Then There Were Three

by Jeanie London

  Which Nic interpreted to mean when she convinced herself that he was the best thing.

  CHAPTER TEN

  NIC WAS FINALLY HOME. He stared into the kitchen cabinet, where he’d installed a wine rack shortly after moving into his condo on Julia Street a few years ago. He knew every bottle by name but pulled each out to glance at the label, considering. Going through the process somehow helped ground him after this eternally long day.

  He’d started the morning dog-tired thanks to Damon, but not in his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d reach nightfall as a father.

  He knew the instant his fingers touched the bottle that tonight was the night for the 1986 Cos d’Estournel. Since acquiring it, he’d known this particular Bordeaux was destined for something special, though he’d had no clue what that “something special” would be.

  He’d considered opening it a few times already. To celebrate his move into this condo.

  During Vince’s residency celebration.

  The birth of Rocco and Annabelle had been a serious contender, but when it came down to actually opening the bottle, Nic had realized the “something special” actually belonged to Anthony and Tess. But when they’d asked him to be Annabelle’s godfather, he’d opened a 1982 d’Issan, Margaux to commemorate the baptism, a bit lighter and more suited to Tess’s taste.

  Tonight was his something special.

  Setting the bottle on the counter, he reached inside another cabinet for a decanter, telling himself that opening this bottle wasn’t a total waste although there was no way he’d come close to finishing it. A glass or two at most. He hated drinking alone, but what the hell. Sleep was nowhere in sight—yet again—even though he was tired, so damned tired.

  This whole situation seemed as ironic. People usually celebrated fatherhood by gathering outside a hospital delivery room or inside church for a baptism. The occasion always filled with well-wishers.

  Not Nic’s fatherhood though.

  Just he, himself and him in his quiet condo tonight. His newly acquired family was at his mother’s place.

  Definitely the Cos d’Estournel.

  Whatever was left of the bottle would be in fate’s hands. The wine would hold up for a day or so though never come close to tasting the way it would tonight. Didn’t matter how he stored it. But his need to drink probably wouldn’t go away by tomorrow. The thought made him feel better about opening the bottle.

  Reaching into the drawer for a corkscrew, he heard a sound coming from the dining room. The front door. Someone was coming in, and as very few people had the key to his place, he wasn’t surprised when he peered into the dining room to find Anthony walking in with Vince in tow.

  Nic hadn’t realized how damned quiet his place was until his brothers shouted out greetings, apparently unaware it was almost midnight.

  “Normal people sleep at night.” The sound of his voice made him feel so much better now that he wouldn’t have to worry about wasting half a bottle of good wine.

  Anthony spotted the opener and pointedly peered through the archway into the kitchen. “No way. Forget all about that. We got an occasion happening here.”

  Sidestepping Nic, he marched right into the kitchen, pulled the cabinet open and set the bottle back on the rack.

  “Babies are usually seven or eight pounds, Nic,” Vince said. “I think you might have set a record.”

  “You learn that in med school, brainiac?”

  “Sure as hell did.” Vince grinned, holding up a brown paper bag with great ceremony and sliding a bottle from inside.

  Wild Turkey 101.

  “Time to celebrate.”

  The next thing Nic knew, he was seated at his dining room table, toasting fatherhood with a shot glass.

  “So what in hell prompted this visit?” he asked, then tossed back a shot that burned so good all the way down. “And don’t tell me you were bored.”

  “Vince wanted to drink. I wanted to whip your ass.” Anthony produced a deck of cards.

  “You wish.” Sliding the shot glass toward Vince, Nic suddenly remembered that there was more to family than one problem after another. “You so wish.”

  And there might be an end in sight to this day, after all.

  VIOLET WISHED THEY WOULD wrap up this photo shoot so she could eat breakfast in peace. She was barely awake yet, but Dad insisted on taking these photos even though Grandmama had the coffee brewing and the whole kitchen smelled good. Too many days of airplane food and granola bars had caught up with her. One good night’s sleep and she was back to normal and starving.

  “Smile pretty,” Mom said, and Violet rolled her eyes.

  Puh-leeze. Like anyone would even see her face. Not with Dad taking the photos. He was zooming in on her nose so no one could identify her. He said he wanted to use them in his investigation, but he was being so cryptic about the whole thing that she couldn’t even figure out why he bothered.

  He didn’t know it yet, but she planned to make one of these photos her profile pic on Facebook. They were going to be really stupid and she wanted to post one just for laughs. And to show off her new piercing. Esperanza would be so jealous. Even a gay dad hadn’t gotten her one of those.

  After snapping off a few more shots, her dad checked them in the display. “Got what I need. Megan, did you sign those forms yet?”

  “Yes.” Mom grabbed an envelope off the table and handed it to him.

  “Did you have any questions?” Dad asked. Violet hadn’t realized how much taller than Mom he was. Mom wasn’t exactly short, average maybe. It was just weird seeing them together.

  “No. Everything looked very straightforward.”

  He nodded. “How about those cell numbers then?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Mom seemed flustered. “Violet, grab your phone.”

  She slid it from her pocket and handed it to Mom, who started playing musical phones with Dad to program each other’s numbers into their contacts.

  “Okay, we’re all set,” Dad said. “If you run into anything this morning, call. We’ll figure it out.”

  “Okay, will do,” Mom said.

  Mom and Dad. Seeing these two together was hard to process. It had been her and Mom for so long. And GigiMarie. But Violet wasn’t complaining. Here she was thinking she’d be grounded for the rest of her life, but she hadn’t counted on the worry factor. Mom was so relieved that she hadn’t even brought up the consequences conversation yet. Or made Violet take out her nose ring. Fingers crossed she’d decide not to bother. Violet knew better than to think she’d forget.

  Then again, maybe the being-around-Dad-again thing had thrown Mom off course. Her dad might always be this keep-his-distance proper. Violet didn’t know, but she knew Mom wasn’t. Mom did everything a lot. She laughed a lot. Worried a lot. Worked a lot. Had fun a lot. Any kind of a lot Violet could think of. Even kept secrets a lot.

  That part sucked, but she wasn’t ready to deal with it.

  Neither was Mom. She was all, like, “let’s play nice and work things out.” Please. It was kind of pathetic, really. The real reason old people shouldn’t hook up. They didn’t know how to do it. Or maybe they were so old they forgot. Either way, watching these two together was painful.

  Thankfully, Grandmama was taking her to the hair salon this morning so Mom could take care of stuff while Dad went to work. Violet was going to see Uncle Anthony’s garage and Uncle Damon’s dojo because they were all in the same building. Then she was going to lunch with Dad. No time for the conversation in there.

  “I want to go by Bell-DiLeo, with a hyphen, okay?” Violet announced to give everyone something else to think about.

  Both Mom and Dad stared at her, making her feel totally self-conscious.

  “I thought you said you were going to that place this morning to do the paperwork and add Dad? You said it wasn’t a big deal.”

  Mom nodded. “It isn’t.”

  “If they’re making new copies of my birth certificate, you should be able to change my n
ame, right?”

  Mom looked at Dad for approval. “Nic?”

  Oh, Mom wasn’t worried about the paperwork. She was worried about Dad. God, this was weird. Violet couldn’t even tell if her dad was cool with this. He had that whole police-officer-stare thing down cold.

  “Still pretty shocked?” she asked matter-of-factly.

  “Looks that way,” he admitted. “Thought some sleep would take the edge off.”

  “Not so much?”

  He smiled. Sort of. “Might have if I’d gotten some.”

  “Not so much?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Good shock?” She tried to sound cool, as if it didn’t matter. “I looked online, but couldn’t find anything about, you know, like, a family or anything. Grandmama said you didn’t have any except for a bunch of pain-in-the-ass siblings—”

  “Violet,” Mom warned.

  “And a daughter,” Dad added.

  “So you’ve never been married. Ever?”

  He shook his head again. Mom snatched her cup from the table and headed to the coffeepot. Violet knew she was hiding because she was embarrassed.

  “That’s cool.” And interesting, too. Two parents. Neither ever married. What was up with that? “I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Mom was worried.”

  Well, Violet was the one worried, but Mom always said if she should find herself in a situation that made her uncomfortable she could always use Mom as an excuse. Of course, she’d been talking about being out with friends who started doing stuff they weren’t supposed to be doing, like drinking or drugs, but Violet was uncomfortable.

  “You’re no trouble, Violet,” Dad said.

  “So, can I go by Bell-DiLeo?” she asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want me to.”

  Then her dad smiled for real. It made a big difference, too. He all of a sudden looked friendly. Like Uncle Anthony.

  “You can go by Bell-DiLeo if that’s what you want. With a hyphen.”

  “I’ll take care of it then,” Mom said.

  “Cool. I’ll update my account info on Facebook. Does Grandmama have Wi-Fi at the salon?”

  Her dad nodded as the front door opened and a voice rang out, “Car delivery service.”

  She could hear someone moving down the hall, then Uncle Anthony appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a work shirt with his name on it. “Got the best loaner in the house. Oh-eight Jeep Liberty. Last year of the old body style. The best in my opinion. Can’t imagine what idiot thought we needed to go bigger with gas prices what they are.” He looked right at her. “Of course, this one really wanted to borrow my Firebird.”

  “Is that the car you picked up Dad in the other night?” she asked.

  “That’s exactly what I picked up Dad in.”

  “You’d let me drive it?”

  He crossed the room in a couple of fast steps and held out his hand for Violet to shake. “Make you a deal. When you’re old enough, I’ll teach you to drive in it. I taught everyone to drive around here. Even Dad.”

  “Isn’t he older than you?”

  “But I’m the best driver.”

  Dad snorted. “Better not let your wife hear you say that or you’ll be driving her purple Gremlin. And by the way, he’s also full of it, Violet. I even taught him to drive his Harley.”

  She turned to stare wide-eyed. “You have a Harley?”

  Uncle Anthony winked. “Bright red chopper.”

  “I want to learn to drive that.”

  Uncle Anthony didn’t get to answer because Mom said, “Not this week, young lady. You’ve quite used up your quota of rebellion, thank you very much.”

  Yeah, well, Violet couldn’t exactly argue that. Luckily, she didn’t have to because Uncle Anthony glanced at the clock on the wall and said, “Nic, you’ll take me to the garage?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to head out now, too.” He grabbed the camera and the envelope from the table. “Megan, my mother’s not down yet. Will you drop her and Violet off at the shop?”

  “Of course.” She took the keys from Uncle Anthony and said, “Thanks so much. This is really nice of you.”

  Uncle Anthony kissed her cheek. “You’re part of the family, and DiLeos take care of each other. Remember that.”

  Mom nodded, looking all blush-y. Totally lame.

  Uncle Anthony kissed Violet’s cheek on the way out, too, whispering, “We’ve got time to change her mind.”

  Violet winked at him. A pact. But she didn’t get a chance to say anything because her dad was suddenly eyeballing her as if he wasn’t sure what to do or how to say goodbye.

  But Violet knew.

  Hopping up from her chair, she went to him, stretched up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “See ya later, Dad.”

  For a second, he looked so surprised that Violet felt like laughing. Uncle Anthony did.

  “Come on, Dad. Get a move on. I got full bays, a sick mechanic and about four hours of AutoTexCare paperwork on my desk.”

  “Yeah, right.” Dad looked at her and smiled. Another one of the real ones. “See you for lunch.”

  “See you for lunch.”

  Then he and Uncle Anthony headed down the hall, filling up the narrow space with their broad shoulders. They looked so alike it was funny. The only way to tell them apart from behind was their uniforms. Dad was all official in his dress blues with the brass buttons and polished shoes. Uncle Anthony’s uniform didn’t even look like one from behind. And his hair was longer than her dad’s, too.

  “Megan’s going to drop you and Violet off at the shop,” her dad yelled up the stairs. “Anthony and I are heading out.”

  “You boys have a good day,” Grandmama called back.

  “You, too,” Uncle Anthony said, then the front door closed behind them and it sounded as if a herd of buffalo were clomping down the porch stairs.

  Violet reached for her glass on the table and took a swig of orange juice, happy. Uncle Anthony was right. They were part of the family now, which meant she was going to have to convince Mom to take the New Orleans project. She had to be around to learn to drive the chopper.

  BELLS CHIMED WHEN NIC pushed open the front door of Insane, Ink. The place had only opened for business twenty minutes ago, and was dead empty. He waited patiently, guessing Big Mike was in the back and would make his way up front eventually to see who’d dropped by. The place might be open to catch the daytime tourists, but the real moneymaking traffic wouldn’t start until after sundown.

  Swinging doors that separated the public front of the shop from the private back creaked open.

  Big Mike was called big for a good, if unimaginative reason. He was. Very. Six-five if he was an inch. That was a lot of hairy inked skin. In a muscle shirt and with pillow marks still on one cheek. Nice.

  He planted himself behind the glass counter that housed a jewelry display, plunked down a take-out coffee cup and growled in a voice as big as the rest of him, “Well, well, well. Look who’s here. Should I bow or something?”

  “Nice to see you again, too, Mike.” Nic withdrew an envelope from his inner jacket pocket. “Hate to interrupt your morning cup of joe, but I’ve got a few questions for you.”

  “About what?”

  “About the incident that took place here two nights ago.”

  “I don’t have any idea what incident you might be talking about, commander—” Big Mike broke off with a scowl. “Chief. Excuse the hell out of me. Can’t friggin’ keep up with you.”

  Nic waved the envelope and flashed a smile. Big Mike did not want to screw around today. Not when Nic was operating on two hours of sleep for the second night in a row and a hangover from too much excitement and bourbon. “Didn’t think you would, so I brought along something to refresh your memory.”

  Big Mike issued a throaty roar. “I already told the beat cops I didn’t see anything.”

  Nic always appreciated the way people volunteered information when they got nervous or put on the spot. Made his job so much easier.

&n
bsp; “And I already read the incident report.”

  “Then what do you want from me? Maybe you should be talking to the massage ladies,” he suggested, inclining his head in the direction of Busybodies. “They’re all over there brewing tea or whatever they do this time of morning.”

  Nic narrowed his gaze at Big Mike. “I’ve already read their statements, too.”

  “Then you know I didn’t see a friggin’ thing. Nada. Heard raised voices, but by the time I got here all the excitement was over.” Shrugging brawny shoulders, he set the hippy Hula dancer on his bicep into action.

  Nic slid a 5x7 photo from the envelop, a zoomed-in shot of Violet’s nose ring, flashed it in front of Big Mike’s face and announced, “I’m here about this.”

  “Yeah, so it’s a piercing. What’s it got to do with me?”

  “I’d like to see the notarized parental consent form that accompanied this particular piercing, please.”

  Big Mike opened his mouth then shut it again, seemed to be struggling for an appropriate response. “What in hell makes you think that’s my work?”

  “Cops picked the kid up here, Mike. Something about a curfew infraction and all that.”

  “Oh, that kid. It’s around here somewhere.”

  Nic waited patiently while the man went through the motions of locating the document.

  Finally, Mike confessed, “You know, Chief. I can’t seem to find it. Must have misplaced it or maybe it got thrown away in all the excitement the other night.”

  “You mean the excitement you missed?”

  Big Mike spread his hands wide and went the playing-stupid route. “The cops did show up. I’m talking about that excitement. They were taking statements from the massage ladies. And asking questions. I didn’t know the kid went with the cops. Thought she might have slipped out when the lights started flashing. She looked pretty shifty.”