by Gina LaManna
I waited a moment as he dug into his bag and pulled out a thick envelope. Five thousand dollars, all there in nice, juicy hundreds.
“Nice doing business with you.” I took a few of the bills and shoved the rest into the safe, locking it behind me.
The elevator door dinged open and let out an elderly couple. I rushed to catch it, and as I stepped inside, I glanced down at my feet. I realized I hadn’t bothered to put on shoes after my shower. In fact, I hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes at all, period, except for the robe. I cinched the complementary white cotton bathrobe tighter to my waist as somebody cleared his throat behind me.
I hadn’t realized there was anyone else in the elevator, so when I flicked my eyes up and saw Anthony standing at the rear, I nearly keeled over from overwhelmed nerves. He was outfitted in a beautifully cut black suit that moved just so as he shifted his weight, raising a hand to clear his throat. His eyes gleamed with a delicious passion as he took in my attire, or lack thereof. He reached across the front of my body and pushed the Emergency Stop button, and I nearly died. I’m pretty sure his elbow grazed my boob, and if that much contact felt like a firecracker had exploded in my stomach, I wasn’t sure I could handle much more without turning into a puddle of bliss. I let my mind run like the wind: Was he going to take me here? In the elevator?
I wouldn’t say I hadn’t dreamed of this day for many, many nights. But I hadn’t expected it to be like this. I’d planned to shave tomorrow morning, so my legs were currently scratchier than I liked for our first time, and I couldn’t be sure my underarms were what you’d call “smooth.” And I definitely had not yet applied deodorant.
Anthony cupped my chin in his hand and ran a coarse, yet tender finger across my cheek. “Sugar, who were you expecting?”
I blushed, suddenly remembering that I’d left both pairs of panties up in my hotel room, when I desperately needed them now. Also, they were with Joey. Great. “Uh, wasn’t thinking, I guess.”
“You just cruise around hotels wearing...” He took a step backwards, his sinewy muscles flowing smoothly under the expensive suit. How Anthony always managed to smell fresh and wonderful, I’d never know. His light scent filtered to my nostrils, and I thought for a moment that if we didn’t get this elevator moving again I’d become intoxicated through the aroma alone.
I’d zoned out, not realizing he’d finished his sentence without my mind listening.
“Sorry, what?” I looked up.
“I said—” he leaned close and planted his hand at the nape of my neck, drawing my face in close to his chest. “You’d better watch where you go traipsing around, dressed like that. You’re looking for trouble, a pretty girl like you. Can’t trust men these days.”
I gulped, suspicious it was audible in the confined space. The air in the elevator seemed to be disappearing much faster than I could breathe it in. “Are you talking about yourself?”
Anthony winked.
“For your information, I don’t make a habit of traipsing about places like this.” I shook my head to clear the fogginess overtaking my mind, and put my hands on my hips. “Plus, I was looking for you.”
Anthony cocked an eyebrow and I felt my knees tremble. The man could wear a suit, for God’s sake. And that cute little quirk of his mouth was nearly too much to handle. “You were looking for me?”
“Yes.”
“Like this?” Anthony gestured towards my outfit and took a step closer.
I stared warily at his eyes, until he broke eye contact and dropped his gaze slowly lower, down my eyes to my lips, and finally to my chest, where I realized far too late that the robe had split open when I’d put my hands on my hips.
However, try as I might to move, I was frozen. Anthony continued his caress where he’d left off moments ago near the base of my neck. He tucked a stray piece of hair back towards my ponytail, ran his hand down my cheek until his thumb brushed against my collarbone, his palm eventually sweeping over my breast.
A shock of electricity jolted from his fingers straight through my skin, causing all sorts of havoc in my body. My heart pounded like it was trying to break free from my ribcage, my breathing sounded shallow and hectic. I leaned into him, my eyes falling halfway closed in an attempt to capture the moment in a perfect little capsule of time.
He played briefly with my nipple, the skin of his hand a tantalizing mixture of smooth fingers and coarse, working-man’s hands. I groaned aloud as he gave me the slightest of massages and almost toppled against the wall when he withdrew his hand from my robe, his hands closing the front and cinching the belt tighter.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
“I told you, dangerous men are wandering these halls.” He smiled, and as frustrated as I was with his shenanigans, I couldn’t stay mad at the way his serious expression was offset by the tiny laugh lines around his eyes. “So, what is it you wanted with me?”
“I found this in my room.” I held out the donut bag, still trying desperately to catch my breath.
Anthony wrinkled his nose. “I’m good. I just ate. Also, those are not part of the healthy diet we planned out together at the gym.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not donuts.”
Anthony reached out with a skeptical gaze and took the bag. He glanced inside and read the note. When he looked up eventually, his expression was unreadable and stern. “So, who did eat the donuts?”
“That’s all you have to say?” I stomped my foot like a child. “I ate them, okay? I was stressed. But more importantly, somebody’s going to die here. We have to stop it.”
“You think this is the work of that ginger child you let escape?” He looked at me questioningly. I had to give him credit, it didn’t one hundred percent feel like he was judging me. Maybe ninety percent judgment and one percent sexual interest, or frustration. It was hard to tell.
“He was a teenager.” I looked at the carpeting. “And yes, I’m willing to bet it’s him doing this.”
With a grim expression, Anthony reached over me and I held my breath, wondering where this would lead.
“How can you think of romance when there’s a killer on the loose?” I asked hotly.
Then the elevator lurched and we descended.
“Oh,” I said, feeling incredibly stupid. He’d unstuck the Emergency Stop button.
Lacey: 0. Elevator: 1.
I glanced around, wishing I knew how to whistle. “Just kidding.”
“Don’t be so sure. You don’t ever know what’s on my mind.”
I looked up at Anthony, and as promised, I couldn’t read his expression. But I thought of that cute little smile once more, the smile that was so hard to evoke but so worth the effort, and I gave a teensy grin of my own.
Chapter 6
BY THE TIME THE ELEVATOR arrived at the first floor, Anthony and I stood side by side, trying to appear as if all were normal in a confined space where one of us looked like a Roman god in a tux, and the other resembled a naked weirdo in a robe and socks.
The doors cracked open and I breathed a huge sigh of relief, as if the journey to the lobby had been a scuba diving adventure, and I was just getting my first whiff of clean, fresh air. Anthony was on his phone before the doors opened, speaking in low undertones, his voice too soft to hear.
I stood idly by as he finished up a phone call, presumably to one of his “men”—large, scary men that reported to Anthony and worked on Carlos’s payroll. I was only too happy to ignore them and assume they were in place as an unseen army that flanked Carlos’s mansion. I had zip, zero, nil desire to interact with them more frequently than I already did.
Anthony muttered a few phrases louder than the rest, and I leaned closer, hoping to appear bored. I didn’t want to interact with the scary men, but I didn’t mind knowing what was happening. It wasn’t eavesdropping if it potentially involved me.
Anthony’s voice grew steadily louder, but for some reason my brain still couldn’t make out the individual words. Then the light bulb
clicked into gear, and I realized I’d been trying to overhear a conversation in a language I didn’t understand. Anthony hung up the phone, the Italy tattoo on his neck cinching just a bit as his jaw line tensed. I wanted to reach out and stroke his cheek like he’d done mine, but I didn’t have nearly the balls he had. Plus, my robe was short enough that I was afraid of exposing my entire buttocks to the hotel. Operation Moon My Family was not high on my To Do list.
“Italian, huh?” I said. Which was a terrible pickup line, since I obviously knew he spoke the language.
Anthony’s jaw twitched; now was no time for small talk, apparently.
“That’s neat.” I nodded, trying to fill the awkward silence.
My thoughts got away from me, and I pondered where he was from. His English was nearly perfect, but was there an accent I detected? Or was I simply overthinking things now?
“What region are you from?” I asked.
“The south.” His voice was clipped.
“That’s not really a region, that’s half the country,” I pointed out. “My ancestors are apparently from Bari. That’s—”
“I know where that is.” Anthony gave me an incredibly pinched smile, which looked more like a grimace. “You should get dressed. Rehearsal dinner is in an hour.”
I slowly backed into the elevator which dinged conveniently at that moment. Then, I noticed his thumb had been on the “elevator call” button.
“Right. Keep me posted on the developments?” I gave a slight wave as the doors started to close.
Anthony waited on the other side, watching until the doors closed completely, his gaze stern, steady and promising nothing. His eyes seemed to say, “Try to make me tell you something. Just try.”
I crossed my arms and slunk into a corner, remembering that I had completely forgotten to ask about the wedding guest list. Glancing up, I decided to try and disappear into the walls. There was an elderly couple to my left who smelled like disintegrating anchovies and a tanned man with slicked back hair, so black it looked like shoe polish and so shiny I’d bet I could slip and slide right off his scalp.
There was also a small child, and I cinched my robe tighter. I tried to conceal myself from the six-year-old (ish) little boy, who stood exactly at my belly button height, and who was staring at me uncomfortably, almost as if judging me for a one night stand I didn’t have.
Finally the elderly couple departed on the third floor, and then the tanned man on the next, leaving me alone with the small child.
“What?” I hissed. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The child looked me up and down, shook his head sadly like a wizened old man, and stepped from the elevator at the next floor. I took the elevator up to my room, opening the door to find Joey dressed in only a shiny blue Speedo, doing push-ups on the floor.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking. Good. For. The. Weekend.” His words were punctuated with disturbing grunts.
“Don’t you think it’s too late for that?” I asked.
He stood up and approached me, sticking a finger into my chest. “What are you saying?”
I looked into his eyes and raised my hands in submission. “I just meant isn’t it too late to make any difference? I mean that’s my theory. For example, I’m already looking the way I am, so a few push-ups ain’t making any difference.” I patted my stomach and gave a fake, yet extremely hearty guffaw.
“Well, that’s the difference between you and me, isn’t it?” Joey tapped that finger against my chest a couple times for emphasis and then started on a particularly graphic set of lunges.
“Among other differences, I hope.” I closed myself in the bathroom with my bag, thinking I might need to shower again to scrub the disturbing Speedo images from my mind.
After a few squats, I shimmied into my sensible black dress. It was nice and stretchy, allowing for plenty of space for stomach expansion in case I overate, and it wasn’t indecent enough to invite unwanted attention from leering male eyes. As I swiped on some lipstick, I realized I hadn’t heard from Meg or Clay since I arrived. Hopefully they were doing all right. Then again, they weren’t the ones who had cars blow up at regular intervals and murderers with their numbers on speed dial. They’d be fine.
I slipped on a pair of heels—my dancing heels that had straps and a cushioned sole—and headed out.
“Where you going?” Joey asked in the middle of the splits.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” I shielded my eyes in case things started busting at the seams or popping out in unfortunate places.
“Nope, anyone can work up to it. Even you, with a little bit o’ discipline. Want me to teach you?”
“No, thanks. I’m going to the rehearsal dinner.”
“Me too.” Joey popped up, exceptionally nimble for a man who looked like he just destroyed any possible chance of having children.
“No, you’re not,” I said. “You’re not invited.”
“I’m your plus one.”
“Kind of,” I admitted. “But even some people invited to the wedding aren’t invited to the rehearsal dinner. In fact, I’m not even invited.” I got a sudden idea, and I was gonna go with it. I gave a very serious looking nod. “I’m working security detail. I won’t even be eating or sitting within sight of Vivian, so honestly I think your best bet is to keep working out. It’ll be those last few push-ups that get her attention, I guarantee it.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Joey agreed. He nodded affirmatively. “Is that why you’re wearing that nun’s dress? So you can concentrate on your job?”
“ARGH!” I grabbed my clutch and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind me. “I am not wearing a nun’s dress!”
I stormed into the hall and saw the little boy from the elevator. He ran a Spiderman action figure up and down every fake plant in the hallway, pausing only to peer up at me with curiosity in his gaze.
“What?” I asked. “Do you think this is a nun’s dress?”
“Well, you won’t be getting any boys looking like that,” he said wisely. “But I think you look beautiful.”
“Thank you very much,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
I REACHED THE LOBBY once more, this time fully clothed in respectable attire. A glittery silver sign with a lighted arrow directed me towards a private room. Gaudy balloons created a path of gold and black bobbing heads shouting HAPPY WEDDING, and CONGRATS.
A few rose petals were splattered across the floor, gracing only certain areas of the bright carpeting, and there were a million mirrors on the tables as gifts to the guests. I was afraid to read the inscription on them, for fear they’d have Joey’s name crossed out and replaced with boring banker’s initials.
A few guests and Family members milled around the edges of the room, and I scurried towards the tables pretending to look intently for my name. I wasn’t ready to be a social, happy guest yet. My brain still fumed over Joey’s comments, and I was confused about the whole Anthony-in-the-elevator thing. On top of it all, I couldn’t help feeling frustrated with Freckle Face. If I’d just managed to keep him safely locked up, I wouldn’t be looking over my shoulder for a killer—
“GAH!” I jumped backwards and toppled a chair over. “Auntie Nora,” I said, quickly righting the scene. “Wow, sorry. Didn’t see ya coming, there.”
“Sorry to sneak up on you, dear.” She peered up at me through thick-framed glasses. Her cheeks were as pink as the rose petals on the floor and her lips matched them perfectly. Her mascara was so thickly applied it sat in chunks at the ends, but the overall appearance was rather charming. She was my long, lost grandmother who preferred to be called Auntie in an effort to evade that silly thing we call “age.” Simply put, she didn’t like it.
“It’s okay.” I bent over and gave her plump body a squeeze. She believed in three glasses of wine while cooking dinner, multiple courses at every meal, and no supper was considered complete without a cookie heavy enough to sink a small ship. I only liked two
of those options, and it wasn’t the latter.
“I found your name,” she blurted, her eyes sparkling. Though her age in numbers was higher than she liked, Nora’s spirit was that of an excitable young girl.
Inwardly, I groaned. I’d seen my name across the room the second I’d walked in, but had been avoiding it for the past five minutes as an excuse to wander around alone. “Oh, really, how about that.”
“Yes, let me show you.” She beckoned me to follow her right up to a seat way too close to Vivian for my comfort. In fact, my name tag sat firmly at Table 1.
“Why am I up here?” I asked. “What about her brothers? Shouldn’t they be closest to Vivian on her big day?”
“Well, you know how that goes.” Nora plunked her glasses higher up on her nose and scrunched up her cheeks. “Mikey is, uh, at a last minute engagement. Nicky, we haven’t heard from today. I assume he’s dealing with Marissa’s and Clarissa’s mother issues,” Nora whispered the last part, as if it wasn’t common knowledge that Nicky had two children the exact same age with two different women, neither of them wearing a wedding ring. Or that a previous engagement meant that there was a high percentage Mikey was actually staying at le hotel jail cell.
“Ah.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, fiddling with her glasses once more.
“Are those new?” I asked finally, knowing the answer.
“Why, yes, thank you for noticing!” Nora beamed. Then she leaned in for another conspiratorial whisper. “But there’s no glass in the lenses, they’re just for style.”
I laughed as she struck a pose, complimented them once more, and then moved on. I saw Carlos enter the room from the opposite side and watched everyone line up to kiss him on both cheeks—greeting the Godfather.
I scanned the room for a back entrance or exit, a shoe closet, a mop room—anything. I was panicking. I couldn’t face him yet. Except, of course, I found nothing except more balloons and rose petals scattered in a chaotic pattern.
