’t Mike returning fire or calling for an ambulance?

  Clutching her head, she rolled onto her side.

  Mike was down too. He had dropped his gun and grabbed at his throat with both hands. Blood squirted through his fingers, and he stared at her with wide, panicked eyes.

  No, no, no, no. Her vision was hazy, and her head throbbed with pain, but she somehow managed to crawl over to him. Her left side was numb, so she fumbled for her shoulder mic with her gun hand. “Officer down! Corner of Sixth and Archer. We need an ambulance. Right now!”

  Blood. There was so much blood, his and hers. Rae clamped her hands over his, trying to hold back the flood spurting through his fingers. It gushed over her hands, warm and sticky, and formed puddles on the asphalt, where it mingled with her own.

  His lips moved as he tried to speak, but all that came out was foamy blood that coated his chin.

  “Shh, don’t talk. Just hold on. The ambulance is en route. They’ll be here any second, okay?”

  Mike began to shake and flail, his legs kicking out uncontrollably. His face was turning a ghostly blue. Gurgling sounds, interspersed with gasps, drifted up from his throat.

  Rae’s strength waned, and the pain in her head was so strong now that she thought she would collapse on top of him, but she
managed to hold on to the last threads of consciousness and pressed her hands down harder.

  Slowly, the flailing stopped, and the wheezing sounds were replaced by deafening silence. He twitched once, then lay still.

  An ambulance and more patrol units careened around the corner. Their flashing lights bathed Mike’s motionless body in red and blue.

  Rae bolted upright, panting, and wildly looked around, not recognizing her surroundings.

  Slowly, the images from her nightmare began to fade, and she could make out the unfamiliar contours of her new room in the moonlight trickling in through the half-open shades.

  Her fingers ached, and she realized she had balled up the sheets in both fists. She eased her grip and sank back, waiting for the drumming in her ears to subside.

  Damn. She hadn’t had that dream in a while, at least not the full-length version. Maybe seeing Kim had dredged it up.

  What cruel irony. Her nightmares always played out in full 3-D, showing her every little detail with painful clarity, even though she had only seen in 2-D for the past eight months. The faint afterimages lingered even now.

  Cursing, she flicked on the light, threw back the covers, and swung her legs out of bed, thankful when they proved to be steady. Running into a wall, waking up her new roommate, and having to face her questions was the last thing she needed tonight.

  The corner of the coffee table scraped along her shin as she tried to navigate through the unfamiliar living area in the near dark. Shit. She made it to the fridge, pulled the door open, and stood there for a minute, letting the air wafting out cool her overheated body. Goose bumps formed, but she was grateful to feel something other than sheer panic.

  The door to Steph’s room creaked open, and bare feet padded across the hardwood floor.

  Great. Now she had done it. Either she’d screamed out in her sleep, or her collision with the coffee table had woken Steph up. Interrogation, here we come.