I looked at her movie reviews, the professional as well as the viewer ones. There were negative and positive ones, which is to be expected. Some praised the movie and her acting abilities, and others said she needed to get out of acting or take classes. Many people commented on the differences between the roles, but there was no talk of Raina appearing crazy.
My cell rings. I answer without looking at the caller ID. "Hello?"
"Hi, Gianna? This is Valentina Vargas. We met at Wilma Sheridan's bridal shower. I was the party planner, and you helped me by decorating cupcakes."
I smile into the phone. "I remember. I'm sorry I didn't get back to you. With everything that happened, it slipped my mind."
"No, I understand. You found Raina dead, didn't you?"
I cringe at the memory.
She quickly adds, "I spoke with Kelly. She told me what happened, and Michael gave me your number. I hope that's alright."
"Yes, that's fine. How can I help you?"
"I'm wondering if you're still interested in working as my assistant."
Excitement creeps into my body. This is an awesome ending to a blah day. "Absolutely."
"I'm not making any promises," she says. "I'd like to give you a trial basis to start. I've had several assistants before, and none, obviously, lasted. But I have a good feeling about you."
I'm so giddy I'm afraid to speak. My words may come out as giggling gibberish.
"I have an event this weekend that I could use some help with. Are you game?"
"Yes, I'd love to."
"Great. It's an engagement party. We'll be overseeing the caterers and decorations at a space in Oceanside."
I grab a notepad and pen and start jotting down the details. "Do you want me to meet you there or at your office?"
"Come by the office, and I'll go over things. How about five-thirty? The party starts at seven."
"Sounds great. Do I need a uniform?"
Valentina chuckles. "No, but dress as if you were invited. I like to blend in. See you Friday."
I jump up and squeal so loud I may have woken the dead. I half-twerk and half-chicken dance around my living room. Oh my God, this is going to be awesome. Not only will it get me away from deli meat, but my first event is an elegant engagement party. How fun is that? Well, I'm assuming it'll be classy, but I can't imagine someone would hire an event planner if they planned on grilling in a backyard or serving McDonald's.
Come to think of it, I honestly don't know what kind of events Valentina plans. I need to Google her next. I type in the search bar and find her white, black, and light pink website. It's definitely classy with delicate scrollwork beside her name and in various places to break up text. She lists her services, which include weddings, anniversaries, parties, and corporate events. She also has a section of testimonials, and there are many former clients that praise her work.
Woot. Looks like I lucked out.
I get up and start shaking my groove thing again.
"Nice form," Aunt Stella shouts.
I stop short and face her. Warmth floods my face. "You weren't supposed to see that. No one is. Don't you know how to knock?"
"Knocking is for schmucks. Let's party." She floats over to me and starts getting down—shaking her hips, grinding her pelvis. Someone has seen Dirty Dancing one too many times.
Oh, what the heck? I turn on the radio and join her.
Soon, we're sweaty—well, I am—and laughing our butts off.
"Shake it, little girl," Aunt Stella shouts.
I take back every sarcastic thought I ever had about my dead aunt.
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning, my alarm wakes me from a dream about Darth Vader and me. Mind you, I'm not a big Star Wars fan. I've seen a few of the movies, and Princess Leia rocks, but when Darth gets down on one knee and proposes for my hand in fighting tooth decay and plaque, I wake up confused. It's the only time I've ever been grateful for my alarm.
Izzie and I switched shifts today. She called me as I was laying down last night to ask. She forgot she and Alice have to go to the dentist for cleanings. Hence my dream. Technically I don't mind switching. It means I get out before lunch. I do, however, mind waking up at five am. There should be a law against that…
Luckily the morning goes by super quick. Ma and I don't get much chance to chat because it's busy, which is fine by me. I can tell she's still miffed about my keeping Aunt Stella a secret. By the time Pop and Izzie come in to relieve us, I'm starved. I consider grabbing something from my place of work, but sometimes a girl wants more. Not in the mood to cook, I contemplate who I can invite to lunch. Everyone I know is working.
Michael springs to mind. My guilt meter doesn't jump into the red-alert zone, which is always a good thing. I have nothing to feel guilty about. It's a casual meal with a friend. And I can pump him for information about his family. Technically, it's work. If anything, I should feel guilty about trying to get intel from him.
I ring his cell.
"Gianna. What do I owe this pleasure to?"
I smile. He has a way of making me do that. "I was wondering if you're free for lunch. I hate eating alone."
"Tell me where."
We decide on Grande, a Mexican restaurant on West Park Street, and meet there. It's a quaint place with hardwood floors, small square tables, and soft teal and brown hues. It doesn't scream Mexican in that colorful, cliché way. And the food, the most important element, is amazing.
When I pull into the parking lot, he's getting out of his car. He's dressed in jeans, his brown boots, and an unzipped, gray jacket reveals a blue sweater beneath. He greets me with a wide smile. The skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkles slightly. He should smile all the time.
The hostess leads us to a table in the center of the room. Normally I like sitting by the front windows, but they're full. The rest of the dining room is not, though, which is nice.
It isn't until we're seated with a bowl of chips and salsa between us that I realize how hungry I am. I don't want to scarf my food in front of him, so I pick up one chip and dip it in the bowl, removing a small portion of spicy tomato goodness. The last time I was here with Izzie, we had several refills.
After the server takes our order of chicken fajitas for me and beef for Michael, I ask, "How's your mom and the wedding?"
He softly sighs. "She's doing as expected. She's still undecided about the wedding going forward as planned."
"I'm assuming you were all close with Raina."
He nods and swallows hard. The light blue of his sweater makes his eyes more vibrant. He hasn't shaved, and there's scruffiness on his chin. It makes him look…sexy.
Crap. I swallow hard. Don't go there, Gianna.
I bite hard on a chip.
No, it's fine. Yes, he's a good-looking man, but you're simply noticing. There's no reason for guilt. I'm sure Julian visibly admires attractive women.
"Yes, we were, although not always." He sips his glass of water and seems to drift off as if he's deep in thought. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about her.
Now guilt settles in, and this time it's for the right reason. I shouldn't be trying to pump my friend for information. It's rude. Not to mention, I'm unclear why I'm doing it. I'm bringing up memories, giving away my clothing, and acting as if I know there was foul play, but I don't know anything. I'm doing all of this based off of a hunch. I'm not a cop. I'm just an excellent sandwich maker.
"I shouldn't be asking," I say and hang my head in shame. It's harder to nibble chips this way.
"No, it's fine. Really. I like talking about Raina. It helps."
I glance up and meet his blue gaze. Well, if he prefers it… "Okay, tell me about her, the two of you, your relationship." Yes, I want info on the movie star, but I'm truly interested in Michael's life too.
The server brings our sizzling, steaming plates. We dig in, and after a few bites Michael starts talking.
"We were all close as kids. Raina and Kelly's mother and mine were sisters."
/>
"Were?"
"Yeah, both of their folks died years ago. They went within a few months of one another. First cancer and then a car accident. Kelly and Raina were barely adults."
"That's awful. Those poor girls. All of you."
"It was rough for a while. Mom and Kelly took it the hardest. That doesn't mean Raina didn't. I think she just focused her grief into her career."
I nod in acknowledgement, but I haven't a clue what any of this actually feels like. Thank goodness.
"We grew up together. Summers were filled with cookouts at each other's homes, trips to the beach, and amusement parks. The twins were always closer with one another than me, but we spent a lot of time together. I thought of them as sisters." His grin is lopsided and filled with boyish charm.
"That's sweet."
"After high school, we started to drift. Shortly after that, their folks died, and there were no more big family gatherings."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it was the natural progression. We had moved on to college anyway. We didn't have the same time as before. Raina and I reconnected a few years later, when she moved to California."
"Did she love it there? I can only imagine the glamorous life she led."
"At first she did, but over time she became homesick. And while she did the Hollywood party circuit, she never led on that her life was glamorous. It was like she was still waiting for it to happen."
Darn. Despite not being a huge movie star, I hoped Michael would tell me tales of extravagance while mingling with the elite. "Oh?"
"I think it's natural. She was suddenly around strangers while the people that loved her most were on the other coast. The adjustment was hard. She and I talked every weekend, some weeknights, and I'd go visit as often as I could."
"But she managed it."
"Yeah." He doesn't sound too sure. "A few years ago, she and I stopped our constant chatter. I don't know how she was doing. I got the sense that it wasn't that great."
"Why'd you stop talking?" I pile chicken, peppers, onions, and salsa onto a flour tortilla and roll it up before bringing it to my mouth.
He shrugs and takes another big bite of his fajita. "I'm not sure. I never found out. She was suddenly always busy. I think she was seeing someone and didn't want to share."
"Oh?" That sounds juicy.
"Maybe he was married or maybe he was a movie exec…" He trails off.
And she felt being with this exec might get her a better role? I don't share my thoughts.
"Seeing her the other day though, it felt like old times. We went right back to where we left off." He sets his fork down and takes a deep breath. "I miss her."
I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry."
His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, but I know he appreciates my gesture.
"The funeral is Thursday," he says.
My chest tightens. "Oh?"
"It's only going to be for close family. Just me, my mom, Fred, Kelly, and Warren. I'm sorry. I know how big of a fan you are."
I frown and shake my head. "No, that's fine, but why such a small gathering?"
"Kelly and Mom are hoping that there won't be any paparazzi if they don't tell when it's happening, but let's face it. If they were going to show up for her funeral, they'd already be here."
He's right. Now that I think about it, it seems odd that I haven't seen any reporters around. I mention this to him.
"There were a few camped out at Kelly's on and off but nothing major."
I must've missed them.
We resume eating in silence. I don't feel right about pumping him for any more information. Besides, I'm getting the feeling that I won't learn anything I can use. Raina's life was in California, and everyone she knew, except for Van Ford, is still there. I'm not saying I'll give up, but I'd like to spend all remaining time with Michael.
When we're done and waiting for the server to bring us the check, Michael stares deep into my eyes. "I hope this lunch wasn't just about you learning about your movie star crush."
My jaw slacks. He knows? My sleuthing abilities obviously need work.
"I hope you also wanted to have lunch with me," he says.
I frown. "Of course I did."
His smile lights up his face. "Great."
* * *
Later that afternoon, I push all thoughts of Raina out of my mind and focus on cleaning my apartment. It needs it desperately. It may be tiny, but that only means the dust bunnies don't gather. They just sit closer together.
I'm deep in the shower, scrubbing soap scum out of a corner, when my cell rings. I don't need to be convinced to run out of the bathroom and grab my phone off the breakfast bar.
"I am going to visit Wilma and see how she's doing. I thought you'd want to come along."
Just when I'm about to get out, I get sucked back in.
"I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."
I dress in black leggings, a long, light blue tunic, and black snow boots with fur lining.
When I get into Ma's car, she says that she called Wilma, and as it turns out, Kelly and her family are temporarily staying with Wilma because they needed a few days out of their house. Kelly's twin died on her living room floor. Of course she needs to get away.
Wilma opens her door and greets Ma with a tight hug. I get a slightly less tight one and a kiss to my cheek. "Michael's not here now. He's running errands. He'll be sorry he missed you."
I kiss her cheek back and say, "We had lunch together today."
She claps her hands once. "Oh, that's wonderful. It's nice he has someone to spend time with. I hate that he's always home worrying over me."
Ma, being the bearer of food regardless of the occasion, hands over an aluminum tray of lasagna and enough Italian cookies from Park Place Bakery to feed a football stadium.
"You didn't have to bring all of this," Wilma says while carrying the load into her kitchen.
"It's the least we can do. How are you?" Ma opens the fridge and helps Wilma reorganize its contents. From the looks of the other casseroles, we aren't the first people to pay their edible respects.
"As well as can be expected, I guess." She shuts the fridge door and sighs. "I won't have to cook for a long time."
"Kelly can take some of it with her when they return home," I say.
Wilma nods. "Yes, definitely. Let's go sit in the living room. Do either of you want coffee or tea?"
"No, no. I want to spend time with you," Ma says.
Wilma flashes a grateful grin and leads us through the dining room and into the blue living space.
A man stands when we enter. He's dressed in a charcoal gray suit and white shirt, but there's no tie, and his jacket is off and slung over the arm of a chair. He's short, maybe an inch taller than Wilma, who's my height. His light brown and grayish hair is side-parted, and he wears a goofy smile. Wilma walks to him, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders.
"This is my fiancé, Fred. And this is Rosa and Gianna Mancini. Rosa and I go way back, and Gianna and Michael went to school together."
We shake hands with the jolly man. Ma and I sit on the sofa while they take the two armchairs across from us.
"It's nice to meet more of Wilma's friends," Fred says. "Perhaps you can remind her that going through with the wedding is something her niece would've wanted."
Ma opens her mouth to say something when the front door shuts and footsteps get closer.
"That's what I keep telling her." Kelly stands in the doorway holding her daughter. The little girl is sniffling, fussing, and wiggling in her mother's arms.
Wilma stands. "Kelly, I don't know if you remember Rosa Mancini and her daughter, Gianna."
Kelly nods to us while trying to hold on to the tiny fish in her arms. Kelly looks frantic as if she's not only struggling dealing with her daughter but struggling to remain dry eyed. "Hello. I need to settle her."
She walks off toward the kitchen.
The word "opportunity" springs to mind
.
Wilma returns to her seat, and I ask her, "Do you mind if I get a glass of water?"
"No, of course not. Help yourself."
I get up and practically run to the kitchen. I don't know how long Kelly will be in there, and once she goes upstairs, I've lost my chance to talk to her.
She's trying to hold the girl while getting the gallon of milk out of the fridge. Her purse is around her elbow, and she looks beyond frazzled.
"Can I help?" I ask and immediately put my arms out for the little girl. I put on a big smile, widen my eyes, and say, "Hi," in the best baby voice I know.
The child stops fussing for a second, probably wondering who this goofy woman is.
"Aren't you the prettiest in your red bow?" It's clipped to a side patch of light brown hair, and it matches her sweater.
For some reason, she reaches out to me and comes into my arms. When I tickle her belly, she gives me a toothy grin.
"Thank you," Kelly says and finishes pulling out the gallon of milk.
"No problem." To the child, I say, "I'm Gianna, but you can call me Gi. Can you say Gi?"
She stares at my diamond pendant necklace and lifts it between her chubby fingers.
"That's Tessa," Kelly says with an affectionate glance to her daughter. "Normally she's not this fussy, but with everything going on, well, I guess she can pick up on it."
"Yeah, they sense our moods easily. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you."
"If you need anything, even if it's help with the little one, please don't hesitate to ask."
She smirks and then lightly frowns. "You're a stranger. Why would you want to help us?"
Yeah, I must sound crazy, but I do mean it and not for ulterior motives. "I was a big fan of your sister's. In fact, I may have been her biggest fan."
Kelly giggles, and it lights up her face. "That's sweet."
"Plus, Michael and I were once close."
Kelly nods, finishes the sippy cup, and puts the milk back. "Well, thank you. I'd chat more, but I need to get her down for a nap."
Cupcakes, Butterflies & Dead Guys (Gianna Mancini Mysteries Book 3) Page 8
