The Cinema Files
page 10, chapter 10
"Desdemona." Blake was hunched over the fridge his fingers tapping on the edge of the wide open door. "When are you going to give up this fad you've been on?" he asked grabbing the milk container. "This is not real milk yous knows that right? I mean, it's water flavoured with crushed nuts."
"Twenty years is not a fad, it's a life style." I replied waiting for the coffee maker.
"Life style." he snorted moving around the small kitchen back towards the table where the files were still scattered. " 'tis what you've been up ta with Vincent? Why the good detective Ryan clenches up every time I mentions ya?" he picked up a handful of the newspaper clippings waving them at me.
"You mentioned me to Whitechapel?"
"And that why yous were wi't that reporter guy I saw you out banging around town with? Eh? Your little murder club solving crimes? God woman, yous really are as bad as your aunt." he tossed the pages back down on the pile.
"Pretty much. Speaking of, I'm meeting up with Vincent." I waited for a half a heart beat unable to look him in the eye. Blake said nothing as he sat there reading the headlines of the marked newspapers.
"You sleeping with him?" the tone was both snarky and serious at the same time when he finally broke the silence. "Is it a rendezvous for sex? Or is it just a shopping date? Cause the boy's got style right? Or you just getting together for lunch? All those free meals he serves you, never does that for anyone else now does he? Na. He's fattening you up for somet'ing. That's for sures." Blake leaned back in the chair, one elbow thrown over the top of it. "Or...or is it you two are going to go look at a dead body?" he snatched up a sticky note waving it around. "Or the tattoo parlors? Track down a lead." his voice rose at the sentence but not in question. Getting up, he moved to the fridge again getting the milk once more and a bowl for cereal.
"You done ranting?" I couldn't tell if he was just plain hurt or really jealous?
"Not in the slightest." he pulled the kitchen chair out again sitting down with authority. "What's your plan?" leaning over his nose almost touched the table as he scrutinized some of the pages before moving them enough for him to put his cereal down. "What now? You 'tink you two are just going to waltz right on ins do ya? Have the mortician great you wit' a smile and just let you ransack him for information?"
"Sure why not?" I closed my eyes breathing in the scent of him as he walked past. All stale cigarettes and whisky. It caused me to creep back a bit on my toes, pressing myself flat against the edge of the kitchen sink, afraid to breathe in the space. Afraid to let him know how much air he was sucking out of the room. Blake was the room, even when he wasn't trying to be. The coffee maker made it's last gurgle informing me it was ready, only I was unsure of my hands suddenly. Embarrassed and knowing I'd start shaking if I tried to maneuver to pour any. A dead giveaway to Blake that he still held that heated attraction for me.
"Mons. You wants to do this you have to remember you're not your aunt. What you needs is a cover for 'tis." he gave a short half breathed laugh. "Why do ya tink your aunt bought flowers from me 'tree time a week?" he turned in the chair now to stare up at me with his eyes sparkling in their overly confident way. "Not cause she liked me that's for sure. No, she needed a way in to places. Flowers get you in, butter someone up to talk. Na, you needs me on t'is. In fact..." he ran his hand over his jaw for a second a million miles away in his thoughts. "This calls for a fruit basket."
Tune in again for another installment of the Cinema Files starring your heroine...me(straight up story. Fruit basket.)