liar, but that had been a long time ago.
"I'll take proof to the police about some of your crimes. You'll lose that badge of yours, if not more."
"And I'll tell the police what you wanted me to do, because anyone who would really do what you're describing would do something to a live person." I studied her face. "How's his illegitimate son's health lately?"
Her face flickered uncertainly.
"If anything happens to him I will make sure the police come to your door."
"You don't know his name."
"Oh, please, like I couldn't find that out. He's probably got a page on the Internet somewhere where he's talked all about his father being Chase Zell."
She frowned at me, as though she was wondering if I was right.
"Nothing happens to the kid, or you will not have enough money to keep yourself out of jail, or at least the nut house."
"I am not crazy, Ms. Blake. I'm a woman scorned."
"He was married to you for twenty-five years. I think the poor bastard suffered enough."
That was it. She turned on the stiletto points of her expensive shoes and stalked out. If I'd known that that would make her leave I'd have said it sooner. Seemed this was my week for people wanting my very "alive" zombies for very bad purposes.
Two weeks passed before I went back to the restaurant where Micah, Nathaniel, and Jason had flirted with the waiter and, all right, so had I. This time I was at a table not a booth, and all by my lonesome. Though honestly I'd eaten more lunches alone in my adult life than with anyone else. The workers at Animators Inc. had staggered schedules so no one had lunch at the same time. Sometimes I brought a book; sometimes it was just good to get out of the office. Today I had actually brought the latest copy of The Animator, our trade publication. There were a couple of articles I'd been wanting to read, so I'd order food, read, and hopefully learn something.
My waitress was petite, blond, and female when I ordered drinks, but when the drinks came my waiter was tall, black-haired, and male. It was the waiter from the time before. He put down my Coke, smiled, and said, "I traded tables with Cathy; I hope you don't mind."
I shook my head, smiled back. "I don't mind."
His gave me that even brighter smile that I remembered from last time. I did what I'd learned last time; I smiled back. It would take two more trips back and forth from the table for me to realize that he thought I was flirting with intent. It was when he stayed at my table talking after my food had arrived that I realized I'd made some kind of tactical error. It was one thing to flirt in the safety of my group, with Nathaniel and Jason to take some of the heat and Micah to look on, but a totally different experience with just me and the waiter. Crap.
His name was Ahsan. He was a college student. He was a theater major with a minor in literature. He was graduating this year and going on to start his master's program. His goal was to teach at a college, unless his own acting career took off. I learned all this because I couldn't figure out how to stop the conversation. I had flirted first, so it was my fault, and if something is my fault, I try to fix it. But Ahsan was like that scene in Fantasia with Mickey Mouse and the brooms carrying water buckets. I'd flirted and gotten the game started, but I had no idea how to stop it. I mean, I could have been blunt-my usual-but I had started it, and so was there a way to gracefully retreat? By now I was pretty certain that he thought I'd come back by myself so I could flirt more freely with him. Eek. I was remembering why I didn't flirt for fun-because I didn't know how. I could flirt with intent of dating or sex, but I sucked at casual flirting. Shit.
I would have tried to play the age difference card, but he was Nathaniel's age exactly, so I couldn't claim that an eight-year age difference weirded me out. I was debating on exactly what I could do to let him down gently, or whether I was irritated enough to let him down hard, when I felt energy. Not just regular human psychic energy, but