Poison Shy by Stacey Madden Page B

Bill was leaning against the hatch eating a doughnut.
    â€œâ€™Bout time,” he said as I approached. There was a smear of raspberry jelly on the upper of his chins.
    â€œSorry.”
    He opened the passenger door and took out a box of doughnuts. “Want one? They’re fresh as shit.”
    By the time our client had cleared out of the apartment, we’d eaten the whole box. And then we fumigated the hell out of the place. As we were loading up the van to leave, Melanie’s picture fell out of my pocket again.
    â€œWhat do we have here?” Bill said. He bent to pick it up.
    â€œIt’s nothing.”
    He stared intensely at the photograph for a moment, then flicked the corner and nodded. “The doughnut shop.”
    â€œHuh?”
    He spat onto the curb, a long sugary rope of pink goo. “Darryl’s Doughnuts. This chick works there. Bought the dozen off her this morning.”
    â€œReally.”
    â€œWhy? Did you bang her last night or something?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHey, I’m just asking. You have a picture of her, for Chrissakes.”
    â€œGive me that,” I said, and snatched the photo out of his hands.
    â€œJeez, Brandon, relax. She’s not your sister, is she? Shit, I’m sorry. I gotta learn to shut my damn trap once in a while.”
    â€œNo, Bill. It’s fine. I’m sorry. Bad day, that’s all. Come on, I’ll buy lunch. You down for Chinese?”
    I decided, over my box of chow mein, to burn the stolen photograph of Melanie as soon as I got home, and never to set foot in Darryl’s Doughnuts again. Then I read my fortune cookie:
    Be mischievous and you will never be alone
.
    The universe was fucking with me. I said goodbye to Bill and felt my demons tug my bones in the direction of Melanie’s work.
    I saw her through the window from the parking lot out front. She sat behind the counter on a stool in a pink and green striped apron that was covered in patches of icing sugar. Her hair, bunched up in a hairnet, stuck out like a wasp’s nest through the hole atop her pink visor. The shop was empty. She leafed through the pages of some celebrity gossip magazine and yawned.
    Was this the same girl who’d ravaged me the night before? Who’d initiated me into a world of blood-soaked sexual aerobics? Who’d turned me into a mindless follower of fortune cookie proverbs?
    She looked up from her magazine and saw me. Stood up and smoothed her apron against her body. Waved me in.
    â€œNice uniform,” she said as I stepped inside. “You look like the creepy janitor at my old high school who used to write me secret love poems.”
    â€œThanks for the compliment. You look like one of Santa’s elves.”
    â€œI think you mean the Easter Bunny’s personal slave.” She slid her fingertips along the brim of her visor. “How’d you find out where I work, stalker?”
    â€œI didn’t. I always come here.”
    â€œWell, I’ve worked here for almost a year and I’ve never seen you.”
    â€œI guess that’s a fluke.”
    â€œOr you’re lying. But that’s okay. I like it when guys come after me.”
    Is that what I was doing? I took a seat and asked for a decaf.
    â€œYou mean you’re going to force me to do my job? That’s cruel. Didn’t I rock your cock last night? You should be nicer to me.”
    When she turned around to pour my coffee, I noticed she was still wearing the yellow shorts, pink pumps, and giraffe T-shirt she’d worn on our date.
    â€œDidn’t you stop at home before coming to work?” I asked.
    â€œDidn’t have time.”
    â€œYou’re telling me you came straight here from my place?”
    She clip-clopped over with a saucer and coffee cup in hand and placed them on my table. I noticed the broken nail on her right index finger. “Relax, freak. I had a shower before I left but you were still