Hot Flash by Carrie H. Johnson

coffee table.
    â€œBeen sippin’ something already, huh?”
    He took a swig of beer, swished the suds around in his mouth, and finished with an “Ah.” I suppressed a laugh. Laughton took another swig, then sat on the coffee table facing me, knee-distance away.
    â€œLook, M. I don’t think your accident was an accident,” he said abruptly, ignoring my question about drinking.
    â€œWhat do you mean? Why would you say that?”
    â€œTrust me on this.”
    â€œNow I have a problem, Laughton. You’ve been dodging me, working on things by yourself, holding back information—and that was all before my accident. Besides, the car came from Calvin’s side. If someone wanted to hurt me, they would have struck my side or head-on.” He did not respond. “Maybe someone was trying to kill Calvin,” I thought out loud.
    â€œNothing is the way you think. What’s happening behind the scenes is stuff you don’t know about, that you don’t need to get involved in.”
    â€œI don’t need to know? I’m your partner, for chrissakes. You’re telling me the accident was not an accident at all, but that someone tried to kill me or Calvin or both of us, and I don’t need to be involved?”
    â€œI want you to watch your back until I figure this out.” He took another long swig of beer and set the bottle on the coffee table, then moved to the couch, next to me. “Calvin’s still in a coma. Go to Boston like you planned. I promise when you get back, things will be straight.” He raised his hand and moved a strand of hair from my face to behind my ear.
    I couldn’t believe a tingle surged through me.
    â€œ Hm, hm, hm . You are a beautiful woman.”
    A moment of silence, Laughton’s arms around me, his hand on my leg, old ass embers trying to burn my butt. My leg twitched. This was not happening. No way.
    I broke his hold, cleared my throat, and said, “What’s happening in the Taylor case?” I regained my upright composure, grabbed the closest thing to me, his bottle of beer, and drank. The beer went down wrong and came up through my nose, choking me. Laughton bolted to the kitchen and returned with a towel. Repositioned and wiping spilled beer from my lap, I continued, “I mean, Cap confirmed Marcy Taylor was murdered. He also said Wade’s execution pointed to a drug deal gone bad. Any leads there?”
    â€œNot yet. The gun found at the scene didn’t kill him.”
    Travis and Kenyetta came in as Laughton finished his sentence. He jumped up and hunkered over to Travis like a sumo wrestler going for the kill. I braced myself as Kenyetta bounded over to me like a puppy excited to see her master. This time she gracefully swooped down on me and kissed my cheek. I had no idea why the child thought she had to kiss me every time she came in the house.
    â€œWhat’s going on with you, young man?” Laughton said, jabbing Travis in his gut. Travis countered with an uppercut to Laughton’s jaw.
    â€œDoin’ good, Unc,” Travis said.
    Unc, short for “uncle,” was what Travis had always called Laughton.
    Laughton grabbed Travis’s head and pushed down to connect it with his uplifted knee.
    â€œGettin’ ready to bounce, headin’ to the Big Apple for the weekend.” Travis grabbed Laughton around the knees and lifted him off the ground.
    â€œDamn, boy.” Travis set him down and Laughton swatted his head. Laughter filled the room. “I guess you’re grown enough to make the Big Apple.”
    Travis came to the couch and kissed me, cuing Kenyetta to make a move downstairs.
    â€œBetter keep this lovely young lady close,” Laughton said, then crouched and made a move toward Kenyetta. She giggled and slid in behind Travis, who pulled her to his side and blocked Laughton’s access.
    â€œNot to worry, babe. I won’t let this dirty ol’ man