Free Crimson Eve by Brandilyn Collins

can take one minute.”
    I heard his desk chair squeak, then his footsteps across the carpet. I stood frozen, watching Jilke and trying not to smirk. Senator Hanley stuck his head around the door. “Come on in, Carla. Paul, come take our picture.”
    Okay, I smirked then for sure. I turned away so Jilke wouldn’t see, but I think Senator Hanley did. He gave me this knowing little smile.
    Jilke heaved a sigh and pushed to his feet like he’d just been told to walk barefoot over nails. Without a word he headed over to me and held out his hand for the camera. I kept my voice real light while I told him what button to press and how the flash worked.
    We ended up taking six pictures. Three of them were of Senator Hanley and me. We stood in front of his desk, and he put his arm around my shoulders. He smiled and I smiled. Jilke didn’t smile, but he did push the camera button. That hand around my shoulder only lasted a minute, but it just . . . felt right being there. That’s the best way I can put it. It felt right.
    Then Senator Hanley let me take a few shots of him at his desk. Jilke huffed back to his own chair. Senator Hanley pretended like he was reading a file or writing something. Like those pictures you’d see in the newspaper — but these are mine. Between the pictures, though, he’d raise his eyes and look at me. And one side of his mouth would curve, like he was giving me this private communication. I got bold and gave him one of my “well-ain’t-life-something” grins. He laughed, then tilted his head in Jilke’s direction like he was saying, What’s the matter with that guy, anyway?
    When we were through, he winked at me. “Carla, I like the way you take on the world.”

    And I thought — I like the way you make my world feel.

TWENTY
    “Where is Carla? I swear, I’m gonna strangle that kid.” Wilbur Hucks drummed his gnarled fingers on the Java Joint counter, his wizened mouth pulled in and a deep frown on his face. Jake Tremaine hunched on his usual stool beside Wilbur nodding with animation, the ever-present red baseball cap shoved low on his head. “Ya just can’t depend on people anymore, I’m telling ya.” Wilbur aimed these words in Jake’s direction. “She promised she’d be here to help me!”
    Bailey Truitt took the tirade in stride. She’d been hearing it for an hour now. And she did hope Carla showed up soon. What could be taking her so long? It wasn’t like her to be late. Bailey had enough to do behind the counter and was very happy to let Carla type Wilbur’s blog post while he dictated. They tended to argue the entire way through a post — brassy Carla never did let Wilbur give her any flak without returning it doubled — but at least it got Wilbur off Bailey’s back.
    Turning toward the espresso machine to make a nonfat latte, Bailey spoke in the old curmudgeon’s direction. “She’ll be here, Wilbur, and I’m sure with a very good reason for being late. Maybe that client she took to Edna San’s mansion yesterday wants to buy it. Wouldn’t that be something. She’d get the whole six percent commission after trying for over a year to sell that place.”
    Wilbur grunted. “Well, I’ve lived here my whole life. I don’t cotton to some rich smart aleck coming along and thinking he’s more important than me.”
    Boy, he was grumpy this morning. Maybe a free pastry would sweeten him up a little.
    “How do you know what he thinks?” Jake elbowed Wilbur. “Just ’cause he’s rich don’t make him smart-alecky.”
    “What do you know about bein’ rich?”
    “Nothing myself, but my cousin’s swimming in money, and he’s decent enough.”
    “Then why don’t you get him to come buy Edna San’s house? Cash down. So Carla can stop fretting about that place and start paying attention to the more important things in life. Like typing my blog post.”
    Bailey refilled Wilbur’s coffee cup. No “fancy milk drinks” for him — just straight, strong coffee.