Free Thugs and Kisses by Sue Ann Jaffarian

the voice mail system automatically gave me the earliest-dated message first. Steele’s first unheard message was from Saturday, two days earlier, the day he left town. He had not picked up messages since. In the past, even when Steele had gone out of the country, he had picked up messages at least once a day. He was extremely conscientious about his job and giving his clients quality attention, if not quality personality.
    I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the phone, wondering what to do next. I wanted to check his home phone, but that was one password I didn’t have. Except for the spare key to his apartment, I had no access to Steele’s personal life. Seamus, upset that I hadn’t said hello to him yet, jumped onto the table and sprawled in front of me. I rubbed his belly with my free hand and listened to him purr while I pondered what this could mean. Another thing that nagged at me was that Jolene had tried to reach him on his BlackBerry and failed, nor had he responded to the message she had left. Anyone who even remotely knows Steele knows that the ubiquitous electronic device is nearly fused to his hand like an extra digit. He goes nowhere without it, and he almost always answers it. And he always returns calls.
    Something was wrong, I just knew it.
    My thoughts were interrupted by my own ringing phone. My heart did a leap, then dashed to the floor when I saw on the display Dev’s name and not Greg’s. Not that I wasn’t happy to hear from Dev, but Greg was the one person I’d give anything to hear from.
    “Hello,” I said, after punching the answer button.
    “Hi, it’s Dev. Just checking to see if you’re okay.”
    “Yeah, I’m fine. Not dandy, but fine.” I paused. “And thanks for checking up on me. Any news about Donny?”
    “Not a thing yet. I gave the information you gave me to the guys in charge, but you still might have to answer their questions.”
    “Whatever I need to do, I’ll do.” My voice was like cardboard, flat and dull. Too many things had happened in a short time. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically. Dinner, a hot bath, and an early bedtime were clearly in my future.
    “Good girl,” Dev said with forced cheer.
    “Woof,” I responded and panted into the phone. It got a half-hearted laugh, followed by a pause.
    “I assume you haven’t heard from Greg.”
    “Not a peep.” I didn’t want to talk about Greg. I didn’t want to think about him either. Today was the first day in a very long time that I hadn’t heard Greg’s voice, and it was killing me, squishing my heart like it was in a garlic press. I decided to switch to another worry.
    “Dev, when someone goes missing, how long before you can report it to the police?”
    “Someone missing, Odelia?”
    “I’m not sure, but I think Mike Steele is.” I told him about the day and Steele’s uncharacteristic lack of contact with the office.
    “Steele said he was going to be gone, Odelia. And you know it was for personal business, so maybe he needs to focus on whatever called him out of town. I’ll bet he’ll be back by Wednesday. If he’s not, then give me a call and we’ll see what we can do.”
    What Dev said made sense, but only if we weren’t talking about Michael R. Steele, Esquire. Whether I liked it or not, Steele had me as fused to him as the BlackBerry. Even when Greg and I took vacations, I had to set down ground rules with Steele about how often I would check in. It didn’t stop him from leaving messages on my cell phone, but at least I controlled when I returned the calls. And two years ago, when Steele’s mother passed away, he left quietly for a week to attend the funeral and take care of family matters. No one knew where his family lived, but one thing was for sure, he had called me every day, sometimes two or three times, to make sure things were still running smoothly in his absence.
    The two men who called me the most were now not calling me at all. One left me sad, angry, and