Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Camila sat on her beat up couch staring at her blank plasma-screen television. She wished she hadn't told Josh to leave, even though it was the right thing. Playing damsel in distress and clinging to him wasn't going to do any good.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing.
"'Milla! Hey!" her oldest and dearest friend from back home, Troian, said. Or more like shouted.
"How may times have I told you not to call me 'Milla?" Camila shouted back. "Where the hell are you?"
"A bar about twenty minutes from your house!"
"Why the hell are you in Spain?"
"Visiting you, duh! Why don't you come on down and live a little?"
"I feel more like staying in, Troian. Could you come over?"
"Sure. Is everything okay?"
"No. For once, it's not all gonna be okay, Troian. Please?" Camila snapped.
"Is it that playboy partner of yours? You said something stupid, didn't you?"
"No, Troian, it has nothing to do with him. Well, for the most part. Could you please just get your skinny little ass over here?" she raised her voice to a yell.
"Okay, okay," Troian surrendered, the background noise dying down. "I'm on my way."
"Thank you," Camila said, hanging up the phone.
About an hour later, after spilling her guts to Troian, Josh called.
"Hey!" he said enthusiastically. "What's goin' on?"
"My friend Troian stopped by. Even though she lives in Minnesota, she spontaneously bought a plane ticket to Spain. What about you? Did you find Cal Valanse?"
"Uh, yeah. Dismembered along the side of a road. Now we're waiting for the tox screen report to see if there were steroids in his system."
"So you're still at work? It's past one."
"Yeah, Guthren told us to do something productive until the tox report comes back. Hey, are you okay?"
"I'm better, but not fully okay. I talked to Troian, which helped."
"What, my shoulder isn't good enough to cry on?"
"Oh, it is, but it's not exactly easy to talk to you about...certain things."
"Like me?"
Camila, taken aback, said, "Wouldn't you love to know?"
"Yup. Look, Guthren's giving me that look that suggests he would kill me if it was legal. I'll talk to you later."
"Adios, amiga."
"Si, novio."
Camila was about to ask him what he meant by calling her sweetheart, but the line went dead.
"What's wrong?" Troian asked. "What'd he say?"
"He called me novio," Camila stated, staring blankly ahead.
"Which means...?"
"Sweetheart."