BRAINSTORM

Chapter Two - Melissa can't face her demons

Like a crying child on a rapidly descending plane, the smoke detector wailed as though its life depended on it. Little do you know, Nick thought as he stalked out of the pantry, broom in hand, proceeding to whack the offending alarm. There was an undeclared war between him and all smoke detectors, carbon monoxide detectors, and other beeping indicators that inhabited his otherwise peaceful home. The alarm broke loose from the ceiling, shattering into several pieces.

Undeterred by the fleeting nature of his triumph, Nick shouted at the remnants, I won, you little bastard.

He used his weapon–the broom–to clean up the evidence then returned his attention to the garlic sizzling in the pan on the stovetop, a key ingredient for his special Shrimp Fra Diavolo, Melissa's favorite. Butter was another essential and would hopefully combine with his plans for the evening to butter her up.

The sound of the garage door opening coincided with a desultory push of his spatula. She was home. Tension and excitement competed for control over his nervous system. Sorry excuse for an agent.

With the deftness of muscle memory, he switched his docked iPhone from playing his favorite sports talk radio show to a Coldplay album Melissa liked. Standing over the stove, he waved a hand over the frying pan, urging the scent upwards. The pungent odor of garlic filled his nostrils, forecasting an almost-ready dinner.

Click. Click. Click, came the sound of Melissa's heels across the terracotta tiles as she walked into the kitchen. "Hey, honey, didn't you text me earlier that I could have my favorite dessert first?" she teased. "But, by the smell, it seems like everything is almost ready." Pouting, she walked over to Nick and kissed him, letting her lips linger for a minute on his, betraying no trace of the distress he'd sensed in her just a few days ago.

Not wanting to destroy the mood, Nick let himself enjoy her. They could talk soon. "Hey, baby. I can keep everything warm in the oven. I'll never refuse an offer for dessert first."

Melissa pursed her lips as if in thought then giggled. "Actually, I am kind of hungry." She lifted her gaze to meet his own. "But you probably already knew that." She laughed again as she put down her bag, took off her coat, and continued chatting. "It is eight o'clock, after all."

Nick finished her sentence. "And we both know you always get hungry at eight, no matter what you say beforehand. But I'm the only one who ever seems to remember that important fact." He winked at her. "I know how to take care of you, Mel."

Her eyes twinkled, her nose twitching slightly. "You do." She paused. "Oh, before I forget, tomorrow night Victoria and I are going to do some sparring together at the gym, so I won't be home until late."

"Okay. Tell Vic I said hi. Feels like I haven't seen her in forever."

Nick eyed Melissa as she took off her shoes and put them next to the bar in the kitchen. She read his mind. "Sorry, baby, they hurt. It's been a long day. I'll put them back on later if you want." She smiled at him. "As for Vic, she's been really busy, but it's good. She's going to close on that twelve-million-dollar property she's been working on this Saturday."

"That's great! Good for her." Nick filled their plates with pasta and shrimp.

Melissa took the plates from him and carried them to the table. Nick joined her and poured them both some of his favorite Italian wine, Amarone.

Taking a sip of wine, he asked, "So, how are you doing with that waterfront condo?"

Melissa gave a soft snort. "Oh, you mean the one BB is interested in?" She twirled a fork through the linguine and took a bite.

Nick raised his eyebrows. "BB?"

Melissa held a hand in front of her face while she finished chewing. She swallowed and answered, "Blonde Bitch." She reached for her glass.

Nick laughed. "But she's still interested?"

Melissa shifted her head in a side-to-side motion. "We'll see. She may just be playing with me."

"I'd like to play with you."

She swallowed a long draft of wine, looking at him over the rim of her glass. "You always do, NN." Her eyes flickered.

He put his glass down too forcefully. "Tell me what NN means. I can't think straight right now."

"Naughty Nick."

He grinned and nodded. "Of course."

~~~

Melissa rolled over in their king bed and nestled into the crook of Nick's arm. "Well, as I predicted, dessert was definitely my favorite course of the evening." She kissed him on the temple. "Although you do make a mean Fra Diavolo."

Nick squeezed her shoulder. "I have to be good for something around here now that you're pulling in the big checks."

"You know I love my work. I'm just lucky at it, I guess." Melissa wriggled and cuddled up closer to him.

"You're good at it, baby. That's why you're successful. You've earned it. I'm so proud of you."

"I know you are." She paused and changed the subject, which she always did when Nick complimented her. "Hey, did you decide to take that weird case about the guy who keeps on breaking into his ex-wife's house just to steal her panties?"

Nick took in a quick breath and relaxed the muscles of his brow. "Oh, you must mean Ms. Malcolm's case. She actually doesn't really know who's breaking in. Might not be the ex. Could even be his new girlfriend."

"Wow, that would be even weirder. Who would do that?"

"There are a lot of strange people in the world, Melissa." Now he was thinking about more than Ms. Malcolm's case.

Melissa shrugged. "I guess. Anyway, did you take the case?"

Nick sat up in bed. Melissa kept her head on his chest as he rose, adjusting her body.

"I want to talk to you about that—"

Melissa interrupted. "Nick, you know I don't care if you work or not. I just like being with you." She grinned as she moved her gaze to the rumpled sheets at the bottom of their bed. "Money's money. It doesn't really matter. You've done a lot for me. I wouldn't mind if you let me return the favor now and again." She looked up at him.

"I know. I'm working on that." He held her closer and looked at her expectantly. He hoped she would understand that what he was about to say was important. "But this isn't about money. The reason I didn't take the job was because I wanted to have the time to help you look for Sidney. We should find out what happened to him. And I didn't want to worry you, but that day at the children's home, I saw—"

"Nick, I don't want to look for him, you know that." Her frown deepened. "You do know that . . . Nick." Her enunciation converted his name to a reprimand.

Nick could see the rigidity travel through her muscles in a gathering surge from her tensed forehead downward.

"Did you think I was lying?" Melissa jerked away from him, yanking the sheet up to anchor it into her armpits until a tight band of white fabric constricted her chest. "I wasn't lying, Nick. I don't want to know. It seems you don't understand. You probably don't even believe me. Just remember. You. Aren't. Me."

As Nick reached a hand toward her, she made herself more compact. Only the sharp places of her body showed, everything soft she protected. Nick sighed. At the center of Melissa's cocoon of self-preservation was the decision she'd made eight years ago. Like a festering wound, it could only be healed if it was opened back up. He wanted to help her, but to do that he needed to lie to her again.

"Okay. I understand."

Melissa looked into his eyes, as though trying to see into his soul. Eventually, she stopped staring at him and settled back into the crook of his arm. Nick savored her surrender, tenuous though it was.