“It’s just that I thought she was going to be okay. What happened?”
“Miscarriage, in all likelihood caused by the drugs we found in her system. She developed an infection and it attacked her heart.” She let out a weary sigh. “And as sad as it is, it’s a common story. My friend works in the coroners’ office in Camden. Called me up about a year ago in tears. Said this pretty little white girl had come in—she was a runaway and she’d O.D.’d. She’d just given birth. God only knows what happened to her baby.” Another sigh, then, “Well, I’d better go tend to the living. Brandy,” she added, “Dr. Sanchez was right. You are one of the good guys. If more people cared about these kids, there would be far fewer that end up like this one.”
After we said our goodbyes, I reached for the Homer Simpson Pez dispenser I keep on my coffee table for moments like these when I need some quick cheering up. Homer is hilarious, especially when he’s dispensing pure sugar pellets from his neck. Only the Pez dispenser wasn’t there.
I crawled around on the floor, checking under the couch, but it was nowhere in sight. The last time I’d seen it, Crystal was helping herself to some candy.
“Weird,” I mused aloud, plunking myself back on the couch.
“What is?” Nick came into the living room and handed me a chocolate bar and some aspirin and sat down next to me again.
“I’m pretty sure Crystal stole my Pez dispenser. I had a twenty dollar bill sitting right next to it, and that’s still here.”
“Not so weird, darlin’. She wasn’t trying to rip you off, she just wanted something of yours to take with her. This may be hard to believe, but it’s actually a compliment. It shows that she trusts you.”
I sandwiched the aspirin between two bits of chocolate and popped it into my mouth.
“How do you know so much about this kid, Nick? You just met her but you seem to understand her better than I ever will.”
Nick’s normally placid face showed the slightest bit of distress, but it was enough to send a pang through my heart. “Why is that?” I pressed. “Why did you guys connect the way you did?”
He cut me a lopsided smile and my heart officially broke. “The reason I understand Crystal is because when I was a kid I lived on the streets too.”
Woah! I did not see that one coming… although, now that he’d told me, it made all the sense in the world.
“I’ve been on my own since I was twelve,” he continued, quietly. “Luckily, I had some help along the way.”
My eyes got all teary again. “Nick, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Angel. I got through it,” he said, pulling me to him. I rested my head against his shoulder and prayed to the universe I’d never have to move again.
“But how?” I nearly sobbed. “How do you ‘get through’ something like that?”
Nick stroked my hair, comforting me. “My maternal grandfather was Cherokee. He died when I was just a little boy, but he taught me a very wise Cherokee saying. ‘Don’t let yesterday take up too much of today.’ I try to live by that.”
“Nick,” I said, turning to face him. “I asked you something a while ago, but you never gave me an answer. Tell me about your childhood. Please.”
“Someday,” he said, returning my gaze.
“But—”
“Shhh,” he whispered, and cupped my face in his hands. “I’ve missed you, Brandy Alexander.” And then he kissed me.
Chapter Five
“… and then he kissed me.”
“Tongue?” Janine asked.
“Janine! Please. I’m trying to eat, here,” John grumbled.
I gave a silent nod to Janine and smiled, remembering.
We were crammed into a booth at DiVinci’s Pizza; Carla, Janine, Johnny and me, AKA “The Party Planning Committee.” Mrs. DiAngelo couldn’t make it. She was having a gnocchi crisis. Janine said her mother, famous for her Italian dumplings and the undisputed neighborhood champ, was recently usurped by Eddie’s mother, who, according to a reliable source, had been perfecting a new recipe for months in an effort to capture the coveted title.
Carla, her foot-high beehive shrinking in the heat, cast me a big-sisterly look, mixed with a slight tinge of envy. “Be careful, hon. I know that man has charm. And he gets points for being honest with you. But knowing the score and following your heart don’t always take you to the same place.”
Carla was right, of course. Only, when it came to Santiago I was willing to risk a train wreck. I’d been touched by his willingness to open up to me about his past, however small the revelations. It meant he trusted me, and that in itself was huge. Nick was a man who did not trust easily. So maybe the kiss was meant to shut me up, keep me from pressing him about places he didn’t want to revisit. But there was genuine affection in that kiss that slowly turned to passion.
His mouth was warm and I melted into him, my breasts, twin heat-seeking missiles, happily brushing up against him. He’d started out gently, placing soft, full lips on mine, but I’d been deprived of his touch for far too long and this was not going to cut it. I opened my mouth and let him taste me, and soon he was returning the heat, his tongue playing tag with mine.
We sat on my couch, entwined in each other’s arms, exchanging steaming hot kisses, when suddenly, for a brief, painful moment I remembered he doesn’t love me. I pulled back for a beat, but then I figured, “what the heck,” he’ll never know what he’s missing if he doesn’t have a point of reference, and I slid my tongue back into his mouth, making sure I gave him something to remember me by.
Nick moved on top of me, pressing me backwards and I could feel his desire for me grow in quite the literal sense of the word. I wanted this man so bad my hormones were about to spring a leak. I opened my legs and he settled in between them and then—the doorbell rang. Oh, fuck-a-roo!
Nick smiled down at me. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“I wasn’t planning to, no.” My breath came in short spurts as I struggled to ignore the activity outside.
The door bell rang again, followed by the grating sound of my neighbor’s voice. “Yoo hoo, Girlie.” I sighed and opened the door, almost ripping the knob off in the process.
“Mrs. Gentile,” I said, through barely gritted teeth. “What a nice surprise.” She was wearing an old lady flowered housedress that made her look like a giant, wrinkled petunia. It got me wondering at what age you begin thinking floral mumus are the height of fashion.
“Your television is up too loud,” Mrs. Gentile complained. “It’s interrupting my afternoon nap.”
“I’ll turn it down,” I told her, figuring it was easier than trying to convince her that my set wasn’t even on.
“See that you do.” She turned and stomped back inside her house.
Nick was sitting upright on the couch. He stood now and walked toward me, signaling the end of our make-out session. Disappointment and a sudden urge to knock Mrs. Gentile clear to Jersey threatened to consume me.
Tilting my chin upward, Nick gave it a quick inspection and then kissed the tip of my nose. “Be sure to keep that wound covered. You don’t want it to get infected.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t thinking about my chin. All’s I really wanted was for Nick to kiss me again.
Nick crossed the threshold and turned back to me. “You know, Angel, Crystal’s lucky to have you in her corner.”
I shook my head. “I haven’t done anything. She’s lucky to have you in her corner.”
“Hopefully I’ll have some information on her friend soon. I’m putting Raoul’s little brother on it. He knows just about everything that happens on the streets.”
Raoul works for Nick, but I’m not sure in what capacity. Since rumor has it that Raoul killed a couple of guys who looked at him cross-eyed, I thought it best not to ask.
“If you’re in the neighborhood tomorrow, stop by the studio. I know you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but it never hurts to learn something new.” He flashed me another smile, n
ot quite his old familiar one. This one had a touch of sadness. And with that he was gone.
I saved all the really juicy details for a private girl-chat with Janine, and even then, I’d only tell the parts that were relevant to me. It never occurred to me to talk about Nick’s private business.
“Can we get back to the subject at hand?” John asked, dabbing grease off his chin. “This pizza has heart attack written all over it,” he added, blotting a slice with a paper napkin. I guess he pressed too hard because when he lifted the napkin all the cheese went with it.
“Stop playing with your food, John,” Carla told him, sliding another slice onto his plate. “And if you can’t take the ‘girl-talk,’ stay out of the hen house.”
“And just where would that leave you guys? I’m the only one with good taste around here. This baby shower had tacky written all over it until I offered my services.”
I looked at Carla, decked out in her “Kiss me, I’m Italian” tee shirt, then at Janine, wearing a faux-jeweled sun visor. Wiping some pizza sauce from my hand onto the leg of my torn jeans, I decided that John had a point.
“Okay, ladies,” John said. “We need a theme.”
“Uh, John, did you miss the part where Fran’s having a baby? I thought we’d go with that theme.”
“Shut –uh-up. I mean something like—” he closed his eyes, pausing for effect— “famous babies throughout history, or—”
“Rosemary’s Baby!” Janine chimed in all excited.
“Neenie, have you ever seen Rosemary’s Baby?” I asked.
“No.”
“Do you even know what it’s about?”
“Some chick named Rosemary has a baby. Duh.”
John opened his eyes. “Maybe we don’t need a theme.”
Carla leaned forward, squinching up her eyes and staring at the front entrance as DiCarlo appeared in the doorway. “Is Bobby part of the planning committee?”
Janine waved and called out to him. “Yo, Bobby. Over here.”
My hand touched my chin, reflexively. “Listen, you guys, don’t mention anything about what happened to me. If DiCarlo finds out about Bunny he’ll have her arrested, and that could spell disaster for Crystal.”
“I wouldn’t recommend you telling your Uncle Frankie about it either,” Carla advised, “because if he knew he’d beat the living hell out of that Bunny person. Girl or no girl.”
I guess I shouldn’t have gotten such a kick out of the idea, but I did.
Bobby reached the table and slid in next to me in the already crowded booth. His eyes roved over my face, settling on my chin. “I heard you’ve been sparring with Jimmy the Rat,” he said, gracing me with a dimpled smile. “I should’ve warned you he’s been working on his left hook.” He rubbed his thumb lightly over my cheek. “Man, you look like you got hit by a ton of bricks.”
Well, I suppose technically that was true. Bunny was built like a brick shit house.
“Lucky punch,” I shrugged, happy not to have to make up a lie of my own.
Bobby raised an arm and flagged down our server, Lindsay Sargenti. “Tuna melt to go, Linz.” He turned back to us, absently drumming his fingers on the scarred wooden table top. He was brimming with cat-like energy, a sure sign that something was up.
“So, what’s going on, Bobby?” I asked.
John noticed it too. “Yeah,” he said. “You’ve got the shpilkas,” a term he picked up when he was a kid living next door to my Jewish grandmother.
“Aah, it’s this case I’m working on. It’s been a real nightmare. This woman bought it down near10th & Oregon. No sign of sexual assault, no personal effects were taken, her money and credit cards were still in her wallet. According to friends and family she didn’t have an enemy in the world.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, obviously she had one.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, placing a hand on his. “I guess being a homicide cop isn’t all fun and games.”
DiCarlo smiled again, locking his fingers with mine. “Yeah, it pretty much sucks. By the time I’m called in you know there’s not going to be a happy ending.”
“Any leads?” Carla asked, rooting in her pocketbook for her lipstick. She pulled it out and heaped a generous portion of Fuchsia Delight onto her lips.
“None that I can talk about. Her family—” he shook his head. “Well, they’re completely broken up. She was a case worker for homeless youth, out to save the world.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Bobby disengaged his hand from mine and rubbed his fingertips against his temples, a gesture he reverted to whenever he was on overload. “I’m just tired of seeing good people get hurt. Well, I can’t pick and choose who the homicide victims are. Listen,” he said, abruptly changing the subject, “thanks again for agreeing to watch Sophia on Saturday night.”
Janine perked her head up. Until now she had been chowing down the pizza at a yeoman’s pace. “You’re babysitting? A real live kid?”
“Jeez, Janine. Have a little faith. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of a toddler for a few hours. I’ve babysat before.” Okay, so maybe she was remembering the time when we were fourteen and we’d started a babysitting service, and we accidentally left six-year old Benjy Shapiro at the mall. It could happen to anyone. And it’s not like we didn’t find him again.
“Should I be worried?” Bobby asked me.
This was my chance to get out of watching Bobby’s kid while he went off on a date with someone who wasn’t—well—me. But pride goeth before a fall and all that.
“Of course you shouldn’t be worried. What could go wrong?”
Janine, Carla and Johnny all exchanged glances. “I’m not busy Saturday night,” John lied. “Maybe I’ll come by and keep you company.”
“Count me in,” said Janine. “Bobby, didn’t you say last week that Sophia got a new tea set? I totally want to check it out.”
“Frankie and I were going to go to the Springsteen concert,” Carla added, putting her lipstick back in her purse. “But this sounds like a lot more fun.”
“Maybe I should just cancel my plans,” Bobby said.
Lindsay arrived with the tuna melt wrapped and ready to go.
Bobby slid out of the booth. “Thanks, Linz. Listen, I’ll catch you guys later.”
He wasn’t three feet away from the table when Janine turned to me. “You volunteered to babysit? What were you thinking?”
That I thought he was asking me out on a date and I wanted to make Nick jealous.
“Oh, y’know, Bobby and I are so over each other. I just want him to be happy. And if he has an opportunity to socialize with someone of the opposite sex, I will do whatever a good friend does and support him however I can.”
John eyed me. “You didn’t know what you were agreeing to when he called, did you?”
“Not a clue.”
John was off to a photo shoot, Janine had a one o’clock appointment with a temp agency and Carla had to get back to the salon. I had to go too. Eric had called earlier in the day to ask me to fill in for Godfrey, the Traffic Dog. Kevin Sanders, the actor that plays Godfrey, was ordered by the court to pick up trash on I-95 as a community service for some undisclosed, but, my guess is, highly embarrassing indiscretion, which left a hole in the mid day traffic report. Playing a safety-tip-dispensing St. Bernard wasn’t part of my contractual agreement, but Eric offered me an extra fifty bucks and I could really use the money.
*****
On the way back from the studio, I cruised by Poplar and Taney. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I just had a vague feeling of unease. Nick said I should let Crystal come to me, but I couldn’t help but worry about her. What if Bunny took it out on Crystal because she couldn’t take it out on me?
The afternoon heat must’ve driven everyone indoors. The streets were empty. I pulled over and parked, careful to lock myself inside the car. Then I took out my cell phone and called Nick.
I got his voicemail which in itself gave m
e a little thrill. I didn’t leave a message, but a moment later my phone rang.
“Hello, Angel. I was on the other line when you called. What’s up?”
“I was just wondering if you saw Crystal today. You’d told her to come by at around three.”
“She hasn’t been here.”
Panic rose up in me. I couldn’t believe how invested I was in this kid. “It’s after four, Nick. She said she’d be there. Something must’ve happened to her.”
I could hear the smile in Nick’s voice, calm and reassuring. “Street kids have their own concept of time, darlin’. She may show up later on or even tomorrow. Try not to worry about it.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Of course not.” I could picture that gently mocking smile.
“Okay, maybe just mildly concerned. Call me if you see her.”
I hung up and started the car. Radio station WMGK was having a David Bowie retrospective and I tried to immerse myself in it, but my thoughts kept returning to Crystal and Star. Crystal was convinced that Star wouldn’t have just split on her own. Assuming that were true, the alternatives weren’t pretty.
Maybe Star had gotten arrested. If she was into prostitution, chances were good she’d end up in jail sooner or later. But they wouldn’t hold her for a week. She’d be out on the street in a matter of hours. I made a mental note to have Bobby run a check.
Alright, what else… Crystal said Star had a pimp. What was his name again? Little Red. Maybe he got pissed off at her for not bringing in enough money, or whatever pimps get upset with their ho’s for. He might’ve beaten her and she was lying low, trying to get her strength back. He’d told Crystal he hadn’t seen Star, but how trustworthy is a guy who sells fifteen-year-olds for a living.
Then there was Bunny. Could she have had something to do with Star’s disappearance? I knew first-hand that Bunny was the jealous type. She went ballistic after seeing me just talking to Crystal. She probably had it out for Star because Star was Crystal’s protector. Oh God, what if Bunny decided to get rid of her competition permanently? The thought made my stomach turn.
No Such Thing as a Free Ride Page 7
