“But—”
“End of subject.”
“Oh, fine. You probably don’t know anything anyway,” I said, hoping he’d take the bait.
Alphonso shot me a look that screamed “amateur.” Then he folded his arms across his chest, slumped down in his seat and closed his eyes. And that really was the end of the subject. Half an hour later, I dropped him off at his car and headed home.
*****
To look at Robert DiCarlo’s living room, one would never guess it housed one of the most testosterone-driven males in the city. Every square foot of available space with dominated by the miniature world of a toddler.
“You sit here,” Sophia directed in that adorably bossy way only a three year-old can get away with. (I know, I’ve tried.)
I’d been sitting on the couch with Janine and Carla, dissecting my latest encounter with Nick, while Bobby’s daughter orchestrated an elaborate tea party with her stuffed animals. Growing tired of providing all the dialogue for her inanimate guests, she was now demanding human participation. When I’d agreed to babysit, I had no idea it would be so exhaustingly interactive.
Propelling myself off the couch I walked over to the tiny table and grabbed a handful of the cookies we’d made earlier with her Easy Bake Oven. Sophia had even graciously offered to let me lick the bowl. It was a real treat for me, as I still haven’t forgiven my mom for giving away my Easy Bake Oven. (The fact that I was 22 at the time did not lessen the sting of the loss.)
Frankie glanced over at me and snickered. Sophia smiled and sidled over to him. My uncle had been flying under the radar, sitting in the corner watching the Phillies battle the Mets in New York. The Phils were leading in the ninth, but the Mets were up with two outs and bases loaded.
“You sit here, too,” she said, tugging at his sleeve.
“In a minute, sweetheart,” Frankie said, absently eyeing the television.
Sophia stood in front of him, her lower lip quivering like the proverbial bowl full of jelly.
Carla looked up from her Sudoku puzzle. “Frankie, she’s just a baby. You’re making her cry. You can watch baseball any time.”
“But it’s bases loaded,” he grumbled.
I could totally see his point. It was, however, lost on Sophia, who began to sob, producing copious amounts of huge, heartbroken tears.
Frankie panicked. “Oh, no, sweetheart, everything’s okay. You don’t have to cry.” He got up and walked over to the tiny chair and sat down. He drew his knees to his chest, one butt cheek hanging off the side. At that exact moment, the Mets drove in three runs to win the game. Frankie let out a groan.
Sophia got up close and peered into my uncle’s face. “You’re too big to cry,” she decided. “Only little girls can.”
It was 10:30 p.m. but the kid refused to go to sleep.
“Her bed time is at 7:00,” Bobby had informed me, looking sharp in khaki pants and a new polo shirt. He’d even shaved. I briefly entertained the thought of Tina reaping the benefits of such meticulous grooming and then went into denial mode instead. Life is much more pleasant when you pretend to have control over it.
“She may want you to read her a story and she’ll probably fall asleep in the middle of it. Thanks again for watching her, Bran.”
“No problem,” I told him. She’d be asleep inside of an hour and then Carla, Frankie and Janine would be over to watch the Phillies game. Ah, the best laid plans…
*****
“… and then Prince Nicholas said, “I have banished all the bimbos from my kingdom. I love you, Princess Angel. Please be my bride.”
“What’s a bimbo?”
Sophia was curled up next to me on the couch, holding her blankie and playing with my hair. Carla, Frankie and Janine were gone and Bobby would be back soon and I still hadn’t managed to get his little girl to go to sleep. I gave up any illusion of competence and let her run the show.
“A bimbo is another word for… dog.” Well, technically that’s true. Some bimbos are real bitches.
Sofa thought for a minute. “Why did Prince Nicholas make all the bimbos go away? Doesn’t he like dogs?”
“He’s allergic.”
“You’re silly.”
I sighed. “I know.”
Bobby found us passed out on the couch. “Yo,” he said, gently shaking me awake.
I’d been in the middle of a dream about a lizard wearing a red bandana, singing the National Anthem at Citizens Bank Park. He got a standing ovation even though he’d forgotten most of the words. I think I mixed up the ball game with an old Geico commercial.
“Hey, how’d it go?” I asked, sitting up. I was sweating and my hair was stuck to the side of my face. I tried combing it with my fingers but Sophia had tangled it up pretty good in her effort to give me braids.
“It was okay.”
I moved over to give him room on the couch. “Just okay?”
“Yeah, I don’t think we’re exactly made for each other.” He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. He tasted faintly of beer and hot dogs.
“Relationships are hard,” he said. “From now on I’m sticking to fighting crime and other manly endeavors. So how’d it go with you?” he added, picking cookie dough out of my hair.
“I think it went really well. We made cookies in her Easy Bake Oven and Sophia let me lick the bowl.”
“Hey, remember when your mom gave yours away without even asking?”
“Yeah, don’t do that with your kid, okay?”
I picked up my bag and grabbed a few more cookies and Bobby walked me to the door.
“Thanks again for tonight, Sweetheart. I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me a thing. It was fun.” I looked back over my shoulder to the little girl asleep on the couch. “You do good work, DiCarlo.”
He followed my gaze and smiled and then his eyes settled on mine.
“Bran, do you ever wonder how things might’ve turned out if you and I had—”
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
A vague longing passed between us and then the moment was gone.
Bobby watched me as I walked down the block to my car and drove away.
Babysitting had actually turned out to be a good diversion for me. It helped take my mind off of Nick. I’d been obsessing over him since he’d left me on the back roads of Jersey. Whatever it was he was going through, I didn’t want him to go through it alone.
As I pulled onto my block it seemed especially quiet. Only the chirping crickets gave voice to the night. Used to be in the summer, the neighbors would hang out on their porches, talking, playing pinochle and eating Mrs. Esposito’s homemade biscotti while we kids rode our bikes up and down the block and hoped our parents didn’t notice we were up way past our bedtimes.
If we were lucky, Ronnie Cap’s dad would bring out his accordion, or Uncle Frankie would drop by for a visit and slip us sips of beer. It’s funny. It’s been seven years since I’ve been of legal drinking age in the state of Pennsylvania, but nothing ever tasted so good as mooching Budweiser off my uncle.
I flipped on the porch light and went inside.
*****
It was after midnight and I was still wide awake. The double espresso I’d had early in the day seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, not so much. I was restless and bored, and there was nothing good on tv, so I decided to dress up the dog and take pictures to send to my friend, Michelle, in L.A.
Turns out Adrian wasn’t as keen on the idea as I was. He sat at the kitchen table, gnawing the sequins off my Halloween costume from when I was a baby, a bright pink tutu with a matching crown. I’d found it in the basement along with some broken toys and a box of old report cards. Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened one of the cards to read the comment.
“Brandy is an impulsive child who needs to practice patience and self control.”
Hunh! Well, obviously the teacher had me mixed up with some other kid. That doesn’t sound like me at
all.
I took about three shots of Adrian in various humiliating poses before he called it quits and ran off to hide under the couch. As I didn’t have the energy to coax him back out, I decided to make vegetable soup out of the broccoli I’d bought a couple of weeks ago in a fit of self improvement. In the middle of picking off the brown, mushy parts my phone rang.
Uh oh. Middle of the night phone calls rarely bode well. I picked it up and prayed it was a wrong number or a particularly enthusiastic telemarketer who wanted to get a jump on the day. I uttered a tentative hello.
“I’m going to get you, Bitch.”
“Excuse me?” I figured maybe I’d heard it wrong and they’d really said, “I’m going to make you rich.” Okay, chances were slim, but a girl can hope.
“When I’m through with you,” the voice continued, “you’re going to beg me to kill you.”
“Um, Bunny? I think there’s been a little misunderstanding. I didn’t tell the police where to find you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I mean, we’ve barely met, and—who knows, had it been under different circumstances, we could’ve turned out to be really good friends.”
I had no idea how idiotic I sounded. I was just stalling until I could find a way to call the police on my land line.
“Bunny? You still there?”
“I’m in your house… in fact, I’m right behind you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Without thinking I whipped around, ready to take her on. There was no one there.
Of course not. I would have heard her. I put my phone to my ear. The sound of Bunny’s laughter echoed in my brain and then the line went dead.
It took me a full minute to stop shaking. She’s just messing with me for now, but one of these days it’s gonna be the real thing. I took a deep breath and dialed 911.
My head was killing me, so while I waited for the police to arrive I ran upstairs to grab some aspirin from the bathroom cabinet. Rocky followed me in and hopped up onto the edge of the sink, craning her neck for a drink from the faucet.
“Hang on a second, sweetie. Mommy’s had a rough day.”
I set my phone down on the toilet tank lid and then turned on the faucet with one hand, while reaching for the cabinet door with the other. It was stuck so I yanked hard. The door flew open with a loud creak sending Rocky into a frenzy. She leaped off the counter top, her tail grazing the toilet tank lid on her way out the door. I heard a splash and looked down to see my “brand new-should I buy it-no, it’s too expensive-but I really want it” cell phone sink like a rock to the bottom of the toilet bowl. Unhhh
I plunged my hand into the water, hoping that the five second rule about eating food off the floor also applied to submerged electronics. If I take it out fast enough, it’ll be like it never happened.
I dried off the phone with the hair drier and pressed the “power” button. It was dead as a door nail. Note to self: five-second rule does not apply with big ticket items.
Twenty minutes later I sat in my living room as Officer Joiner and her partner searched my house and premises on the off chance that Bunny really was lurking close by. Finding no evidence of a nocturnal intruder, they asked to take a look at my phone to check the number Bunny had called from.
“Um, there’s a little problem with that,” I said, and went on to explain about the toilet mishap. Officer Joiner pressed two thin lips together and pulled some latex gloves from her back pocket. “It was clean,” I added.
She ignored me and bagged my new phone as evidence.
After the cops left my imagination went into overdrive, interpreting every normal household sound to be someone breaking into my home. I tried to tough it out until morning, but the longer I laid in bed the worse it got, until even the sound of my own heartbeat was cause for alarm.
“Nick said you could crash at his apartment if you felt unsafe at home,” reminded a little voice in my head.
“Yes, but do you really need to, or are you just using it as an excuse to spend the night with him?” countered a second little voice.
“Oh, shut up,” said the first little voice.
After that the second little voice was quiet, so I packed up Rocky and Adrian and headed on over to Nick’s.
I didn’t want to just barge in on him, (admittedly, not out of respect for his privacy, but out of who I might find there with him) so I called before I left home. He didn’t pick up and I debated not going at all, but my house was seriously creeping me out. I left a message telling him that I was on my way over, figuring if he was entertaining it would give him time to move the party elsewhere.
Nick’s car was parked in the loading zone. All of a sudden this really shy feeling came over me and I wanted to turn around and go back home, only it was late and I was scared, so I forged ahead, balancing Rocky’s carrier in one hand and Adrian’s leash in the other.
The closer I got to his apartment the more trepidation I began to feel, and I started thinking this was a bad idea. “But he invited me,” I repeated to myself like a mantra. All the same, when I reached his place I knocked really loud in case he’d forgotten.
One of Nick’s neighbors, a large, hairy man in boxer shorts stuck his head out the door.
“Sorry,” I said, and knocked one more time for good measure. Then I dug out the key and let myself in.
I turned on the lamp in the foyer and noticed a set of keys and Nick’s .38 lying on the table. “Nick?” I called out, walking into the living room. There was no answer. I put the cat carrier down and let Adrian off the leash. He sniffed the air for a second and then trotted off to explore the rest of the rooms.
Even though I had Nick’s permission, it still felt weird to be there without having touched base with him first. His house phone was on the coffee table, so I picked it up and punched in his cell number, hoping to give him a head’s up.
I could hear the phone ring in my ear, however, there was a louder, more distinct ring coming from the other side of the room as well. I walked over to the baby grand piano that sat in the corner overlooking Rittenhouse Square. Nick’s cell phone was sitting on the keyboard.
Why would Nick leave the house without his cell phone?
While I was pondering this, Adrian slunk out of the bathroom looking guilty. “Bad dog,” I said, figuring he must have done something to look so ashamed. I walked into the hallway and found a trail of unfurled toilet paper leading back to the bathroom. I followed the trail scooping it up along the way.
It was dark in there and unbearably hot and steamy. I felt around for the light switch and flipped it on.
“Douse the lights, would you darlin’?”
“Holy Jesus,” I gasped, stifling a scream.
Nick lay naked in his claw-foot tub, his body immersed in water. His left arm dangled over the side, the right, elbow bent and resting on the rim, held a crystal shot glass. A half-empty bottle of Patron Gold sat on the floor within easy reach. He lifted the glass to his lips and quickly downed the contents, then gently placed the glass next to the bottle.
His hair was damp and matted and clung to the tops of his bare shoulders. His legs were bent at the knee. His face held a mixture of quiet rage and crushing melancholy. He never looked more beautiful.
“The light?” he repeated.
“Oh. Sorry.” I turned off the light and waited until my eyes got accustomed to the dark. “Listen, I didn’t mean to intrude on you. I’d tried to call… something happened and I didn’t want to stay in my house… I should probably go—”
“Come here,” he said, his voice a low growl.
My heart pounding, I walked over and stood next to the tub, straining my eyes to make out his features.
“Kneel down.”
It was a rough command and my stomach tightened. This was a side of Nick I’d never seen before. He was scaring me, and yet, I was exactly where I wanted to be.
I knelt down next to the tub, unsure of what to do and feeling increasingly uneasy. Nick leaned over the rim and took my a
rm, wrapping strong fingers around my wrist. Placing my hand on his chest, he slowly guided me down the length of his body.
Relaxing against the back of the tub again, he moved my arm lower and lower. The water was so hot it was as if he were trying to purge himself of all things unholy. I closed my eyes and flattened my hand against his stomach, feeling the hardness of his abs, the peach fuzz just below his belly button.
My own stomach rolled as he pushed my hand lower still and I held my breath and waited. My finger tips grazed something wonderful and then his hand tightened around my wrist and he guided me away from that bit of heaven to his right side and the jagged remains of an old wound.
“You asked me once how I got this scar,” he said, absently rubbing the rough patch. “Do you still want to know?”
“Only if you want to tell me.”
“It was a birthday present from my father on the day I turned 12. He gave it to me right after I watched him kill my mother.”
Stunned beyond words, I felt the weight of unshed tears spring up behind my eyes.
Nick pushed himself into a sitting position and grabbed the bottle of tequila off the floor, taking a swig from it. I watched him as his throat closed around the fiery liquid.
“You should go, Angel.”
“No! Nick, I’m not leaving you like this. You wouldn’t leave me…”
His response was slow and deliberate. “I can’t guarantee what will happen if you stay.”
I laid my hand on his cheek and felt the raw energy pulsating throughout his body. “I’m staying.”
Santiago rose out of the tub pulling me roughly to him. I could feel the anger flow like lava though his veins. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice a guttural whisper.
I believed him. I knew, too, that he would.
I hesitated just long enough to feel the fear and then I put my arms around his neck, pressing myself into him, trying to convey in my touch what my words could not. I will ride this out with you, Nick. No matter what.
No Such Thing as a Free Ride Page 18
