She was cute, with short, choppy blonde hair and big blue eyes, a slim waist, and a nice rack. As Luca looked her over, he chuckled to himself. He did have a little lineup of blondes.
“Hey, girl. You have a good day?”
She winked one of those baby blues at him. “Sure. Same old, same old. Summer people suck, but they keep me employed.” Lynne managed one of the souvenir shops on the boardwalk. “How ‘bout you?”
“Day like any other. You up for dawn patrol on Saturday?” Having known each other as long as they had, Luca and Lynne were friends, too. And she was as active as he was. An early morning surf, while the summer people did their sleeping in, was a fine damn time.
“Sure. I close Saturday, so my morning’s open. S’posed to be good?”
He shrugged. “There’ll be something to catch. I just want to get wet, y’know? Been a couple of weeks. I’m getting antsy.”
“Suddenly you can’t go out on your own?” She was smirking, giving him shit.
“You know I will. Just inviting you along.” He finished his current beer, and Hugh came over with a fresh one, bringing one to Lynne, as well. “Having second thoughts now.”
Lynne bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Butthead. I’ll meet you out there.”
As he talked with Lynne, and with an increasingly busy Hugh, Luca started to plan his night. The forecast looked good for ending the night at Lynne’s, and that was a good thing. He needed a cleansing fuck, just straight-up good fun.
The pub had gotten crowded, more than usual for a weeknight, but the week was aging toward the weekend. A couple of people had come up to the bar to bitch at Hugh about the jukebox, which played nothing more recent than about 1990. Hugh liked his 70s and 80s metal. Whenever anybody complained, he just gave them a one-finger salute and made them wait for the drinks they’d also come up for.
Around maybe eleven, eleven-thirty, above the growing din, there was a ferocious, feminine shout—“GET OFF ME, MOTHERFUCKER!”—and then a crash of glass.
And then there was a brawl.
Damn. He’d just gotten his shoulder feeling better.
‘Scuse me, sugar,” Luca spun around on his stool as he spoke to Lynne. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hugh coming around the bar with his bat. Brawls didn’t happen often at Quinn’s—people were, as a rule, pretty mellow at the beach—and when they did, they got quashed quickly. Most people tended to get the fuck out of the way and make a circle around the fracas.
In the middle of this fracas was—Luca pulled up short—a tiny, dark-haired girl in ripped jeans and red Docs. Manny, his new favorite masseuse. She was wielding a broken beer bottle and seemed to be trying to defend a tallish, skinny guy wearing a ragged Flaming Lips t-shirt. That dude was bound up by a big guy behind, who had Flaming Lips caught in a decent half-nelson. The big guy was bleeding, a gash running across his face.
Possibly the result of an attack by a flying pixie with a broken bottle.
The brawl had quickly hit a standoff, before Hugh and Luca could even get there. Now Manny was brandishing the bottle in a wide arc, while everybody else watched her warily.
Bleeding guy flexed his arms, tightening his grip on Flaming Lips. “Drop the bottle, bitch, or I take his head off.”
“Manny, it’s okay,” Lips rasped. “Chill. Chill. You’re makin’ it worse.”
Luca saw something like confusion pass quickly over Manny’s face, and he took the opportunity he had. Too focused on her friend and the guys threatening them, she hadn’t seen him, so he maneuvered directly behind her, then moved rapidly to wrap his hand around her slender, bracelet-armored wrist. That hand held the bottle, and as soon as she reacted to his touch, he yanked it away and tossed it to Hugh, who caught it deftly by the neck.
She reacted strongly to his touch—screaming and fighting—until he yanked her back against him and held her in a bear hug. It was like holding a sack full of angry bobcats or something. Jesus.
“Easy, girl. Not gonna hurt you.” For his kind words, she kicked him in the shin with the heel of her clompy boot. Ow.
With her disarmed, the guy who had Flaming Lips, and his apparent buddies, started to get uppity, but Hugh went for them and backed them off, getting Lips free. Then Hugh grabbed Lips by the collar of his stretched-out t-shirt and waved the bat at the other guys.
“Out! Your tab’s on me tonight. Just get the fuck out.”
Bleeder crossed his arms. “She came at me! Look at my fucking face!”
“You seriously gonna stand there and bitch that that ninety-pound chick fucked you up unprovoked? You that kind of pussy? Go on, get yourself patched up and learn to be a gentleman.”
“I swear to God, I didn’t do shit—barely touched her!”
“Touched her enough—Get. OUT. Not asking again.”
They went, sending murderous looks toward the black-haired bobcat still struggling in Luca’s arms. Then Hugh dragged Lips toward the back, giving Luca a nod indicating he should follow. Luca picked up Manny and slung her little body over his shoulder, keeping tight hold of her surprisingly powerful legs and just trying to ignore the clawing and punching happening to his back. Oh, and biting, too. Awesome.
They got back to the storeroom, and Hugh stopped, pushing Lips out in front of them. Luca would have been happier to have moved on through to the alley. The girl in his arms would likely find lots of weapons among the cans and boxes and bottles back here.
As soon as Lips was loose he said, “You gotta put her down. You gotta get your hands off her, or she’s never gonna calm down.”
Against his better judgment, he set Manny’s feet on the ground and released her. And she shocked the fuck out of him by scurrying away to a far corner, behind a row of beer cases, and dropping to her knees, curling over onto herself like she was doing a hurricane drill at school.
Hugh muttered, “What the fuck?”
Lips ignored him and went to Manny. Luca watched as he squatted down in front of her, his arms folded between his chest and his legs.
“Manny. Take a breath. Come on. Look at me and breathe.” She shook her head, and Lips sighed. “Okay. I’m right here. You take a minute.”
Hugh crossed his arms over his chest, cradling the bat. “You wanna tell us what the fuck?”
Lips looked over his shoulder at them, then stood and came over, holding out his hand. Hugh scowled at it, but Luca shook. “I’m Dmitri. That’s my sister, Manny. That guy that had me, he got a little too friendly with her. She doesn’t do well with strangers touching her. Things got out of hand.”
Luca asked, “What did he do?”
“Grabbed her ass.”
Hugh scoffed. “He got slashed for that?”
“Like I said, she doesn’t do well with strangers touching her. She got drunk tonight—that’s my fault. She does worse, then.”
“Christ. Well, you two need to take off.”
“Yeah, okay.” He turned and looked at his sister, who was still doing the hurricane huddle, then turned back to the men. “Um. Is there, like, a cab in town?”
Luca and Hugh both laughed at that.
“Yeah,” Hugh said, “But not this late. Al’s in bed long before now.” He gave Lips—Dmitri—a critical once-over. “You look okay to drive.”
“Yeah, but she drove. And I don’t drive a stick.”
“I’m fine,” said a small voice from the corner. “I can drive, Dimi.”
Luca thought that was a bald lie. “Sugar, you slashed a guy for grabbing your ass. I’m gonna go on a limb and say your faculties are somewhat impaired tonight. You live anywhere close?”
Manny came up to her feet but didn’t answer. Dmitri said, “Yeah, just a few miles—on, uh, Cormorant Street. There’s a little apartment building there, just down from a gas station? The building is pink.”
Luca nodded. “Yeah, I know it. Okay, come on.”
Recognition finally entered Manny’s insanely blue eyes. “Fuck. It’s you.”
He chuckled. “You kno
w, I’m gonna start getting hurt feelings if you keep dropping f-bombs every time you see me.”
Dmitri and Hugh both swiveled between Manny and Luca. “You know her?,” Hugh asked.
“I do. Gave me a massage this afternoon.” Luca kept his eyes on Manny. He could see her relaxing little by little. This chick was strung tight. Damn.
“No shit?”
“No shit. C’mon, you two. My giant phallus is parked in the lot down the block. We’ll go out the back here.”
Dmitri gave him a strange look. Manny almost smiled; he was sure of it. Hugh was practically giggling as he went back out front.
oOo
He pulled up in front of Manny’s apartment building, a weathered clapboard structure that had once been a grand manor, then, around the Depression, had devolved into a rooming house, and then found new life in the Eighties as a building with six small apartments. It had been painted a vibrant pink at some point, years back. That paint was faded and peeling badly these days. The bright, sodium arc lights from the Gulf station at the end of the block made shadows under the peeling paint so that the building looked scarred.
Luca had been to more than a few town meetings during which this block of Cormorant had been a hot topic. If Quiet Cove had a slum, this was it. This one block at the end of a street.
He parked, and Dmitri, with a muttered, “Thanks, man,” climbed out of the back seat. Manny, who’d been up front with him, just sat there.
“You okay, sugar?”
“I guess I’m supposed to thank you, too.”
“Nah. No need. Just glad you’re okay. Go on inside now.”
Again, though, she surprised him, and before he even saw her coming, so fast and smoothly he wasn’t sure how she’d made it, she was straddling him. She grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him, her tongue plunging into his mouth. Yep—pierced.
Just as quickly, she sat back. “You can fuck me if you want.” She rocked in his lap a little, and his cock definitely noticed. He saw in her eyes that she noticed him noticing.
But this shit was all too surreal and confusing, and he was likely to end up missing that cock if he indulged this little psycho’s sudden interest. He put his hands on hers—she hissed and jumped at that, like he’d hurt her or something—and moved her hands from his face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to.”
A little pout pursed her lips. “Oh. Okay.” But she didn’t move.
So he opened his door and stepped out, her body stiff as he held her. He set her down on the ground. “You should go on up to bed, Manny. Sleep it off.”
“Manny, come on.” Dmitri took her hand—she didn’t seem to mind that—and led her toward the building. He turned and called over his shoulder to Luca, “Hold up a sec, okay?”
Hoping that psycho didn’t run in that family and Dmitri wasn’t going to roll back out with a shotgun or some shit, Luca closed the driver’s door and leaned against his truck.
He waited about ten minutes and was thinking he was being a damn fool and should head on out and see if he could still catch up with Lynne, when Dmitri came trotting down the front steps.
“Thanks for waiting, man. I just…you said she gave you a massage, and she needs that job. I want to try to explain, so you maybe don’t feel like you should tell everybody she’s a psycho or something.”
“I had no intention of bad-mouthing your sister.”
“Thanks. But still. She’s not psycho. Not really. She just has trouble calibrating her responses to people.”
“What’s that mean?” He didn’t know if Dmitri had seen Manny straddle him, but he decided not to bring it up. That had definitely been a mis-calibrated response, however.
Dmitri looked painfully uncomfortable, but he continued. “Um, look. Manny and me, we’re adopted. Foreign adoptions—from an orphanage in Ukraine. You ever hear about those places?”
He thought he’d seen some news show or something about it, a long time ago. “They’re the ones with the kids left in the cribs and shit?”
“Yeah. I guess it was bad. I was only in one for about a year, and I don’t remember it. But Manny? She was there for almost six years—since she was a couple days old. Hardly anybody ever touched her for the first six years of her life.”
“Christ.”
“Yeah. That kind of broke her. But she’s a lot better. She learned how she’s supposed to react to people, and how to control her reactions that aren’t normal. But tonight was just…a bad stew, I guess. I had a big fight with my friends, and people who are supposed to like each other being shits to each other always makes her skittish, and then I wanted to chill out at the bar. I should’ve been watching her closer and gotten her out of there when it got so crowded and that guy wouldn’t back off, but I was stewing in my own shit. Tonight’s my fault, not hers.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, thanks for the ride, and please don’t do anything to lose her job for her, okay?”
“Dude, like I said, had no intention. Get on inside and take care of your baby sister.”
“Older sister, actually.”
That surprised him. Dmitri both looked and acted older. But all he said was, “Okay. Take care.”
Dmitri nodded and went in.
Luca got in his H3 and pulled out, headed toward his apartment, thinking deep, sad thoughts about a tiny little girl sitting alone, with no one.
For years.
4
“You want some juice?”
Manny turned and smiled at her brother, standing in the doorway to her little kitchen. “No, Dimi. Fuck. I’m fine.”
“You’re still rocking, sis.” He crossed the room sat next to her on the sofa, and she turned into him. He put his arm around her, and she finally settled. Except when she was way off the beam, Dmitri could always touch her.
“You like that guy? That Luke guy?”
“Luca. And no. I don’t even know him. He’s probably gonna fuck this move up for me now.”
Dimi combed his fingers through her hair. “I don’t think so. I think he’s cool.”
She pushed away and looked her brother in the eye. “You know so much about him you can be sure of that?”
“No, but…I just…I explained a little about what happened.”
Her turmoil had been waning, but now it picked up a little as she tried to imagine what he might have said. “What’s that supposed to mean? What did you explain?”
“Don’t get mad, sis. I just didn’t want you to lose work over this. You know? And he said he was a client of yours—”
“Not a client. I filled in for somebody. Did one session.”
“Well, okay. I didn’t know that. But still—he’s obviously a local, and I—”
“What did you tell him?”
“Just that we’re adopted, and…that we came from that orphanage.”
Manny pushed free of her brother and stood up. “Fuck! Fuck, Dimi! Why?”
“I wanted him to know why you act like that. So he wouldn’t think you’re psycho.”
“I am psycho!” She stormed into the kitchen and ripped open the cabinet next to the sink. Then she started throwing prescription pill bottles at him through the doorway, which he swatted away. “Anti-anxiety.” She threw a bottle. “Anti-depressant.” Another bottle “Anti-fucking-psychotic.” That bottle she heaved so hard he lost track of it, and it hit him in the head. “I think that one fucking answers the question, don’t you?”
In a frenzy now, she cleared the cabinet of the rest of the pills, and they clattered over the counter, sink, and floor. Then she started on the dishes in her little wooden drainer. But Dmitri was there before she could set one flying, his arms banded around her.
“Shhh, sis. You’re not psycho, and you know it. You’re in control. You just had too much to drink is all and lost your peace.”
His arms calmed her. His were the only ones that ever did. From the time they were kids, even when his arms were shorter than hers. She took a breath. “Well, I’m not drunk now.�
�
“No. That’s why I know you can find your peace.”
She slid out of his arms and sat hard on the floor. “God, Dimi. He can’t know. He can’t know. I don’t want him to know.”
He sat down on the floor next to her, facing her now. “He says he’s not going to say anything, and you don’t know him, so why does it matter?”
“I don’t know.” She took the breath that finally made her calm. “I don’t know.”
Dimi gave her an enigmatic little one-sided smirk. “Okay. You want some juice now?”
Touch (The Pagano Family Book 2) Page 4
