exactly
either."
"Helen –"
"Hear me out. You can't give someone a
script to look for the crazy brother who went off his meds and
expect her to improvise on the fly."
"And ain't nobody gonna believe the head
cheerleader gives a damn about her crazy brother either,
Eriksson."
"The head…"
"You," Crevan grinned. "I think he
just paid you a compliment in that Briscoe charming sort of
way."
I snorted. "I could go off for fifteen
minutes to my bathroom and come back out here and you'd never
recognize me, Tony. Don't think I can't play a role that
looks nothing like me. It's a bet you'd lose." Suffice
it to say that when the gauntlet was thrown down in a certain way,
he couldn't resist.
"How much?"
"Tony, we don't have time for –"
"A Franklin," I cut off Orion and laid down
the challenge in concrete terms. Hell, I was one upside down
brush and a tattered flannel shirt away from looking the homeless
part as it was. All I needed to do was scrub off the remnants
of makeup and let Tony have a gander at the black circles under my
eyes.
"You are aware that Franklin's on the
hundred, right Doc?" Orion's shoulder brushed against mine
when he leaned over to caution me about betting with
Briscoe.
I didn't back down. I did roll my
eyes. "What do you say, big man? Got the guts to put
your money where your mouth is?"
His eyes twinkled like the mysterious depths
of Darkwater's bay. "Oh, you've got yourself a bet,
sweetheart. Go get messy. If you really think such a
thing is possible."
On my way out of the kitchen, I heard Crevan
and Johnny scolding him for wasting time on a pointless
exercise. Apparently, Orion had already decided there was no
way in hell he would let me out on the street.
To my way of seeing things, a clever
disguise was exactly called for, particularly if I planned to find
out if Mark Seleeby had really been meeting with Danny
Datello. Ideas of what that might've been about rolled
through my brain while I teased my hair into a ratted mess and
scrubbed the makeup off my face. For a highlighting effect, I
smudged a little eyeliner under my eyes and blended it in to
highlight the dark half moons from sleep deprivation. Two
drops of antibacterial soap made the already weary vessels of my
eyes pop out like I'd been on a bender for at least a week.
The stinging liquid instantly turned my nose red and drippy.
A quick dig through the bureau drawers
procured my most treasured, thread bare sweats, typically reserved
for bedtime. They had been Rick's, and as such hung from my
slim shoulders and hips with all the style of a burlap sack.
The costume was completed with a pair of sneakers I hadn't been
able to force myself to throw away (a last purchase by Dad before
my senior year of high school). I'd worn them until the soles
cracked.
I consciously slouched and took a good two
inches off my height and shuffled back to the kitchen.
"Jumpin' Jesus!" Briscoe nearly upended his
chair in his surprise.
I grinned. "Given more time, I've got
some dandy stuff from Halloween from days of yore that will gray a
tooth enough that you'd swear it was real. I'll even let an
herbal cigarette pollute my lungs for the occasion, that is, if you
think it makes me look common enough to pull off the charade."
Crevan shook his head and laughed. "I
told you not to bet with her, Tony."
"I can still see the cheerleader," Orion
said. "But then, that's just me."
"It must be," I flopped back into a kitchen
chair and perched my chin on one fist. "Because I was never a
cheerleader, Orion."
"You couldda been," Briscoe muttered while
digging out the money owed.
"I think you just insulted me, Tony.
Don't you know that cheerleaders are notorious for being
empty-headed bimbos? I have never been either one." I
glanced at Orion, half for his reaction, half for his seal of
approval. He was staring at one hand on the table that traced
random patterns. "So what do you say, Orion? Do
either."
"Helen –"
"Hear me out. You can't give someone a
script to look for the crazy brother who went off his meds and
expect her to improvise on the fly."
"And ain't nobody gonna believe the head
cheerleader gives a damn about her crazy brother either,
Eriksson."
"The head…"
"You," Crevan grinned. "I think he
just paid you a compliment in that Briscoe charming sort of
way."
I snorted. "I could go off for fifteen
minutes to my bathroom and come back out here and you'd never
recognize me, Tony. Don't think I can't play a role that
looks nothing like me. It's a bet you'd lose." Suffice
it to say that when the gauntlet was thrown down in a certain way,
he couldn't resist.
"How much?"
"Tony, we don't have time for –"
"A Franklin," I cut off Orion and laid down
the challenge in concrete terms. Hell, I was one upside down
brush and a tattered flannel shirt away from looking the homeless
part as it was. All I needed to do was scrub off the remnants
of makeup and let Tony have a gander at the black circles under my
eyes.
"You are aware that Franklin's on the
hundred, right Doc?" Orion's shoulder brushed against mine
when he leaned over to caution me about betting with
Briscoe.
I didn't back down. I did roll my
eyes. "What do you say, big man? Got the guts to put
your money where your mouth is?"
His eyes twinkled like the mysterious depths
of Darkwater's bay. "Oh, you've got yourself a bet,
sweetheart. Go get messy. If you really think such a
thing is possible."
On my way out of the kitchen, I heard Crevan
and Johnny scolding him for wasting time on a pointless
exercise. Apparently, Orion had already decided there was no
way in hell he would let me out on the street.
To my way of seeing things, a clever
disguise was exactly called for, particularly if I planned to find
out if Mark Seleeby had really been meeting with Danny
Datello. Ideas of what that might've been about rolled
through my brain while I teased my hair into a ratted mess and
scrubbed the makeup off my face. For a highlighting effect, I
smudged a little eyeliner under my eyes and blended it in to
highlight the dark half moons from sleep deprivation. Two
drops of antibacterial soap made the already weary vessels of my
eyes pop out like I'd been on a bender for at least a week.
The stinging liquid instantly turned my nose red and drippy.
A quick dig through the bureau drawers
procured my most treasured, thread bare sweats, typically reserved
for bedtime. They had been Rick's, and as such hung from my
slim shoulders and hips with all the style of a burlap sack.
The costume was completed with a pair of sneakers I hadn't been
able to force myself to throw away (a last purchase by Dad before
my senior year of high school). I'd worn them until the soles
cracked.
I consciously slouched and took a good two
inches off my height and shuffled back to the kitchen.
"Jumpin' Jesus!" Briscoe nearly upended his
chair in his surprise.
I grinned. "Given more time, I've got
some dandy stuff from Halloween from days of yore that will gray a
tooth enough that you'd swear it was real. I'll even let an
herbal cigarette pollute my lungs for the occasion, that is, if you
think it makes me look common enough to pull off the charade."
Crevan shook his head and laughed. "I
told you not to bet with her, Tony."
"I can still see the cheerleader," Orion
said. "But then, that's just me."
"It must be," I flopped back into a kitchen
chair and perched my chin on one fist. "Because I was never a
cheerleader, Orion."
"You couldda been," Briscoe muttered while
digging out the money owed.
"I think you just insulted me, Tony.
Don't you know that cheerleaders are notorious for being
empty-headed bimbos? I have never been either one." I
glanced at Orion, half for his reaction, half for his seal of
approval. He was staring at one hand on the table that traced
random patterns. "So what do you say, Orion? Do
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