“I mean, don’t get me wrong, that would be nice, but it’s unlikely. We want the guy who ordered the hit. That’s who we’re after.”
“And how will you find him?”
“By figuring out who wanted Senan dead.”
“Oh my God, that list has gotta be endless,” I said without a trace of humor.
Eli chuckled, and I realized what I’d said. When I started laughing, he turned and gave me a wide smile. It was good to have a moment of levity.
“I have something important to say,” he told me once we’d both quieted down. “I want you to consider talking to someone about the trauma you just went through.”
What? “No, Eli, I’m—”
“A peer of yours died in front of you. It’s going to play on a loop in your head. You need to get it out of there so you can put your art in, and new movies, and the next horrible gallery opening we go to with art pieces you have to explain to me.”
“Your grasp of subtext is terribly lacking.”
“Or you make things up and pretend you know what you’re talking about.”
“The fact that you think that, proves my point.”
“Anyway,” he stressed. “I want you to be okay, so I’m going to insist you see someone.”
“Yeah, but—”
“It turns out that George, the scary black-ops sniper guy, has a boyfriend who’s a shrink. I’m gonna see if he can come see you.”
“When?”
“Hopefully sometime this week, if he makes house calls. If not, I’ll make an appointment for you next week.”
“Will you,” I deadpanned.
“I’ll be there with you, and I can even hold your hand if you want.”
I always wanted him to hold my hand. “I promise you, I’ll be okay without therapy.”
“I think we’ll let the doctor make that determination, okay?”
“Fine,” I agreed because I was stuck in his apartment doing nothing anyway. I’d probably be ready for company by tomorrow afternoon. I was not a sit-down-and-do-nothing kind of person. Perpetual motion was more my speed.
“Thank you.”
Of course we hit traffic; this was Chicago, after all. We were on our way from downtown near the Loop where I lived, to Eli’s building in Lincoln Park West. As we sat there, meandering from light to light, I heard his phone pinging.
“Someone really wants to talk to you.”
“Yeah, Lydia. She’s devastated over Senan and terrified for you.”
“That’s nice.”
“She’s probably wondering what to do about her fundraiser now.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I scolded him. “You’ve misjudged her.”
“Have I?”
“Yes.”