The Guilty - Jason Pinter [102]
"What's the matter?"
"Really," Amanda said, self-consciously pulling her V-neck
sweater up a little higher. "It's okay."
Darcy rolled a chair over, nearly knocking over a potted
plant in the process. "Is it boy trouble?" she asked with a mischievous smile, clearly hoping it would be. Though Darcy's
idea of boy trouble likely consisted of "he doesn't pay attention to me" and not the "he just witnessed his ex-girlfriend
being thrown off a roof " variety.
"Things could be better in that department," Amanda said.
She began typing on her keyboard, nothing but gibberish, but
hoping Darcy would get the hint.
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"Oh, do tell! My Greg, any time he's not performing up to
snuff I tell him. I say 'listen, honey babe, you know I love you,
but we need to get a few things straight because my chi isn't
being harnessed.'"
"Your chi?"
"Hell yes, babycakes, my chi. If my chi isn't being harnessed I need to let my man know about it. It's like a tree root.
It can go a few weeks without being watered, but unless you
want it to dry up permanently you gotta feed it some water.
Nourish that sucker."
"I think that's about all I need to know about your chi."
"Suit yourself. So what is it? Man trouble? Something
else? Come on, babypie, tell me."
Amanda stopped typing. She didn't want to talk to Darcy
but...
The truth was she had nobody else. For over twenty years,
Amanda had grown up a stranger to everyone, even those
supposed to take care of her. She was always introverted,
never talking unless being talked to. It was great for developing sardonic comebacks, but meaningful conversations
occurred as often as meaningful relationships. And that's
where the notepads came in.
She hadn't written on them in months. Since she and Henry
had gotten serious. Since she found someone who made her
feel like she wasn't a stranger anymore. Someone who felt
like he would be in her life longer than a leaf fluttering.
Someone who felt like he would stay with her forever.
And yet here she was, sitting at work at seven o'clock at
night, having finished up her daily tasks, biding the time until
everyone left and she could fall asleep on her boss's couch.
Amanda had feared early on about what would happen if
she and Henry split up, grew distant. After their first few
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months, she never imagined they could grow apart. She never
feared tomorrow would bring an empty bed. Today, Amanda
wondered if that tomorrow had arrived.
Amanda looked into Darcy's eyes. They were coated with
makeup, brought out by jewels, but they were also honest.
Darcy seemed genuinely interested, genuinely concerned.
Whether it was a fleeting concern Amanda couldn't tell, but if
she didn't let out some steam she would either explode or cry.
She smiled at Darcy. Opened up the web browser on her
computer. Went to the home page of the New York Dispatch.
Clicked on the headline banner, opening up their top story
of the day.
The headline read: Murdered Politician's Daughter Critically Injured After Being Thrown From Rooftop.
"The same person who killed Athena Paradis," Amanda
said, as Darcy scanned the article. "He threw Mya Loverne
off a roof."
"That guy scares the shit out of me," Darcy said, seemingly
oblivious. "I mean, I'm not the biggest Athena Paradis fan, but
I can't say the girl deserved to die. To think there's someone
like that walking around out there... God, just gives me the
creeps."
Then Darcy's eyes stopped scanning. She was reading a
line three-quarters of the way down the page. She underlined
a sentence with her fingernail.
"Is that..."
The line read: Loverne is also reported to have been ro-
mantically involved with Henry Parker, a junior reporter at
the New York Gazette who himself was the focus of a murder
investigation just last year.
Amanda felt a terrible lump rise in her throat.
"That...that's your boy trouble?"
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Amanda laughed softly, didn't know why, then nodded,
heard a patter as the first droplet hit her keyboard. Darcy's
face was a mix of sympathy