Mikey extended his hand. Brian just stared. “I’m really impressed with your stand on the issues, Brian. You definitely have my vote, and if you need any help with the campaign, I hope you’ll let me know.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh. Brian looked like he might spontaneously combust. He took my arm and jerked me aside. “It is completely inappropriate for you to be here with him. Are you trying to ruin me?” He was whispering, but in that loud hoarse whisper that can be heard fifty yards away. His grip on my arm was viselike, and I twisted to try and free it. He didn’t budge. I heard a shattering sound and realized he’d crushed his scotch glass, alcohol and shards of glass settling at his feet, blood seeping from his hand. People were staring, but he didn’t appear to notice. “You need to leave. Now.”
I slid my arm around Mikey’s waist, inside the back of his jacket. “Fine by me,” I purred. Mikey nodded to Brian. We left, making our way through the crowd of confused supporters, and when we got outside, I practically ran to the car. I felt a fit of hysterical laughter coming on, and I didn’t want to blow our cover.
Safe inside the Cadillac, I convulsed in a heap. “Did you see his face,” I howled. “I’d say we got him excited, all right.” I couldn’t help it. I’m one of those who laughs at funerals. Mikey sat and stared at me, unblinking, like I was a talking fungus.
“Are you insane? You think this is funny?” His face was grim, and he was ruining my laughing fit.
“Well,” I began, still giggling.
He started the engine and cut me off. “I’m coming over. You’re not staying alone tonight.”
I protested, “I told you, he won’t hurt me. I’m his sister, for crying out loud. Besides, Danny’s coming over later.”
“For crissake, Alex, we pushed him right over the edge tonight. He’s completely lost it. He shredded his hand, and he didn’t even feel it. He’s liable to fuck up now, which is what we wanted. But in his state, he’s capable of anything, including killing you. I’ll stay till my brother shows up.”
“You think he’d do that?”
“I’ve seen crazy, babe. Your brother is the poster boy.”
Shit. Mikey was right. It wasn’t funny. Not even a little bit.
I sighed, my laughter effectively squashed. I was starving. I remembered I hadn’t eaten lunch. Then I remembered what I’d been doing instead of eating lunch, which didn’t make me less hungry but did make me a little more cheerful.
“I need pizza.”
Mikey pulled into the parking lot in front of Main Street Pizza. “You get the pizza, I’ll get the beer,” he said, walking towards the liquor store next door.
Angela was at the order counter when I made it to the front of the line. She shook her head. “Pizza again? You can’t keep eating like this at your age. Might as well just slap it right on your ass, that’s where it’s gonna end up.”
“Kids should have more respect for their elders,” I told her. She was right about my ass, but that was beside the point.
My outfit registered in her brain, and she raised an eyebrow. “Your fireman?”
“Don’t even ask. Can I get a large, everything, extra cheese, to go, please?” The door opened behind me and Mikey sauntered in, minus his coat and tie, carrying a bag from the liquor store.
“No bell peppers,” he added, sitting at a table with a view of both the TV and me. Angela looked at me, and I okayed the deletion, then slid a twenty across the counter and told her to keep the change.
“Thanks. Is it safe for me to come over tomorrow?” she asked, dumping the change into the tip jar.
I pictured Brian’s nearly purple, pulsating noggin. I thought we weren’t even in the ballpark with safe and told her to give it another day or two.
“Who’s he?” she nodded at Mikey. “Looks kinda like the fireman, only different. More something. Not as nice.” Pretty observant for a smart-alecky fifteen-year-old, I thought.
“He’s the fireman’s brother.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“It’s not like that, we’re just friends.”
“Does he know that? ’Cause I sure don’t look at my friends the way he’s looking at you.”
I had my back to him and couldn’t see how he was looking at me. “He’s just doing the bodyguard thing.” Then, curious, I asked, “What do you look at that way?” I hoped the kiss and the danger-dress hadn’t given him the wrong idea. All evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, I’m not that kind of girl.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Kyle Martin. Prime rib.”
“Kyle Martin?”
“He’s in my trig class. Plays football.”
“Ah.” I was never into football players, but I’m a big fan of prime rib.
We drove to my house in silence. I looked at Mikey sideways a couple times when he wasn’t paying attention, and he didn’t seem to be thinking of me in terms of steak. Or if he was, steak caused him to scowl.
He parked the Cadillac in the driveway, and we brought our dinner inside. I spotted my t-shirt in the middle of the living room floor. I scooped it up, but it was too much to hope that he hadn’t noticed.
“Laundry.”
“Thought so.”
I pointed him towards the kitchen, then locked myself in my room to change. In case he did think of me as the deli case, I wanted to look like something less appealing than prime rib. Maybe chicken. Or liver. I peeled the dress off and tossed it on the bed with a frown, thinking of Danny. If trying to provoke a possible homicidal maniac and going out with his brother didn’t annoy him, the fact that I’d been kissing Mikey would probably do the trick. I sighed and kicked the sandals into the closet. It had accomplished the objective, though, and I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I pulled on a pair of blue and white striped Capri-length pajama bottoms, double-knotting the drawstring, then removed my bra and shrugged into a long shapeless t-shirt that said just do it. No, no, I thought, mixed messages. I switched to a solid pink tee instead. I scrubbed the slutty makeup off in the bathroom and dried my face and pulled my sex hair back into a ponytail. Not only did I not look like I’d had sex this afternoon, but the casual observer would probably conclude that I hadn’t had sex this millennium, and had very little chance of ever reversing the trend.
I padded into the kitchen and found Mikey seated at the counter, starting on his second slice. There was a plate for me next to his, and the six-pack minus one was sitting between them.
“Feeling a little safer now?” he asked.
For crissake, he’d been in prison for fifteen years, anything had to be safer than the danger-dress. I shrugged, embarrassed, and I could feel my cheeks flush. His eyes glinted, a small smile starting just at the edges of his mouth.
“I was in prison for fifteen years, Alex. The fact that you’re not wearing a bra is as much of a turn-on as the slinky pink number.”
I took an involuntary step back, crossing my arms in front of my chest. He laughed and patted the empty barstool. “Come on. Sit down and eat your pizza. I’m not going to pounce on my brother’s...” he hesitated, looking for a word, “whatever you are.”
My stomach was making loud gurgling noises, and the pizza was all oozy with the extra cheese, and I caved. I sat down, pulled a slice off and took a bite.
“Want a beer?”he offered.
I took one and popped it open, deciding in advance to draw the line at three. I didn’t need to add substance abuse to my list of rumored problems. My mom would lock me in Minter Villa so fast my tastelessly unpermed head would spin.
The phone rang and I glanced at the screen. Mom. Not a chance in hell, I thought.
“Brian?” Mikey asked as I thunked the phone down on the counter.
“My mother. She was there tonight. Either she saw us, or Brian tattled on me. Either way, she’s calling to reprimand me for my inappropriate behavior.”
He smirked. “Which inappropriate behavior would that be? Maybe you should refresh my memory.”
I rol
led my eyes. Cocky jackass, I thought.
He laughed a deep laugh. “I’ve been called worse.”
After dinner, Mikey helped me move aside some things in the garage to make room for his car. It had occurred to me that leaving it parked in the driveway all evening was not smart in terms of Brian’s mental health. We’d pushed him all I cared to for one day. If he drove by and saw an ex-felon’s car parked out front, reflecting badly on me and the rest of my family, there’s no telling what he’d do.
“You should install some shelves in here. Then you’d have room for a couple of cars,” Mikey said after he’d parked the Cadillac inside and closed the rollup door.
I made a mental note to ask Jack for some shelves, and we went inside to watch TV. We watched without talking for a long time, occupied by our own thoughts. Mine were about murder and arson and family, with the occasional naked image of Danny floating by. I didn’t know what Mikey was thinking, but with the ESP and all, I figured he knew I was scared, not just for myself, but for all of us. I yawned and stood.
“I’m going to bed. You want some sweats or something? I think I have some stuff of Max’s that’ll fit you okay.”
“Sure.”
I went to my room and Mikey followed. I gave him a behave yourself look and he rolled his eyes.
“There’s t-shirts in the second drawer,” I pointed to the dresser and went into the closet to look for a pair of sweatpants. It took awhile because my closet organizational skills rank right up there with my acting-like-an-adult skills. I eventually emerged with a pair of heather gray Cal State Long Beach sweats. Mikey was holding an Oakland A’s t-shirt in one hand, twirling a pair of handcuffs with the other.
“Hey! Those were in my underwear drawer. I told you the second drawer.”
“Yeah. Nice underwear, by the way. I like the thongs.”
Must run in the family, I thought.
“You want to tell me about these?”
“What’s the big deal? You have handcuffs.”
“Uh-hunh. And I know what I do with them,” big, perverted grin. “Now let’s hear your story.”
“Eew, on your desk? At least mine are in my bedroom. Remind me not to sit on any of your furniture next time I go to the yard.”
He laughed but made no move to give me my cuffs or leave the bedroom. He seemed determined to make me talk about them. “I didn’t know Max was gay. I thought he was just bored with me.” When he finally came out of the closet, it was actually a huge relief. I’d begun to think I was the antidote for sex, and my ego was more than a little bruised. The realization that I was simply improperly equipped, not hideously unattractive, had helped considerably.
“And?”
“And what? He’s gay. Probably handcuffing Raoul gets him hot, but the sight of his naked wife cuffed to the bed seemed to give him more of a nervous twitch than a woody.”
“Maybe you did it wrong.” He was mocking me, trying to embarrass me again, and I wasn’t about to blush and let him win.
“Well, let’s see. There was dim light from a few candles, and something sexy was on the stereo. Dave Matthews, I think it was. I was lying on the bed, naked except for my nipple ring and the tattoo on the inside of my thigh that says please. I had one arm above my head, cuffed to the brass headboard.” I was watching Mikey, his eyes getting glazed and his breathing getting shallow, and I couldn’t believe he was falling for this. He was in prison a long time. “And my other hand was - ”
“Never mind! You win!”
I stomped past him, leaving him standing there glaring at me. Served him right, I thought. He started it.
I got a pillow and a blanket from the linen closet and took it to the living room. Mikey appeared in the t-shirt and sweats just as I was finishing making up the couch for him. He set his folded dress clothes on the chair.
“Why don’t you have a bed in there?” he asked about the empty bedroom.
“Why don’t you have matching dining room chairs?”
“Good point.”
The flirting and bantering was fun, but the reason for his being here hadn’t left my mind. I thanked him for staying. He shrugged.
“Leave your bedroom door open.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”
“Seriously, I can’t hear if something happens in there if the door’s closed. Leave it open.”
I walked towards my room and the floor squeaked in the usual place. I swore and tossed the cuffs in my underwear drawer and climbed into bed, leaving the door open and turning off the light. My room didn’t seem so scary with Mikey nearby, and I fell asleep in about fourteen seconds.
I woke up and tried to shove the cat off my face so I could breathe. Then I remembered Lucifer lives outside, and I panicked. My eyes focused on a tall man in a ski mask standing next to my bed, pressing his gloved hand over my nose and mouth. I struggled for breath. He passed a hunting knife back and forth in front of my face, the six-inch blade glinting in the light that shone through the window.
“I don’t want to use this yet, but I will,” he whispered, pressing the knife against my throat. “I’m going to uncover your mouth. If you scream, I will kill you.”
My mind was racing and my stomach was doing cartwheels. I had no weapons, and even if I did, I’d never be able to get to them without getting sliced to ribbons. I wondered if Brian was crazy enough to have me killed, or if this was just a scare tactic. It was certainly working.
Ski Mask took his hand away from my mouth and shoved the covers back, keeping the knife near my throat. “Tonight’s your lucky night, bitch.” He yanked the drawstring on my pajama bottoms. The double-knot held. Shit, I thought, not a fucking scare tactic. I closed my eyes and tried to brace myself. I heard a squeak in the hallway and my eyes popped open. Ski Mask heard it too. He hesitated for a moment, then spun off me and started for the French doors. Mikey stepped into the room, leveling the Glock at the intruder. I launched myself out of the bed, tangled in covers, and flew into Mikey’s arm just as he fired. Ski Mask ran, crashing through the glass door, and disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Goddammit, Alex, move.” Mikey tried to shove me aside, but we were a jumble of arms and legs and blankets.
“Give me the fucking gun, Salazar.” I disentangled myself and flipped on the light and looked around. He’d shot the shit out of my wall, but there was no sign of Ski Mask or any blood.
“Shit, he got away,” Mikey growled, tucking the gun into the waistband of the sweats and looking through the broken door.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I screeched.
“You’re welcome.”
I took a breath. I knew he’d saved me, and I was beyond grateful. But the men in this town were so dumb it was beginning to send me right around the bend. “Thank you. I mean that. But the whole point of all this,” I waved my arms randomly, “is to keep you out of jail. What good is it going to do if we prove you didn’t do Chambers and the body shop, only to have you sent away for shooting someone? With an illegal firearm, no less. Maybe they forgot to mention it when you got out, but convicted felons are supposed to give up the whole gun-toting thing, okay? For crissake, every time I see you, you end up pulling a weapon on someone.”
He was staring at me, and I could see that he’d stopped listening some time ago. Typical guy. “The whole point is to keep me out of jail? I thought the whole point was to keep our brothers out of jail. Since when do I rate?”
I looked at him, and I realized I was shaking. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the horror of what had just happened was starting to sink in. Someone had broken into my house, with the apparent intention of raping and killing me. And there was a good chance my very own brother had hired him to do it. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in real life. Not in my life. My throat closed, a roar started somewhere in the back of my mind, and the room got very bright, and I thought, so this is what it feels like to faint. Mikey shoved me to a sitting position on the bed and p
ushed my head between my knees.
“Breathe, Alex.”
I took a few deep breaths and things swam back into focus. I sat up, looking around my trashed bedroom.
“Should I call the cops?”
“It’s up to you. It seems like our plan to push Brian to get sloppy is working, and I’d kinda like to see what he does next. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. But if you’re scared, I understand.” He paused, then grinned. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell the cops where the bullet hole in the wall came from, though, since I’m apparently supposed to have given up the whole ‘gun-toting thing.’”
I shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t need to call them. I can’t sleep in here, though,” I gestured to the broken door, open to all manner of intruders. Not that it had been such a deterrent when it wasn’t broken. Guess I should have gotten that security system, I thought.
“Come on.” Mikey led me back to the living room, squeaking as we went. I resolved not to have Jack fix the floorboard again. The tears had started, and I didn’t even try to stop them. Mikey deposited me on the couch, then went into the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later carrying a cup of tea and a plate with two slices of cold pizza. I ate a slice and sniffled.
“You want that?” I asked, nodding towards the second slice. He shook his head, and I ate it too. I washed the pizza down with chamomile tea, a strange but not entirely unpleasant combination.
The doorbell rang, and my heart stopped. Mikey pulled the gun out of his pants and went to check the peephole. “Cop,” he whispered, disappearing around the corner.
I looked in the hall mirror and took a swipe at my tear-streaked face. I opened the door to a uniformed cop I’d never seen before.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. We had a report of a gunshot in the area. Did you hear anything?” He looked as interested as a five year old in church.
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