by Theresa Papa
Samantha Marconi
At the risk of sounding cliché, thank God it’s Friday! This week has been just utter chaos at the law firm. Add in all of the homework from school and work at the salon, and well, let’s just say I can’t wait to get on the yacht with Nico and chill. The day goes by at a snail’s pace even though I’m busy. I even ate lunch at my desk so I could make sure to get out on time today. My bag sits next to my desk all packed and ready to go for when I finish this last report. Here it goes. Attach to the email and send. All finished!
“Hey girl, you almost ready to go?” Dafny shouts from over at her desk. There are hardly any other workers left on Friday night, so we tend to be a little louder than usual.
“Just finished and ready to start my glorious weekend,” I sing as I walk to her desk with my bag and purse in my hands.
“Don’t rub it in, beeyatch! You get to spend the weekend on a huge yacht with a gorgeous, sexy guy. I’m going home alone to spend it with my cat,” she says with a sad face. I wrap my arm around her shoulder as we walk to the elevator and try to encourage her.
“Well, we will just have to find you your own gorgeous sexy guy. How about that?”
“That would be nice! Have anyone in mind?” she asks.
“Hmm. I’ll have to think about it. You know, Nico has a friend who’s a detective in the Chicago PD. He’s cute. His name is Joe. Let me ask if Joe is taken.”
“You’re a doll, Sammy. I love you,” Dafny gushes. “Now let’s get you over to your gorgeous, sexy guy.”
We jump into her Corolla, head down Michigan Avenue, and line up with the evening traffic. The weather has cooled off from the hot humidity of the past week, and we open the windows to enjoy the breeze.
“You guys should have perfect weather on the lake this weekend since the humidity is gone,” Dafny says.
“Yeah, tonight should be great sleeping weather with the breeze. Even if I was at home, I would open the windows tonight,” I confirm while I stretch my arm out the window to feel the air.
We catch every stoplight, and knowing my luck, it will take double the time to get there. There’s a brand-new Chevy Camaro convertible that pulls up closely next to my side of the car. Dafny brakes when the light turns yellow, and he stops right next to us.
“Hey girls, where you gonna party on this fine Friday night?” the driver asks.
The two guys look to be around twenty-four or twenty-five, nice looking, but they started to party a little already.
“I love your car!” Dafny yells out.
I put my hand on her knee to tell her to shut up, but she’s not listening.
“How ’bout you let us take you for a ride in it tonight?” the driver says.
And I can hear the other guy say, “Then after, you girls can ride our cocks.”
The light is about to turn, and I whisper to Dafny, “They’re assholes! When the light changes, hurry and get away from them.”
She looks confused but when the light changes, she listens and takes off.
“After the driver asked if we wanted a ride, the other guy said we could ride their cocks!” I yelled at Dafny.
“Fuckin’ perverts! I didn’t hear him probably ’cause you’re closer to them. What about the next light they’re still beside us! What should I do?”
I quickly turn on the radio, and we roll up the windows. Then she thankfully avoids the next two lights, and the third is a yellow.
“Hold on and brace yourself.” Dafny makes it look like she’s going through the yellow light and brakes hard at the last minute. The convertible sails through past us, and the traffic swallows them up.
“It’s a good thing the car behind you was farther back and stopped in time.”
“I checked before I took the chance. Hey, sorry I was stupid to talk to them, but you have to admit that car was truly boss!”
“The car was great, but they were creeps. I’m just glad we lost them.”
Dafny turns into Burnham Harbor by six thirty. We pull up to the place where Nico’s designated parking is, and his car is not there.
“It looks like Nico hasn’t arrived yet. He must have been tied up at the store.”
“Did you need me to wait with you so you’re not alone?” Dafny asks.
“I’m not worried because he gave me the combination to the lockbox that holds the keys to his boats so I could get on if he’s late. It’ll be fine. I’ll just get things organized, and he’ll be here in no time,” I reassure her and myself.
Chapter 55
Nico Pope
In the salon the next day, my excitement ratchets up as each hour passes. During a free moment, I double-check all the arrangements for the party. I talk to Samantha’s mother to confirm the number of people attending from her large Italian family.
“Thank you, Mrs. Marconi. I know it’s very short notice. I’m sorry.”
“Please, don’t apologize. Our family wouldn’t miss it for the world. We live for these celebrations. Thank you for making it so special for our girl.”
“She deserves all this and more.”
“Do you need help with anything else?”
“It’s all going smoothly. Jennifer confirmed all of Sam’s friends on the guest list. And I’ve already confirmed with everybody on my list. Surprisingly, almost everyone can make it in spite of such short notice. I’m confident that it will all go off without a hitch.”
“I’m so excited to see her face. I can’t wait!”
“I’ll see you there.”
“Okay, goodbye.”
Then a news bulletin pops up on my computer. My browser’s home page reports that they have finished the autopsy on Marcus Dent to confirm the murderer. My head falls back, and a feeling of doom comes over me as I click on the story. But what is reported is not what I expected. They say the murderer is still on the loose and has evaded police attempts at arrest. There’s a picture of a blonde with full lips, and her name is Giselle Gourdan. Maybe she really killed him, or she was just stupid enough to leave evidence on him when she got rid of the body. Giselle has been unstable, and I’m not surprised she could end up blamed for the murder even if she wasn’t the killer. This is probably good news for Sam and me. If Giselle has fled, she won’t stalk us anymore. For her sake and ours, that’s what I hope she chose to do.
If the police ever have evidence that leads them back to the apartment behind the club, though, it could prove to be bad for Elizabeth. Eventually, when they look into Giselle’s past, it will lead them there. I can’t let myself worry about this right now in the midst of my surprise for my bride-to-be. Not everything is in my control! I cannot worry about scenarios that haven’t happened yet. I can’t control the actions of others or do anything to prevent the police from finding out that Elizabeth was there with Marcus Dent.
I snap my laptop shut and go out to cut and style my last customer of the day. Everyone is finished by the time I escort my client to the door and lock up. The last employee leaves through the garage entrance and waves goodbye while she confirms she will be at the engagement party. I have to pop over to Tiffany’s and pick up the ring before I head over to pick up the wine, champagne, and something for breakfast in the morning.
Louis waits in the car by the garage. He comes in handy in a busy city when I need to run into a store and don’t want to park the car. Samantha laughed at me when she first saw how Louis and I work together, but now she has come to understand how useful he really is.
I rub my hands together as the owner reveals the diamond engagement ring. It takes my breath away now that it has been set. I made sure I sized one of Samantha’s existing rings so it would fit perfectly. After all, what good is it to give a woman an opulent engagement ring if it doesn’t fit and she can’t wear it immediately? Once we plan the wedding, I’ll bring her back here to pick out our wedding bands. I would like to have something sentimental engraved inside for her. The woman wraps the ring, a symbol of Samantha beco
ming mine forever. As I leave, I pat my thigh where it sits safely in my pocket in its signature blue box.
My phone vibrates with a text from chef Michael.
Michael: I’m on the yacht. Flowers have arrived, and the food is in the warmer. The table is set and ice for chilling the champagne is in the freezer. Dessert is in the fridge, chocolate mousse.
Nico: Samantha’s favorite. Excellent! You made sure to put the keys back into the lockbox?
Michael: Yes, sir. Good luck!
Nico: Thanks.
I catch a glimpse of Louis as he rounds the corner and run over to get into the car.
“Everything is as planned, Louis. The ring turned out superb, Chef Michael just delivered the food, and we’re almost done.” I buckle my seat belt, and Louis pulls back into traffic.
“I’m very happy for you, sir. May I say, sir? Samantha is a very lovely woman,” he states with a grin.
“Thank you. She is the best woman in the world for me.”
He makes a left turn and continues his praises for Samantha. “She’s not pretentious like many women who have tried to get your attention in the past. Ms. Marconi has treated me with respect and friendship ever since the first time you gave her your car to borrow.” He laughs in his deep baritone and then continues, “She was even too afraid to drive such an expensive car at first. It took her a few minutes to get the courage to drive away.” His eyes are full of mirth as he glances my way.
“I can believe it because she looked at me like I was crazy when I told her to take the car to her house.” I shake my head and laugh. “Remember when you picked up the car at Grant Park the other day?” Louis nods. “She asked me if I pay you enough and let you have enough time off to see your family. She was worried about you.”
“Well, it’s good to know I have the future Mrs. Pope looking out for my best interests,” he jokes.
Just then, we pull up where I hop out to get the wine and food for the next day. The place is packed with people. I should have called ahead to my guy who always takes care of me. When I get to the area where he usually works, I don’t see him anywhere. This is going to make me late. Sam left work about fifteen minutes ago if she left right at six. It’s a good thing that I gave Sam the combination to the lockbox for the boat keys in case she beats me there. It will be unfortunate if she sees the special preparations and maybe figures things out, though. I can’t control the timing perfectly. Everything will be fine. She’ll still love it.
I grab two bottles of her favorite wine and a bottle of champagne. Then I get some fresh bread, fresh squeezed orange juice, and some other fixings for breakfast on the yacht in the morning. I make sure to get cream for Sam’s coffee too. By the time I collect all my groceries and stand in the never-ending line that I usually avoid by having my guy here, it’s twenty minutes to seven. Louis picks me up at the door once again to save precious time. By the time we pull into Burnham Harbor, it’s a little after seven. My nerves are shot. I’ve lost control of the night already. I wanted to be here before Sam to prepare the boat, chill the champagne, light the candles, and have a drink to calm my nerves.
Louis pops the trunk and grabs my duffle bag while I grab the bag of groceries. He hands me my duffle, and we say goodbye so he can take my car back to the garage at the penthouse. Samantha and I will take the boat directly to Navy Pier on Saturday night for the engagement party. Then after, I will let her decide if she wants to spend another night on the lake or go to the penthouse to stay overnight. If she picks the latter, I’ll arrange for someone to take the boat back to the harbor and dock her.
As I walk from the parking area to the docks, the sun sinks lower in the sky. I inhale deeply to settle my nerves. Since it’s the part of summer when the days are the longest, it will still be another hour or so before the sun truly sets. The fireworks are set to begin at half past nine, so we still have time to eat and have our dessert. When I get to the dock, both of our family’s boats are swaying gently next to one another in their appointed spots. I put down all the bags while I look around. There’s no sign of Sam or anyone at all. I press the combination into the lockbox to retrieve the keys for the yacht, and something is strange. We keep keys for both the fifty-foot Cigarette boat and the forty-five-foot yacht in the lockbox. The yacht keys are there where they belong under the label that reads The Pulse of Pope, but the keys to the Cigarette that should be under the label The Power of Pope are missing. I shake my head, figure I’d better get settled first on the yacht, and then get to the bottom of the lost keys. The Cigarette boat sits right here in its slip, so it hasn’t been stolen.
Thankful that Sam is also late, I take back control of the preparations and finish quickly. Everything is perfect now; the champagne is on ice, candles lit, food ready to be served, and ring in my pocket. I just need my gorgeous girl, so I grab my phone and call her. It rings and rings, so I try again while I pace from one side of the deck to the other. When I’m on the starboard side where The Power of Pope floats in the water next to me, I hear Sam’s phone ringing from there as it rings through my receiver. The sound comes from the other boat. Could Sam have misunderstood and has been waiting on the other vessel all this time? That’s where the keys are! She might be below waiting to surprise me. Why won’t she answer her phone?
My heart beats fast as I hop off the yacht and on to the speedboat; I can’t wait to see my girl. The sky turns orange, pink, and purple when some of the last rays of the sun illuminate an ominous sight my mind refuses to register. I stop in my tracks to take it in while the world begins to close in around me, and my body goes numb with shock. My vision creates a tunnel with a horrific sight at the opposite end. Adrenaline begins to pump into my system when a sensation crawls up the back of my neck like a scorpion ready to strike. It’s that feeling of having it all one minute and losing it the next with no way in hell to control it.
Chapter 56
Samantha Marconi
I step to the trunk and get my bag, then say goodbye to Dafny before I walk the sidewalk that leads to the pier. The wind off the lake blows against my face as it swats my hair all around my head. I’m glad I wore pants today because a skirt would be up around my waist right now. The weakening rays of the retreating sun glisten on the small crests in the water. Once on the pier, I become aware of the fact that many of the boats are out on the lake already as I walk past the empty slips. The remaining boats bob back and forth, lightly banging against the bumpers. They are all unoccupied, which makes it a lonely walk to the Pope yacht. I wouldn’t want to be here alone if it still wasn’t somewhat light out. As I approach the two vessels that belong to Nico’s family, I shake my head. They have not one, but two boats. Once in front of the lockbox, I set my bags down and I punch in the numbers that I remember in my head. The box pops open. There are two labels, and the keys I want are under the label that says The Pulse of Pope for the yacht. As I reach my hand up to take the keys off the hook, a chill runs up my spine that makes my whole body shudder.
“No, not those keys … We want the other keys.” A voice from behind me startles me, and I gasp. When I try to turn, the gun pointed at my head digs into my skull. I instinctively put my hands up as I’ve witnessed people do in the movies all my life. God knows I have never been schooled on the proper way to react when someone puts a gun to your head. This can’t be real. It must be a joke. The Camaro, did they follow us after all?
“Take out the keys to the speed boat and leave the others. Then slowly pick up your bags, walk to The Power of Pope, and get on.” I follow the direction without resistance. The recognition that this is real comes to the forefront of my brain. I now know the voice that gives the orders. The initial shock that caused the voice to be misconstrued has worn off, and I have no doubt I’ve heard this voice before.
The gun is at my back the whole way to the boat as I throw my bags on and step in. My body shakes uncontrollably, a sharp pain cracks my head, and my world goes black.
My eyelids fl
utter, and my brain registers aching pain in my head. When I try to raise my right hand to my head, I realize it is handcuffed to my left. A wet sticky substance covers my fingers as I palpate a huge bump. When I bring my hands down to look at them, I’m shocked out of my wooziness to realize it’s blood. Lots of blood. I jerk myself upright and look around to find myself sitting on the floor of the boat. My right foot is handcuffed to the bracket that secures the driver seat to the floor. My heart beats out of my chest when footsteps ascend on the stairs from the galley. The first thing revealed is her stiletto shoe. I must have another concussion, bordering on brain damage, because in the back of my mind all I can wonder is who would be stupid enough to wear those shoes on a boat. That thought is quickly erased as the gun in her hand comes into plain view.
“You are finally awake.” She has a snide look on her face. As she comes closer, her eyes are bloodshot and unfocused. She has the same symptoms Nico described when she tied him up at the club. Along with the stilettos, she has on a belted leather raincoat. Her blunt cut platinum hair is severely straight around her face, making her artificially plumped up lips and her false eyelashes stand out.
“Why are you doing this, Giselle? What do you want from me?” She stands tall over me to exert her authority.
“Well, Samantha, you unfortunately suffer from bad timing and bad choices. You chose to get a job at the salon just as I was making my move on Nico, and you chose to set your sights on him when he’s mine.” She points at herself with the gun, acting all righteous. Then she points it back at me.
Who am I to argue with the person who holds the gun? So I’m going to tell her whatever she wants to hear. I apologize and claim ignorance.
“I’m sorry, Giselle. I had no idea that you and Nico were together when I came to the shop. I would never have moved in on your man,” I try to say convincingly.
She brings the other hand up to caress the gun between both palms directly over my head. Is she high enough to use the gun? I hope I never have to find out.