Page 48 of Bad Moon Rising

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I told Amber, “I’m taking you home and nursing you for a couple of days, okay?” She nodded and put her cheek on my shoulder as she hugged my arm. I said, “Chinese okay? We can pick it up and take it to the apartment.”

“Just a bowl of egg drop soup for me. I’m not going to do much chewing for a while.”

We stopped at a Chinese food restaurant I knew that wasn’t far from Amber’s apartment and picked up soup for both of us; egg drop for her and hot and sour for me. We ate it while sitting on her couch, watching Big Trouble in Little China. I’ve seen it probably four million times, but Amber had never viewed the awesomeness of this John Carpenter classic. I had to bite my tongue not to quote along with the movie or tell her what was going to happen next between Lo Pan and ol’ Jack Burton.

She loved it, and we talked about scenes for another hour before deciding to watch a little more television before going to bed. I flipped channels and found a documentary on Townes Van Zandt, the late, great country singer and songwriter.

Amber had her bandaged head in my lap and as we watched, she said in a sleep-slurred voice, “I love his music.” Five minutes later she was asleep. A couple of times she whimpered and frowned, but I put my hand on her arm and she relaxed, sleeping deeply. I found a small throw pillow and eased it behind my head. I closed my eyes a few minutes later...

The next morning the doorbell ding-donged and woke me. Amber stirred, then stretched like a cat, which I thought was cute. I stretched, too, and tapped my bad ankle on the leg of the coffee table. I uttered a sound like a lost baby kitten, but didn’t pass out from the pain.

Amber said, “I’ll get the door.”

I thought about the last time Amber answered her door and hopped to my feet, “I got it.” My ankle hurt but not as bad as I thought it would. Of course, I hadn’t taken off the tape either. I opened the door and Hondo came in carrying a large brown paper bag.

Amber pointed at the bag and said, “What’s that?”

“Miso soup for breakfast.”

Amber said, “Yum, I love Miso.”

Hondo said, “I didn’t figure you’d be chewing much.”

Amber hugged his neck, then pecked him on the lips, “You’re so thoughtful. Thank you.” She gave him another quick hug then carried her soup to the couch.

I said to her, “Uh, hey, I got soup for you last night, remember?”

Hondo handed me a bowl as Amber said, “I remember, but this is breakfast. The most important meal of the day.”

Hondo’s eyes crinkled, and the corners of his mouth went up a quarter inch. He said, “It certainly is.”

I said “You’re not the boss of me,” and they both laughed, so I ate my miso soup in big slurps just to aggravate them. It was good.

I finished mine in record time, then leaned toward Hondo to see how much he had remaining in his bowl. I said, “You gonna eat that?”

He turned his shoulder to me as he spooned faster. I turned toward Amber, but she just smiled that lopsided smile and turned her bowl upside down. Not a drop left. “You need to be fast, cowboy, if you’re going to hang with the champ.”

I was actually full. I said to Hondo, “Do we have something on our schedule?”

“We need to get with Sylvia so she can pay us.”

“You want to check on Bodhi, see how she’s doing too, don’t you.”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes. That whole quick marriage thing is giving me indigestion.”

“I know.”

Amber said, “Would you check on Derek, too? Looking at him last night broke my heart.”

I said, “We’ll go by his house.”

She beamed at me and I felt my spirits lift. Amber is one tough woman.

Hondo said, “You ready to go?”

“Let me brush my teeth.” He nodded and I sauntered into the bathroom and took care of business, then went to Amber and kissed her, “I’ll be back. Don’t do too much.”


Tags: Billy Kring Mystery