Friday McDaniels and the Case of the Missing Nutsack

Part 6 Everybody Needs Somebody

Rananda's figure appeared in the hall. Her feet were bare, her high heels clutched in her hand. She looked around, saw Friday, and stomped into his office her breath short, hair unkempt. Friday felt a pang of something unfamiliar--a dull pressing force upon his chest--that made him question his rather sudden (and rude) exit from Griffin's that resulted in this mess he saw before him. It only lasted a moment, and he was back to feeling a resigned sense of satisfation.

"You're a madman!" she said, ripping the appointment book from his hands, "And to think this would be handled in a civilized manner--"

"Well that was your first mistake." Friday stared at Rananda, his mouth hanging slightly open. Did he just say that out loud? Oops.

Rananda pursed her lips, shook her finger at him, and opened her mouth to say something. No words came, instead, a growl-like "Ooo" sound issued from her lips and she stomped her foot. Friday smiled and tried to hold back a laugh. She actually stomped. A grown ass woman stood in front of him in his office and stomped her foot like a child ready to throw a tantrum. Classic.

She glared at him.

"Hey, look," he said. "I'm sorry for all the trouble, I really am."

"I bet you are. That's why you can't wipe that snarky little grin off your face."

"You stomped your foot."

"So."

"So that's kind of funny."

"People stomp their feet."

"Children stomp their feet."

Rananda's frown deepened, then she averted her eyes to the floor. The heaviness settled on Friday's chest once more. Internally, he swatted at it like it were a pesky fly, but it didn't buzz off. Whatever that feeling was, he didn't like it one bit and he was determined to squash it once and for all. 

"Would you care for a drink?" he asked Rananda. Without waiting for a responce, he crossed  to the bookshelf and opened the cabinet underneath. He pulled out two glasses and a bottle of scotch and poured them each a glass. He handed one to Rananda.

"What, no ice?" 

"It's fine without." He said.            

Rananda set her shoes, her purse, and the appointment book down. She smoothed her hair and took a sip of her drink. “Do you remember Sean Kingston’s birthday party?”           

“Sean Kingston the recording artist? I can’t say I recall being invited to such an event.”           

“No, Sean Kingston the high school Biology teacher.”           

The memory flashed in Friday’s mind. Sean’s party had been a stuffy affair with no alcohol and disgusting hors d’oeuvres. He only went on account of Wednesday and some stupid case they were working on. One so stupid he couldn’t even remember it now. What he did remember was spending the entire night out on the back patio with Rananda, the two fast friends sneaking sips from his flask, and making fun of the other guests. He used all his good moves on her that night but she had left with someone else.           

Someone who had an appointment, no doubt, he thought. What he said was, “How could I forget?”    

"I like you, Friday. I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember having fun like that, before or since.”      

“Then why’d you leave with someone else?”

“Well, that was business.”           

“Of course. Every fine gentleman needs an escort to a fancy party."           

“I feel like you've got the wrong impression of me."           

"How's that?"            

She took another sip of scotch, ran her finger around the rim of the glass. "I think the drinks are getting to me." She laughed.

"Oh?"

"I don't want you to have the wrong impression of me." She stepped closer to him. The soft floral scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. She rested her hand on his thigh. "I want to tell you a secret."            

"Yeah?"

Was it hard to breathe in here? He felt like it was. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Just for a little extra room. She stood toe to toe with him.             

"You can't tell anyone." She said, stroking his tie. She handed him her glass and loosened his tie a little more.            

"Okay."          

“Not even Wednesday.”           

"That's fine."          

She brushed a finger across his arm. His skin rose in gooseflesh at her touch. "I know that you think I'm a prostitute."           

Friday didn't say what he thought.He wanted her to get out of his office, and fast. He also wanted her to come closer. He glanced at her appointment book, could see those dirty pages full of names. He took a step back, knocking into his desk as he did.            

“But I’m not. I just keep people company. More than that, I keep their secrets. To be embarrassingly truthful, I haven't had sex in years."            

"You're an information whore?"            

She slapped him, the pain sharp and immediate. "Don't call me that!"           

He put his hands up in defense and took a seat on his desk, "I don't get it. People pay you money to tell you their secrets and keep them company? I don't buy it. Who would pay for that?"           

"There are a lot of lonely hearts in Apple Ridge." she said, "And a lot of secrets too. Everybody needs someone."           

“Like Candystripe? Is he a lonely man?” Friday pondered this for a moment. Sir Candystripe was probably the loneliest bastard in town. As Friday recalled, the baker didn’t have any family. Why he had probably outlived them all. “I suppose he would be. Old kook like him. But, why are you telling me all this?” 

"Because I like you.” She said, “As embarrassing as it is to say, you're the closest thing to a friend I've got. I'm no different from the people I help. I don't have anyone I can share things with. No one knows my secrets."            

"I don't know what to say. I’ve drank too much and you come in here and lay this shit on me"          

She leaned forward and kissed him. He took her by the waist and pulled her into him, pressing his lips against hers. Friday stood and took her to the leather couch that sat beside the bookshelves and laid her down.           

Two hours later the phone rang. Friday put down his glass of scotch and went to get the phone. Rananda pulled him back onto the couch and shook her head, "It can wait." she said.           

"It certainly can." he took her again.