FOURTEEN
True to Shea’s word, the glaziers showed the morning after Oisen tried to ruin my singing voice and fixed the window. I spent the next couple of days relaxing and giving my body the much-needed rest it demanded.
I desperately needed to get an alarm system. An assassin waiting for me in my home was a pretty strong persuader. I should have gotten one when I bought the house but had put it off. I’d almost lost my life for procrastinating. Even worse, what if someone broke in and stole my gem mint X-Men #2? I’d be crushed.
On Saturday, the phone woke me from a dead sleep. I reached across the nightstand and grabbed it, dropping it to the floor. I reached around and found the phone next to my Spiderman slippers that were an ill-thought-out birthday gift from my mother.
“Hey, it’s Marc. What are you doing?”
“I was sleeping.”
“It’s after one.”
“Am I on a schedule?”
“No, of course not. What’s up?”
“Are you going tonight?” he asked.
“Going where?”
“You know.”
It was once again time to play stump the dummy.
“Come on, Marc.”
“You’re supposed to go out with Diane tonight,” he announced.
“Shit, I totally forgot.”
“How could you forget that?”
“I’ve been a bit preoccupied. You might have heard something about it.”
“I hope you’re not going to stand her up?”
“I never actually agreed to go out with her.”
“Why wouldn’t you? You’re not going queer on me are you?”
“Who are you turning into? Tony? You sound just like him.”
“God forbid, but it would be good for you. She really likes you.”
“She doesn’t know me.”
“Give her the chance. She’s really great.”
My very married brother was again trying to live his life vicariously through me.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“You should do more than think about it.”
“Fine, I’ll propose to her right after the appetizer comes.”
“I’d wait until at least dessert.”
I climbed out of bed and looked in the mirror on my dresser. It might have been just my perception, but the face in the mirror had aged five years in the past couple of weeks. There seemed to be a lot more gray hair on my head and chest too. The red line from Oisen’s wire had faded around my neck but was still rough and sore; it looked like I’d be wearing a turtleneck shirt for a while. At least they were in season, unlike the time I was in high school and wore one for a week in the spring trying to hide a hickey. My mother kept asking if I was hot and my father only snickered, knowing damn well what I was up to.
I went downstairs and poured myself a bowl of cereal, Captain Crunch with Crunch Berries. Some people made fun of me for eating a kid’s cereal, but I had a sweet tooth when it came to breakfast. I tried to eat healthy once, some kind of cereal that looked like pinecones. It tasted like cardboard and I tossed the rest of the box out in to the yard figuring the animals would eat it. There were no takers. I didn’t mind oatmeal on occasion when the weather was cold but Captain Crunch was one of my staples.
CNN and FOX both had a live report from the Middle East, another suicide bombing in Israel. Looking for something a little lighter, I put it on ESPN News and dug into the cereal.
Refusing to go out with a beautiful woman was an odd course of action for me. Although I couldn’t stand Diane’s politics, maybe I could get by that and find out she liked comic books, Springsteen and baseball. Could a relationship bloom between two people on far ends of the political spectrum? Was it even worth my time and effort to go out? It’s not like I was currently in the best of shape. Maybe she didn’t even want a relationship and just wanted to boink my brains out. With all the drugs I’d been taking for pain, I’m not even sure the plumbing was in working order.
I’d had any brains I would have booked an immediate flight to Maui and spent a few weeks recouping on the beach to escape all the issues in my life right now. That would have been out of character for me though. I was never prone to running from my troubles. My ex-wife always said I wasn’t all that bright and I heard she called me the scarecrow behind my back. She might have been right at times.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning up my house and picking up some groceries. I checked in with Tony and he said Cassie was doing well. He asked how long before he could do her but he was just trying to get my goat. Tony may have talked a lot about sex, but when it came time to get down to business, he was a true professional. A professional leg breaker but a professional nonetheless.
He had to be back in Boston on Monday morning so I figured we’d leave Cassie there by herself. As long as she didn’t tell anyone where she was she’d be safe. I planned to take a ride sometime mid-week to check up on her and let the girl know I hadn’t forgotten about her. Her plight was front and center on my mind.
It was pretty quiet up in Ogunquit this time of year and she could spend the time alone doing some soul searching. There’s nothing better to help you think than a walk down a deserted rocky New England beach, just you and the ocean. Cassie was trying to make a huge life change and needed to choose her new path. At least I hoped she was.
At six o’clock, I found myself sitting on my couch still undecided. I felt like I should have been out working my investigation, but what the hell was I going to accomplish on a Saturday night? Even Bruce Wayne took a break now and then to date a hot model.
The phone rang and caller ID said it was Marc. I didn’t answer; he’d just keep pushing. I swear he hoped Diane would turn me to the dark side, we’d get married and he’d get even closer to LaValle. The thought sent chills up my spine. Me burning my NRA card as a tribute to my undying love for Diane was laughable.
It would look bad for my brother if I just stood her up. Of course, as I told him, I never actually agreed to take her out. I flicked through the channel guide on the television; Batman & Robin was on HBO at eight. I’d sat through that atrocious piece of crap once before and worried that I might be tempted again if I stayed home. My options were either a date with a gorgeous redheaded green-eyed liberal or a gay man’s superhero fantasy. The decision wasn’t even close. I shut off the television and headed up to shower; nipples on the batsuit, my ass.
****
Diane’s apartment was in a renovated mill in downtown Lowell, right across from the National Park Visitors’ Center. Once a sweaty and dangerous textile factory, the building was now filled to the brim full of yuppies wanting to live in a “cool” place.
It was a nice night with just the right amount of chill in the air. I wore a gray tweed jacket that I’d had tailor-made a few years back by an Indian tailor living in Japan who had set up shop outside the main gate of the base. The jacket was cut a bit different than an off-the-rack model so it would conceal my pistol better, though most people wouldn’t have known the difference. Date or no date, with everything going on in my life I wasn’t going out unarmed.
I parked in the neighboring garage and took the elevator up to the third floor where she lived. I knocked and I could hear Diane on the other side looking through the peephole. I did a little wave until she opened the door.
“Hi, come in,” she said. “I knew you’d come.”
“You assume much.”
“No, I spoke to your brother this morning. He said he’d call and remind you for me since you didn’t give me your number.”
“I smell a conspiracy.”
She wore a tight red dress with the cleavage cut low and hugging every curve of her taut body. The dress had a slit up the side almost all the way up her thigh and her red stiletto heels made her as tall as me, which really wasn’t all that hard to do.
Her red hair was down around her shoulders and she wore some kind of black lace thing around her neck. I have no idea what it was
called but I liked it. Her perfume was enticing yet not overwhelming and immediately got my hormones flowing. I’ve always been a sucker for a woman who smelled nice. Some would say I was just a sucker in general when it came to women and my track record said they might just be right.
On her right ankle she wore a gold bracelet and it suddenly struck me that Diane might be a pretty wild lady when she wasn’t playing the role of a straight-laced assistant to a congressman. If I were a betting man, I’d wager there was probably a tattoo or two on her body somewhere.
“Look, before we even start this night, I thought we should make a rule that we won’t discuss politics,” she said.
“That would probably be a good idea. I’d hate to torpedo dinner before it even came.”
She put her hand out and we shook. She let the handshake linger for a moment.
“Deal, no politics.”
“Then what’s left?” I asked.
“Life, love, music, religion and sex,” she replied with a wicked little gleam in her eye.
“Okay, so where are we off to?”
“Do you like Italian?”
“First name Ronan, last name Marino. It’s illegal for us paisans, even if we are only half guinea, not to like our native foods.”
“Great, I know a quiet little place over in Dracut we can go to. The owner is a big supporter of, oops, I almost violated the rule.”
“We should have some kind of penalty for violations.”
“Like what?”
A spanking came to mind but we were only two minutes into the date and hadn’t left her place yet. I simply shrugged and she got the idea.
“Let me get my purse and we’ll get out of here.”
She went into her bedroom and I looked around. Her place was painted in warm colors like beige and burnt sienna; at least that’s what the color was called in my box of Crayolas when I was a kid. On the walls were framed posters of what I guessed was some French circus. Not to my taste, but who was I to criticize someone’s taste in art when mine leaned toward comic books?
We walked out to the garage and she put her arm around mine.
“Cold?” I asked.
“No.”
Her arm rubbed against my gun and she stopped. This night might be coming to a quick conclusion.
“Is that a gun?”
“Would you believe I’m just happy to see you?”
“Ronan, why do you need a gun on a date?”
“It’s a long story, Diane. When we get to the restaurant, I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Okay. Am I in any danger?”
“Not unless you want to be.”
“I’ll let you know after a few drinks.”
****
We went to a place called Scola’s tucked away in a small strip mall over on the Lowell-Dracut line. It wasn’t Sarducci’s but I was sure it would be good. Most Italian restaurants in New England were as a minimum more than passable.
The restaurant was crowded but Diane was able to get a table right away. It must have been her looks because I knew she’d never use her political connections. Sure, and the Pope isn’t Catholic.
We sat and looked over the menus. A young male waiter with a long dangling earring, who was probably a liberal arts student over at the university, took our drink order and disappeared.
“So how’s the campaign coming?” I asked.
“We weren’t going to talk politics.”
“Does that count? I mean, outside of individual philosophies on the issues, how’s it going? As in how’s work?”
I didn’t really care, but I had to think of something to talk to her about. We could have discussed the latest issue of Batman but somehow I didn’t think she’d be literate on the topic.
“It’s okay. It’s nice to get away from everyone and everything involved in the campaign. My cell phone usually doesn’t stop ringing from the time I get up until the time I go to bed.”
“It hasn’t rung once tonight.”
“I turned it off. Dan told me to enjoy myself and not think about work.”
“How gracious.”
“He’s really a great guy.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“Maybe we should change the topic.”
“Good idea.”
She rested her chin on her folded hands and smiled at me.
“So tell me about yourself, Ronan.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“You’re much too modest.”
“I like to think of myself as more self-deprecating than modest.”
“You’ve got quite a history for a man your age.”
“How would you know such things?”
The waiter interrupted and brought our drinks, she had a Vodka Collins and I a Sam Adams Light on draft. Diane ordered a stuffed mushroom appetizer and eggplant parmigiana. I had the usual, chicken parm with ziti. She downed her drink and ordered another while I nursed my beer. I had no intention of catching a buzz tonight. If I got home and found another Oisen Donohue waiting, I didn’t want to be slowed down.
“Where were we?” she asked.
“We were discussing my glorious past history.”
“Oh yes, well I did some checking on you.”
“Really? Trying to make sure I was worth your attention?”
“A girl needs to know who she’s going after.”
“You’re going after me? That’s good information to know.”
The waiter brought her another drink and she took a big sip, more like a gulp.
“I made some calls. One can’t be too careful in this day and age, Ronan Arthur Marino. Where’d the Arthur come from?”
“My father really liked the book The Once and Future King.”
“So he named you after King Arthur?”
“My middle name anyway.”
“So you’re Italian and Irish mix?”
“Yeah, a volatile mix too. I have a problem with getting drunk, writing poetry then going out and breaking legs.”
She almost spit out her drink laughing.
“That is great. Who knew you’d be so funny?”
“Me. Meanwhile, you checked me out and only found my middle name? You need some better sources.”
“Oh really? You were a star second baseman at both Lowell High and in college, graduating from Lowell with a degree in Criminal Justice,” she said, all the while looking like she had somehow one upped me. “The records say you had a less than stellar academic career.”
“You know us jocks. School isn’t exactly the first priority when you play sports.”
“No desire to play professionally?”
“The desire was there but there were competing priorities,” I explained. “I never actually got drafted, probably because of where I played, but I always thought I could have made it.”
Playing baseball had been my greatest desire throughout my childhood into college age and giving up the dream had been something that I’d long suffered regrets over. I recognized it was far too late to go back and change things and it quite honestly didn’t bother me as much as it did five or ten years ago. The way I looked at it, if I had tried to make a go of it there were things I’d had a positive effect on in my Air Force career that in the big cosmic scheme might have gone the other way.
I’d generally accepted my fate even if every now and then the eternal “what if” question burned somewhere deep in the back of my mind. It often came in spring when even after over a decade away, I felt like I should be out on the diamond. It was often the smell of fresh cut grass or leather that triggered the feelings. I’d played on a number of softball teams over the years but it was a poor substitute for what I really wanted.
Diane took another sip of her drink, sat back and smiled at me. I could tell she wanted to let it sink in that she knew more about me than I’d thought.
“Is that all you got?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m just getting started, Ronan. You went to Officers Training School after college a
nd were commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Air Force assigned as an agent with the Office of Special Investigations. You started out doing undercover drug investigations all over the country often posing as a dealer.”
“Who’d you talk to?” She ignored my question and kept going.
“You were hand selected to head up a special OSI unit devoted to counter-terrorism and were one of the first agents ever to graduate from Army Ranger School. I heard it’s a pretty tough course. Lots of Army guys can’t even finish it.”
“True and I hated mostly every second of it. But it was important.”
“Why?”
“My team was going to have to work with the Army on the ground and getting my Ranger tab gave me instant credibility with them. There were also skills they taught me I needed to stay alive in some very nasty places.”
“I see. I couldn’t get too many details from your last four years other than it looks like you were in Afghanistan and Iraq.”
“It’s classified.”
“Why?”
“I did things that you and your fellow debate team members might not appreciate.”
“Then I probably don’t want to know. My contact also said you have a black belt you earned during an assignment in Japan and won a Bronze Star with a device for valor at Tora Bora. I read about that battle. It was a bloodbath.”
“It was but I’d prefer not to really talk about it, at least tonight.”
“I understand. You have two Purple Hearts too. Did you get shot?”
“A Purple Heart doesn’t mean you were shot, it’s any injury in combat.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
I shook my head no and smiled a little. She already knew way more than most people other than my family. Even though the Bronze Star was in the local papers, she did have some good sources.
“Maybe you can show me the scars later,” she said.
“Perhaps.”
“I also found that you’re divorced.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No, her loss could very well be my gain.”
She finished her drink and waved over the waiter for another. I declined a fresh beer.
“You’re not drinking, Ronan.”
Lloyd Corricelli - Ronan Marino 01 - Two Redheads & a Dead Blonde Page 18
