“Ma’am, I am so sorry.” The young man brandished a towel and made dabbing moves without actually touching her, something she understood since it was her breasts that were covered with the sauce from four plates of chicken parmesan. He probably figured he’d lost his job already, no need to add sexual harassment to the laundry list of complaints.
“It’s okay.” Liv smiled and took the towel from his icy hands, wiping off as much of the sauce as possible. Thankfully, her dress was a reddish-gold and it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Still, there was no going back inside.
“Ma’am, I don’t know what happened.” The poor kid was nearly in tears. “What can I do to make this up to you?”
A few weeks ago, Liv would have replied with a scathing, “Nothing, unless you have a new formal gown in your pocket. Now go get your manager.”
But the kid’s face made her think of Frank, without the awful beard, and she couldn’t crush him that way. “It’s okay.” She patted his drooping shoulder. “It’s just a dress, and I was bored silly anyway. It’s the perfect excuse for me to leave.”
“Really?” He was pathetically grateful.
“It’ll be our secret.” She looked down at the mess on the floor at her feet. “Well, ours and the cleaning staff.” With another shoulder pat, she found her way to the coat check. The lady behind the counter was disinclined to give Liv her coat since it had been checked in by Stewart, but after a scathing remark and a folded bill changing hands, Liv was on her way out the door. She stopped and asked the doorman to call a taxi for her before she stepped outside and dialed her father’s number on her cell phone.
“Yes?” Stewart’s voice sounded puzzled, probably wondering why Liv was calling him instead of returning to the table. “Lee Lee? Where are you?”
“I’m afraid I’m getting a migraine. I’ve called a cab and I’m heading home. I’m sorry.”
“I knew something was wrong, darling. You weren’t acting at all like yourself.”
“Would you tell Geoff for me, please?”
“Of course. Get some rest.”
“Thank you, Daddy. And good luck getting that sculpture.” She flipped her phone closed and pulled the lapels of her coat tighter around her neck. It was starting to cool down at night, signaling the true beginning of the fall season, her favorite time of year.
When the cab pulled up, she settled herself in the back. With a small sigh she closed her eyes, glad the night was over. The cabbie was silent, and in the quiet Liv’s stomach growled loudly. She was starving.
“Excuse me, sir?” She leaned forward and addressed the driver, a wizened old man who looked a bit like Rip Van Winkle. His body jerked in surprise.
“Yes?”
“Do you know a good place to get a pizza around here?” When the man started laughing, long and hard, she sat back with a thump. “What did I say?”
“Lady, I’ve picked up a couple hundred people at that club,” he gasped out when he got most of his breath back. “Most won’t even acknowledge my presence, and those who do are outright snobs. Not one has ever asked me about pizza.”
“Oh.”
“Hey.” His gaze met hers in the rear-view mirror for a moment. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. In fact, I think I should give you a tip.”
Liv’s lips widened into a huge smile. “A pizza will do just fine. Can you wait for me while I get it?”
“Sure, I’m off duty after this call anyway.”
Liv didn’t even think before she spoke. “In that case, would you care to join me?”
There was a pause while the driver met her gaze in the rear-view mirror as if trying to figure out her motive for the invitation. She must have passed the test because he smiled and said, “I’d love to. I’m Larry.”
“Pleased to meet you, Larry. I’m Liv.”
They drew some strange looks when they walked through the door at a tiny pizza place called Mama Lucia’s in downtown Boston. She was a mess in her stained evening gown, but still looked quite overdressed. He reeked from the cigarette smoke of his passengers and wore clothes that were rumpled and worn. But Larry, even shorter than tiny Liv, walked straight and proud as he escorted Liv to the order window, her hand tucked formally into his elbow.
“What’ll you have?” The girl at the window sucked air through her braces as she waited for them to order.
“Do you like pepperoni and olives, Liv?”
“Fine with me.”
The pizza was promised in fifteen minutes, so they made their way to an empty table. Liv swiveled her head back and forth, taking in everything about the small, cozy restaurant.
“I’ve driven through this area a thousand times and never knew this was here,” she marveled, sitting in the chair Larry pulled out for her.
“Most of your type don’t see anything they don’t want to see.” He settled himself opposite her, running gnarled fingers through his disheveled hair.
“My type?”
“You know, rich folk. The privileged few. You who live in the fancy homes on the Hill.”
“Are we that bad, Larry?”
“Well, you don’t seem to be. But most of the folks I’ve had the misfortune to meet? You bet.” He leaned forward, gaze intent. “How many times have you ridden in a cab? A hundred?”
Liv shrugged and nodded. Where was this leading?
“How many times have you addressed the cabby outside of the address of where you wanted to go?”
“Counting tonight?” Liv’s lips twisted in embarrassment. “Once.”
“No matter what anyone says, there’s still a division by class and it’s tough to cross that line.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some pills, swallowing them dry then chasing them with a gulp of water. At Liv’s alarmed look, he smiled. “See.”
“See what?”
“Bet you think I just took some kind of illegal drug, right?”
She refused to say, just shrugged her shoulders.
“If it was one of your friends, what would you assume?”
“That they were taking a prescription, probably for depression or high cholesterol.”
“But not me. Why? Because my clothes are from Goodwill? Because my hair isn’t styled?” He pulled a tiny orange bottle out of his pocket and showed it to her.
“Arthritis.” Liv dropped her gaze to the table. “I’m sorry, Larry.”
He reached over and patted her hand. “Don’t worry about it, Liv. Oh, look! Our pizza’s here.”
Later, when Larry dropped her at her condo, she got out and leaned through the passenger-side window, handing him her business card. “If you ever need anything, Larry, I’d feel privileged if you came to me. Maybe we can have pizza again sometime.”
“I’ll be in touch, Liv. You’re all right.” He grasped her slim hand with his gnarled one, squeezing tightly for a moment before he sped off. She stood and watched him until his lights faded away before going inside.
Chapter Eight
The next day, she headed into Pamper Me to help out. Saturday was the busiest day of the week and she liked to be there to make certain everything ran smoothly.
She was setting out tea with cinnamon-stick stirrers, warm scones with preserves and Devonshire cream on the tiny table just inside the entryway, when her cell phone vibrated on her hip. She always turned the ringer off at the spa, not wanting the calm aura to be affected. Even the main phone at the welcome desk “bonged” softly instead of ringing.
She stepped into the hallway and answered, not recognizing the phone number. “Yes?”
“Liv?”
Her heart did a little somersault when she recognized Mike’s voice. “Mike.”
“What are you up to today?”
“I’m busy until about four. Why?”
“Remember my neighbor, Daisy? She’s going to be gone all weekend, and she’s concerned Booboo might be lonely. I told her I had a friend who could sleep over there tonight. Can you?”
“Stay at Daisy’s?”
Liv’s eyes narrowed and she tried to recall whether Geoff had mentioned going away for the next couple of days. She couldn’t recall, but what an amazing chance for her to dabble in Daisy’s things. “Sure.”
“You’re a peach.”
Liv smiled at the phrase, trying to reconcile it to big, manly Mike. “No problem. I’ll be there by six.”
“How about I take you to dinner tonight? I feel like getting out, and it’s never fun alone.”
“Why don’t you have a hot date? It’s Saturday, after all.”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Liv felt worse than ever for deceiving Mike and decided to tell him the truth. But not until Monday. “I’ll see you at six.”
The day dragged by. Liv checked her watch constantly, ready to be on her way. She told herself it was the chance to stay at Daisy’s that excited her, but knew she was kidding herself. It was the chance to see Mike again.
It was strange to have someone like her for herself. Not for her car or her family money or her prestigious father, and Liv didn’t want to lose that feeling. Mike was a good friend.
At noon, she received—or rather Marissa received—a call from the charity that had sponsored the dinner last night. Liv had won her painting. She was thrilled and asked them to deliver it to the spa, offering to pay extra if it could be sent that day. They agreed.
The painting, wrapped and packed, was in the lobby two hours later. Liv hoped Mike wouldn’t realize its worth. She’d play it off, say it was an old thing just lying around her apartment and she wanted him to have it.
At three forty-five, she changed into the clothes she’d brought to wear to Mike’s—worn jeans and a sweater. She fluffed her hair, dabbed on a bit of fresh lipstick and spent the next fifteen minutes staring at the clock.
Four finally rolled around, and Liv nearly ran out the door. She couldn’t take Marissa’s car today; it was in the shop for a tune-up that had been scheduled two weeks before. She’d have to make do with the Miata and hide it around the corner from Mike’s complex.
The box with the painting didn’t fit in her car, and she ended up taking it out and setting it catty-corner in the passenger seat. With the top down, it would work. Liv bundled up and pretended it wasn’t the end of September.
She sped home to her condo and watered the miniature rose, thrilled to see a couple new blossoms. Apparently she was doing something right. She tossed a few items into an overnight bag—nightie, toothbrush, toiletries and a change of clothes—and all but ran back out to the car. She threw the case into the passenger seat and headed out.
Back on the road, she hurried to Mike’s apartment complex. She scooted around the corner, reluctantly passing a perfect spot right out front, and wondered if the car would make it safely through the night. She was probably overreacting to the neighborhood, but she was still so far outside her comfort zone she couldn’t stop the thoughts.
The sun had begun its descent, but still hung in the sky. Liv pulled the painting out of the car and leaned it up against the fence along the sidewalk before locking the car up tight and setting the alarm. She slung her new backpack over one shoulder and turned to grab the painting.
Sitting beside it was Spike. She gulped and froze. “Good boy, nice doggy.”
The dog wagged his tail and woofed softly, drool puddling on the sidewalk. Liv hoped it wouldn’t flow toward the picture frame. She wasn’t certain how she’d be able to explain away the water damage.
“Mike says you’re a marshmallow, and I hope he’s right.” She took a step forward. “Let me have the picture, there’s a good doggy.”
She reached around his massive head, heart pounding in her throat, and snatched the painting. Before she could pull her hand back, though, the dog turned, his foot-long tongue lashing out faster than a bullwhip to wash her bare arm.
“Ugh.” She wiped it on her jeans, leaving a foamy smear. “That’s disgusting.” She looked into the dog’s warm brown eyes. “Look, dog, I have a deal for you. You keep the creeps away from my car tonight, and I’ll buy you a box of bones. Deal?” She automatically stuck her hand out when she said the last word, and the dog lifted a paw and plopped it into her outstretched palm. “Oh. Well, aren’t you a smart pooch?”
She gave the paw a shake and dropped it, feeling brave enough to stretch out with two fingers and pat Spike’s brindled head. “Thanks,” she said and backed away slowly, hoping the dog wouldn’t follow her. When he settled down with a loud huff of breath, his back to the Miata, she figured she was safe.
Liv struggled up the sidewalk with her double burden and turned into the complex. She made it to the bottom of what she thought were the steps leading up to Mike’s apartment, but stopped to rest, her arms aching.
Before she had time to catch her breath, a hail of coins rained down on her head. She held the painting up to protect her from being brained until it stopped.
“Frank? Is that you or just pennies from heaven?” She cautiously lowered her makeshift umbrella and glanced up to the second floor landing.
“Oh, hi, Liv. Sorry, did I get you?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. Nothing’s broken.” She stood up. “Do you need some help gathering these?”
Frank trotted down the steps, bright grin on his face. “Sure, if you want.”
“Frank, you braided your beard.” Liv stared at the slim rope that hung from his chin to the waistband of his Dockers.
He shrugged. “Zoe did it.”
“Zoe?”
“Well, yeah, you remember her. She’s the girl who cleaned Mike’s apartment for you as a favor.” Frank leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mike. I know he’s supposed to think you did it.”
“Thanks.” Liv squatted and began to pick up quarters. “So, you and Zoe seem pretty tight after only meeting yesterday.”
“Man, she came back over last night and we had dinner and hung out a while. I took her to that new slasher flick, you know, as a test. She loved it.”
Liv snorted a small laugh. “Guess it was meant to be.” She handed him a handful of quarters and started to pick up more. “So what record are you going for now?”
“Zoe was a little grossed out by the crickets.” Frank shrugged as if he couldn’t understand such a thing, and Liv found it odd dead crickets grossed Zoe out but not disemboweled people. “So I decided to stop. Now I’m practicing flipping coins off of my forearm and catching them. I only need to catch 329 to break the record.”
“Only?” Liv shook her head. “That should be a breeze.” She handed Frank another handful of coins. “I need to get up to Mike’s. Good luck.”
“Thanks!”
She left Frank humming happily as he retrieved his lost quarters and hauled her stuff up the steps. Before she got to the top, she heard music blasting so loud it hurt her ears, and she was glad she wasn’t inside whatever apartment was playing the garbage.
As she drew closer to number 217, she realized Mike was the one being so juvenile. She plugged one ear and pressed the doorbell, then plugged the other. The door flew open a few moments later and she saw Mike, a huge grin on his face. His lips moved and she figured he was saying something. When she shrugged and shook her head, he mouthed, “Oh” and dashed back inside. The music faded to a tolerable level.
“Sorry.” He looked abashed when he reappeared. “But I really love Led Zeppelin.”
“Who’s he?”
“You’re joking, right?” Mike picked up her bag and took her elbow to guide her inside. “Led Zeppelin.” He said it with stronger emphasis, as though she hadn’t heard him the first time.
“They’re a rock group. Come on, everyone knows ‘Stairway to Heaven’. Though that was ‘Whole Lotta Love’ playing just now.” He stared at her, waiting for some kind of recognition. When none came, he dragged her to the stereo and pressed a button. “Listen.”
Liv did so patiently, thinking it was kind of a boring song. When it finally finished after about an hour, s
he smiled, not certain what he expected of her. “That was lovely.”
“No!” Mike thumped his forehead with a fist. “‘Stairway to Heaven’ is not lovely.” He patted Liv on the shoulder in sympathy. “You are truly a lost soul, but I’ll work with you on it.”
A sudden thought occurred to Liv and she looked around frantically. “Where’s Rett?”
“I locked him up in the bathroom. He doesn’t like Led Zeppelin; it makes him a little crazy.”
Liv wondered if she and that weasel actually had something in common, and the thought wasn’t particularly comforting. “Oh.”
“Hey, what’s this?” Mike squatted down in front of the picture she’d leaned up against the foot of the weight bench.
“It’s a painting I had.” She stood behind him and looked down at the four dogs eating pizza at a tiny metal table. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? It’s great.”
“Then it’s yours.”
Mike stood slowly and turned his back to Liv. She hoped she hadn’t done something wrong and put a hand on his shoulder. “Mike?”
He pivoted to look at her, and something was different in his eyes. She took a step back from their intensity, and he took a step forward. She felt like a gazelle being stalked by a starving lion.
“Uh, Mike?” Her nerves began to tingle and she couldn’t feel her fingertips. “You okay?”
“I will be.” He reached out and pulled her to him in a tight embrace, rubbing his cheek on top of her head. After a moment, she lifted her head up and stared at him questioningly. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Thanks.”
She smiled, glad the weirdness was over. “You’re welcome.”
She realized she’d relaxed too soon when he slipped his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and tugged, tipping her head back. Her lips parted in a tiny breath of air the moment before he kissed her.
He was warm and intense, the passion in his kiss making her head swim. She had no thought except to respond and get closer. She pressed against him, uncertain of what to do. He lifted his head and stared at her, his face so close she couldn’t focus on it.
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