0.5 Scooped

by Gina LaManna

  I admit, I agreed.

  ** **

  “I’m for sure getting the linguini,” Meg said, stretching her arms out wide as she maneuvered a not-exactly-stolen police cruiser towards St. Paul. Meg had been ‘removed’ from the police squad, but thanks to a minor glitch in the computer system, the squad car she’d been driving hadn’t yet been reported as missing. Since neither of us had an otherwise functional car, we decided to stretch the loaner to our full advantage.

  Meg slapped on the sirens and we cruised down -35 past Spaghetti Junction and into the meat of the city that was downtown. When we pulled up in front of Marinello’s, the valet, who looked more like a bouncer, eyed us suspiciously.

  Meg leaned out the window. “Any place we can park this bad boy while we grab some grub?”

  The man, whose name tag spelled Lorenzo, eyed us up and down. Probably determining that we looked like two crazy women who’d stolen a cop car, he nodded.

  “Here,” he said, pointing to the curb which was clearly painted red, with no less than six signs telling me my car would be towed if I so much as applied the brakes at this location. “I’ll watch it.”

  His accent was relatively thick and laced with just the slightest bit of menace. If he meant to be the world’s most unhelpful and most intimidating valet, he was doing a fine job of it.

  “Uh, okay.” I shrugged, getting out. It wasn’t really our car anyway, which was an added bonus of not-giving-a-flying-crap about parking it in even the worst neighborhoods. Like the one I called home.

  “I bet he’s guarding the Mafia’s secret hideout,” Meg said. “Rumor on the street is there’s a room upstairs that’s a business hub for the mob…. If you know what I’m saying.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said, smiling easily at Lorenzo. “The mob doesn’t exist. And even if it did, I don’t care who is meeting upstairs, ‘cause I am hungry.”

  We hustled into the restaurant, our stomachs leading us the entire way. As the door opened, the smells that instantly hit us were delectable. Incense of olives and oils and pasta with red and white sauces filled the air, an array of lasagnas and salads as far as the eye could see, and the mother of all desserts: a gelato bar that took up one entire wall.

  I was drooling worse than a Saint Bernard by the time I picked up my tray.

  “I’ll take that. And that. And a little bit of that. And… well, I mean a little more of that. Just – okay, one more scoop. And sure, how can I pass that up?” I pointed at the penne noodles and twisted macaroni, cheese oozing off every square inch. How could I say no? It was as if the word was temporarily eluding my mind.

  “I’ll come back for gelato later,” I said, paying for my lunch and Meg’s. The place was reasonably priced, but somehow our bill still came to a strangely high amount.

  “Thanks, girlfriend,” Meg said. “Wanna go upstairs and eat?”

  “Yeah, sure thing.” There was a small rooftop deck up top, and since it was fall, the weather was still quite balmy. In a few short weeks, we’d probably be under piles of snow for the next eight to twelve months, so we had to take advantage of the last stretches of a gorgeous Indian summer.

  Once on the roof, the series of sighs and moans escaping from our mouths was probably worthy of the porn version of the Oscars, if there was such a thing. Except there’s no way we would have lasted nearly long enough to win the Porn Gold Medal. The food was gone in under four minutes flat.

  “I think I need to go to the bathroom,” I said. “But I can’t tell because my stomach is so full it’s pressing on my esophagus.”

  “Yeah, I have a strong bladder that’s used to getting pressed on. I’m gonna sit up here and digest and make some room for the gelato.”

  I knew what Meg’s ‘making room’ consisted of, and the fumes were sure to be deadly. I wanted to be nowhere in the vicinity when the process occurred. In fact, it was quite lucky she was in an open air environment. I hoped that would be enough ventilation for her digestive business.

  Moving slower than sludge, I took the steps carefully to the half level between the deck and the gelato haven. Taking the scenic route to the bathroom, I stared at all the pictures posted on the walls. They were old-timey, mostly the Marinello family themselves. I kept moving, stopping suddenly when I noticed a picture of a softball team. It was different than the one I’d pulled from my mother’s box at home, but it looked somehow familiar.

  Maybe because the young girl my eyes were drawn to was the same girl in my photo. Wearing number seven as before, my mother stared out of the frame at me, and there was an odd hitch in my throat. I blamed it on surprise.

  Examining the picture further, I noticed the same man, standing in the back row. His eerily intelligent eyes and piercing stare were unmistakable. I took a step back, shaken by the contents of the photo.

  “Yes, everyone’s gone. The room is yours. I cleared it out for the rest of the day.” A man’s low voice reached my ears. Nothing about what he said was in itself incriminating, but the tone in which he spoke led me to believe that he didn’t want to be overheard.

  I glanced around quickly, finding a door on the other end of the hallway. I rushed inside, regretting that I hadn’t been nearer to the bathroom. Instead, I’d picked a storage closet. I guess if worse came to worst, there was a bucket and nine hundred rolls of paper towels.

  The voices passed by, and I heard a noise that sounded like a door opening. It was so close, I feared that they were coming into the broom closet. It’d be kind of hard to explain how I’d mistaken this as the bathroom.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t the closet they were headed towards. Instead, their footsteps disappeared into what I suspected was a hidden room next door. I crouched in my corner, planning to leave once the door had shut and the conversation disappeared. I didn’t want to rush out in case there were others joining the two faceless voices.

  My knees creaked for the next few minutes and my butt went a little bit numb, but there didn’t seem to be any more foot traffic in the hallway, and the voices in the room had dulled to a low murmur. I stood to leave, except right then, an outburst from the first man who’d spoken drew me back in.

  The conversation elevated in volume, and I could now understand the words:

  “Why aren’t you bringing him to me?”

  “Sir—”

  “No – unacceptable. I want the bastard to admit to me, staring me in the eyes, what he’s done.”

  “But—”

  “There are no buts. If he can man up and apologize, maybe I will let him live.”

  The icy quietness of the man’s voice was the scariest part. His words were crisp and clear, like how sound travels on a frigid winter morning before the noises of the earth have awakened to ruin the stillness of a fresh, fluffy snowfall.

  The pause hung in the air, a threat not to be touched. Even I knew that.

  “Yes… sir.”

  I could imagine the second man bowing his head and walking out of the room.

  I breathed a deep sigh of relief and straightened, ready to jut out before spending any more time in forbidden territory with a man as ruthless as a tiger on the other side of the door. Let a man live? Who did he think he was, God?

  The hairs on my spine tingled as I heard his voice once more. “Take care of this. You know what to do.”

  I slipped out of the closet, not even caring if somebody saw me. My bladder was near bursting and I’d heard enough. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the man with a voice sharper than the pointiest stripper stilettos my mom owned.

  ** **

  After relieving myself, I snagged no less than ten free bathroom mints to pad my pockets. I met Meg on the deck, where she was sunning herself without shame. Her shirt was pulled up to just under her neck and her shorts unbuttoned and rolled down to just about dangerous territory. Her eyes were closed, and I was willing to bet she’d nabbed the cucumbers currently resting on her eyes from the communal water jar near the entrance.

  “You ready?” I ask
ed Meg.

  “Don’t you got some business to take care of?” She shifted one cucumber up to the middle of her forehead – her third eye, ‘for brain relaxation’ – and peeked at me. “I ain’t part of that. My business is here. Rejuvenatin’.”

  I’d almost forgotten our reasons for coming here in the first place. And as I thought about it now, my stomach turned over in a real queasy fashion. “I think I’ve gotten enough business done today,” I said.

  “Girl, keep your regularity schedule to yourself.”

  “No,” I hissed. “I have to tell you something. Information.”

  “I hope it’s the name of your real family, ‘cause we all know you sure as hell ain’t no Lacey Smith, even though your mom said so.”

  I groaned, but I knew she was right. If I didn’t toughen up and take care of business now, I’d never find out the name of the family that’d let my mother down. And I couldn’t do that. At least I couldn’t do that and sleep well at night. Honey deserved better.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “I’m going to go grab some gelato for thinking power.”

  “I’m thinking you’re on target,” Meg said. “And that thought right there just cost me some precious calories that some double nutty chocolate gelato could replenish real quickly.”

  “I get your point.” I turned and left Meg to her business, which at that moment consisted of burning calories while thinking about gelato. That girl, sometimes.

  Downstairs I moseyed over to the gelato wall, keeping my eyes peeled for men who looked like they were capable of having someone killed in cold blood. Because I’d seen The Godfather, and I knew what take care of it meant loud and crystal-friggin’-clear.

  Fortunately, or unfortunately, all of the men on the first level looked rather jolly and into their food. There was nobody staring around the room in a black suit, a cigar poking out of his mouth. Bummer. I’d have loved to put a face with a name, but for all I knew, mystery man was still upstairs in the room ordering peoples’ deaths.

  “Can I help you?” The man behind the corner was smallish and happy looking, his round stomach and red cheeks a sign that he probably ate well. Not that I blamed him, considering he worked for the most fabulous Italian restaurant in town.

  “Yeah, I’ll have… that. And that. And the pistachio. How ‘bout a scoop of nocciola?” I sighed. “I think that’s it.”

  The older man looked at me. “Uh, would you like that all in one bowl?”

  “Will it fit?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I’ve never tried.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” I gave a weak smile. “But if you spill over into a second bowl, could you add a blob of strawberry and a titch of the dark brown one? Yeah, the chocolatey one.”

  After a few minutes of what looked like a very rigorous arm workout, the man had my gelato ready… in three bowls.

  “Thanks.” I smiled again and took out my money to pay.

  The man shook away my hand as I looked for an additional fiver and grinned. “It’s buy two get one free.”

  I looked up in surprise. “Really?”

  “For you, a beautiful woman, of course.”

  I blushed pinker than my fast-melting strawberry gelato. “So sweet. And thank you, I really appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem. But tell me your secret – where do you put it?” He leaned over the counter and gave me a quick, non-sexual glance up and down. I wondered for a moment if he wasn’t gay.

  “I guess it’s just my genes,” I said. “I’m lucky.”

  “Lucky – that’s the brand of those jeans? I have got to get myself a pair.” He patted his rolly stomach. “Think it’ll help with this?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said with a sly smile. “You look great.”

  The man chortled, and I was taken by his pleasant nature. It was nice to receive a compliment from a man who didn’t seem to be attempting entry to my pants. Jeans, or genes, or no jeans at all.

  “Can I ask you something?” I asked.

  “Only if it’s not my number,” the man said with a wink. “I’m married.”

  “Oh, no. I mean, not that I wouldn’t – never mind. I was just wondering if you knew anything about the softball teams that Marinello’s has sponsored in the past.”

  “Oh sure, great time watchin’ the kiddos. In fact, my sons have more pictures on this wall than everyone else.” He gestured proudly around, and I wished for a second that I’d snatched the picture with my mother in it from upstairs to show him. “Why you ask? You don’t look old enough to have a kid. You want someone on a team?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “I’m kind of looking for someone.”

  The man’s eyes darkened and he suddenly had gelato scoops to clean and counters to wipe down. “I’d keep your voice down about that, miss. I don’t know you, but people don’t come here looking for someone and leave happy, most of the time.” He glanced around the room warily. “You seem innocent enough, so I’d suggest whatever beef you’ve got with anyone around here, you let it go.”

  “Oh – no.” I raised a hand. “It’s not like that at all. My mother passed away recently, and I’m just trying to find out more about her family. You know, to distribute her assets and everything. She ran away when she was young, and I want to… at least, let her parents know she’s… gone.” I didn’t have to fake the salty tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

  “Hon, well that is an entirely different thing. There, there.” He patted my hand. “Here, take another.”

  He scooped another bowl of gelato and set my four containers in a to-go bag. He gestured towards the excessive amounts of food. “Everything makes more sense now.”

  I nodded and swallowed back a gulp that was thick in my throat. “Yeah, I have a photo of her on a softball team, and that’s pretty much everything I know about her roots. I don’t even know her real last name. She wasn’t feeling creative when she switched it to Smith, I guess.”

  “Listen, I’ve gotta finish my shift, but I’d be happy to talk with you later tonight. I’ve worked here mosta my life, and I’m fifty-eight. If there’s anyone in that picture that’s been around here in the last forty years, I’ll recognize them.”

  “Okay, thank you so much. I really appreciate that.”

  “No problem,” he said. “But let’s not meet here. Just in case.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “There’s a little bar called Shotz on the other side of town. It’s a ten minute drive with the traffic at 10 p.m., so let’s meet there.”

  “Wonderful. That’s Uptown in Minneapolis?”

  “Exactly. And by the way, I’m Enrico.”

  “Thanks again.” I smiled and left the rest of my cash as a tip. I was running low on funds; it wasn’t like my mom had a 401K as a stripper. I’d inherited about five grand when she passed away, and I had used most of it on funeral expenses. “I’m Lacey. Lacey Smith.”

  I only hoped that when we met later, he’d have an equally generous tip for me.

  ** **

  I stopped home to grab the photo of my mom and slipped it safely into an envelope. I sometimes have a tendency to wreck things, and I hadn’t wanted to lose it during my recon mission to the restaurant. But now, bringing it out of the house was inevitable. I needed to show Enrico, my new gelato dealer, so he could identify my mother’s real last name. If he couldn’t, I might be back at square zero. And that was definitely not a square I wanted to be at.

  Meg showered while I carefully tucked the envelope into a laptop carrying case. I brushed my hair, threw on respectable clothing that included stretchy black yoga pants – ones that kind of almost qualified as dress pants – a tank top and a zippy sweater. The bar we were going to was not one of the ‘fancy’ variety, so I wouldn’t be overdressed in my current getup.

  I spritzed water on my hair and attempted to blow dry it, which turned out to be rather useless. My hair was kind of floppy, no matter the amount of teasing I d
id to the roots. I slapped on some red lipstick and a few swipes of mascara and figured I looked halfway decent. The pants did a decent job slimming the after effects of the one point nine bowls of gelato I’d finished during the car ride back.

  Meg emerged from the shower just as I wiped off the lipstick. I was going to find information, not get a date. After all, Enrico was nearing retirement, and I still hadn’t decided on a big girl job. We were entering different phases of our life. Even though I wouldn’t mind going straight to retirement some days.

  “Really?” I asked. “That’s what you’ve chosen to wear?”

  “Sexy, ain’t it?” Meg turned around and smacked her booty with her hand. A cascade of rainbow streamers fell to the floor. She was wearing what looked like a feather boa carefully pinned to strategic parts of her body, ending in a plume of streamers flowing out of her rear end like a peacock’s feathers.

  “Yeah, but we’re not going to the strip club tonight.”

  “I dress to make myself feel good,” Meg said. “I don’t give a rat’s behind if the girls at normal bars are jealous.”

  “Okay. You look great, but I’m just worried that there might be some unfortunate slips of private areas if you start molting.”

  “Fortunate, unfortunate… tomato, tom-ah-to.” Meg did some spirit fingers and turned in a circle. “I’m ready!”

  “Okeey, then. Here we go.”

  Meg and I packed up and took the stairs towards the squad car sitting outside my rather un-enthralling apartment. Except even more un-enthralling was the empty space where the car had been parked only three minutes before.

  “Shit-balls,” Meg said.

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Friggin’ effin’ A.”

  “This is a bummer.” I looked up and down the street. “Did you put it in park?”

  Meg gave me wide eyes. “Of course I put it in park. Did you see someone steal it while I was in the shower? If you didn’t live in such a poop-storm of a neighborhood…”