Bite Me Page 12
“And,” he said, gesturing at two other baskets, “food.” He pointed at one basket. “Nuts and fruits, nuts being the emphasis of the overall basket.” He pointed at the other. “Fruits and nuts, with fruits being the emphasis.” Went back into the hallway and came in with another basket. “And meats and fish.”
He placed the baskets in front of her desk.
“And”—he walked out again and quickly returned with one more basket—“honey. European and American. They didn’t have any African or Israeli bee honey.”
Glancing around the room, he finally settled on placing that basket beside the standing plant.
Resting back on her heels, Livy asked, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you bringing me anything?”
“It’s what people do when a friend suffers a loss.”
“We’re friends?”
“I just bought you all these baskets, so we better be.”
Vic had always found Livy . . . unusual. Cute. Really hot, when she wasn’t ripping a lion’s scalp off. But definitely unusual. Still, why was she hiding under her desk? That seemed weird. Even for her.
Even worse, when he suggested they were friends, she just stared blankly at him. It kind of hurt his feelings.
“I brought you honey. You could at least pretend we’re friends.”
“Yeah. We’re friends. Just don’t know why you felt the need to buy me baskets of . . . stuff.”
“Because that’s what people do, Livy. It’s called empathy.”
“I’ve heard the word.”
Vic rolled his eyes. “Look, Livy, I know you’re this great photographer but—”
“Oh yeah,” she suddenly cut in. “Great wedding photographer, maybe.”
“What?”
Livy shook her head. “Forget it.”
“Livy, what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.” She suddenly dropped down and crawled back under her desk.
Vic, not sure how to deal with this side of Livy, walked around her desk and crouched down so he could see her.
“Do you want to go somewhere and talk?” he asked.
“Because I’m so chatty?”
“No. But I understand that after the loss of a parent—”
“We weren’t close.”
“As you’ve already said. We could still go get some coffee.” He glanced at his watch. “Maybe get lunch.”
“You asking me out on a date?”
Without thinking, Vic leaned back a bit. “No.”
“You don’t have to look so horrified.”
“It’s not horror. It’s confusion. You’re confusing me. Which,” when he thought about it, “may lead to horror. But I simply don’t like being confused. Sothe horror wasn’t directed at you, so much as the confusion.”
“Well, when you put it like that . . .”
Glad she understood what he’d been trying to say, Vic asked again, “Sure you don’t want some lunch?”
“I’m not really hungry. But thanks anyway.”
“Okay.” He started to stand up, but stopped, remembering his conversation with Dee-Ann. “One other thing . . .”
“Yeah?”
“You up for a job?”
Livy closed her eyes. “Let me guess . . . you need a photographer for your nephew’s birthday party?”
“His birthday’s in June.” Vic scratched his head, again confused. “You do that kind of photography, too?”
“What job?” Livy asked and something told Vic not to push her.
“Remember that woman’s apartment you . . . uh . . . went into last year?” He hated saying “breaking and entering.” That was a felony.
“Whitlan’s daughter? Yes. I remember.”
“Would you do it again if I need you to?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said dismissively, her shoulders slumping.
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s the best job I’ve had offered to me in a long while. So I’ll do it.”
“You’ll be working with me and Shen this time.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain that later. But after I get back.”
“You’re leaving already?”
“Yeah. But staying in the States.” Vic studied Livy a little longer. He didn’t like the way she was acting. But, again, people mourned differently. “So if you need me, Livy . . . you call me. Understand?”
She looked up at him, gave a very small smile. “I do. Thanks.”
He headed out. “I’ll call you about the job when I get back.”
“Okay.”
Vic walked down the hall and met up with Shen.
“I booked our flights,” Shen said, closing up his laptop and slipping it into its case.
“Good.”
“So what did she like?” Shen asked as they headed toward the elevators.
Vic stopped, thought a moment, and admitted, “You know . . . I still have no idea.”
CHAPTER 4
Eventually Livy decided she wasn’t going to get anything worthwhile done, so she crawled out from under her desk, picked up her backpack, grabbed ajar of European honey from the basket Vic had given her, and left her office.
Livy walked home. She didn’t look around like she usually did. Didn’t seek out those images that gave her ideas or had her scrambling for her digital SLR camera. Instead she just walked with her head down and feeling pretty damn sorry for herself.