by S. J. Bishop
“So I guess I’m gonna live if you’re giving me such a hard time.” I smiled at where I thought she was standing.
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded hesitant. “It was touch and go for a while. You had me so worried.”
“A while?” I sat back up. “What’s a while?”
“They had you sedated for a week. You’re pretty beat up. There’s… stuff, with the surgery. Just wait for the nurse.”
I heard the door open and Marco’s heels. “Mr. Martin,” an older woman’s voice filled the room, and hands tugged at the bandages covering my head, “I’ll remove these bandages, but you have to stay in bed. You’ve got some packing in your wound.”
That didn’t sound good. The nurse unwound the bandage that covered my eyes, and the room came into slow focus. Vanessa stood over me, in the nurse’s way, with her face screwed into a permanent frown. Marco hovered not far behind her, wringing his hands. Noticeably absent… Cruz.
“Where is he?” I tossed aside the white sheets that were thrown across my body. “Where’s Cruz?” As I turned to get out of the bed, a sharp pain tore across my abdomen. I looked down at the offending side and fell back into the bed.
It became suddenly clear what ‘packed’ meant. My entire right side was open and exposed. Blood-stained gauze packed the wound and jutted out like a macabre pocket square. The air rushed out of me.
The nurse covered me again with the white sheet. “Not as bad as it looks, dear. You’re through the worst of it.”
“Cruz?” I croaked.
“Yeah?” a wonderful, cheerful voice came from the doorway. Cruz wheeled himself in, smiling like an idiot. His glassy eyes met mine. “I’m gonna get a DUI on this thing, man.” He slapped the wheel of his chair and rolled himself to my bedside, opposite where the poor nurse was trying to get her work done.
“Heard your lazy butt was finally gonna wake up today.” He beamed as he offered an outstretched arm for a half-hug. “I only got to sleep for one day. Guess that’s the difference between Lieutenant and Ensign treatment.” Cruz burst into uncontrolled laughter.
I stared at him for a moment, wondering how deep my induced coma had been. Was I still dreaming?
The nurse checked my packing and said, “Mr. Cruz might need his dosage adjusted.” She smiled warmly at him, then at me. “This is gonna hurt.”
No sooner had she finished the last word than she ripped the packing gauze out of my gaping wound and replaced it with wet cloth. Then she ran a length of tape across the area and removed her gloves. The entire process took less than a minute, which I was dearly thankful for.
To distract myself, I turned my head toward Cruz. “What you in for?”
In his current state, he thought that was the funniest question he’d ever heard. It took him a moment to recover. “Just a little flesh wound. We match, see?” He pulled up his gown. Sure enough, our wounds were in roughly the same spot. His, however, was closed and neatly stitched. I was glad that I’d gotten the worst of it. If something had happened to him…
“You shoulda seen the shot you got off, though,” Cruz continued, getting a bit animated and waving his arms around. “Right between the eyes! I told Commander Phillips we needed to save the security footage. Martin’s highlight reel!”
“I’m sure he loved that.” I played off the compliment, but made a mental note to check out that footage.
“Come along, Mr. Cruz. Let’s let Mr. Martin rest.” The nurse took Cruz’s handles and pushed him toward the door. “Ms. Genovese, while I have time, let’s get you on the schedule for your follow-up ultrasound.”
I gasped, unable to stop the sound from escaping. Vanessa and I shot looks at each other, then at her father. Marco opened his mouth to question the need for medical intervention on Vanessa.
“Just a precaution,” Vanessa said in my direction, but for Marco’s benefit. “You, big lug, fell right on top of me. Just making sure you didn’t do any damage with that giant head of yours.” She smiled and quickly left.
Coulda done without the giant head part. But the ruse worked, and Marco smiled at the little jab.
“It’s worth it, though,” he said. “I’m glad you have a giant, hard head.” Marco shook my hand and didn’t let go. “Thank you, Martin. Thank you.”
“All in a day’s work.”
38
Vanessa
Faster.” I hooked Martin’s hips with my legs, made stronger by months of yard work and physical activity that went along with caring for a large swath of property.
Martin struggled against my grip, trying to push himself up on his arms and hovering over me. “I can’t.”
We both looked down. My considerably pregnant belly blocked the view of anything south of it and provided an impenetrable wall for our intimacy. I laughed, watching it jump up and down with each breath.
Releasing him from my leg hold, I pushed him to the side. “Looks like I’ll be in charge for the next couple of months.” I climbed on him and resumed our activities.
“You’ve been in charge since the start, hun. And I’m sure that’s not about to change.” Martin sighed as we settled back into the pace that I’d demanded from him.
“Somebody doesn’t seem to mind.” I rocked forward and backward atop him, every part of my body loving the new sensations.
Martin put his hands behind his head and locked his fingers together, smiling and closing his eyes. “Yeah, I could get used to this.”
I took his hands in mine and guided them down, past my belly, to the place I needed them most. “Teamwork,” I told him, my voice husky with my mounting excitement. That had become our inside joke after my pregnancy had gotten advanced enough that we needed even more creativity in the bedroom.
“Yes, ma’am.” Martin worked his magic, tracing tiny, soft circles that became stronger as I bucked harder. As I lost the ability to control my legs, giving in to the flood of warmth between them, he took over. Leaning forward and pulling me to him with his free hand, he found my left breast with his mouth and pulled me down hard, not releasing me until after I’d fully released myself.
Just as I regained my senses, his breath quickened, and he made that familiar, manly noise that I’d grown to love. He sucked harder at my nipple, almost to the point of pain, but still mixed with pleasure. Then as he reached his own moment of release, he pulled my face to his and kissed me deeply through his explosion.
We lay together, our arms and legs mingled together, in what I imagined looked like a bed of writhing snakes to an unknowing onlooker, drying sweat sticking us together. After catching his breath, Martin kissed me again lightly and said, “We really need to get some work done today.”
I kissed his neck and snuggled in. “I think we just did.”
He opened his mouth to say something smart in disagreement, probably about how we were going to dehydrate if we didn’t get out of the bed and replenish, when there was a noise at the door. It wasn’t a knock. Instead, it sounded like someone jiggling the handle, trying to get in.
We both jumped up, naked, and reached for our guns on our respective night stands. Martin motioned for me to stay put, and I obeyed, if only long enough to throw on my nightgown that had been unceremoniously tossed to the floor during out first round that morning.
Martin pulled a shirt over his glistening chest, which had turned out to not be hairy like I’d expected all those months ago, and let it fall loose over his unzipped jeans. He leaned over to kiss me, when we heard him.
“Princess! Let me in. I come bearing gifts.” Daddy!
We still hadn’t told my father about the pregnancy. As long as La Familia was still out there, lurking, Martin had stayed on as my protector. He hated taking money from Daddy to act as my security, but the alternative, telling Daddy that we’d been intimate – resulting in a pregnancy no less – was a far worse prospect for Martin. He couldn’t bring himself to face Daddy, knowing he’d betrayed his trust.
I, on the other hand, had no moral qualms about the situa
tion. Martin and I loved each other. Our union wasn’t planned, or convenient, but you can’t help who you love. Besides, Daddy had no leg to stand on in that department. During the course of the investigation into Amara and the shootings, many of Daddy’s further indiscretions had come to light. I harbored so much anger toward him for the pain he must have caused my mother. The only consolation was that his darling Ophelia had also learned that she wasn’t his only ‘best girl.’
“Vanessa,” Daddy called through the door, “is everything alright in there?”
Martin stood frozen, not wanting to face what was about to come. I nudged him forward. “Come on,” I said.
Martin unlocked the door, and Daddy came bustling in, bearing many gifts, so many that he couldn’t see where he was going. Boxes were stacked high in his hands, covering his face. From behind them, he prattled on about the court case and current events, making his way to the couch. “We’ve gotten three convictions so far. Many of the top guys, including your very own Mayor, have taken plea deals.”
This wasn’t news to us. Mayor Anderson’s involvement in La Familia had become the top story in Caldwell after the shootout with Amara. As it turned out, he’d been angling to rise in the ranks of the business for years. When they’d found out Martin, a Caldwell native, was my security, Anderson had stepped right in and took over the job of taking care of me. It was his idea to ‘smoke us out’ in a bid to drive us right to him. Which had worked. He’d laid it all out as part of his plea deal, how he and Amara had planned to make my death look like a farm accident, even going so far as burying me in one of his proposed construction projects. The same projects he’d used to gain favor with the locals, as a way to provide jobs to Caldwell. The cliché nature of the plan quite upset me, that I’d fall prey to someone with such little imagination.
Daddy had dropped his burdens on the couch and turned to me, saying, “I think it’s safe to bring you home now, princess.”
And that’s when he saw me, fully, for the first time.
39
Martin
How could you?” Marco’s mouth dropped open. Tears filled his eyes, and his lip trembled. “I trusted you to take care of my little girl and you…you defiled her.” His face had gone red.
“Sir, it’s not like that.” I clasped my hands together in front of me, pleading for him to believe me. “It wasn’t my intention, sir.”
“Your Commander highly recommended you. What kind of operation are you running, Mr. Martin?” Marco paced, unable to bear looking me in the eye, and not daring to turn his attention to his very pregnant daughter.
“This has nothing to do with VanGuard. This is on me.” Commander Phillips still had no idea about the pregnancy, at least, not that he let on. I’d sworn Cruz to secrecy.
“Daddy,” Vanessa stepped forward, directly into Marco’s path, forcing him to confront her. “Please don’t be mad. I love him.”
Her words filled my heart with joy and put the steel back in my spine. We hadn’t been overly free with that word in our months together. I’d always assumed she just knew that I loved her, as I knew her feelings for me. But hearing it out loud and firm like that, it made me want to go to her right then and sweep her up in my arms.
Marco, however, was less moved. “Love? Love! How do you call this love? Shacking up together, living in sin!” He was yelling at the top of his voice now, veins popping out in his neck. Spittle forming at the corners of his mouth threatened to fall on Ma’s good rug.
Trying to mitigate the damage, I stepped back, giving him more personal space. “I’m very sorry for the way it happened, and the way we kept it from you, Mr. Genovese.” I looked over at Vanessa, who hadn’t moved from the edge of the hallway. I went over to her, took her hand, and continued. “We do love each other. I have no intention on hurting Vanessa. I’ll gladly return all the money you paid me over these months. I haven’t touched it.”
Marco’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t thought of that yet. I silently cursed myself for being the one to remind him. “I’ve been paying you to sleep with my little girl!” Spent, he sat in a heap on Pop’s recliner. Marco pulled a light blue pocket square from his jacket. That’s when it struck me that he’d come here, carrying boxes of presents and decked out in a full suit.
I looked at Vanessa, who shrugged and continued our defense. “Daddy, I was the one who told Martin to keep the money. He didn’t want to. It tore him up. But we need it. I haven’t been able to return to work after the…incident. Nobody will hire me. The baby’s coming in two months. It was my idea to keep it, so if you’re going to be mad at someone, be mad at me.” Vanessa’s voice was firm but kind. She let go of my hand and went to her father. She stood behind him, placed her hand on his shoulder, and waited.
“It’s not the money, princess.” Marco squeezed her hand. “I don’t care about money. I’ve missed you. I’ve been so worried about you. And I thought I’d come here today and get you to come home with me. But…”
“This is my home now.” She glanced in my direction, and I nodded. Of course this is your home.
Marco stood, motioning for me to come to him. I stepped lightly, not sure of what was to come. He pulled Vanessa around the chair and caressed her swollen belly. “A little baby,” he smiled, grandfatherly pride puffing his chest.
Vanessa and I held each other again, all three of us placing a hand on the belly. Marco continued, “Good thing I came dressed for a wedding.”
My breath caught in my chest, and Vanessa gasped. If we’d never really given words to our love, we’d certainly never talked about marriage. But at Marco’s mention of the word, I was surprised at how calm I remained. It felt natural, as if we’d already planned the whole thing and were only discussing some minor detail to be decided on before the event.
Vanessa, quick to change the awkward subject, asked, “Why are you dressed like that, Daddy?”
“Well, this is part of why I came today. My good news and gifts.” Marco waved his hand at the forgotten boxes, all neatly wrapped in different bright colors. “I sold the restaurant. I’m taking a position at a non-profit organization, cleaning up my act. A nice little soup kitchen downtown. Seems the owner’s band…something called a Dirty Monkey… hit it big on the internet, and he had to sell.”
“Oh, Daddy, that’s wonderful!” Vanessa burst into tears and hugged her father hard.
I patted the man on the arm, finding a free spot that wasn’t engulfed by Vanessa. “Wonderful news, Mr. Genovese.” I smiled and nodded toward Vanessa, still a blubbering mess. “I’m growing quite accustomed to it.”
“I remember the days. My sweet Carlotta would tear up at the smallest things.” Marco’s eyes got a far off look.
I waited a moment, allowing him the privacy of his memory. When he blinked and seemed to be looking back at me, I reiterated, “I want you to know that I never intended for any of this, but I do love her, and I’m very happy.”
Vanessa finally released her father and added, “He didn’t stand a chance, Daddy. I pursued him. Please don’t be mad at him.”
“I’m not, dear. I just want you to be happy. Besides, I know what it’s like when a Genovese woman sets her mind to something.” He hugged Vanessa and lightly touched her nose, as one would a small child. “If you were half as determined as your mother was with me, princess, poor Martin didn’t stand a chance.”
40
Vanessa
It’s time.” I nudged Martin. “Get up.”
“Huh?” he grunted, not moving.
“Time to go. I did everything. You just have to get in the car.” I kissed him lightly on the cheek. He groaned and stretched. “I know you had a rough night, but it’s almost noon.” I gave him a quick smack on the butt and walked out.
Ten minutes later, as I loaded the last of the things into the car, Martin stumbled down the steps and made his way slowly to the passenger side. His hair still stood up on one side, where he’d no doubt crashed and lay unmoving for the few hours he’d had to
sleep.
“Night shift getting to you?” I asked, smiling wide. He mumbled something I probably didn’t want to understand anyway. I kissed him and started the car.
“That’s what I get for losing the coin toss,” he said more clearly, looking toward the back seat. “How’s she doing?”
Rosy, Rosalind Ann Martin, mine and his mother’s middle names respectively, slept quietly in her car seat. A thick mop of curly black hair haloed her smooth olive skin. Martin reached back and wiped a bit of something off her cheek.
“Ms. Rizzo said the teething’s gonna last at least another month.” My old nanny had become my lifeline in the past year, suffering through many late night calls about sniffles and fevers, and the occasional tumble now that Rosy was walking.
“Great news.” Martin yawned, turned his head toward the window, and dozed along with his daughter.
His nap didn’t last long, as the park was only a few miles from the house. I pulled Rhonda into the parking spot closest to the pavilion and shook his arm. “We’re here.”
Pink and purple streamers covered every inch of the building, flying in the warm July breeze. From the parking lot, I could already see the back table, filled with towering boxes piled high on top of each other. Each one was wrapped in the same pink and purple theme. The “Happy Birthday, Rosie” banner that Daddy had ordered was much larger than I’d thought it would be, but I smiled. It was perfect, actually.
Cruz and Commander Phillips stood over a smoking grill, animatedly discussing the correct cooking procedure, it appeared. I got Martin’s attention and told him he should go intervene.
As I unlocked Rosy’s car seat, she stirred, just in time for Daddy to pop up behind me and ask to take over. I moved aside, bumping into Ophelia. She quickly jumped back and apologized profusely. I put a hand on her arm, “I’m sorry. Are you OK?”
