With my luck his family and my family are probably buddies from the old country—they seemed to have a million of those buddies. I’ll become the brunt of jokes from both families for the next century.
That put her back to thinking about Dominick, her ex-husband, and the friendship of their two families which had been nothing but trouble for her.
By the time she’d finished getting the med ready, she felt like her five-foot-ten frame had melted down to the size of a Munchkin.
* * *
Jenni wandered into the station and looked over Gina’s shoulder.
“Poor woman,” Jenni said. “You would have liked her.”
“You’re the second person to say that to me.”
“Who was the first?” Jenni grabbed an alcohol cotton ball and began swabbing down the counter.
“Dr. Brad.” Gina turned away from the computer and looked at Jenni. “So why would I have liked this particular woman?”
“She was cheeky ... and a royal pain in the ass. Doesn’t that sound like you?” Jenni was joking, but Gina could tell there was something wrong.
“Hey, what’s up, Jenni?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
Gina squeezed her arm. “Come on, something’s wrong.”
“It’s that guy from the lab.”
“Russell?”
“I don’t know.” Jenni pulled up a chair and dropped into it. “There’s something seriously wrong with that guy.”
“Maybe if you’d stop teasing him about his name you’d get along better.”
Jenni looked at Gina and all her bravado slipped away. She looked really frightened. “He’s been following me home for the past week.”
Chapter 5
Russell followed Jenni from work again. He parked and waited outside in his fast-food-trash-filled Ford Ranger pickup and thought about his mother while Jenni went into the grocery store.
Yes, that bitch looks like my mother, with her dark hair and dark eyes. Even has the same nasty mouth when she doesn’t like what I’m doing, and has that cloying sweetness when she wants something from me.
Well, the roll of the dice took care of Mommy when some drunken teenager ran her over, dumping him into foster care. Fourteen years old and fucked.
And where was Daddy? Daddy was unidentified, or missing in action. One or the other. His mother wouldn’t tell him. And did it really matter?
Jenni was back with her groceries, packing them in through the hatchback of her red VW Golf.
He followed three cars behind her. Not that he didn’t know where she was going. The most important thing he’d found out in the month that he’d tailed her—she wasn’t dating anyone. It looked like there was no one else in her life.
No one to get in the way … bitch!
* * *
After work, Vinnie, Helen, and Gina arrived at her apartment at the same time. Gina knew she’d stolen a parking place right from under her brother’s nose. The little Fiat just slipped in before he could even beep. As he drove up alongside, he flipped her a birdie. With both hands she returned the gesture, then shrugged and waved him on.
Gina made sure iced tea was sitting on the table for him and Helen when they finally did grab a parking place.
“You little rat,” Vinnie said. “We had to circle the block three times.”
“You’re younger, and as you always say, smarter, so how’d you get aced out, little brother?”
“One of these days—”
“—Oh, will you two cut it out,” Helen said. “Can’t you ever get together without fighting?”
“Baby, I keep telling you, this isn’t fighting.” He slipped an arm around Helen’s waist. “This is a Bronx hello.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” Gina could tell Vinnie was definitely uncomfortable and would like nothing better than to head out the door.
“Harry called,” he said.
“Why is he calling you?”
Helen piped in, “Gina, I’ve been your best friend for years. Harry called me because you won’t return his calls.”
“What’s the matter with you anyway?” Her brother was getting worked up and his hands were flying everywhere.
“Give the sucker a break ... answer his calls.” Vinnie took several gulps of his iced tea. “You know he’s nuts about you ... which makes me think he’s just plain nuts. But he took the job in Tucson so he’d be closer to you, even though he had a great opportunity in Chicago … jerk turned it down.” Vinnie began pacing back and forth. “And I thought my PTSD was a problem.”
Gina’s heart started racing. Her eyes found Helen’s.
“Don’t worry about him, Gina. Your baby brother is getting better all the time. The nightmares are still happening, but less and less.” Helen laughed. “I don’t have to clue you in about his job status at Ridgewood because you call his team leader practically every day.”
“She’s a friend.”
“Not for long,” Helen said, “if you keep bugging her.”
“Listen, you two. I haven’t answered Harry’s calls because all he wants to talk about is getting married and as long as Dominick is on the loose, that’s not going to happen. I can’t let that maniac kill both of us.”
“Harry’s a big boy,” Vinnie said, now talking softly. He reached for his sister’s hand and squeezed it. “He can take care of himself.”
“I’m not so sure ... not against Dominick. He almost beat me to death. The man’s a killer.”
“Well, at least talk to Harry.”
“I can’t talk to him right now,” Gina said. “But I will soon.”
“Let’s forget about this,” Helen said. “Come on over for dinner. I’ll make a huge salad.”
“Thanks. But not tonight.”
“Why not,” Helen asked.
“I have other plans.”
* * *
The downstairs doorbell rang on the stroke of seven. Gina had been pacing back and forth in the living room for the past five minutes wondering why she’d agreed to have dinner with Brad Rizzo.
She could still see the questioning expressions on Helen and Vinnie’s faces. They‘d been dying to ask her where she was going. She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t tell them she was going out with another man.
Hey, I’m a big girl. I don’t have to answer to them or anyone else.
Besides, Harry had been gone for six weeks—she was lonely, and all she wanted was some company and a night out. But she couldn’t help it—she felt guilty about seeing someone other than Harry, no matter what she told herself.
The bell rang again. She ran her fingers through her dark curls, still not used to having longer hair. She straightened her blouse, tugged at her skirt, and spoke into the speaker.
“Is that you?”
“None other than.”
Gina pushed the release for the apartment house entrance and met him at her door.
She offered to shake his hand while his green eyes took in all of her in one sweep. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her palm lightly.
She turned away and walked into the living room, more to hide her burning face than anything else; his gesture had been gallant enough to make her head spin.
Gina offered him a seat. “Would you like some wine?”
“I’d love some, but we have a reservation at Rizzo’s. We don’t dare be late or my uncle will never speak to me again.”
“That Rizzo’s is your uncle’s restaurant?”
“Yup. Best Italian food on the West Coast, right from my father’s brother’s hand.”
“I thought you were from New York.”
“And you think you know me,” Brad said, laughing.
“Shall we?” He said, looking at his watch.
“Far be it from me to cause a family rift.”
* * *
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but a run-down MGA wasn’t it. She couldn’t imagine his long, lean body squeezing into the small English roadster. As she looked closer, she could s
ee the car was apparently in the process of being restored. The dull, flat grey primer paint was a good indication it was ready for a new paint job.
“Sorry, the seats are kind of grubby, but I was waiting for it to get its turquoise coat before I reupholstered them.”
After getting her settled, he came back around and slipped into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an old car person,” she said. “What year is it? Fifty-seven?”
“I like to call it a classic, which is what it is. But you’re pretty close. It’s a fifty-six. My parents left it to me.”
“Left it to you?” She was silent for a moment. “Are your parents dead?”
“Italians are supposed to have large families, but my uncle is all I have left.”
When they arrived at the restaurant, a valet held the car door open and helped her out of the MGA as though they had arrived in a Ferrari.
“Hi, Andy,” Brad said.
“Brad! Haven’t seen you around for awhile.”
“You know, a lot of night work.” Brad looked earnestly at the valet. “How’s your mom doing?”
“It’s slow. But she’s getter better.”
Brad took Gina’s arm. “Tell her I’m thinking about her ... send her my best.” He steered Gina into the restaurant.
They had no sooner walked inside when a bear of a man grabbed Brad and hugged him tightly. “How’s my favorite nephew?”
“You mean your only nephew.” Brad pounded on his back and laughed. “Hey, Uncle Carlo, I want you to meet a friend, Gina Mazzio.”
“Hi, Carlo.”
“Mazzio, Mazzio, Mazzio. Hm-m-m-m. A good two-z Italian name, but not one I’m familiar with. I thought I knew all the Zs in San Francisco.”
“All my family is in the Bronx.”
“Ah, ha! I thought I could hear a strange accent,” he said. “Come, come. I’ve saved the best table in the house for you.”
He led them through a crowded, candlelit room. The restaurant had a large dining room, but it still felt intimate and elegant with its crisp white tablecloths and perfectly aligned silverware. The server smiled at them and seated Gina. Brad pulled his chair close to hers.
“Enjoy, enjoy!” Carlo said as he walked away.
“What a charming man,” Gina said, getting comfortable and sniffing a flawless lavender rose in a cut crystal vase.
“Unless he loses his temper.” Brad laid a hand right next to hers on the table. Although they weren’t touching she could feel the heat from his body.
Gina laughed. “Why would anyone ever lose their temper with you?”
“Oh, no! You’re not talking about that day I was an idiot and yelled at you, are you?”
He placed an arm on the back of her chair, leaned in close, and spoke softly in her ear. “I did apologize. And that was a year ago.”
She could feel the hairs at the nape of her neck moving with his every breath. “Some things are hard to forget.” Her words sounded low and husky, and she had to force herself not to grind her hips into the chair.
The server appeared, stood next to the table, and did a half-serious bow. “Dr. Brad, would you like to order some wine now?
Oh my god! Saved by the bell.
Chapter 6
The room was velvety black except for the soft glow of light from a waning moon.
It seemed natural the way they moved into each other’s arms. The first kiss was tentative and exploring, but with each passing moment, Gina was caught up, lost in his warmth, enraptured by the taste of him. Her fingers explored, moved across his body. She felt the hardness of his flesh.
I can’t do this. This is so wrong.
She tried to move out of his arms, but a swell of pleasure sent spikes of heat undulating deep in her groin.
“Stop,” she murmured, but held onto him even tighter, refusing to let go, molding her body into his while his hands slid down to her inner thigh, rubbing back and forth, moving, moving inward.
Gina sat up. She looked around, confused. Her body was still caught in the dream and the throes of pleasure. But she was home, alone in bed.
She’d never seen the face of her lover in the dream, but she knew how her evening with Brad had ended. Their kiss goodnight had awakened a passion she hadn’t felt for some time.
It had been a beautiful evening of sexual innuendos, sparkling conversation, and just plain fun, something she and Harry had somehow lost along the way.
Harry wanted her to marry him, but she refused to do that as long as Dominick was on the loose. She wouldn’t give in no matter how much he pressed her. As a result, almost every intimate conversation deteriorated into a fight. Some of what had been said on both of their parts would not easily be forgotten.
Their relationship had been damaged. Badly.
Now he was in Arizona, gone for more than a month, and she was here, alone. Dangling. Not really knowing what to do. This wasn’t like their usual temporary travel nurse assignment separations, this was a serious rift. Gina wasn’t sure they could mend this one, or that she even wanted to.
For her, marriage had been a disaster, and now her ex-husband wanted to kill her. Harry wasn’t that kind of man. He wasn’t a killer or a wife beater, and she doubted he would or could ever do those things. But why would she want to chance being in that mess again?
* * *
It was a beautiful evening, the Arizona sky alive with a brilliant glitter of stars. It took Harry’s breath away.
He pressed down hard on the accelerator until the Porsche was flying through the night. Abby’s hair blew straight up from the rush of wind that attacked them.
“Yahoo!” she screamed, her eyes closed, chin tilted up. “This is fantastic!” She raised her arms and spread her fingers. “Hey, man, can’t you go any faster?”
Harry hit the pedal harder and watched the speedometer jump to 90 m.p.h. He checked the rearview mirror, but all he saw behind him was the dark night without a sign of the law or anyone else.
“Aren’t these the best hours to work?” he said. When you finish a swing shift, the night still feels young.”
“Yeah, and the roads are really empty on Monday night.” She again screamed, “Yahoo!” and half raised up in her seat. “Look at this, Harry. This is our own universe. Man, I could stay up until sunrise. I don’t ever want to go to sleep.”
Harry’s voice cut through the rushing wind. “I’m getting spoiled, used to sleeping in until late morning.”
“I’ve always loved the swing shift.” She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle it. “You get the best of everything.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Abby. It’s been tough being here alone. Just talking to you has really helped me through a rough patch.”
Abby smiled. The green light from the radio was a soft glow on her face.
“We’ve been having a lot of fun together. I’m glad I met you.” She scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder.
It was the first time Harry felt like himself in a long time.
* * *
Dominick was back at The Peso, into the same routine every night after work—get drunk, go home either alone or with a new pickup. Seldom the same woman twice.
A girl had come into the bar and was hitting on him. He’d been buying her beers all night and it was late; he was thinking about ending the night with her in the sack.
She wasn’t half-bad. A little too much lard around the middle, but her boobs were big and he liked that.
“Hey, Machado, who’s the pretty woman?”
Dominick barely nodded at the dude. Someone he’d worked with a couple of weeks ago.
He still wasn’t used to being called by that phony name he’d chosen. But his driver’s license, even the false birth certificate, had been forged under the name of Dominick Machado.
Just another wetback now.
People thought he was Mexican anyway, with his sun-brown complexion even though h
e’d had to grease his hair flat to finish the disguise. His Italian waves didn’t quite match his new name.
Shit! Even learning to speak some Mexican.
Now a year out of jail, he’d begun to relax. It looked like skipping parole in New York wasn’t going to catch up with him.
Arizona suited him fine, and California was a hop, skip, and jump away for that time when he was ready to deal with Gina.
Sure, the Yankees and Mets were back home, but he could see them now and then when they came to play the West Coast teams. Mainly, he no longer had to put up with New York’s freezing winters.
The people out here were pretty nuts, though. Always mouthing off like their opinions were the only ones that counted.
What he saw were mostly old people living in fancy houses. At least that’s who his crew usually worked for.
“Hey, Dommi, how about we blow this place? We can go to my pad and get comfortable.” She winked, looked at him with flirting eyes.
“Naw, not yet. I’m just starting to get a heat on.”
“I’ll heat you up like you’ve never been heated before.” She accented her words with a wiggle of her hips.
“Yeah?”
She ran her wet tongue across her lips, back and forth, back and forth, then planted a hand on his knee and leaned into him.
He didn’t know why, but he was irritated by the way she bumped up against him. Made him think of the woman he’d strangled. Like maybe this one was lying too. Or something.
Was she trying to pull a fast one like that Frisco broad – shilling for some back-alley card game, making him lose almost all his money?
He shoved her away and she almost went down on the floor.
The bartender said, “Cut that out, buddy, or we’ll eighty-six you.”
Dominick jerked to his feet, his stool flew out from under him. “Fuck you,” he said as he walked out.
Chapter 7
The little Fiat monster purred its way through traffic without a hiccup. Gina arrived on time for work and was prompt for the morning report.
Bone Dus Page 3
