Still drunk?
Starring in Punk’d?
‘Do what?’ said Ren. She looked at Gary. He was warning her with his eyes.
What IS this?
‘You came to our home, you taught Claire Spanish!’ said Karen. ‘How long has this been going on?’
‘What?’ said Ren. ‘Oh my God.’ She thinks—
‘Did you spend all night together or did you just fuck her and leave?’ said Karen, stabbing a finger into Gary’s chest. She turned to Ren. ‘Did you wake up in my husband’s arms?’
Oh. Jesus. Christ. Don’t laugh. Don’t do your nervous fucking laugh.
Ren started laughing.
Karen looked fit to explode. ‘How dare you? You—’
‘I’m sorry – I’m nervous – but we’re not having an affair!’ said Ren. She turned to Gary. ‘Gary!’
‘We’re not,’ said Gary. ‘Jesus, Karen.’
So casual, while I’m getting attacked. What the fuck?
‘Where are you getting this from?’ said Ren. ‘Gary wouldn’t dream of cheating on you. Gary adores you! Everyone knows that.’ And the fact that you drive each other nuts, but still.
Karen was stalled. She looked from Ren to Gary. Mortification started seeping into her face.
‘Karen,’ said Ren, ‘Gary’s my boss, he loves you. And I’m with Ben.’ Have you lost your mind? Gary, say something, for fuck’s sake. Why am I getting all this shit?
‘Gary!’ said Ren. Wake the fuck up!
‘Karen,’ said Gary, ‘I’m not having an affair with Ren.’
Jesus, even I’m not sure I believe that …
‘We’re on an important case,’ said Gary. ‘So, please … just go home.’
Go home? She’s distraught, you fuckwit. Go home? That’s it? Get your wife out of here. Go with her. Get her help.
Karen slumped into a chair. ‘I don’t know what to believe,’ she said. She started to cry.
‘I’m going to give you some privacy,’ said Ren.
‘Don’t go,’ said Karen. ‘I’m so sorry. I … I’m not feeling great right now.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Ren. ‘But, really, I don’t think it’s my place to be here.’ She gave Karen a hug. ‘Gary is not cheating on you.’ He’s too fucking straight! He sees me as evidence of why not to cheat!
Not that I haven’t thought about fucking your husband, but still …
Ren looked at Gary. He gave her a nod of permission to leave. He looked worn out. Ren closed the door behind her.
What the effin’ crap?
12 (#ulink_0df1eab4-6ad4-501a-a279-f618a53b8f13)
Ren went back into the bullpen, sat quietly at her desk, shuffled papers.
‘That’s it?’ said Everett.
‘That’s it,’ said Ren.
‘You’re killing me …’
‘Let’s just leave it at “Well, that was surreal”.’
‘Did you trade blows?’ His eyes were sparkling.
‘I’m a lover, not a fighter.’ NOT a lover, in fact. ‘What did I miss?’
‘The media has gotten hold of the Donna Darisse story – they’re not revealing she’s a prostitute, but they are saying she was last seen on Colfax. They have already interviewed some fantastic creatures there. Some will be viral by close of business.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Ren.
‘Oh, yes. One woman was so high … it was just cruel to put her in front of a camera.’
‘I hate that shit.’
‘That would be like filming you in Gaffney’s.’
‘Jesus, the idea of watching my vulnerable self …’
‘Is vulnerable the new euphemism?’ said Everett. ‘Oh my God, I was so vulnerable last night. Where’s my pineapple juice?’ He grabbed the remote control. ‘It’s on again,’ he said. He turned up the television. ‘Check out this goddess.’
‘This is a very safe area!’ the woman was saying. ‘Always has been! Now I’m afraid of my life.’
‘Ahm afeardamalaff too,’ said Ren.
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Everett, nodding toward the door.
They laughed loud, then turned their attention back to the screen.
‘Donna Darisse was last seen at lunchtime yesterday on Colfax Avenue. If you know anything about Ms Darisse’s whereabouts, please contact Denver PD …’
‘Fuckerooni,’ said Ren.
She went back into Stephanie Wingerter’s file. ‘Stephanie Wingerter disappeared at night. This was lunchtime. So, does he have a nine-to-five job he has to work around? Or does he cruise whenever he feels like it?’