Seven Days of Friday (Women of Greece Book 1)

by Alex A King

“Was it a suicide, do you think?” Eleni wants to know.

  He shrugs. “Hard to say.” But his expression is shuttering.

  Vivi makes coffee. That way she looks busy. “Do you think it was murder?” she asks.

  “That's for the police to determine.”

  Not exactly reassuring.

  “Coffee?” she asks.

  Max says, “Can we talk?”

  Eleni is all over that. “What about?”

  “Yes.” She gives her mother a dirty look. “Mom, make the coffee.”

  She leads him outside, out back where the people aren’t. Her heart is thumping with a new kind of anxiety.

  He looks at her. She looks at the trees.

  “I ended my engagement.”

  “You already told me.”

  “I know. I ended it last night.”

  So recently? Not even a page between women.

  “Before we had sex? Please tell me it was before we had sex.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She switches her gaze to another equally fascinating tree. Fabulous leaves. Strong trunk. Won’t fall down in a storm. What is that fruit called again?

  “Okay, so I’m rebound woman. But at least you didn’t cheat.”

  “Vivi, you’re not rebound woman. You’re not meant to be anyone’s consolation prize.”

  “Logically, I know that,” Vivi says. “But I feel like the runner up.”

  He takes her hand. This – this is what she knows. The sales pitch. John was a salesman and now Max is, too.

  Too bad she’s not in the market for bullshit.

  “Anastasia was never my choice. But I went along with it for all the wrong reasons. Then I met you. There couldn’t be an Anastasia after that. You are my first choice – she was my mother’s last resort.”

  “Max, you need time between women. You can’t just hop from one bed to the next.”

  “That’s not how it was.”

  “But it’s how it looks. And looks matter here. People will see us together and they’ll think I was the other woman.”

  “So let them think it.”

  She shakes her head. “Anywhere else, I’d be okay with that. But I brought Melissa here for a new life – a new life for both of us. I want to build that life right, strong from the ground up. You don’t know what it’s like to have the life you’ve built crumble because the foundation wasn’t solid. And you – you need time, too. Make a life for yourself, one you’re steering. You can be a good son and your own man.”

  Max goes blank like the stucco behind him. “What about us?”

  “I could use a good friend,” Vivi says. “Maybe in time . . .”

  He nods, looking at the same tree Vivi found so interesting seconds ago. “Yeah, thanks. But I have plenty of friends.”

  His phone jangles. When he glances at the screen, Vivi can tell it’s Mama Dearest calling.

  “Okay,” he says. “I’m out of here. I’ll see you around. If Melissa needs help, call.”

  “Max.”

  He doesn’t turn around, but he lifts his hand; the most dismissive of goodbyes.

  There’s a knife in her heart, and its blade is bright and cruel. She doesn’t complain – she’s the one who put it there.

  95

  VIVI

  THERE’S NO TIME FOR a pity party.

  Vivi wants to throw herself at her bed and cry herself dry, but Eleni is there with coffee and questions. Vivi takes the coffee, ignores the questions. Eleni isn’t too persistent – not when she has an audience outside. She goes out with the broom, makes a performance of sending everybody on their way.

  And they go happily because the story is unfolding somewhere else now, anyway.

  * * *

  Or so they think.

  * * *

  The police don’t knock on Vivi’s door because it’s wide open and they can see her on the couch.

  Vivi can see them, too.

  Shit, she thinks. Shit, shit, shit. She’s sitting there looking like she’s got a rampant case of pink eye, when in reality she’s spent the last hour boohooing over Max.

  Eleni, of course, isn’t around. She and Melissa are both sleeping off the morning. It’s peak siesta time.

  Two cops. The guy with the belly and another guy in plainclothes.

  Cop Number Two introduces himself as Detective Lemonis, then he gets right down to business.

  “Mrs. Tyler, do you have an Eleni Pappas staying with you?”

  Deep voice. Good for playing bad cop.

  “Do I need to call a lawyer?”

  The policemen swap looks.

  Lemonis says, “Why would you need to call a lawyer?”

  “I was born in America,” Vivi says. “We don’t do anything without a lawyer.”

  “Maybe you need a lawyer. We don’t know yet.”

  This all feels very circular, very strange. There’s still the matter of Olivia and her whereabouts, yet here they are asking for her mother.

  A door opens and Eleni strolls out in fresh makeup. “Vivi,” she says. “Have you got pinkeye? Don’t touch me until you see the doctor.”

  “The police are here,” Vivi says.

  Detective Lemonis says, “Eleni Pappas? We have questions for you.”

  “I do not know anything about anything or anyone.”

  There’s a first time for everything.

  “Are you acquainted with a Sofia Lambeti?”

  Now Vivi really doesn’t like where this is going. She looks at her mother. “Don’t say a word, Mom. I’m calling a lawyer.”

  “Vivi, be quiet,” Eleni says. “I know that whore. She opens her legs for everyone. Maybe you ask her customers if they know her, eh?”

  “Mom, be serious.”

  “I am serious. Everybody knows she is a whore.”

  Detective Lemonis and the chubby cop exchange glances.

  “Mrs. Pappas, Sofia Lambeti is dead. We found her on your daughter's property this morning. Do you have any knowledge of how she got there?”

  “No.” Wide-eyed. “Do you?”

  “We have information that you and she had a confrontation last night.”

  “Maybe we did. I don’t remember. Why are you asking me questions when you already have the answers?”

  “Mom, enough,” Vivi warns her. “I’m calling a lawyer right now. Don’t say another word.”

  “Bah! I do not need a lawyer, Vivi. As soon as they start asking people, they will see that she was a lunatic, a crazy person.”

  The cops aren’t laughing. Chubby cop steps forward with his handcuffs.

  “Eleni Pappas, you are under arrest for the murder of Sofia Lambeti.”

  “I am not!” Eleni sits on the floor, arms folded.

  Hello, headache. “Mom, I kind of think you are.”

  “Why, God? Why did You give me a traitor for a daughter?”

  Policeman on either side, both of them trying to pull her off the ground, but Eleni is doing that dead-weight trick, straight out of a toddler’s arsenal. She curls her legs around the nearest chair.

  It’s a sixties-style protest.

  Vivi doesn’t know what to think, but she knows what to do.

  “Listen to me. Right now you don't have a choice,” she tells her mother. “They're taking you whether you fight it or not. You can either go willingly and I’ll find you a lawyer, or I'll call Dad and tell him to get his butt here and bail you out himself.”

  Eleni is aghast. “You wouldn't!”

  “Try me.”

  “Fine, I will go. But if any of those lesbians try to squeeze my cheeks, I will bite their fingers off. And I will never make my galaktobouriko for you again.”

  “Too bad,” Vivi says. “Guess I'll have to buy it from the Greek restaurant, same as you always do.”

  That one moment of shock gives the cops a foothold. Eleni goes, kicking and screaming. No dignity, that one. No dignity all the way into the police car.

  Vivi watches the car kick up stones and dust. She wa
tches until it’s like that small storm never happened.

  What a day. Mother of a murderer one minute, daughter of one the next.

  Some new beginning.

  She goes back in and finds the phone.

  Two rings, then: “Eleni?”

  He can’t see her, but Vivi shakes her head anyway.

  “It’s me, Dad. I really need you to be here. And Mom does, too.”

  96

  MAX

  MAX DOESN’T FUCK AROUND. He’s a man on a mission. Target: Mama.

  He’s got things to say, things she needs to hear, starting with his broken engagement.

  “You look terrible,” she says, when she opens her front door. “See, this is what you get for fooling around with foreign whores. Maybe you should go to the doctor and see if you caught a disease.” She clutches her chest; same old, tiresome melodrama. “I told you, but you never listen to me.”

  “Enough, Mama.”

  He takes a seat at the kitchen table. He’s eaten here a million times. Won’t make it to a million and one if this doesn’t go his way.

  “Don't you tell me enough. I say when it is enough!”

  “If I hadn't listened to you for all these years I wouldn't be in this mess. All you want to do is make me miserable. You pushed my brother – my best friend – away from this family because he wouldn't bow and scrape at your feet. If you wanted someone in the family to be a lawyer, maybe you should have done it yourself.”

  Her fists connect with the tabletop and its plastic cover.

  “I am a sick old woman and this is how you speak to me? The shame! The devil will come and cut your tongue from your wicked mouth!”

  Max leans back. “You're not old or sick. You just like pretending you are so everybody will play your games. I'm done playing, Mama. Anastasia is not for me. I won't marry her, and nothing you say can change that. I don't care if you're the shame of the whole country because of it. You should be ashamed for forcing your will upon your grown children. Shame on you. Shame on you for not loving your youngest son enough to accept his choices. You cannot love, you can only manipulate.”

  She says nothing. For a long time, nothing.

  Then: “You must hate me.”

  Yeah, whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. He reaches across the table, takes her hand.

  “Mama, I could never hate you, and neither could Kostas. But your time of controlling our lives is over. If you want to see either of us again you have to accept our choices. We're men, so let us be men, eh?”

  Of course it’s not that simple, is it?

  The doorbell chimes, and, after one last mournful look, Mama scurries off to answer the door.

  Anastasia. Listen to the vicious rhythm of stilettos on marble.

  “I knew that dog would run to his mother.” She shoves her way into the kitchen. “I told the gypsies downstairs they could piss in your car.”

  Max smiles like he’s never known rain. “Don't be so bitter. It's not like I asked for the ring back.”

  “Of course I would not give the ring back. Your whore will never have my ring.” She’s all lit up like a maniac. “Guess what I heard, Max? Your whore is a murderer.”

  “Enough of the lies, Anastasia. Your problem is with me, not with Vivi.”

  “Is this true, Max?” Mama asks

  “No, a woman died on her property this morning, but – ”

  “See, I told you,” Anastasia crows.

  Mama looks at him. “Max?”

  “ – they don’t know if it was murder or suicide.”

  “She was a murdered,” Anastasia continues. “What decent person has bodies littering their land?”

  “Anastasia,” Mama says. “Enough!”

  Isn’t that a surprise?

  But Anastasia doesn’t stop. She’s nowhere near a stopping point. In fact, she’s winding up for the big one.

  “The police arrested the whore's mother just now. Maybe she helped her mother, eh? Will you write to her in prison, Max? Apply for conjugal visits?”

  Max thinks Anastasia sounds much too happy for it to be a lie. And she works for a law firm, so she’d know. He pulls his keys out of his pocket.

  “Mama, I have to go. Vivi needs a friend.”

  Okay, he said he couldn’t be her friend, but that was then. Things have changed.

  “I need you,” Anastasia says.

  Always with the little girl routine.

  “I have nothing to give you, Anastasia. I don’t want you.”

  The woman doesn’t have wings, but that doesn’t stop her from flying at him. Fists, scarlet nails, teeth. Only thing missing is Wile E. Coyote’s dust cloud.

  Max doesn’t fight back – he steps back.

  Anastasia falls forward. It’s enough to throw a spanner in her assault. Deprived of her primary target, she picks another.

  Nice teeth, that girl. And they should be: she spent a couple of years with a silver smile. Seems like a shame to sink them into her former fiancé’s shin.

  Suddenly, she’s sliding backwards, arms waving for him to save her. It’s like a scene out of a horror movie. Doesn’t matter which one – they’ve all got a scene just like it, where the about-to-be-deceased gets sucked into the darkness.

  Mama is the monster (although to Max she looks like an avenging angel) standing over the spitting woman.

  “I didn't bring him into this world so you could bite him like a dog,” she says. “Get up!”

  Anastasia stands, legs shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. “But I want him to marry me.”

  Mama grabs her by the hair. It’s beautiful, really, the way she shoves Anastasia out the front door. “Apparently my son does not want to marry you. Out!”

  On the way back into the kitchen, Mama drops the ring in his hand.

  “It's a lucky thing you did not marry that one,” she says. “I always knew she was crazy.”

  * * *

  Mama walks him to the Jeep.

  “You shamed me, Max. But I think perhaps I deserved it.”

  “You think?”

  “Don’t push me, my boy. One thing at a time, eh?”

  “Okay.”

  They hug, she kisses him on both cheeks, and that’s that.

  “Maybe you can bring your brother for dinner soon, eh? It's time we were a family again.”

  97

  VIVI

  IT’S USEFUL HAVING A superhero in the family.

  Thea Dora comes to the rescue. One of the cousins is a lawyer, and she convinces him that the family name is in jeopardy – and does he want his children to live with that stigma? And his grandchildren? And their grandchildren? No, she does not think so – so it is in his best interests to help.

  She doesn’t give him a chance (or a second chance) to say no.

  Consider it his housewarming gift, she tells Vivi.

  So while Cousin Pavlos is at the police station making deals with the blue devils, Thea Dora insists on entertaining Vivi and Melissa.

  Which is how Vivi winds up sipping coffee under her aunt’s grapevines. Melissa is out in the street with the neighborhood kids.

  Effie swings by, which . . .

  Sucks.

  “What's it like to have a criminal in the family?” she whispers as soon as her mother is out of earshot.

  “You tell me,” Vivi says. “She's your family too. Wow, I hope her criminal genes weren't passed down to our kids.”

  Effie throws a worried glance at George. The boy is trying to shove his big toe up the garden hose.

  It’s kind of fun to wind her up and watch her spin. But they’re swimming in the same gene pool, aren’t they? Effie has her own bag of mean words and tricks to rattle.

  “Maybe the police will have lots of question for you, too. Who knows where you were last night?”

  “I was at the festival, with everyone else.”

  “Not for long, eh?”

  “If you have something to say, Effie, say it.”

  Effie looks awa
y first. “When are you leaving?”

  Thea Dora picks that moment to bustle out with a tray of cherry sweets. “Nobody is going anywhere. Eat up, Effie. You don’t want your backside to get small like Vivi’s!”

  Best joke ever, you’d think, from the way she’s shaking. She’s laughing, laughing, and Effie’s scowling like she wants to slam a stake through her mother’s heart.

  “Enough, Mama, I'm on a diet.” Still, she doesn’t say “No” to the sweets, or the spoon that comes with them.

  Behind her daughter’s back, Thea Dora wiggles her eyebrows in a passable Groucho Marx imitation. Only one thing can save Vivi from laughing: eating.

  Her aunt sits between them. The chair sighs as she lets the wood take her weight.

  “Po-po,” she groans. “I hope Pavlos does not keep us waiting. I cannot stand for Eleni to be all alone in a cage with all those lesbians.”

  Vivi says, “She's not in prison, it’s just the local jail. Worst case, she's in there with some drunk who's sleeping off a pint of ouzo. And I don't think any self-respecting lesbian on this planet would want to feel up Mom in her polyester stretchy pants. Her disposition alone is a turn-off.”

  “I know you are right, but poor Eleni. That Sofia has been nothing but trouble for this family. It is a good thing she is dead.” She says it matter-of-factly.

  Effie scoffs. “Mama, don't defend what has happened here. A woman is dead and Thea Eleni killed her.”

  “Effie, this is my house. Have some respect. Eleni would not kill anybody, not even that woman. Why would she need to? She won her prize already. Sofia was eaten up inside with jealousy and hate. It ate away at her brain for all these years, until finally her wits were completely gone.”

  “Prize?”

  Aunt and cousin exchange glances. There’s a story here, Vivi knows, and it’s juicy.

  “Tell her, Mama.” Effie looks downright happy, a definite sign this story is juicy-bad, not juicy-good.

  Her aunt groans. A few minutes melt away while she gets her crotchet ready. The silver hook is making pretty flowers.

  “I will live to regret this when Eleni finds out I am the one who tells you. But some things are not content to remain in the past where they belong. Even when the police find that my sister is innocent of this crime, other people may not believe it to be true. You will be of more help to her – and yourself – if you know the truth.”