Drift Away
You’re giving up?!?!?
I stared at the message box on my computer and sighed.
Yes, I was giving up. A week ago, Chace had laid it out. I didn’t get it. I wasn’t experienced enough to know. It felt for a good while there, when his arms were around me tight, his lips locked to mine, his hand in my hair, that he was into kissing me…
Kissing me.
And oh, my, fraking Lord, what a kiss.
And to be that good, it seemed he had to be into it. Into me. Like Lexie said. Way into me in a hungry heart, longing, soul destroying if you can’t have it, put your life on the line to get it kind of into me, well, into me.
Then I suddenly wasn’t in his arms and he was making it perfectly clear he was not into me.
Not at all.
Not even a teeny, tiny bit.
And I had a wise father who liberally shared his wisdom, a wise mother who shared her wisdom through deed rather than action and I also had a Master’s in Library Science.
I was no dummy.
I got it.
So I was giving up.
I lifted my hands to the keyboard and typed to my on-line friend Benji, We weren’t getting anywhere anyway.
We were! He typed back. It has to be someone in The Elite who hired the hit. And we’ve already discovered some of the players! The money behind the corruption. The money that paid for a clean hit. We have to keep digging.
I’d met Benji on a forum celebrating everything that was the new Battlestar Gallactica, or, as Benji called it, “The best television show fraking ever.”
I disagreed. I loved Battlestar Gallactica but Firefly was by far and away the best television show ever which made its mid-season cancellation an act (I thought) of sacrilege. Fortunately, they made a movie about it. And also fortunately, Nathan Fillion moved onto another awesome show, Castle.
But nothing topped Firefly.
Nothing.
Years ago, Benji and my relationship had gone off-forum and grown so I’d introduced him to my other on-line friend SerenityWash. I’d met her on a Firefly forum and that was her screen name. Me thinking she was a “her” was the fact that she could perv on Nathan Fillion for hours in a way that I wasn’t sure but I thought could not be g*y-love. Serenity and I were friends, close. We’d “known” each other years and we messaged each other all the time, talking about life, jobs, family, thoughts, feelings, emotions but I didn’t know her real name, her gender, where she lived or anything tangible about her. All of this she gave hints at but at the same time guarded like it was a State secret. So I never knew if the hints were real or if she was trying to throw me off-track.
SerenityWash was her screen name, the name of the spaceship in Firefly, “Serenity”, plus her favorite character from the show, “Wash”.
Benji’s screen name, by the way, was “AdmiralAdamaforPresident”. Seeing as this was a pain in the behind to type out, I’d made him give me his real name. And I knew he was a man since he perved on Number Six from that show in a way no woman could.
He’d also told me his full name was Benjamin and I didn’t know any girls named Benjamin so I was thinking his gender was not in question.
Over the years, I’d kept them up-to-date on the goings-on in Carnal. I’d also shared my long-distance, unrequited love for Detective Chace Keaton. They’d gotten interested, especially when things heated up and finally exploded. That included the news that Misty Keaton was dead and her husband was free to be, they hoped, with me.
They’d stayed interested, maybe unhealthily, and talked me into doing the same. And the unhealthy part about this was that they were both good at computers. They lived on the fringe of society, devoted themselves to on-line communities and geek television. They were always gearing up for then rabidly attending any geek convention that came their way. They also indulged in such other pursuits as, say, hacking and amateur sleuthing.
This also led me to my middle of the night trip, one of many, to the scene of the crime. I, of course, had no clue what I was looking for. Serenity, of course, watched Bones and told me you could catch a murderer by examining dirt. I didn’t have three doctorates in entomology, botany and mineralogy like the fictional Jack Hodgins did on that show, nor did I have a space age lab to take a sample to be tested, so I had no idea what they expected me to do with the dirt at Harker’s Wood. I did, however, live in Carnal and, head in a book, fingers on a keyboard with on-line friends, eyes trained to geek TV or not, I still knew a lot of the bad guys seeing as they were police and made their presence smotheringly known. So this also meant I knew most of them were idiots. And idiots couldn’t commit murder and get away with it.
So up to Harker’s Wood I went when no one could see me. I looked around, combed that wood so thoroughly that by now I knew it like the back of my hand.
But I never found anything.
I also, like Benji and Serenity, never gave up.