“So, Sydney, you go to school?”
She was leaning over to look at Luke’s screen. I could have sworn I spotted the bottom slope of her breasts. Thankfully, Luke was eleven and not fifteen and, therefore, was more interested in strategizing how to win his basketball video game than ogling his boobilicious nanny. I hoped.
Bouncing up to face me, she said, “Yep. Pre-law at Tufts University.”
Damn, she must be fighting off the men, even though she was still somewhat sequestered from the real world behind the walls of a local university. I began my trek over to the bed, hoping Erin would jump in to help with pushing the IV cart. But she was too busy giggling about something on her phone which she then shared with her new breastie. I laughed at my sense of humor.
I wondered what Mark thought of Sydney?
Shuffling along at a decent pace, I could still feel the chill of the floors through my hospital-issued socks, the ones with rubber footings on them. Out of the corner of my eye, Erin reached insider her denim jacket and scratched her stomach.
Did I just see…?
“Erin, let me see your shirt.” My voice was steady as I crawled back into bed.
The giggling ceased. Both Erin and Sydney lowered their heads and appeared to be scouring the floor for lost change.
“It’s not that big of a deal, Mom.”
I could feel my pulse ping my temples, which only increased my brain pain. “Let me see, please.”
With her baby blues pointed to the ceiling, she pulled open her coat and showed off a cropped T-shirt. Splashed across the front was a phrase: You’re halfway there.
“Really?”
“But Mom, it’s not the twentieth century anymore.”
“You want to be known as that girl, at age fourteen even?” I could feel everything in my body tense up.
My eyes shifted over to Sydney, whose hands were clasped in front her chest, as if there were some magical way of minimizing her curvaceous body. She would not look me in the eye.
I pointed at Sydney. “Were you in on this, or is it just your mystical presence that’s causing my daughter to dress like a slut?” I tried swallowing, but my throat was starting to close up.
“I, uh…” Sydney mumbled while trading stares with Erin.
“This is crazy, Mother. I’m just like every other freshman. What’s the big deal? It’s just a shirt.”
I could feel my face turn red, possibly my neck as well. Steam would soon be shooting out of my nostrils. I moved to the edge of the bed and pinched the corners of my eyes before I said another word.
“Mom, you okay?” Luke asked.
“Go back to your game, son.”
“No problem,” he said.
I took in a fortifying breath, wishing I had some history of experiences with Erin to draw from. What was really going on in her head? Was this the first time she’d crossed the dress-code line? Had she actually…with a boy? I reached for my water and took a sip.
“Erin, you may not know this at your age, but your actions impact your reputation. And I don’t want to see you make decisions that follow you throughout high school, and maybe beyond.”
“You’re actually going to feed her that crap? I know you might be my boss and everything, but the world has changed. It’s all about peace, love, and take-what-you-can-get. And that includes s-e-x. Yes, I said it. Sex.” Sydney’s hand was planted on her hip, her mouth half open.
Words were stuck in the back of my throat, and I couldn’t force them out.
“By the way, she borrowed my shirt.” Her eyes narrowed, as if she were trying to throw darts at me and my parenting skills.
I rose from the bed, anchoring my weight with the IV cart, and pointed a finger that refused to sit still.
“I might be missing a good amount of my memory, and I might not understand all the cool trends, but I understand disrespect. And you, Sydney, just—”
“What are you going to do, fire me? I doubt Mark would agree to that. I’ve practically raised these kids the last year. Erin needs a role model she can relate to.”
I almost laughed. “And you think you’re a good role model? You’re nothing but a two-bit—”
“Hey, everyone.”
I flipped on my sock-footed heels and found my former partner walking right toward me. He put a hand on my finger, as if he were securing a weapon.
“Hey, Uncle Nick,” both Erin and Luke muttered.
“Uncle Nick?” I think my eye twitched as darkness started closing in on my vision.
“Alex, are you feeling okay?” Nick said, helping me to the bed.
“I’m fine, dammit. And I’m tired of people acting like I’m sick and feeble.”
No sooner had my butt hit the bed, I had something else I wanted to say to the prissy sex goddess. “Listen to me, Sydney…” I tried to push upward, but Nick pleaded with me to stay where I was.
“Why don’t you take the kids home or to the mall or something?” he said to Sydney.
“Nick, what are you doing?” I growled.
“I’m just trying to calm things down a bit.” He looked genuinely concerned. But I didn’t give a shit about my appearance or my condition.
“Nick, get out of my way.”
Sydney released a sassy breath. “I can’t deal with this backward thinking. I’m out of here. Erin and Luke, the train is leaving.”
Looking just beyond Nick’s shoulder, I could see Sydney’s milk-chocolate locks flowing behind her, as her breasts heaved up and down in slow motion. Erin paused for a second and gave me one of those looks.
“It’s okay. We’ll talk later. But please change that shirt,” I said, my arms covering my chest.
She gave me a tight-lipped nod. “Gotta run.”
With his coat cinched under his armpit and his attention still focused on his hand-held game, Luke wandered over and leaned his body against mine.
“Thank you, Luke. Have a good day.”
“Yeah, back atcha,” he said, showing off his teeth.
“Hey, I see you’re missing a tooth,” I said as he walked out the door. I turned to Nick, “I guess he didn’t hear me.”
He put his hands at his waist and stared at me, then he paced a few steps.
“What? Am I in trouble now?” I said with a mocking tone.
“Alex, you’re just now recovering from a serious injury. You can’t be putting yourself in these positions.”
“And what kind of position are you talking about, you know, since the world is one big sex scene and all, missionary style or up the—”
“You know what I mean. You can’t lose your cool. You keep going at this pace and you’ll have an aneurism on top of everything else.”
“Great, now I have two neurosurgeons giving me orders.” My eyes pulsated.
“Alex, are you with me?”
I could feel my chest lift at a rapid pace. “Yes.”
“One-word responses. I don’t recall many of those,” he said.
I jerked my head up. “Tell me how I should respond. My daughter dresses like she’s begging to get laid, and then my nanny not only defends the behavior but acts like I’ve got the problem.”
Nick scratched his head. “I heard the whole thing from the hall. I’m sorry. It sucks, I know.”
I breathed in through my nose. “I apologize for blowing my top. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.” I tilted my head and looked at him. “Do you have kids?”
He released a quick chuckle, which then rolled into a full-blown laughter. His pink face turned a shade darker.
“Oh, Alex, you’re cracking me up.”
“I didn’t know I’d made a joke. Unless the joke is on me.”
“His name is Antonio,” he said, his face turning serious quickly.
“You have a son?”
“I’m gay, Alex. Shit, I have to be that blunt about it?”
I replayed the words and then slowly looked into his eyes. “Sorry if it’s been about me.”
“I don’t ca
re about that. I just want you healthy and back to normal. Or the new normal.”
I smiled. “I guess you shared this fact with me before?”
“You’re the only one in the agency. I think Jerry suspects it, but I didn’t want to put him in an awkward position.”
“Antonio. He’s a good guy? Treats you well?”
“We each have our moments just like any couple. But he’s the best thing in my life for the last twenty-three years.”
For some reason, I looked at my left hand. Someone must have taken my rings after the accident.
“Thinking about Mark?”
“How did you know?”
He pursed his lips. “You shared a lot with me over the years too, you know.”
I rubbed my hands together. “Cool. I need to ask you a lot more questions. Things about my personal life that I just can’t ask the kids or Mark. And certainly not the Playboy centerfold who’s pretending to be our nanny.”
“I’ll tell you everything I know. Remember, you spent the last eight months or so basically flying solo. So I may not have the scoop on the absolute latest information.”
Glancing around the room, my eyes paused on each apparatus and tube. I took in another waft of the familiar stench.
“Nick, I need to get out of here.”
“I’m sure you’re eager to leave, to get home and start remembering—”
“Screw that. Well, I know I need to get there eventually, but I don’t want to sit around and stare at four walls while sitting at home any more than I want to do it here.”
“But it will smell better,” he said with an arching eyebrow.
“A dead corpse would smell better.”
“Do you want to walk over to headquarters?”
“It’s that close?”
He walked to the window and pulled down a metal shade. “I can’t quite see it from this angle. But it’s close, and the weather is behaving for the moment. It’s actually just above freezing.”
I thought about walking through an office where everyone knew me and I didn’t know them. “I’ll pass on that, for today anyway,” I said, starting to paw at the tubes attached to me. “Let’s start with finding out how I ended up in here.”
“You had a crash.”
“Really, Einstein? I know that. But why?”
“You were traveling too fast on a wet road.”
“That’s what Jerry said. But…”
He narrowed his eyes again. “You’re skeptical.”
“Sounds like I was a bad driver or made a stupid decision. That’s not me.”
He chortled. “How would you know?”
“I’m not sure. But I know. Somehow.”
He clapped his hands. “Okay, what’s our escape plan?”
“I don’t need one. Help me take this needle out of my arm.”
I heard something metal snap, and I turned to see a man in khakis holding a clipboard. He removed a pen from behind his ear. “You’re not going anywhere until you have your first therapy session, Alexandra.”
I gritted my teeth, wondering what type of bribe it would take to skip the make-believe lessons.
“You’re welcome to stay,” he said to Nick.
“But we have important business. We’re FBI agents.” It sounded strange referring to myself as some type of covert operative.
“Uh-huh. And I’m Doctor Zhivago.”
I could tell this was going to be a fun session.
5
Turning my face into the salty breeze, tears streamed from my eyes, but I didn’t immediately wipe them away. I filled my lungs with the chilled air, and little tingles fired all over my body. Sparks of life.
“The stench brings tears to your eyes, doesn’t it?” Nick said as he reached a gentle hand to my elbow. I guessed he would have normally slapped me on the back instead.
“Thanks for the restraint, and the poor joke.” I wiped my face, noting my lack of makeup. I felt certain we’d be clear of anyone I knew—because I knew so little anyway. But perhaps someone would recognize me. I hoped not. I didn’t want to deal with anyone else right now, at least not on my maiden voyage into the labyrinth known as Boston and all the surrounding towns.
“Any time. Why is it everywhere you go it smells like crap?”
We were standing in the trash-infested parking lot of Suffolk County’s impound yard, waiting to be escorted to the vehicle I’d apparently sent to car heaven five days earlier.
“The hospital didn’t just smell like crap. It was a combination odor. This place? It smells like crap.”
Taking my sights off the mounds of rusted metal, I turned back to the front door as a man ambled outside, chewing the nub of a cigar. Before the door shut behind him, a Doberman barreled outside, tripping over his own leash, then righting himself and making a beeline toward the man who was approaching us. I didn’t recall having anything against dogs, but the canine’s wet fangs glistening in the sun caused me to tense up and reach for the man’s arm.
“Down, Dino!” The man jabbed a greasy hand toward his dog, who skidded to a stop on the loose gravel, then quickly crouched into a resting position, his tongue wagging, as if he were just hanging out.
I rubbed my nose to ward off another crap smell.
“Dino. He got a hold of a rat the size of a football.”
I nodded.
“It went right through him. Laid a deuce right over there. You’re downwind.”
“Lucky to be me,” I said.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Nick and Alex?”
“You must be Charlie,” I said.
He smeared his hand on his blue jacket—I could see previous evidence of that behavior—then extended his hand. I didn’t want to be disrespectful, so I shook it. Nick did the same.
“I was expecting a couple of dudes.” He snickered and part of his chewed-up cigar flew out of his mouth.
I dodged left. “Yeah. I was expecting you to be surrounded by three hot women with guns drawn. Instead, we get Dino the dog.”
Charlie reset his smudged cap while keeping his eyes on me. “You’re with the FBI. Whatever you say. It’s over here.”
Nick sidled up to me as we followed Charlie around the small, one-story building, car parts scattered everywhere.
“Charlie’s Angels? You’ve been on a roll since we left the hospital,” Nick whispered.
“I told you I needed to get out of there. I knew my neurotransmitters would start firing.”
I’d survived the therapy session, but was given a stern warning from the speech therapist and the good doctor that I would have to be more sedentary, as in no physical activity, and I needed to have an adult with me at all times until I could start remembering key aspects of my life, including how to get around town.
Jerry ordered Nick to be my guardian, and I think my former partner couldn’t have been more at ease playing the role of tour guide and general answer man. When we left the hospital, he took me to lunch at Sam LaGrassa’s. “An iconic Boston sandwich shop,” Nick had called it. After sinking my teeth into the chipotle pastrami, I shared the same sentiment.
I noticed Dino the dog had decided he liked Nick better. He trotted so close he rubbed against Nick’s suit pants. Apparently, Nick wore a suit everywhere he went. While he had on a trench coat, earlier I’d seen his red suspenders. Maybe he was making a fashion statement, or maybe I’d traveled back in time about fifty years. I decided against making fun of the guy who had my life in his hands.
Charlie said as he walked ahead of us, “This yard is so cramped, it’s impossible to run a real business.”
I almost chuckled at his saying “yad,” with no “r.” I’d apparently lost any recollection of a true Boston accent. None of the accented voices of the hospital staff had stood out, but Charlie’s here had jogged my memory.
Nick must have seen me snicker. “Charlestown Navy Yad,” he said quietly to me, purposely leaving out the “r.”
“We passed it on the way here. The Town.”
“Really?” Apparently, sarcasm came naturally to me.
“Just surprised you can recall a movie set in Boston.”
“I think it was his accent that got me there,” I said, nodding toward Charlie. “Well, that, and I got a quick image of Ben Affleck.”
“Ha. He’s taken, in case you didn’t remember that.”
“So am I—taken, that is. I’m just making an observation,” I said coyly.
“That he’s a hunk,” Nick said, nudging my arm.
“You said it.”
“And I meant it.”
“I’m glad you’re gay.”
“Me too. Antonio would be awfully disappointed otherwise.”
We both cracked up.
I heard Charlie clear his throat, like a teacher who knew he was losing control of his classroom.
“There it is.” Charlie removed his wet cigar and spit off to the side as Dino darted ahead and climbed on top of the navy blue car, or what was left of it.
“Damn” was all I could say.
I stood in one spot, my hands buried in my coat pockets, and stared. The navy blue Crown Victoria was shaped like a taco shell. The passenger side had obviously taken the brunt of the hit, the force so strong that the front and back ends appeared to have been pulled together, forming a V. The unnatural shape had busted out most of the glass from the car.
“Is this bringing back any painful thoughts, Alex?”
I heard Nick’s voice, but I was so entranced by the wreckage I couldn’t respond.
“Do we need to leave?” he asked.
“No,” I said quietly.
A strand of my hair that had broken free of my short ponytail blew into my face. I curled it around my ear and took three steps, then leaned forward and peered into the front cabin.
“Airbag deployed,” I said.
“Just that one on the driver’s side,” Charlie said. “This is one of the older model Crown Vics. They don’t have all the fancy airbags that keep the driver sealed up in bubble wrap.”
Dino padded down to the trunk of the car and plopped down on the dirt. I could hear his panting mixed in with Charlie gnawing on his cigar with the vigor of a cow chewing its cud.
“You the one who was driving the car?” Charlie asked.
BOOKER Box Set #2 (A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense): Volumes 4-6 Page 76