Shot Girl

by Karen E. Olson

  And instead of staring at me with that look I’d come to know so well, he was avoiding my eyes, looking at anything and everything except me.

  "What’s up?" I asked.

  Vinny ran a hand through his dark hair and smiled sheepishly. "I just thought it might be nice to go out."

  Something was up, but I could tell he wasn’t going to let me in on it. He was looking at me expectantly, like I was supposed to say something. Instead, I stood in front of the fan, trying to cool down. "I have to change," I said.

  "I’ll wait."

  He didn’t follow me into the bedroom. That was unusual. I grabbed a red sleeveless top that clung in all the right places and pulled on a stretchy black skirt that twirled as I walked. Glancing in the mirror, I saw there wasn’t much to be done with my hair, but I went into the bathroom and put on a little mascara, hoping to disguise how tired my eyes looked, dabbed a little blush on my cheeks and gel on my lips. Fairly presentable. Back in the bedroom, I scooched down and reached for the strap of one of a pair of high-heeled sandals under my bed. I managed to find the other one, too, with a little more effort.

  Brushing dust off my skirt, I went into the living room, where Vinny was looking out the window.

  "Hey, there," I said softly. Maybe with the right moves, I could avoid this going-out shit and we could just go to bed.

  For a second, I thought it was going to work. When he turned, he finally had that look in his eye. But then he was all business again, reaching for the door.

  "Ready?" he asked, not even commenting on the outfit or how pretty I was or anything. Damn. Our relationship was still too new for him to start ignoring the way I looked.

  He followed me down the stairs and opened the passenger door to his Explorer, closing it after me and going around the front before climbing into the driver’s seat. I welcomed the air-conditioning, leaned forward, and aimed the vent at myself.

  I felt his hand on my thigh through the thin fabric and I jerked my head up. If we weren’t already past Olive going down Chapel, I might have been able to change his mind. I slapped his hand away playfully.

  "You had your chance," I teased.

  Vinny shrugged. "Yeah," he said absently, his eyes locking with mine for a second before they went back to the road.

  Again I wondered what he was up to.

  We pulled into a lot on Crown Street, next to Louis’ Lunch.

  "I don’t want a hamburger," I said, indicating the small, squat burger joint.

  Vinny chuckled. "We’re not going there."

  We parked, and I had to jog to keep up with him on the sidewalk, but not too far. He stopped in front of the Istanbul Café. Turkish food. I wasn’t sure about this.

  Vinny saw my hesitation and leaned over, whispering in my ear. "They’ve got belly dancers tonight."

  "Oh, yeah, right, like that’s going to entice me," I grumbled. While I wasn’t in the mood for a burger, I would rather just have a pizza or pasta. Spicy food had its place, but not when I was overtired and overheated.

  I didn’t have a choice, however. Vinny opened the door, and he tugged my arm so I had to go through. A tall, dark man greeted us and led us to the back of the small restaurant to a table for two behind sheer orange and red curtains. I rolled my eyes, and Vinny ignored me, thanking the waiter for the menus as we sat. I tried to get comfortable on the pillow on my seat, but if Vinny had thought this would be romantic, he was wrong. I needed a beer, some quick food, and to get the hell out of here.

  Vinny seemed oblivious to my feelings as he ordered a lamb dish that we could share, but to his credit, the beer was cold and quenched my thirst. He laughed as I finished it, ready for another.

  "Slow down. This is only the first stop."

  What the hell?

  I barely tasted the food and was happy that our curtains seemed to be a barrier between us and the belly dancer, who had begun to make her way around the restaurant, table by table. I chewed faster, hoping we could finish before she decided we were in the mood for a little entertainment.

  Her moves reminded me of Jack Hammer. I wondered again about seeing him with Shaw this afternoon at the nature center. I couldn’t make the connection between the two, unless my suspicions about Shaw having some sort of nefarious background were right.

  "So where are we headed next?" I asked as our dessert of melted cheese covered with strings of stiff maple syrup was placed on the table. I wasn’t sure about it, so I took a sip of the incredibly strong coffee. Jesus. That would wake the fucking dead.

  Vinny cocked his head toward the door, his mouth full of cheese.

  "Yeah, I know we’re leaving, but where to?" I asked. The coffee was doing its job; the beer and sleepy fog had started to lift. I felt like I could run a goddamn marathon.

  "Bar."

  I glanced toward the window that overlooked Crown Street toward the bar across the street, simply called Bar, like it would be too hard for anyone to remember another name. Okay, the clientele ran a little young, so maybe that wasn’t so far-fetched an idea.

  "Why?" I asked, but that coffee must have sparked my memory while waking me up, and I remembered. "It’s Felicia Kowalski, isn’t it? Is she working there tonight?"

  Vinny leaned back on his pillow and smiled. "Give the girl a gold star. I was wondering when you’d put two and two together."

  "Give me a fucking break, Vin. I had four hours of sleep last night."

  "Yeah, but now you’re awake, right?"

  It had been good strategy on his part. Sometimes I forgot that Vinny was Ivy League smart and almost had a Ph.D. He wouldn’t have been caught dead at Southern. But my newfound energy also jolted my memory, and it was time to get to the bottom of what was really going on.

  "So tell me more about Ralph’s grand jury investigation and how my mother came to be representing him," I said.

  Vinny’s mouth was full and he choked back his surprise, recovering enough to swallow before a long, slow grin spread across his face. "You mean you don’t know everything yet?"

  "So what’s the deal?" I took my fork and picked at the crunchy syrup until it sank into soft cheese. I tried a taste. It wasn’t bad: sweet and chewy and a little sour all at the same time. I took another forkful as I waited for an answer.

  "Ralph was into some serious shit." Vinny stared at me a few seconds, then, "He’s been buying guns legally out of state but selling them illegally here. For drugs and money."

  Chapter 13

  The waiter came back, and I ordered another coffee. I’d be up all night at this rate, but I wanted to be alert for this conversation. I sat back on my cushion, letting Vinny’s words sink in.

  So this was where Ralph had ended up. Back home. Not the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist he’d dreamed of being, but a criminal.

  Vinny was talking. "I knew he was working there. Last night. That’s why I was there. At the Rouge Lounge."

  His words hung between us for a few seconds.

  "So you didn’t just see it on TV?" I thought about how he’d caught me as I fell, his excuse for being there that he wanted to see what was going down. To call him a liar, however, would be the pot calling the kettle black.

  Vinny sighed. "I was in the bar. I saw you talking to him before he went outside." He paused, then, "I saw that kiss."

  Shit. But I asked him what I had asked Renee: "Did you see me kick him in the balls after?"

  He frowned, stared at his bottle a second, then looked up at me. "No."

  "I did. I kicked him in the balls." I knew the way it sounded the minute I said it: like I was trying to convince myself, too. Not good.

  He snorted. "I took a short walk."

  To walk off his anger. Yeah, I understood. I tried a smile on for size. "You should’ve seen him doubled over."

  But he wasn’t amused. "Yeah, sorry I missed that." He paused. "I walked around the building. Near the parking lot."

  I knew what he was looking for now, but I had to turn this around to something else. "So if you
were there, why didn’t Tom round you up, too, to question you?"

  Vinny studied my face for a few seconds. He was on to me. "He doesn’t know I was there."

  I hadn’t seen him, either, except after, when he was standing behind the crime-scene tape with all the other curious passersby.

  "You were in the back room, watching that show," Vinny reminded me, reading my mind. "No men allowed, remember? When I saw you come out and talk to Ralph, I moved out of sight."

  "So were you watching me or him?"

  Vinny licked his lips, and I could tell he was thinking about lying. But he must have changed his mind, because he said honestly, "Both of you."

  "So since you knew he worked there and I was going to be there, were you trying to get some sort of clue about how I’d be around him?" I thought it was a fair question.

  Vinny ran his hands over the stubble on his face. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t jealousy.

  "Jesus, Vinny, did you think I was in some sort of danger?"

  It was like someone hit a switch, and the smile was back, his eyes twinkling. "You, in danger? I know you can take care of yourself."

  Yeah, right.

  The waiter slipped the bill onto the table, and Vinny pulled out his credit card, putting up his hand as I opened my mouth to protest. I usually argued, but decided not to this time. I wasn’t in the mood, and the belly dancer was sashaying closer to our table, jingling as she moved. The sooner we could get out of here, the better.

  We stepped out of the restaurant and crossed the street, where twenty-somethings were spilling out the door of Bar. I heard the rhythmic thud of a bass from somewhere within. I was too old for this, but the news about Ralph and my curiosity about Felicia had grabbed hold of me, and Vinny had grabbed hold of my arm, and within seconds we were swimming through a sea of firm, nubile bodies.

  I wondered if I looked as old as I felt.

  "Excuse me, ma’am," I heard from behind as a young man in a Boston Red Sox T-shirt squeezed past.

  Yeah, I looked as old as I felt.

  I tugged on Vinny’s hand. "Let’s get out of here. We really don’t belong here."

  He wasn’t paying attention to me. I held his fingers lightly as we wove through the crowd. The music was so loud, I thought I’d gone deaf: Mouths were moving, I saw people laughing, and a chair skidded across the floor, but I heard none of it, my eyes taking in everything, my ears nothing.

  I tightened my hold on Vinny’s hand, squeezed. He turned to me, smiling, indicating someone behind me. I turned to see a tall brunette with blond highlights wearing a tight camisole and short skirt, legs stretching down into stilettos. I had a flashback from the other night, when I wore something similar. But I wasn’t in my twenties. I must have looked like an idiot.

  I wondered if this girl was the mysterious Felicia, but I remembered the health and science photo. The hair was the right color, but it was straighter and I didn’t remember highlights.

  My hand was cold. Vinny was gesturing, talking with the girl, who held a tray of test tubes filled with a clear liquid. He handed over a few bills and took two, handing me one, leaning in toward her, and saying something in her ear before turning to me and shouting, "This is Ashley. She’s a friend of Felicia’s."

  I nodded in what I hoped was a polite way before taking the test tube. I didn’t even sniff it; I downed the tequila shot and put the tube back. Vinny and Ashley were grinning at me, Vinny indicating he would buy me another. I shook my head and pointed back the way we came, not waiting for him, moving toward the door, then finally back out into the sauna outside.

  A car passed, and I heard its motor rumble as it did. Okay, so I wasn’t really deaf. I hoped Vinny was getting some information about Felicia from Ashley. She’d been the only shot girl I’d seen, but then again, I hadn’t really been looking too hard.

  A couple of guys were standing off to my left, cigarettes hanging from their fingers. That shot had brought back a taste I hadn’t had in a long time, and I inhaled the smoke, wondering if one cigarette could get me hooked again. It had been a few years since my last one.

  I’d probably have a coughing fit and die on the sidewalk, just like Ralph.

  I noticed one of them was looking at me, and I stared back.

  "Hey," he said. His hair was spiky, an earring looped through one ear, and he was wearing a black T-shirt with a skull on it.

  I should’ve worn my Sturgis shirt again. Maybe I wouldn’t have been mistaken for a "ma’am" then.

  Yeah, right.

  He wasn’t hitting on me, since he was elbowing his friend in the ribs, a small smile on his face. He winked, but it wasn’t that sort of a wink—you know the kind. It was a teasing wink, one that questioned what the hell someone like me was doing here on a Friday night.

  "Hi," I said, joining him and his two friends dressed almost exactly alike, except their black T-shirts weren’t sporting skulls. Might as well make the most of this. "You guys wouldn’t know if Felicia’s working in there tonight?" I cocked my head toward the door.

  They glanced quickly at one another, smiles evaporating. The guy who’d winked frowned. "Who wants to know?"

  It seemed pretty damn obvious who wanted to know: me. But I guess that wasn’t good enough. "Friend of a friend," I said.

  That wasn’t good enough, either, since they started shifting from one foot to the other. The guy with the skull dropped his cigarette and ground it with the heel of his sneaker before asking, "What friend?"

  I debated with myself for a second, then said, "Ralph Seymour."

  "Guy who got killed last night?" the kid asked.

  I nodded.

  "You think she had anything to do with it?"

  He hadn’t heard about the heart attack.

  "Just want to talk to her."

  "You a cop?"

  I almost laughed out loud. Tom would have a field day with that one if he ever heard. "No. Ralph was my ex-husband."

  Their eyes grew wide and they shifted again, but their eyes indicated curiosity.

  "She’s not here tonight." The kid who spoke had a high voice, like it hadn’t changed yet, even though he had a goatee. "Not yet, anyway."

  Shit. Was I going to have to stay here until closing just to see if she’d show up? I stifled a yawn. Where the hell was Vinny? Maybe I could leave him here and go home and go to bed. I calculated the blocks to my apartment. It wasn’t too far, although I’d probably have to take the shoes off—I was still sporting blisters from last night—and I wasn’t sure walking barefoot on the sidewalk was a smart thing to do.

  Before I could make any sort of move, Vinny stepped out of Bar, took my elbow, and steered me across the street.

  "She’s not here," he said.

  "I know," I said, and he frowned.

  "How?"

  "Kids out front said she wasn’t. Where to next?" I put my hand over my mouth to cover up another yawn.

  Vinny noticed. "Sorry I dragged you out," he said. "Let me take you home."

  "But we have to find Felicia."

  He didn’t respond as we made our way back to the Explorer. When we were settled in and on our way back toward Wooster Square, I put my fingers on his thigh, lightly tracing the muscle there. He glanced at me quickly, then back at the road. I took that as a green light and let my fingers do more of the walking, and when he looked at me again, I raised my eyebrows and grinned.

  He didn’t grin back, but he didn’t move my hand.

  Once the Explorer eased against the curb in front of my building, I felt pretty confident that I knew where this evening was finally headed. Vinny slung his arm around me as we ascended the stairs to my apartment, and when we got inside, he pushed the door shut and put his hand on the back of my neck, pulling my face to his and kissing me.

  The heat I was feeling now had nothing to do with the air.

  But just as quickly as he’d started, he stopped, staring into my eyes before moving away, pacing across my living room.

  Somethi
ng was wrong.

  I let my eyes move around the room, taking in my space, the space I’d called home now for ten years. The Japanese print of Mount Fuji was on the wall behind the rocking chair. Ralph had given it to me as a wedding present. It was the only thing I had from him that I’d kept.

  Vinny suddenly stopped pacing. He took my hand and led me to the rocking chair. I sat, and although I couldn’t see the Mount Fuji print anymore, I could feel it behind me.

  Vinny knelt down in front of me and took my hands in his.

  "I was in the bar last night when I heard the shots. I didn’t want to go through the front, but went out the side door, the one the deliveries come through. That’s where I went after I saw him kissing you." He paused. This wasn’t easy for him. I willed myself not to show any emotion. "I had a good view of the parking lot." His voice wavered slightly, and I’d never seen him like this before. My chest constricted, and I swallowed hard.

  "I saw you leaning into the car, the gun in your hand. You put the gun under the seat."

  Chapter 14

  This wasn’t going the way I expected.

  "You’re not going to deny it?" Vinny asked incredulously.

  I shrugged. "What can I say? You’ve convicted me already."

  "I waited all evening for you to say something, to tell me about last night, but you didn’t say a damn thing," he said.

  "So you automatically think I’m guilty of something?" I glared at him. "We talked about last night. I told you he kissed me, that I kicked him."

  I couldn’t look at him anymore, so I took a deep breath, reached back, pulled my hair up, and stretched my neck hard enough I heard it crack as I looked at the ceiling.

  It was a light touch at first. The thin scars on his palms tickled my skin as his hands slid up my calves and under the skirt to my thighs. I shifted instinctively toward him as his fingers hooked around my underpants and tugged them down. My breath came faster; I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.