by Molly Greene
Gen added that she may have caught sight of them as they were running away. The cops took their statements, then sat the pair down in front of a pile of mug books and left them alone.
Two hours later they came up for air with a name: Rudy Giampaolino. Gen knew him right away when she saw the photograph. It was the guy who’d intimidated Ralph at the restaurant. The same guy who slugged her. And according to Oliver, he was one of the two men who’d hurried past that night in the hall outside Gen’s place.
But they told the uniform who came to check that their search had been a bust. They’d come up empty-handed. The cop commiserated with their feigned disappointment, and told them someone would be in touch if any trace of Oliver’s wallet turned up.
Which was highly unlikely, since it was on his kitchen counter at the time.
When Gen got back to the office she booted up her laptop and Googled Giampaolino, then searched the county property records and the phone book and every database she could access.
She found an old arrest record for attempted assault, but no accompanying address, contact information, or conviction associated with the crime. Mack would be able to find more, she was sure of it.
Too bad that door was closed.
She was feeling sorry for herself and knew it wouldn’t get her anywhere but into a tub of ice cream, so she turned off the computer and locked up and went home. If she was going to indulge herself with a pity party, she might as well get comfortable.
* * *
Gen’s cell rang at seven o’clock that evening. She was lying on the couch reading a novel, and her hand clenched tight on the phone when she looked at the display.
It was Mack.
It had been a while, and she was beginning to believe that the last time they’d talked was really going to be the last time. Looks like she was wrong. She crossed her fingers and held them to her chest, then thumbed on the phone.
“Thanks for taking my call.” Mack’s voice sounded halfway between wretched and hopeful, an uncharacteristic combo for the man who could out-chill everyone she knew.
“Sure.” She kept her tone neutral, not certain where this was going. “How’ve you been?”
“I’m okay, thanks. How about you?”
Gen cycled between wariness and anticipation, and warned herself to just wait and see. “The same,” she said. “I’m okay.”
“I miss you.”
He probably took her silence for a bad sign, but she was merely processing. He had no way to know that, so when he spoke again she could tell whatever optimism he’d had was trickling away.
“I owe you an apology.” He swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry it took me so long to call, but I didn’t think you’d want to talk. I was going to leave a voice mail.”
She was surprised and not surprised. So Luca had told Mack his questionable story, and now Mack knew the kid hadn’t told the truth before and she’d been right.
Sort of right, anyway.
Still, she could have gone about presenting her side with a little more finesse. Any tact at all might have helped, considering she’d roared into him like an insensitive jerk.
“I won’t keep you.” Stoicism had crept into his tone. He’d taken her reticence as a message that they were over, and he probably figured that was it.
He was wrong.
“I miss you, too, Mack.”
He was quiet for two beats, then said, “I’m not proud of how I handled it.”
“I’m not proud either,” she replied. “We were both pigheaded.”
“That’s a good word.”
“I’ve been described that way before.”
They sounded like a pair of grammar school kids confessing on the playground. For some reason that made them both chuckle, and their laughter broke through the tension.
“Have dinner with me, Genny.” The words rushed out, as if Mack had kept them bottled up and the cork had just flown off.
She hesitated, thinking she wasn’t ready to rejoin the threesome at his house. This time he read her thoughts correctly.
“I mean I’d like to invite you out to dinner,” he continued. “Just you and me. I’d like to have that meal we were going to have that night at Tosca.”
She took in some air and reached for the right way to share her feelings. “The problem I’m having–” She stopped and weighed her words carefully.
“The problem I’m having is trust. This thing with Carla, and putting Luca first, and the way you talked to me like you were going to give me the boot.”
“I wasn’t,” he replied. “And the problem I’m having is that the first argument we have, you call a break. And there is no thing with Carla. So even though I admit I pushed back pretty hard, your reaction makes me worry that you’re going to do that every time. Walk away, I mean.”
“I was wrong. I can understand why you would feel that way,” Gen replied. “To tell you the truth, it doesn’t fill me with hope about my ability to feel secure in a relationship, either.”
He was quiet on the other end of the line. “I want a chance to change your mind. I’m not going to beg, Genny. But I mean it when I say I want this. You and me.”
She nodded to herself, remembering her thoughts the first time she’d seen the scars on his knees. She still didn’t know how he got them, but she knew it wasn’t from begging forgiveness. She imagined that saying what he’d just said must have been difficult. “Does this mean our break is over?”
“You tell me,” he replied. “You called it. It’s up to you to decide how you want it to be.”
“I want it to be over.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “So I’d love to have dinner with you.”
From the sound of his thready exhale, he’d been holding his breath. “Do you have anything going on tomorrow night? I know that’s against the dating rules, a guy isn’t supposed to assume a woman doesn’t have plans on a Saturday night. We can make it next weekend if you prefer.”
“Come off it, Mack, this is me you’re talking to. Tomorrow would be great.”
“Then I’ll come and pick you up.”
The thought of ripped couch cushions she hadn’t had time to do anything about stopped her cold. No sense letting him find out and worry, although if he came to her place it would set the stage to end dinner with a little romance. In private. That thought made her heart go pitty-pat.
Drat. Choices.
“No.” Her voice was firm. “It’s too far. Let’s choose a place close to the bridge and I’ll meet you there.”
“It’s not out of my way, Gen. I’d like to do it.”
Yeah, she’d like him to come here, too, and probably for the same reasons. “Another time. I’m going up to Healdsburg Sunday for Madison’s baby shower, so I’ll probably have to make it an early night anyway.”
A lame excuse, but it worked.
“All right. If that’s what you want.”
The truth was she was torn about what she wanted. But she also didn’t want to spend the start of their date – or the end of it, for that matter – having to talk about the break-in, then about Luca and the case and how she should get herself un-involved.
It was better this way.
But there was something related to Luca she needed help with.
“Mack, I need some information.”
“Sure. What about?”
“A guy named Rudy Giampaolino. I think maybe he owns the arm behind the fist that connected with my eye. I found an old assault charge, no conviction, no contact info. Maybe you can do better.”
“How’d you find out his name?”
“Umm, just lucky.”
“Okay. Spell it for me.”
“G-i-a-m-p-a-o-l-i-n-o.”
“I’ll check him out and tell you what I find tomorrow night.”
“Mack? Let’s make that the only shop talk.”
She could hear him smiling through the phone. “How about I just write down what I find and give that to you, and we don’t say a single wor
d about it.”
“Works for me. I’d kind of like the evening to be just me and you. Nobody else in the room, if you know what I mean.”
“That would make me happy, too.”
“Let’s text about the restaurant and the time.”
“Perfect. Genny? I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Yeah, well, now that my black eye is gone, you won’t be looking at such a hot mess.”
He laughed.
“I’m glad you called,” she said.
“Me too.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mack was sitting in the foyer when Gen walked in. His face was clean-shaven, his hair was freshly washed, and he was wearing dress slacks and a shirt and tie.
The man looked good, like a kid on a first date.
He stood up fast as soon as he saw her, then rubbed his hands on his thighs and came forward to drop a kiss on her cheek. “Look at you,” he said. “You look great.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
He took her elbow and escorted her to the hostess podium. “We’re ready.”
The young lady showed them to a private table in the back, away from the noise and traffic of the main dining room. Gen bet he’d asked for the seating arrangement before she arrived. He held her chair, then took his own across from her.
“You look great,” he said again. “Happy.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I saw this post on Facebook one day. It said, ‘always keep your chin up, otherwise you’re just looking at your own boobs all day.’ Words to live by. It stuck in my mind.”
His teeth flashed white but he tamped it down, like he thought maybe too much cheerfulness wasn’t appropriate yet. “I didn’t take you for a social media junkie.”
“You’d be right. Facebook is like a car accident to me. I just can’t help but slow down, then stop and watch as I drive by.”
“I’ll have to look you up. Mostly I just check Facebook when I’m looking for evidence. People confess all kinds of crimes there.”
“You won’t get anything on me, I don’t post. I just use it to keep up with my niece and Madison. Emily puts up selfies, and Madison posts pictures of their garden and the house. And her stomach. And the nursery. Have I told you she’s going to have a baby? It seems like she’s been pregnant forever, but I think she still has six weeks or so to go.”
Gen went quiet and focused on the menu and assumed Mack had, too. But when she glanced up, his was still closed on the table and his eyes were trained on her.
“What?”
He shrugged. “When I don’t see you for a while, I forget how beautiful you are.”
Gen laughed. “Oh, come on. No one’s ever called me that.”
“What a shame.” He leaned back in his chair and contemplated her face. His eyes went all soft and she heard him breathe in, then exhale slowly. His voice was low when he spoke again.
“You steal my breath you’re so beautiful.”
Then her heart did that odd thing that happens to people once in a while. It skipped a beat, right out of the blue. She looked at him – really looked – for the first time that evening. She couldn’t find words and she didn’t want to break the mood, so she just watched his face. She felt off balance, like her mind was teetering on the edge of a dream and about to dive in.
“You could say something.” A smile played around his mouth. “You’re not exactly making this easy for me.”
“I don’t mean to make it hard.” She raised her brows and considered her feelings, then took a pull on her wine and looked away.
She spun the glass, slowly, watching how the overhead lights reflected off the smooth, transparent sides, and wished Mack was as easy to see into. And that she could see herself as clearly, for that matter.
“I have mixed feelings,” she continued. “Whatever’s going on here, I like it and I don’t want to mess it up. At the same time, my trust issues are screaming so loud I can’t hear over the noise. I was afraid you were going to walk out on me the other night, so I did it first. And since I don’t really want to have a heart-to-heart about it this evening, it’s better if I just keep quiet.”
She heard him inhale again, then let it out. They were both trying to steady themselves, it seemed.
Gen picked up her menu. “What looks good?”
* * *
When dinner was over he reached across the table for her hand, and she laced her fingers with his.
“Do you like to dance?” he asked.
“You mean disco? No. But my parents put us in ballroom classes when we were in junior high, so I can hold up my end through most of the classics. It comes in handy at weddings. Why?”
“Can you do the two-step?”
“I’ve never learned, but I love to watch.”
“I’ll teach you tonight if you’re game.”
“You can dance?”
He frowned and raised his palms. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
“It’s just that the revelations never end.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? So yes, I can. I grew up in a little town called Franklin, which is just down the road from Nashville. Back there, kids learn to two-step as soon as they learn to walk.”
“I’m game,” Gen replied. “Just don’t expect too much.”
Mack paid the bill and they went out to the lobby.
“I’ll drive us over and drop you back at your car when you’re ready to go.” He told her to sit tight while he went for the truck, and five minutes later he double-parked out front and came around to open the passenger door. Once again she marveled at his manners and wondered how his mother had managed.
As he edged into traffic, she asked, “Your mom’s still alive, isn’t she?”
He nodded, but didn’t offer more.
“How did she pull off teaching you to be such a gentleman?”
He took his eyes from the road and looked at her, then back. “She grew up in a decent family, but after she married my dad she didn’t get much of that for herself. But she knew what was right, and she drummed it into me and Jimmy. And when Jimmy got old enough, he backed her.”
He laughed, remembering something he chose not to share. “I got more than one slap upside the head for not minding my manners, I can tell you that.”
Five minutes later they parked on Cortland. Mack took off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, then held the passenger door and walked her to a country western bar called The Wild Side.
“Is this the secret place you go when you don’t want to be around cops?”
He chuckled. “One of them.”
“Do you think you’ll be a cop forever? Until you retire, I mean.”
He stopped just outside the door and appeared to consider the question, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Sure. Yeah. That’s always been the plan.”
The mood inside was upbeat with a dose of raucous. Three dozen couples moved rhythmically around the dance floor, spinning and turning and clearly having a great time. The venue was full, so they waited against the wall and watched the dancers until a table opened up.
“Fast, fast, slow, slow,” Mack whispered, and Gen knew exactly what he meant. It was the beat of the two-step, the women walking backward for much of the dance while their partners moved them around the floor.
They ordered beers and watched until Mack raised his eyebrows and twitched his head toward the floor. Gen nodded, they rose, and he walked her to the far back corner. She curled the fingers of her left hand around his bicep and placed the other in his upraised palm.
“Back on your right,” he said. “We’ll go slow.”
It didn’t take Gen long to pick it up; it was a simple dance to begin with, she was beyond comfortable with her partner, and the couples surrounding them were having such a wonderful time it was impossible not to catch the vibe. Halfway through the song she was spinning like a pro and wishing she had boots on like everybody else.
When the lazy beat of a slow dance st
arted, Mack pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Gen leaned in and rested her cheek against his shoulder. He moved her to the dreamy beat and she relaxed into him.
“You could have said no,” she murmured.
Mack turned his face so his mouth was close to her ear and whispered, “No to what?”
“No to taking a break. You could have said no, you didn’t want that.”
“I didn’t realize I had that option.”
“We always have options.”
“So you’re telling me it was a test.”
“No. I was angry, and I was afraid. I wasn’t thinking about anything but me, and for just that second I meant it.”
“Could be why I didn’t say no.” He dropped his head and nuzzled his face into her neck before he spoke again. “I let you walk away because part of me wanted to know how bad you wanted to be there. It didn’t look like you wanted it that bad right then.”
“You can’t do that, you know.”
He turned his mouth to her ear. “Do what?”
“You can’t make arguments into a test.”
He let out an almost silent chuckle and nodded, remembering his own words. “I got my back up. I thought you weren’t being loyal. It’s hard for me if someone I care about doesn’t agree when I stand up for something. It’s a flaw in my good nature.”
“Mack, we’re not always going to agree.”
“No, we’re not. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
“And it doesn’t mean I’m not being loyal. It just means I don’t agree with a choice you made, or the thought process you used to get there. It’s true, I was wrong to needle you about Luca. I didn’t need to push that hard, but once in a while I promise I’m going to push. It’s a flaw in my good nature. So if that’s going to get your back up every time, then you and I aren’t going to make it.”
He tightened his hold. “We can make this work.”
God, she hoped so.
He wasn’t finished. “But we won’t pull it off, Genny, if you keep calling breaks. You need to choose in or out. If you’re one hundred percent in like I am, that means no calling a break. Ever. I need the kind of person who’ll take a deep breath and work it out. If that’s not you, you need to say so now.”