Aftermath

Ch 126: The Bad Guy Monologue

Kota

"Heard you were working in here! You've got my number. Text me when you've got our first date lined out!"

--Ashley

The note, written in purple ink and adorned with a careful red lipstick print, had been left on top of my open lab manual.

I balled it up, then tossed it in the trash can. I was hardly in the mood to deal with the Rileys and the Ashleys of the world. If I couldn't go confront McCoy and Frenchie and demand to know who their accomplice was, then all I really wanted to do was hide away with Sang somewhere far from prying eyes.

Maybe I shouldn't be around Sang right now. Had anything about our current circumstances been normal, I would be facing at least a couple of hours or some other punishment. Then again, I never would have argued with Owen like that.

The worst part of it was that I knew Owen was right about sending me home. Making a mistake at this juncture could be harmful—not only to me, but the team at large. The key had been planted in Owen's office, which had to have been done to raise suspicions about Owen as well. As he had theorized, he had likely been the target of the bombing in the first place, especially since McCoy seemed to want his job back. Then, the plan had been foiled—maybe the timing, maybe even my presence or Jenny's—or possible everyone's, as the cafeteria was supposed to have been empty.

Whatever had happened, something had gone wrong, and the culprits had been left trying to identify a patsy. Enter Kota Lee, right on cue.

On the radio, the announcer stated that there was seven minutes left in the second half. In sports time, that could be seven minutes or thirty but regardless, I needed to stop moping and get busy; Hendricks would probably be coming through sooner than later.

I unlatched the waist strap and got to work, though my mind continued to wander. Frenchie had been worried that I was going to do something tonight. Why now? Why not at some point in the last three weeks? What was I missing? I was 99% sure that neither Frenchie nor McCoy—or even Morris, for that matter—had shot me, so who had?

I should know this. I do know this. It was just locked away in my brain, possibly forever. Probably along with my date with Sang and whatever I had done afterward; I hadn't even had a flash of either event.

I got the lab station broken down, and I was washing out the beakers when Sang appeared in the doorway, flashing me a timid smile.

I waved her in. "It's okay, you can approach," I said, putting the beakers on the rack to airdry. "I can admit that I overreacted."

Sang stepped inside the lab. "I think it's understandable," she said.

"Don't excuse my behavior when I act like that," I told her.

"I wasn't excusing it," she said, a new firmness in her tone. "But there's a reason for it; this isn't you, and you know it."

To hide my shame, I ducked down to store the remaining items under the cabinet. "I suppose you're right." I closed the cabinet door and stood up, making eye contact with her. "Concussion or not, I am cranky and annoyed that we have all this information and I can't do anything with it." I tried to smile. "Chin up, Ten. Forgive me?"

Sang looked up to meet my eyes. "There's nothing to forgive," she said.

I felt even worse; I really didn't deserve this girl and her huge heart. "Are you staying with me and Victor? Or if you want to go back to the game, it's probably okay; we just need to talk to Owen about it first."

"I've had enough of basketball," Sang said. "I'd rather hang out with you."

Unbidden, I felt myself break into a full smile. "I'm almost done, but feel free to come in a little further," I invited.