Ollie Ollie Oxen Free!

Hide and Seek

Ian Rankin

Orion Fiction

My new boyfriend is such a complicated guy. I'll be honest -- the emotional (okay, mushy) part of me thinks that we're soulmates. He listens to Radio Three, he's got books strewn all over his apartment, and his commitment issues make Mt. Kilimanjaro look like a drumlin. Curiously, those are all traits that appeal greatly to this thirty-something girl.

The logical part of my brain whispers something different. It says "careful there, poptart. He's a cop. Worse -- he's a homicide detective. Can you really handle the secrets, odd hours, and sketchy people?" I'll give you an example. The other night, John had invited me over to, uh, hang out and there was a knock at his door. It was a girl from one of the cases he's been working on. Apparently, one of her junkie friends overdosed recently and both he (the deceased,) and now she, thinks he was murdered. Of course, John invited her in, gave her a meal (accompanied by some of the wine I had just bought) and offered her the couch to crash. The next morning, I overheard him on the phone with one of his work-colleagues and they think there might be some kind of satantic/ritual angle to the whole thing. It gives me the shudders just thinking about it.

So, I'm not really sure that Mr. Rebus is the guy for me. Maybe I should just break up with him and get it over with. Sigh. I don't know -- there are parts of him that I think I could get to like. A lot. And then there are those other bits (did I mention the drinking?) that make me think he's just Mr. Right Now. If you were to ask me to rate my chances of staying with him, I'd say that it's about 50/50 -- a two and a half out of five, if you will. I'll keep you posted and let you know how it works out.