"To what?"
"I don't know. Something."
Joey gunned the gas as he hit the on ramp to the expressway. "Roseanne, leave her alone. This is her deal. And I know my sister. She's a pain in the ass when she gets dug in. You won't budge her."
"Thank you, Joey. I think."
Twisted compliment, for sure, but coming from Joey? It might be the best she'd get.
"Sure,” Joey said. “Who's hungry? I could eat."
"We can stop for something quick. Maybe the drive-thru. I need to get back."
Joey shot Lucie a quizzical look in the rear-view then went back to the road. "What's your hurry?"
"I have things to do."
"So, do them tonight. It's not like you have plans. You've spent the last three months moping around the house. At least tonight you'll have something to keep you busy."
As usual, he thought he knew her so well. Predictable, Lucie. Never straying from her routine. Wouldn't he be stunned to know she had a date? With a cop. An Irish one to boot. Ha. Carlton wouldn't be the only one having a heart attack.
As much as she wanted to tell him, just hit him with it, she couldn't. Frankie was his closest friend and cluing Joey in on her date meant putting him in the middle. A scary thought if ever there was one because, knowing him, he'd feel compelled to tell Frankie. And that would be bad. No matter that they were broken up, neither of them would want to hear the other was suddenly dating. Their history didn't include dating others. In all the times they'd broken up, she'd never heard anything about Frankie seeing other women. Never once in all these past off-and-on four years.
"She's going out tonight," Ro said.
Lucie spun on her, gritted her teeth. Really, Ro? Really?
"Where's she going?" He looked back at Lucie. "Tell me you and Frankie are back together. Please."
"Are you wagering on how long we'll be broken up again? I swear I'll kill you. That is so rude."
Joey stayed silent, an absolute tell that he was, in fact, running another Frankie-Loves-Lucie pool on when the big reunite would happen. Now with Ro getting divorced, he was busier than ever.
When she'd first heard that he ran these pools, she'd been infuriated. As if her and Frankie's personal lives were plain fodder for the entire town. Even Ro had been known to get in on it. Then, after the initial anger, she'd realized the bets and the subsequent odds were indicative of the ups and downs of her relationship.
And the insanity that came with being part of the life.
"She's not back with Frankie," Ro said.
"Dammit. You got my hopes up there. If you were, that'd be five grand in my pocket."
Five thousand dollars? If the kitty was that much, maybe she needed to get in on this pool. After all, she shouldn't be exempt because she wasn't the one doing the breaking up this time. She had no control over when Frankie might want to get back together.
And she could use that five thousand dollars. Health insurance didn't come cheap.
She smacked herself on the head. A minute ago, she'd been outraged. Now? She was selling her soul for health insurance.
"Sorry, Joey."
"Eh. No big. What are you doing tonight then?"
"Just going out with friends."
"You're not gonna tie the bathroom up, are you?"
Ro took that one. "Keep talking and we might."
Lucie laughed. "You guys drive me to want to drink, but I do love you."
* * *
Joey wouldn't leave.
Ten minutes until O'Brien picked her up and her brother was still sprawled on the living room sofa. On a Friday night. Wasn't this indicative of her life? Usually, by now, he was at the bar around the corner watching the games on television and making his collections.
Tonight? Glued to the sofa.
And she couldn't have him here when Tim showed up. Who knew how he'd react to a cop taking his sister to dinner. Not that it was any of his business, but she wanted tonight to be a drama break.
Lucie stood at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall that still had the mark from twelve years ago when she'd gone tumbling down with a marker in her hand. One floor below, Joey shouted at the television and didn't appear to be anywhere close to moving off the sofa.
Time for reinforcements.
She dug her phone from her purse and dialed Ro.
After one ring, Ro answered. "What happened? Don't tell me you ripped that dress already."
When Lucie had gone to Ro's to try dresses on, she'd picked out a red, sleeveless one with a V-neck that showed just a hint of cleavage. Although it was a little tight in the chest area and big in the hips, the belt helped control the extra material and accentuated Lucie's tiny waist. And, according to Ro, her big boobs. While there, Ro insisted on doing hair and makeup, and Lucie figured, why not? A little pampering would be nice.
It took almost an hour, but Ro did her magic and curled Lucie's drab brown hair so it fell in fat waves around her shoulders. For makeup, she added heavy brown liner to Lucie's eyes to “make the blue pop.” Lucie imagined her eyeballs exploding from her head. But, Ro had been her best friend since grammar school, and one thing she knew how to do was slay a man.
All in all, the look was summer casual and classy.
"The dress is fine," Lucie told Ro. "And I didn't wreck my hair or makeup putting it on."
"Why are you calling me then?"
"Joey. He won't leave, and O'Brien will be here in ten minutes. My mom is out to dinner with one of her friends so I can't even have her distract him."
With Dad in prison these last couple of years, Mom had taken to enjoying her independence. These last few months, she had been happier than Lucie ever remembered. Her father, being old-school, would hate the newfound independence when he came home in a few weeks. At this rate, Mom might even make him cook his own dinner.
Wouldn't that be a sight?
"Ro, I need Joey gone. He knows O'Brien from when he was investigating the dognappings. If he sees him, he'll tell my dad. I know he will. And possibly Frankie. I don't need either one of them knowing about this. I mean, it's one date, what could happen? All I want is to be out of the house for a while and Tim is a nice guy."
"Relax, sister. I'll take care of it."
"How?"
Ro sighed. "I don't know. But I'll figure it out. I'll call his cell, tell him I need him for something."
Pig Joey would love that. The sexual innuendos would fly like migrating birds. But Ro would be able to get his giant butt off that couch. "Go to work, Ro. Have no mercy."
She laughed. "I love when you talk dirty. I'm on it."
Thirty seconds later, the song “Devil Woman” drowned out the television. What an idiot. He'd given her “Devil Woman” as a ringtone? I'll kill him later.
"Hello?" he said. "Hey. What's up? ... Come on. Seriously? ... Awright. Are you okay? ... Hey, relax...You're a pisser, Roseanne. I'll be there in a few minutes."
Lucie rested her head against the wall. Thank you. Whatever Ro had come up with, it got him moving. Which meant she'd either told him she was running around the house naked or she'd severed a limb.
"Luce!"
She jumped away from the stairway so he couldn't see her all dolled up. "What?"
"I gotta run. That lunatic Roseanne got her foot stuck in a hole in her yard. She didn't want to bug you. Since she threw that scumbag husband out, she called me to dig her out. She thinks her ankle is busted."
It wasn't a severed limb, but close enough. Lucie threw her hand over her mouth to silence the giggle. Ro had come through in spectacular fashion.
"Oh no," Lucie said, laying on a good bit of feigned horror. "Is she okay? Do I need to cancel my plans?"
"Nah. She's okay. She was sniffling though. I kinda feel bad. She's crazy emotional lately. I can't take that with her. She's always so tough. Seeing her sad like this? Total killer."
These were the moments when Lucie's heart exploded with love for her brother. The caring Joey. The one who was
n't constantly harassing her or making fun of her goodie-two-shoes ways.
"You're a good guy, Joey. Thanks. Have her text me. Okay?"
"Yeah. No sweat."
The back door slammed and Lucie leaned against the wall. Phew. Close one. Going on a date should not be this difficult. In this family, though, nothing came easy. A minute after Joey left, a knock sounded from the front door. Eeeek—that was close. Suddenly frantic, Lucie paddled her hands as she ran to her room for her shoes. In her bedroom, she stole one last look in the mirror, fluffed her hair, checked her lipstick.
"Wow," she said, still marveling at the change in her appearance. "That's me. Go, Lucie. Yay, you!"
She wasn't a man-killer, but she had something. Dating movie-star-handsome Frankie sometimes made her feel, well, less. He'd always told her she looked beautiful, but down deep, she knew her looks couldn't compete. Lucie didn't belong to the Stunning People of America club.
Lucie belonged to the Better-Than-Average People of America club.
She'd learned to live with it.
But every now and again, like tonight, Ro helped her. Transformed her into being a possible candidate for the Stunning club.
The knock sounded again. This time a little harder. "Ooh, gotta go."
She flew down the stairs, thankful for her flats. "Coming!"
Four and a half years had passed since she'd been on a date with someone other than Frankie.
Her stomach clenched. Just curled into a tight, gripping, pea-sized ball.
And, God! Why did she think of that now? She squeezed her eyes closed. Get it together here, Lucie.
It was only a date. A casual dinner between two friends. Easy.
At the front door, she stopped, gripped the handle. The cold metal hitting her palm focused her, gave her a second to compose herself. Just a dinner between friends.
She pulled the door open and looked up at Tim O'Brien. An extremely handsome Tim O'Brien in a pair of khakis, his big shoulders in a white pullover. Who knew she had a thing for cute Irish boys?
His gaze skimmed over her, and his lips, those beautiful full lips she'd never noticed before, curved into a slick smile. "Hello," he said. "I'm here for Lucie."
Oh, now he wanted to play? "Funny man. It's me."
Again, he ran his gaze over her and her woefully lonely body howled his name. Tim, Tim, Tim!
"It sure is," he said. "You look amazing. Am I underdressed?"
For once, she wasn't the one asking that question. It probably shouldn't have made her happy, made her more secure, because intentional or not, she never wanted to be the person who made someone else feel...well, less. Of anything. "No. I just felt like doing something...special. You look great. Perfect even. I've only ever seen you in a suit, so this is a nice surprise. I like this Tim O'Brien."
"Lucie Rizzo," he said, "keep talking like that and you might be in trouble."
This time, unlike the situations she'd seen these last five months, trouble felt awfully good.
6
Luscious Lucie Rizzo laughed at his comment about her being in trouble. Little did she know he wasn't kidding. Not one bit. From the second Tim put eyes on her five months ago, he'd been curious. She was out walking two dogs, a couple of shih tzus someone had boosted. He'd been working a case—still was—involving a show dog theft ring. The wily bastards were still out there, lifting dogs, probably to sell on the black market.
And he couldn't catch them.
But that first day with Lucie, she was dressed like a coed. Sneakers, jeans, and a jacket with a T-shirt under it. All cute and nice, but her big, blue eyes were the kicker. He'd always been a sucker for blue-eyed women. Had she been anyone other than Joe Rizzo's kid, once he'd closed her case, he'd have made a play for her.
The fact that her father was a criminal created definite problems. Problems that, each time he saw her, diminished because he was a guy and guys had needs, and certain women might be worth taking a chance on.
The ultimate surprise this evening was the new side of Lucie. The sexy, vivacious look. Because, damn, Lucie had a body on her.
"So," she said as Tim jumped on I-55 heading North, "downtown?"
He merged into traffic, shot to the left lane, and hit the gas. "Yep. There's a place in the Loop I like." He looked over and grinned. "Irish Pub."
Lucie laughed. "As long as I can get some cottage pie, I'll be happy."
Second surprise of the evening. The lady knew Irish food. If he wanted reasons to knock her off the list of women to date, that wasn't one of them.
"Bam!" he said. "Nice, Lucie. Here I was trying to be a smart ass and you busted me. You like Irish food?"
"Just because my last name is Rizzo, doesn't mean I don't have a varied palette. My college roommate's mom was Irish. She used to bring us all kinds of dishes. I liked cottage pie the best. That sauce! So good."
He crept up on a slower car in the left lane and tapped his horn, urging the driver to get the hell out of the way. People. To survive in Chicago traffic, going forty in the left lane wouldn't cut it.
Lucie grabbed onto the door handle. "I guess you're not worried about getting a ticket."
"It's been known to happen, but yeah, I usually get out of it."
"Obviously your boyish charm."
"Or the badge."
"Right. The badge."
He didn't need to be an ace detective to know the way she said badge, the punch at the end held meaning.
A meaning he understood. Already they were on the same page.
It might be early in this date—the first date, no less—but he'd never been one to beat around the proverbial bush. "Is it a problem for you?"
"Nope."
Funny how she nailed that. Hadn't even mulled it over. Most likely because she'd, like him, already beat it to death in her mind. In the minimal time he'd spent with her, she didn't seem like the type to rush into things. No problem there. He liked a woman who could make up her own mind, take a risk if necessary and not look back.
He smiled the famous O'Brien smile that had been known to open more than a few locked doors. "You seem pretty sure about that."
"Trust me, I'm going into this with my eyes wide open. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. So, as long as you’re okay with my, shall we say backstory, then I'm okay with it. The way I see it, we're two friends out for an evening. That's assuming this date isn't some sort of undercover sting operation."
A what? He glanced over, remembered they were doing eighty-five, and swung back to the road before he caused a wreck. Did she think...? "Holy hell, no. It's not—"
"Because if it is, you’re wasting your time. I've spent my life trying not to know about my father's business. And I've succeeded."
All righty then. He took a breath, ignored the throb in his jaw where that damned muscle jumped, and tried to put himself in her viewpoint. With her history and the years of cops, federal agents, and prosecutors trying to nail her father, what was she supposed to think when a detective suddenly asks her out?
Better to get this cleared up now.
"As long as you don't ask about my family," she continued, "I have no issues."
He shook his head. "Not interested in your family. You, I'm interested in. Have been for months." He looked over at her again, met her steady gaze for a long second to make sure she knew he wasn't lying, and went back to the road. "Okay?"
From the corner of his eye, he spied the smile and a solid head jerk. "Thank you. Sorry if I insulted you. I just wanted to be clear."
"Hey, I'd rather get it out of the way. Now, I just want to take you out for a nice dinner."
And maybe other things...
Nah. She didn't seem the type to let him get handsy on the first date. Something else he'd like. Call him old-fashioned, but certain women he didn't want to be easy. He wasn't against easy. Hardly. Casual sex was a way to have fun and blow off steam. But if dating a woman regularly, he wanted assurances she wasn't getting busy with other men.
&n
bsp; Men like Frank Falcone.
Rumor mill had it that they'd broken up enough times to have their own soap opera.
This current breakup might be just one more in the line. A definite risk on Tim's part. Luscious Lucie Rizzo might eventually hand him his carved-up heart on a platter.
And he didn't care.
I'm so screwed.
* * *
After a twenty-minute drive—not bad for Friday-night traffic—Tim held the restaurant door open and waved Lucie inside. Immediately, the aroma of cooking meat and spices hit her and her stomach growled. Straight ahead, a plump woman of about forty wearing a black long-sleeved blouse, probably to battle the air conditioner, stood at the hostess station, making notes on a board. Her long, silky, blond hair fell over one shoulder and she tucked it behind her ear as she wrote. To her left was the bar. The completely packed bar with oiled wood and polished brass everywhere. Each of the dozen or so high-top tables was full. Patrons were even wedged into the minimal open spaces between tables. To the right was the dining room. Equally polished, equally packed.
Hopefully, Tim had thought ahead and made a reservation.
"Hiya, Tim," the hostess said.
"Hi, Jaye."
She grabbed two menus and waved them. "Follow me. Saved you a table in that spot by the windows."
Yay, Tim. Her hero for apparently being a regular who carried enough oomph to warrant a reserved table on a Friday night when the wait list went twenty deep.
The hostess led them to a table at the far corner of the room along the front window. Outside, a couple holding hands and a mom pushing a stroller wandered by, heading toward the lake just a few blocks up.
One of the things Lucie missed about living downtown were the evening walks. Soon.
The hostess set the menus on the table and removed two of the four place settings. "Special tonight is Colin's Irish Stew. It's pretty good."
Tim smirked. "Glowing endorsement, Jaye. Thanks."
"Eh. What can I say? I don't want him to get cocky. Enjoy your meal, guys."
The woman strode away, swinging her ample hips as she went, and stopping to chat with customers along the way. Sensing something, Lucie turned to Tim, who had those green eyes plastered to her face. Not in an annoying way that made her want to fold in on herself—or hide.
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