and I expect you to obey them without question.” She’d paused long enough to raise a perfectly arched brow. How could someone communicate so much with one little action? Marla had wanted to know if she should continue speaking or save her breath. Jonah had nodded for her to go on. “When you see me dressed like this,” she’d said, gesturing to her red dress with white polka dots, “I expect you to call me Miss Marla or Marla. On the rare occasion you see me dressed as a man and not wearing a fabulous wig, you may address me as Ricky. Never Richard, Rick, and especially not Dick, unless you have plans to suck mine.” Jonah had bit his bottom lip to keep from chuckling. Marla hadn’t finished laying down the law though. “You will treat me with respect at all times. Am I clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jonah had said.
“And just because these are my rules does not mean they apply to all genderqueer people. Ask someone if you’re unsure which pronouns to use. Don’t be a jackass.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Marla tilted her head and studied Jonah’s face. She must’ve liked whatever she saw there because she stood aside, gestured for him to enter her home, and said, “Join me for coffee.” She didn’t ask or invite; she commanded, and he obeyed. Not much had changed since that fateful day.
In three years, Jonah had only seen Ricky twice. He was curious to know how old Marla was, but he’d never be stupid enough to ask. He figured a lady was entitled to her secrets.
Marla’s visit made him curious. Not so much because of the time, but because she’d chosen his porch to wait for him rather than her own. Their homes were close enough that she would’ve heard Jonah pull in without having to watch out the window for him. There was something in her voice, a wisp of sadness that made him push aside his exhaustion and frustrations as he dropped into the rocking chair beside her.
“Late night, isn’t it, darling?” Marla asked.
It was approaching ten, which wasn’t late for most people’s standards, but it was hours later than Jonah usually arrived home from work. “Meetings and more meetings.”
Marla shivered. “Sounds dreadful.”
Soul-crushing was a better adjective. “How was your day?”
“Very enlightening,” she replied. “I listened to the new true-crime podcast you are making with your friends. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I enjoyed it. The three of you have vastly different personalities, but you complement one another very well.” She sounded like an indulgent aunt or mother who acted as the sole audience member for a garage band’s private concert.
Sinister in Savannah, a podcast he’d created with his friends Rocky and Felix, a private detective and an investigative reporter, was the subject of much scorn during his meetings. It had debuted the previous week to rave reviews and was already trending in the top ten of true-crime podcasts. He’d had the deputy director’s blessing to participate, but Trexler thought it was a horrible idea. Jonah suspected Trexler’s animosity stemmed from jealousy over the attention the show garnered, rather than genuine concern Jonah would leak GBI secrets during the segments. Trexler had doubled down on making Jonah look like a fool by trying to discredit the work he did with Stella, the supercomputer with artificial intelligence Jonah had built from scratch. Trexler belittled his efforts and dismissed every conclusion Stella came up with after analyzing files.
“How’d the three of you meet?” Marla asked, pulling Jonah’s attention back to her.
“Through mutual friends with the Savannah Police Department.” Jonah wasn’t at liberty to discuss the investigation involving a serial rapist and killer that had brought them together since the case was still pending trial. “I don’t suspect you’ve been waiting in the dark for me to come home just to discuss the podcast or my friends.”
“No,” Marla said softly.
“Then why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you.”
“I’m dying, Jonah.”
The tempest in his soul rumbled louder.
Her words sucker-punched Jonah in the gut, and he was grateful he was already sitting down. He had to have misheard Marla. She was the kind of person who was larger than love and bolder than hate. A world without her was unfathomable. Jonah tried to speak but couldn’t with his heart wedged in his throat.
The moonlight was strong enough for Marla to see Jonah’s struggle. She reached over and gripped his hand. If he’d been more prepared, he would’ve tried to shield her from his devastation. What