25. Tallus

25

Tallus

“ W anna share?” Diem asked when we landed back in the Jeep.

“In a second.”

I pulled up Memphis’s number on my phone and hit connect. It rang until the voicemail picked up, so I disconnected and called again with the same results. And again, and again, and again. It was Sunday night. He wouldn’t be at Gasoline, and it was too early for bed. If I knew anything about my best friend, he was lounging on his couch watching reality TV with popcorn because he worked the following day.

It took eight tries before I wore him down, and he answered.

“Bitch, you are the most annoying person on the planet. What part of we aren’t talking right now don’t you understand?”

“Babe, save the drama, I need you.”

Memphis pff ed. “No, you don’t. You have the iceman.”

“Remember our bet?” I glanced at Diem, who must have deduced who I was talking to and wore a scowl to end all scowls. “Well, I lost. It’s September first, and he hasn’t asked me out on a date.”

The scowl deepened for a brief moment, then crimson raced up Diem’s neck and settled in his cheeks behind the scruff. He looked away.

“I don’t care about our stupid bet.”

“Yes, you do because it means I’m going to buy you that silk shirt you’ve been eyeing. The one you claim brings out the subtle gold undertones in your eyes.”

Memphis’s protests died. His abrasive edge softened. “The one that’s a hundred and seventy-five dollars before tax?”

“Jesus fuck. Did it go up?” I winced. “That’s the one. Anything for you, baby. I lost fair and square.”

Memphis didn’t speak.

“Are you still mad?”

“Yes. You put me second to your stalker.”

“No way. You’ll always be my number one. For life, baby.”

The bear in Diem’s chest awoke, and his nostrils flared as he squeezed the steering wheel. It might have been safer for all involved if I had warned him of my purpose for calling Memphis, but this was fun. It was a nice roundabout way of forcing Diem to confront his feelings.

“You swear?”

“Girl, who else will I watch reality TV with?”

“Greg got kicked off.”

“I know. I told you he would. He was a douche.”

“I finished the season without you.”

“I figured.”

“Samuel won.”

“And he deserved it.”

“I need a Samuel in my life.”

“Don’t we all?”

Memphis sighed. “I get the shirt?”

“Yep.” I wasn’t sure how I would come up with the money, but I would figure it out. Diem bribed people with fifties, and I used clothing. What could I say? We ran in different circles.

“Fine. What do you need?” Memphis asked.

“Did you make an appointment with Madame Rowena?”

A pause. “Yes. For tomorrow afternoon, and I’m not canceling.”

“Good. Don’t. What time is your appointment?

“Four fifteen.”

“Perfect.”

“Why?”

“No reason. I gotta go. Love you, babe. I’ll call you later.”

“Tal, what’s this about? I thought you needed something.”

“I do. You’ll see. Let’s make a date to get that shirt next weekend. I get paid Friday.”

“Okay, but—”

I hung up before Memphis could redirect to my supposed favor. He was a fashion diva like me, and it was easy to create a diversion when you understood a person’s weaknesses.

I faced the fuming man beside me, and before he blew his top, I said, “Janek Piotrowski.”

Diem opened his mouth, closed it again, and narrowed his eyes like he was missing something. The Memphis-focused anger bled away, and although I sensed Diem wasn’t in the mood to play games, he grumbled, “What?”

“Janek Piotrowski. We need to talk to her. She’s the naturopathic doctor Winifred uses, remember? The one she recommended to Allan. Her card was on his fridge.”

Diem’s gaze flicked back and forth like he was drawing up the memory or trying to see the card in his mind’s eye.

I didn’t wait and barreled on. “Peggy Andrew’s son did some digging for me and discovered his mother had a cupboard full of herbal medications alongside her prescription drugs. Peggy’s daughter shared that their mother visited Janek a few times.”

Diem’s frosty demeanor warmed. He released the death grip on the steering wheel and shifted in his seat. He didn’t look at me, but I knew interest when I saw it.

“Amber’s brother told us his sister tried everything under the sun to cure her migraines, including herbal drugs. When I asked where she used to buy them, he checked her room, stating his mother hadn’t packed her things away, and he found a few bottles with stickers on the caps, indicating they were from a supplement place on Pape Avenue.”

“Pape Avenue,” Diem repeated under his breath like he was trying to recall why the street name was familiar.

“Dr. Hilty’s office is on Pape, and guess what’s right next door?”

Diem’s gaze crashed into mine. “The supplement store. I saw it.”

“Yep, and guess who owns it?”

“Janek Piotrowski.”

“Bingo.”

Diem took a minute to let those facts settle, then said, “I’m still not following.”

“It’s all speculation at this point. Lil’ old me pulling theories out of midair again , but that’s been the root of this entire case, hasn’t it? You didn’t initially believe there was anything to investigate and poo-pooed the entire principle of mind control, but now we have eleven suspicious deaths and sweetie, if it ain’t Professor Plum in the conservatory, we still have a pool of suspects we haven’t looked at. Everything is sketchy and not lining up, so why not push the bar higher and see what we come up with? Why not start accusing the innocent Miss Scarlett or the dubious Mrs. Peacock. I’m just saying. Rowena and Hilty could be using people without them knowing they’re being used.”

“The fuck are you talking about? Speak English.”

I chuckled. “Drive, Guns. I’ll explain when we get to the office.”

But Diem didn’t drive. At first, I thought he was working through the messy analogy I’d word-vomited, but the look in his eyes said not. The oceans darkened with an oncoming storm. It took him a second to voice his thoughts. When he did, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“What was the bet?”

“Bet?”

“On the phone with Memphis. You talked about a bet.”

“Oh.” I waved it off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”

“It does matter. It had to do with me. What was the fucking bet?”

I had a feeling we wouldn’t be going anywhere until I came clean. “I thought I could convince you to ask me out on a proper date before the end of the month, but… I lost. It’s not in the cards. I see that now.”

Diem’s chest heaved with unstable breathing. The crease in his brow deepened. Quieter, he said, “Tallus—”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not that I… I tried to explain why.”

“I know. You did…” I turned to face him. “But if you want my opinion, which I’m sure you don’t, I think your reasoning is bullshit.”

His throat bobbed. “Tallus—”

I continued before Diem could fly off the handle and tell me I was wrong. “I get it, D. I do. You were dealt a rotten hand in life. I can’t imagine what it was like growing up in your house, and I know what you told me the other day barely scratches the surface of what you went through. I truly can’t imagine.

“I won’t compare our childhoods. It’s impossible. They weren’t remotely the same. Besides, it’s not about who suffered more trauma or who walked away with more scars. In fact, it’s not about the past at all.”

He wouldn’t look at me, but I was getting used to that. I didn’t care. Maybe he needed to hear some hard truths. “It’s about the present, Diem. It’s about right here and now. You and me. Not your dad. Not your history. It’s about today. It’s about choosing to be happy or choosing to be miserable.”

He huffed. “You think I want to be like this?”

“Sometimes. I think you’re comfortable alone. It’s easier to be miserable. When everyone treats you like the bad guy, it affirms what your father put in your head all those years ago. Maybe you go looking for that affirmation to prove him right.”

“You’re not my fucking therapist.”

“No. I’m not. What does he say?”

Silence. Diem’s cheeks turned hot with either anger or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure which.

I gave him a minute. His jaw remained tight, his body rigid. “At some point, you have to start believing you deserve better and stop letting the bullies from your past control your future. When I disowned my father at fourteen—that is what happened, not the other way around, and I will die on that hill—I marched away from his bullshit abuse, determined to be the most fabulous version of myself there was. His words, insults, and degrading views did not define me. I defined who I wanted to be.”

I stabbed a finger against my chest. “ I decided where life would take me, and I no longer allow his negativity to bring me down. He isn’t worth it. So I get my brows waxed, and I enjoy a mani-pedi from time to time, and I flaunt my clothes, sway my hips, and hold my chin high because I know who I am, and I’m proud. His opinion no longer matters. He has no more power over me because I refuse to give him any. Am I perfect?” I laughed. “Hell fucking no, but I’m authentic, Diem. When I want something, I fight for it. I don’t deprive myself or second-guess myself. I don’t listen to my dad’s voice inside my head and wonder if I’m the embarrassment he always claimed. And again, I know we walked different paths in life, and your battle is not the same as mine, but there are parallels.”

Diem hadn’t moved his gaze from the windshield. I took a chance and reached out, brushing my knuckles over his rigid jaw. “You only live once, sweetheart, and no one is going to serve you happiness on a silver platter. Trust me.”

“I’m not a good person,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

He growled under his breath but didn’t answer. His tension ran dry, and his scowl melted away. Diem continued to stare out the window, but he was no longer beside me in the Jeep. He was far, far away.

I’d said enough. Maybe I’d said too much. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t make Diem come around if he didn’t want to, and even if I had the power of mind control or manipulation that Kitty was so sure I had, I didn’t want to force his hand.

He needed to come to a decision on his own.

After a prolonged silence, I gently rubbed Diem’s oversized noggin. “Drive, big guy, we’ve got work to do.”