“Depends. I can’t exactly pull off Swan Lake on a six string.”
“I’m thinking Clapton at the Mardi Gras Gala. I’ll sing and play rhythm.”
The kid’s eyes widened for a split second before he slipped back into teenaged indifference. “Yeah, that could work.”
“Cool. We’ll need to start working on the piece.” I rummaged through the pantry. “I’m never up this early. What does she feed you guys for breakfast?”
“Ryan and Chloe eat oatmeal, or eggs and toast. Maggie makes them eat fruit too.”
The doorbell rang. The damned dog barked and hauled ass to the foyer and the window and back again.
With one hand on Cocoa’s collar, I opened the door and let Evelyn inside.
Zach kissed his grandmother on the way out. “I gotta run. Early band practice.”
“Bye, Zachary.” Evelyn smiled and handed me a bag of baby clothes. “I went shopping for Ella yesterday.”
I set the fancy paper sack on the couch. “I see that.”
She shoved a glass container of still warm food into my free hand. “I remembered you said you were getting the kids off to school this morning. I made you a frittata.”
“Thanks, Ma.” I smiled, though I had my doubts the munchkins would eat it.
“It was no trouble. I wish I could stay and visit, but I have to get your father to Baton Rouge for a doctor appointment. Is everyone feeling better?”
“Yeah, it must have been a twenty-four-hour virus. Maggie and Chloe are fine.”
“Good. Poor Chloe missing her recital.”
“I promised her we would hold a private performance. Could we do it at the gala?”
“She could dance at the wedding.”
“Very funny.”
“I’ll inform the event planners my granddaughter will be dancing.”
“Could you find her a pink costume with wings?”
“Consider it done.” She patted my cheek and headed for the door.
“Drive safe, Ma.” Following her, I grinned to keep the mood light and launched a verbal hand grenade. “When will you call off the custody hearing?”
“When will you set a date?”
It was too fucking early in the morning for this. “Weddings take time to plan…”
She gave me the same look she’d given me when I was a kid trying to lie my way out of a beating. “I love you, but I’m not dropping the case until the two of you are married.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The hearing is tomorrow. It takes longer than that to get a marriage license.”
“Your lack of planning isn’t my fault.” She smirked. “And there will be no running off to Vegas.”
“You should know, I plan to testify on Maggie’s behalf.”
“We’ll see what your father has to say about that.” Evelyn headed for her car.
Cursing under my breath, I waved to my father.
He motioned for me to come to the car.
My mother, the good mafia wife, backtracked into the house. “I’ll watch the kids.”
Joe rolled down his window. “There’s a little matter of a loose-lipped, and sticky-fingered employee I’d like you to take care of.”
I hung my head. “Pops, I—”
“It’s not like you have to get your hands dirty. It’s a call and a car ride.” He set his jaw. “You need to be there. Power only holds when our enemies know we are strong.”
A call to arrange someone’s execution, and a car ride to witness the murder. “I have a family to consider. What happens to them if I go away?”
He barked out a laugh. “We take care of our own. End of story. Get it done.”
My nod cost me a piece of my soul. I could only imagine what the actual deed would rob from me. I passed my mother on the way back inside but couldn’t meet her gaze.
Sweet sounds of a waking baby came through the monitor. I snuck into my room to grab her before Ella realized she had a wet diaper and woke the rest of the house. “Hey, sweet pea.”
Ella answered with an ear-piercing scream that turned her face from red to a strange shade of blue.
Not now, honey. Please not now. I held her to my shoulder. “Shit. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay, little one.”
After changing her, I returned to the kitchen to prepare a bottle. Holding her upright, I did a sort of bob and weave dance as I worked.
Ryan came into the kitchen with a huge wet spot down the front, and back, of his pajamas. “I peed.”
“I see that.” This is not my fucking day. I tilted my head and considered how to fix this with one hand. “Can you take your clothes off by yourself?”
Ryan nodded and stripped quicker than I would have thought possible.
I wrapped my free arm around the kid’s waist and hoisted him into the kitchen sink. The little guy looked at me as if I’d lost my mind but squatted like a quarterback waiting to receive the ball.
I used the sprayer to hose down Ryan’s butt and legs. Still holding the baby, I grabbed a dish cloth, patted him dry, and set him on the floor.
Chloe stood near the kitchen door with her hands on her hips and a look of pure disgust on her face. “Gross.”
“I agree, but my options were limited.” I popped the lid on my mother’s frittata. “Look what grandma Evelyn dropped off.”
Both kids screwed up their faces.
Ryan said, “It has green stuff.”
“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? I’ll figure something else out.” I motioned toward the stairs. “Go get dressed, little man. Chloe, sweetie. Can you put Ryan’s pajamas and the dish towel in the laundry room?”
“Eww. No way.” She shook her head. “I’d rather eat broccoli frittata than touch pee pants.”
It’s too freaking early for this. Struggling to function with one hand, I pulled a box of frozen waffles from the freezer and dropped two into the toaster.
At least Ella had quieted down. She seemed amused by the chaos.
Chloe pointed at the toaster. “Those are for Saturdays only.”
“Give me a break. I can’t find the instant oatmeal.”
My niece’s expression reminded me of Maggie’s when I’d chugged milk from the carton. It seemed they both thought me a moron.
“Because it’s not instant.” She shook her head and went back to her bedroom.
I considered the baby in my arms and frowned. I’d never thought about the difference between raising boys and girls. “You better be a tomboy when you grow up.”
Ryan came back to the kitchen wearing a lot of clothes, none of which matched. Since the kid didn’t have to leave the house, I didn’t mention his choice of wardrobe.
I poured syrup on the waffles and set the plate on the bar in front of Ryan. Remembering what Zach said about fruit, I added a banana.
Ryan shrugged, picked up the waffle whole, and ate it like a piece of toast.
Chloe returned with a brush and hair ties. She took one look at Ryan and rolled her eyes at me.
What the hell did I do now?
Obviously doubting my intelligence, she eyed me. “I need a bun today. I have dance class after school.”
“Okay, let’s see.” I buckled Ella into her carrier, tossed Ryan’s wet pajamas into the laundry room, and washed my hands.
The girl wrinkled her nose. “I’ll go ask Aunt Maggie to do it.”
“I got it.” Taking the brush from Chloe, I hesitated. I wore a ponytail on most days, but I’d never pulled someone else’s hair back, let alone a bun. I brushed her long brown hair, secured it near the base of her skull.
Chloe pulled a brown band from her wrist and handed it to me. “You have to twist it and put this around it.”
I vaguely remembered Maggie doing something similar. I wound Chloe’s hair until it coiled into a knot and stretched the second tie around the base. “How’s that?”
Chloe pressed her fingers against the messy bun and nodded. “It’s good. Thank you.”
“Remember I told you we would do a private
recital?”
She gave me a pirate’s smile. “Uh huh.”
“Would you like to dance at Grandma Evelyn and Papa Joe’s Mardi Gras party?”
Her mouth fell open. “The masked ball? Like Cinderella? Really? Can I stay and dance with the grown-ups after?”
“Anything you want, except a pumpkin carriage. I don’t think I can pull that off.”
The little girl smirked. “Duh. Only princesses have fairy godmothers.”
Peals of laughter filled the kitchen. The damned dog had pinned Ryan down and was licking the syrup from his face.
“No, Cocoa. Bad dog.” Chloe grabbed the mutt by her collar and pulled her off the boy.
I picked Ryan off the floor and washed his face and hands with a clean dish cloth. “Chloe, eat your waffles before they get cold.”
Ella started to fuss in her carrier, and the house phone rang in the midst of the chaos. I snatched it from the wall. Holding the handset to my ear with my shoulder, I grabbed the baby formula out of the pantry. “Hello.”
“You’re engaged?” Chantal’s voice drilled into my eardrum.
“Hang on.” I motioned for Chloe to eat, put a pacifier in the baby’s mouth, waited to make sure she didn’t spit it out, and walked toward the garage.
“Maggie Guthrie? Keeping it in the family, Gabe?”
How the hell did she find out? I whispered through gritted teeth, “How did you get this number?”
“Is this why you refuse to give me the money your family owes me?”
“Sign the papers, Chantal.”
“Screw that. I’m coming to get my daughter.”
I sucked in a breath and counted to five. My lawyer had warned me not to argue with her until the judge approved the custody request. Then again, he’d also suggested I have her eliminated. I’m going to kill one, why not kill two? Hell. Why not put a bullet in anyone who pissed me off? My father would be proud. “Think about what’s best for the baby.”
“You love her?” Chantal’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Of course, I love her. How can I not love my daughter?”
“Not the baby. Do you love her?”
“Yes, I do, and she’s good with Ella. Please, sign the papers.”
Chantal laughed and disconnected.
I walked back into the kitchen.
Chloe frowned and set her dishes in the sink. “Who were you yelling at?”
“I didn’t yell.”
She shrugged. “Sounded like it to me.”
I checked the time. “When does the bus come?”
“Seven-thirty.” Standing at the end of the hall, Maggie looked from Ryan, to the syrupy plate, and finally at me. “Who called?”
20
Maggie
I could excuse feeding the kids a sugary breakfast. Waffles were quick and easy. I could ignore the bag of frilly pink clothes that told me Evelyn had already come and gone. Heck, I could ignore Ryan wearing six outfits at once, but I couldn’t handle the guilty expression on Gabe’s face. “Who called?”
“No one.” He turned and finished preparing Ella’s bottle.
Always the peacekeeper, Chloe interrupted. “Look, Aunt Maggie. My Uncle Gabe put my hair in a bun.”
“Very pretty.” I smiled; it probably looked like a snarl. “Hurry up. The bus will be here soon, and you still need to brush your teeth and get shoes on.”
“I know, I know, but it’s hard to think about school when I have to plan my recital.” She ran down the hall giggling.
I arched a brow at Gabe.
“I promised her a one woman show. Still working out the details.”
Normally, I’d volunteer to help, but I couldn’t add anything else to my list. “Sounds great.”
“Feed the baby while I make coffee?” He asked with a hopeful lift in his voice.
I thought about refusing until he answered my question, but that would only hurt Ella. I pulled the baby out of the carrier. “Before you make coffee, get the port-a-crib set up in the living room. It’ll make things easier to have a safe place to put her down.”
“You bought a port-a-crib?”
“It was Ryan’s. I got tired of Cocoa eating Ella’s pacifiers and brought it down from the attic.” I took the bottle from him and offered it to the baby.
“I would have done that.” He scratched the side of his head. “Where is it?”
“In the garage. Looks like a bag of golf clubs.” I turned my attention to Ella.
“I’m ready.” Chloe came back into the kitchen and wrinkled her nose. “You might want to clean the sink. Uncle Gabe washed Ryan’s pee off in it.”
I winced. “Gross.”
Chloe threw her hands up. “That’s what I said.”
Despite my mood, I laughed and gave her a half hug. “Do you want me to wait outside with you?”
“Nah, I got it.” Chloe kissed my cheek and Ella’s head. She grabbed her bag and hurried to the garage.
I listened as she told Gabe goodbye before she walked out front to catch the bus alone. I didn’t like it one bit. Chloe never went to the bus without me. Too many things had changed too quickly.
“Your phone’s ringing.” I called to Gabe.
“Ignore it.” He disappeared around the corner with the port-a-crib.
I glanced at the screen and the room tilted.
Chantal had called him.
On a hunch, I checked the call log on the house phone. The same number appeared. How in the hell did Chantal get my number?
“What time’s your meeting?” Gabe took Ella from me and brushed his lying lips across mine.
Okay, maybe he hadn’t lied, but he hadn’t shared all the pertinent information either. He had to have seen her, or at least spoken to her. How else would she have my number? “In a half hour. I need to run or I’ll miss the ferry.”
“You okay?” He stacked dirty plates in the sink as if hiding the evidence would solve the problem. “I can drive you to the Quarter. I have to pick up last night’s receipts from the bar.”
“You have your hands full. Want me to get them while I’m out?”
“Thanks. I’ll let Jessie know you’re stopping by.” He turned his attention to the breakfast plates. “Have a good one.”
“Yep. See you tonight.” Even elbow-deep in dishwater, the man made my pulse race. He lied to me and all I want to do it jump his bones? I need a therapist.
I’d speed-walked three blocks to the ferry terminal when my phone rang. Figuring it was Gabe, I answered without checking the screen. Big Mistake. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Maggie.”
My mouth went dry. I hadn’t spoken to Justin since meeting his wife. “Why are you calling me?”
“To congratulate you on your engagement. I didn’t realize the guy at the bar was Gabe Marchionni.”
“What?” I pressed a hand to my chest and stepped off the curb.
Justin replied, but screeching tires and a blaring horn drowned out his words.
Unable to make sense of what had just happened, I stared at the cursing driver several heartbeats before crossing the street.
“…they’re loaded. I had to go to the hospital for my jaw…medical bills… pain… payment… he owes me—”
I disconnected the call and hurried to board the ferry. I had enough on my plate without worrying about Justin Trudeau.
Shanna waved as I approached the café. Not that I needed any help spotting my best friend. Her hair was bright purple and cut in short layers that stuck out in all directions. I envied her. Shanna had something I desperately wished I had—self-confidence.
“Hey, love the new look.” I embraced her a little too tight.
“Thanks. I wanted something different. It’ll be great for Fat Tuesday.” She pulled away and gave me a quick once over. “Everything good?”
“Everything’s great.” I groaned to myself. My least favorite thing about living in New Orleans had to be Mardi Gras. “But I’ll be working in a bar during that craziness.�
�
“Are you still doing that? What happened to the magazine?”
“It’s field research.” I raised the menu to hide my expression.
Shanna pulled it down. “I hate to ruin your morning, but did you see the announcement in the paper?”
Little did she know my morning already sucked. “What announcement?”
She lowered her voice. “Your engagement announcement.”
My heart fell into my shoes. “It’s in the paper?”
Shanna handed me her phone.
For the second time that day, my world tilted on its axis. I stared at a photo of me and Gabe with our names, along with the word engaged, printed in bold beneath it. The picture had been taken years before when we were dating—the perfect image of a happy, betrothed couple. “Oh God.”
Shanna set the cell on the table between us. “What’s going on? You said the engagement was a misunderstanding.”
“Yes and no, but I didn’t leak it to the paper.” Is this how Chantal found out about us? Had she gotten my number from someone other than Gabe? Had Justin seen it? Was that why he’d called?
“Yes and no? Either you are or you aren’t.” She sat back and folded her arms.
“It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated with that family.” Shanna rolled her eyes.
“I need info for the article. Plus, he’s going to get Evelyn and Joe to drop the custody case.”
“You’re going through with the article?” Her eyes widened.
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen Shanna look frightened, and for some reason, this was one of them.
“Marlena approved my proposal to do the exposé about the Marchionni family and their businesses.”
“Like I said before, are you nuts? Evelyn already wants you dead so she can have the kids, and let’s not forget you’re engaged to Gabe.”
“She doesn’t want me dead.” I laughed, but it sounded hollow.
“Not yet. If you start airing their dirty laundry to the world, things could get worse. When’s the custody hearing?”
“Tomorrow.” I’d done my best to trust Gabe when he’d said he’d get his parents to back off, but so far nothing had changed.
Absinthe Minded: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 1) Page 12
