Page 110 of Bless This Hot Mess

“Rino and I took a walk after dinner,” Japheth said. “We had dessert and coffee with his folks and his sister. And then he drove me back to my bike where I’d left it by the river. It was dark, and the river was just a slick black snake slipping through the cattails and there was this little halo of light from one broken streetlamp on the bridge, barely enough, but just enough to see where he started and I began. And he… I mean we… he kissed me. And then I kissed him. And then for a long while, we just didn’t want to let each other go until it was the only thing we could do. And I’ve kind of had this feeling like I’m missing something ever since. I know it’s so silly because we just started… it was a first date, you know? But it all just went so right. I really like him.”

He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on a point somewhere on the horizon, reliving it all. “It was like someone had finally taken the volume knob on my chest and turned it up from background noise to my favourite jam.”

Rebekkah’s face melted, “Oh, Japheth.”

“Kissing Rino was exactly how I hoped it would be and so, so much more. I just hadn’t realized or even considered howour bodies would feel pressed together,” Japheth said, searching his friends' faces shyly to ensure they understood. “Right before we left each other, he pulled me back for one last kiss and said, ‘I’m not a monster,Polpetto. You have to believe me.’ And I do.”

They all stood there for a second, caught in the fragility of that sentence.

“Well,” Ronald said finally, because someone had to bring down the other boot, “that’s pretty muchexactlywhat a maybe-monster-mobster who didn’t want you to suspect him would say.”

“Ronald,” Rebekkah scolded, but it gave her pause, too.

“I’m just saying,” Ronald replied, “if watchingLaw & Order Special Victims Unithas taught me anything, it’s that the more that someone loudly defends themselves, the more likely he’s hiding something suspicious in a storage unit somewhere.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Japheth said. “Of course I don’t want Rino to be… bad. And I also don’t want to be the idiot who ignores all the signs and ends up taxidermied in a private gallery for one. I can’t do this on my own. I know I’m biased now, I can’t think straight. I can’t walk straight when I’m around him. There’s no way I can be the one with the crystal-clear reasoning we need to solve this. We need to work together to figure this out. We need to find Emma-Lou. We need to know who set this…” he spread his arms to encompass the wreckage and the five of them, “this funeral pyre for our careers and the only Christian radio station West of the St. Lawrence Seaway.”

“I don’t think WWJD was the only one,” Carrington corrected. “I hope we weren’t the only ones. If we were, Christian radio has really bit the bullet.”

Ronald squared his shoulders and put on his game face. “We’ve gotta use what God gave us,” he said.

“Wobbly knees?” Rebekkah guessed. “An internal sense of being destined for greatness?”

“Our five senses,” Ronald clarified. “We were all there, right before it happened. We saw things. Heard things. Tasted, smelled, touched stuff. We’re like a holy Hardy Boys plus Nancy Drew plus that one episode ofMatlockmy grandma made me watch.” He shook his head, “She taped over mySaved by the BellZack and Kelly forever montage VHS.”

“I prefer to think of us asMiami Vicebut with better hair,” Carrington said, and then glanced at Rebekkah in her wide-brimmed hat. “You can still be Nancy Drew under cover.”

“Perfect,” Ronald said, clapping his hands once. “We’re gonna go through everything. Sight. Hearing. Taste. Touch. Smell. We put it all together, maybe we figure out something we missed?”

“Excellent idea, Ronald,” Suwarna said, her pen plucked from behind her ear and at the ready above her clipboard. “Let’s review what was heard first, surveillance is my specialty.”

She stepped closer to the skeletal remains of what had been the lobby, as if proximity would help her rewind time. “I was on the intercom,” she said. “As usual, helicopter parenting Emma-Lou’s safety.”

“Obviously,” Carrington murmured.

“I heard them in her office,” Suwarna continued. “Rino and Emma-Lou. He sounded clipped. She sounded defensive. Tired. I remember him saying something like, ‘You made promises. My family kept our side of the deal.’ And she said, ‘I’m doing my best with what I have.’ And he replied, ‘Your best is not going to cut it if the numbers keeplooking like this.’ Then the intercom got fuzzy because I was snacking on carrots and hummus and the microphone must have picked up the crunch. By the time I was back online, he was saying, ‘I’m not the villain here. My family has kept WWJD alive. You think the tithe from Mrs. Melady’s bingo winnings paid for your new transmitter?’ And Emma-Lou said, ‘I never asked you to be our saviour. All we needed was a friend.’”

The wind must have picked up, because everyone suddenly felt colder and pulled zippers up and buttoned-down coats.

“And then he left?” Japheth asked.

“I heard his shoes in the hallway. The usual, ‘I own three dealerships and know how to parallel park’ stride,” Suwarna explained. “I heard the elevator ding, and I assume he got in. From Emma-Lou’s office, I heard a slam. A drawer? A door? Hard to say. The intercom cut out when she left her office. After that, I was patching through to the lobby intercom so maybe I missed some action. Carrington?”

Carrington’s gaze slid to the blackened patch of floor by the elevator shaft. “He came through the lobby fast,” they said, eyes distant remembering. “On his phone. He was grumbling in Italian. Sounded like curse words maybe. I was going to say goodbye, but he did not seem in the mood for chit-chat. Rino left, and a minute later Emma-Lou came flying out of the elevator after him. I dropped an earring and stooped to scoop it. When I came up, they were both gone. I didn’t hear any raised voices from outside. No squealing tires. No ominous organ music. Honestly, I thought maybe they were late for a lunch reservation at Spuds.”

“So, hearing drops us a few clues but remains inconclusive,” Ronald summarized. “Argument, investment, resentment but no obvious threat from Rino.”

“And no confession of ‘By the way, we were also responsible for vanishing your parents.’” Rebekkah added grimly, then smiled brightly. “So that’s good news!”

“Taste,” Carrington said, eager to continue. “Let’s talk about cake.”

Rebekkah sighed. “My birthday cake,” she clarified. “Fudge cake. Rich, dense, sinfully delicious.”

“It was very good,” Japheth said. “I can still taste it. The frosting. The faint undertone of panic when you realized there were thirty candles instead of the nineteen I had clearly requested Carrington to count out. On no less than six Post-it reminders on their desk.”

“I’m not a fool here to do your dirty work,” Carrington arched an eyebrow of judgement.

“I will always be nineteen in spirit,” Rebekkah said with conviction.