Getting Rid of Bradley. Jennifer Crusie

him back if that’s what you want.”

      “No.” Lucy pressed her lips together and stabbed her salad again. “That’s not what I want.”

      “Well, what do you want? Just tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.”

      Lucy smacked her fork down. “You can’t. Or you won’t. I want to live my own life. I want to make my own mistakes. I want you to be my sister, not my keeper. You don’t have to take care of me.”

      “I know I don’t have to.” Tina frowned. “But I want to. I want you to be happy. You never have any fun.”

      “I don’t want to have fun.” Lucy took a deep breath. “Do you know what I want?”

      Tina shook her head, her eyes on Lucy.

      “I want to be independent. I want to take care of myself, without you racing to the rescue with money and lawyers. You always tell me what to do, and you’re always right, and most of the time I don’t mind it, but then I married Bradley, and he was worse than you are. Between you and Bradley, I haven’t made a decision on my own in almost a year because everything you told me to do was the sensible thing, and it would have been stupid for me to argue. Only I did all the sensible things, and now look at my life. It’s a mess.” Lucy stuck her chin out. “So, I’m changing. I want to make my own mistakes and mop up after them myself. I want to talk to my ex-husband without you threatening him with death. And if I want to dye my hair purple or adopt another ten dogs or…or…” Her eyes twitched to the man across the room. “Or go out with inappropriate men. I want you to stay out. It’s my life. I want it back.”

      “Oh.”

      “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Just stop doing it.”

      “All right.” Tina picked a cucumber slice out of Lucy’s salad. “Inappropriate men, huh?”

      Lucy slid down a little in her seat. “Probably not. That was just big talk.”

      “What about that guy across the room you keep looking at?”

      “Oh, no.” Lucy closed her eyes. “I’m that transparent?”

      “Well, he doesn’t seem to have noticed.” Tina glanced across the room. “He really is attractive, though. Your instincts aren’t so bad.”

      Lucy looked at the two men across the room again out of the corner of her eye. The one in the black was talking, his fingers slashing the air while he spoke.

      “He’s gorgeous,” Lucy said.

      “Actually, he looks a little dull. But if that’s what you want, let me see what I can do.” Tina started to get up.

      “Dull?” Lucy said. “He looks insane.”

      Tina stopped. “You’re talking about the one in the tweed, not the one in the black leather, right? You can’t be serious about the black leather.”

      “It’s my fantasy,” Lucy said. “And sit down. You’re not going over there and embarrass me.”

      Tina sat down. “The black leather would not be good for you.”

      “I can’t tell you how tired I am of things that are good for me,” Lucy said.

      “I know.” Tina nodded sympathetically. “But that doesn’t mean you should commit emotional hari-kari. That guy is unstable.”

      Lucy’s eyes went back to the black leather. “Actually, you know, he’s just what you ordered. What I’m feeling for him is definitely spontaneous and irresponsible.”

      Tina looked at him and frowned. “Maybe if you just used him for the cheap thrill and then discarded him.”

      “I couldn’t do that.” Lucy tore her eyes away from him. “I could never do that. I’d better just concentrate on being independent without the inappropriate-man part.”

      But she looked back at the man in black leather one more time and sighed.

      

      “I CAN FEEL IT.” In the booth across the room, Zack tapped his fingers on the scarred table. “Bradley’s here. Or he’s been here. Or somebody he knows is here. Or…”

      Anthony leaned back. “All right. He’s here. So are we. But it’s been an hour and I’m getting bored, so just point him out to me, and we’ll arrest him and go. He’s disguised as one of those two women, right?”

      “Fine.” Zack glared at him. “Don’t help. I’ll do this without you. Fine.” He drummed his fingers on the table.

      “Zack, I want to get him as much as you do,” Anthony said patiently. “He’s thumbed his nose at every cop who’s tried to nail him in the last nine months. And the million and a half he’s traveling on is not chicken feed. But I need more than just one of your instincts to keep me in this dive any longer.”

      Zack slapped the table and then drummed his fingers again. “Look, we got an honest-to-God phone tip that he’d be here, and it’s the best thing we’ve got so far. It’s not like we have anything else on this thing. It’s not like—”

      “Zack,” Anthony interrupted him. “You’re driving me crazy.”

      “What? Oh. The fingers?” Zack stopped drumming on the table. “Sorry.”

      “No, not the fingers. Although that’s got to stop, too. No, it’s the way you’ve been acting lately.” Anthony shook his head slowly. “That was a bad moment today with Jerry. I thought you were really going to kick him.”

      “Me? Naw.” Zack paused. “Probably not.”

      “Exactly.” Anthony nailed him with a frown. “That’s what I’m talking about. The ‘probably’ part. And all this rambling about quitting. I don’t like it. You’ve always been nuts. That’s fine. I can deal with nuts. But lately, you’ve been depressed nuts. I can’t deal with that.”

      “I’m not depressed.” Zack picked up a package of sugar, tore it savagely across the middle, and dumped it in his coffee. “I’m not elated right now, but I’m not depressed.”

      “You just decapitated a sugar packet. That should tell you something.”

      Zack stared at the mutilated packet and then tossed it on the table. “I’ll tell you something. I was really disappointed in old Jerry today. I mean, I felt sorry for the poor sap, and then he pulled a gun on us, and I thought, damn, nobody’s decent anymore. And then he shot at us, and I was really mad.” Zack shook his head. “Sometimes I think there aren’t any decent people in the world anymore.” He tasted his coffee and frowned. “So maybe the job’s getting me down a little, but I’m not depressed.”

      “You are depressed.” Anthony spoke clearly and calmly, as if he were speaking to the mentally ill. “And your depression is affecting our work. I know what’s wrong.”

      Zack glared at him. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate it that you were a psych minor? A minor, for cripes’ sake. With a minor, you’re not even allowed to psychoanalyze dogs.”

      “It’s because you’re worried about getting older. It started when you turned thirty-six.”

      “I don’t want to talk about it.” Zack turned his attention back to the restaurant. “Do those two women look guilty to you? There’s something strange about the blonde. I think it’s her hair. That hair is not real.”

      “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been snarling at the younger men on the force. And I have shoes older than the women you’ve been dating.” Anthony shook his head. “You are really transparent on this one.”

      Zack scowled at him. “It’s not age. Hell, you’re the same age I am.”

      “Yes, but I’m not depressed about it.”

      “Well,