City in the Middle: Book Two in the Amber Milestone Series
Page 22
“But working with your father… I mean, seems like that would bother you.”
“It will a little, but I’ll get over it. Plus, you need to do this. I know it’s your brother who is doing things that are possibly illegal. Let the police handle it. At least you’ll know you’ve done everything you can. Who knows? Maybe the cops will investigate and prove your theories wrong.”
Henry cocked his head. “I doubt that very much.”
“It could put your conscience at ease. Hell, it would put mine at ease to know that my employer did his civic duty and talked to the cops.”
“If I can gather more info that could be evidence first, I’d be willing to meet your father. Of course, I’d want to give him a piece of my mind for what he did to your family,” he grumbled. “Your stepfather told me everything.”
“I already read my father the riot act, so don’t bother.” I shook my head. “Don’t waste your breath. He isn’t worth the frustration, not even a little.”
“I’ll show restraint.” He sipped his black coffee.
“I did think of someone else who might help us. Do you think Sam, our bartender, would know anything about Charles ordering the liquor from the mob family?”
“Possibly.” He shrugged.
“Can you talk to her about it? I mean, how trustworthy is she?” I took the last bite of my breakfast.
“She’s worked at the pub for a long time. I could try to talk to her and see how it goes.” He mustered a faint smile.
“Maybe she can verify some things for you and give more concrete information.”
“Well this breakfast has been quite—”
“Surreal?”
“Yeah,” Henry continued. “You think about these awful things happening to other people. You never think of them happening to yourself. We both came here to start over, and now look at what we’ve gotten ourselves into. This shady business makes us doubt the integrity of the place. What about you? Do you have anything you want to tell your father about the mob?”
“I think I’ll see how your session goes first, then I’ll decide.” I had massive amounts of details I could tell my father, including Fiona’s ordeal and Cam’s death. Also, all the suspicious things I’d seen, such as Adrianna putting some kind of sugar-like drug in her drink. I even saw Mercedes give Adrianna some “sugar” packets and get paid for it. If I was going to tell anyone, it would be a detective, not my father.
“Thank you for telling me about him.” He took my hand and gently squeezed it. “I’ll talk to Sam about the inventory delivery. No matter what she says, I’ll tell your father what I know. I can’t keep acting like I don’t see anything. It’s tearing me up inside, literally. I’ve had stomach pains for the past two days.” He rubbed his abdomen. “If I keep going on like this, I’m going to give myself an ulcer.”
“Sounds like you know what to do to get rid of them. I think those pains will go away once you unburden to the cops.”
“Perhaps, but I’d be implying that my brother is involved. Afterward, I might feel like Judas.” He made circular motions on the sides of his temples then ran his fingers through his hair.
“True. However, the alternative isn’t any better. If you don’t go to the police, you’ll feel like an accessory. Won’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s a hell of a choice. Be an accessory, or rat on my brother.”
Chapter 38
Fiona
Iwalked to work and saw that damn vagrant again. He leaned against a building next to a dumpster, with his cart full of crap in front of him. I would have crossed the street to avoid him, but the morning rush hour blocked the way. As I got closer, I smelled alcohol and a foul body odor. His hands shook as he held out his cup for people to dump their change. Most people walked past him. Only a few gave anything. I was the last in a small group who clustered together and walked side by side.
Just as I passed him, he said, “You never give, you only take.”
I looked back. He coughed. It sounded like he had phlegm he couldn’t get up. I cringed and covered my mouth. Great, now the drifter is becoming a heckler! He wanted me to engage, but I wouldn’t give him the chance. I walked farther away.
My day was busy with mixing tracks, vocals all morning, and the instruments in the afternoon. I drank two cups of coffee in anticipation of working into the night. The band I had recorded was one of the top-selling acts on our record label. My boss was more than willing to let me work overtime to keep the ball rolling on their album. He brought in some takeout for my dinner and said he’d check in on the progress in the morning.
The hours seemed to melt away. In the recording studio, shut off from the outside world, I lost track of time. I was in the groove. I mixed the vocals, guitar, drums, and bass into a masterpiece. When it was done, I was sure they had another chart-climbing hit. The verse was catchy, along with the beat. Their last album had gone platinum, and the follow-up was equally as impressive so far.
I had perfected three songs and was working on a fourth when I heard a vacuum running. Seriously? It’s so late that the cleaning crew is here? I turned around and saw the clock. It was almost ten. Yikes, Amber must be worried. I checked my cell and replied to a text she sent earlier. I found a good stopping point about an hour later. All right, I better lay off the caffeine tomorrow.
I walked home, and there was no sign of the dirty man. Thank God! Barely tired, I regretted having that second cup of coffee. When I got home, I immediately changed into pajamas and prepared some calming hot tea.
By one a.m., I couldn’t stop yawning. I drew a bubble bath to help continue winding down. I hummed the tune of one of the tracks I mixed as I sank into the soothing hot water. I played with the bubbles, a mindless activity meant to clear my head. Instead, I built a bubble castle, well sort of. I crushed it, plunging my hand into the tub. I closed my eyes and saw the sound equipment and computer program in my mind.
Ugh. Come on, Fiona, clear your mind! This sucks. My tired body won’t rest because the wheels in my head keep spinning.
I gripped the sides of the tub before standing to get out. My wrinkled fingers were a sign that I had made a solid effort to relax.
After I dressed in my bedroom, I stepped out into the hallway. I heard keys jiggling outside the door, and then Amber came in with some bags of food. I helped her by grabbing one that was about to drop.
“Thanks. I picked up a few things on the way home.”
“I can see that,” I said, putting the bag on the kitchen counter.
“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” Amber asked. She set her bags down.
“Too much coffee, and I stayed late to work on a project.”
“You should get to bed.”
“Yeah.” I yawned, setting the bread on top of the fridge. “You didn’t have to stop for groceries. It’s too late to be doing that sort of thing.”
“I kind of did. We only had a few items in the fridge and cabinets. What did you eat when I was gone?”
For several days, I hadn’t been eating well. My meals were fast food—the unhealthy kind, such as hot dogs, popcorn, or sandwiches from vendors. Between getting over Cam’s death—which seemed like a pipe dream—and working, food wasn’t on my mind.
Amber grimaced. “Careful, or you’ll waste away to nothing.” She put the milk in the fridge.
I shrugged. “I ate here and there.”
“In fact, it looks like you might have lost a pound or two”—she looked me up and down—“although I can’t imagine how. You didn’t have hardly any to lose.”
Amber was sweet to be concerned, but I didn’t want her to continue to worry. “I’m fine,” I reassured her. “I’m off to bed.”
The next day, I cut back my coffee to just one cup in the morning, even though my restless night of tossing and turning tempted me to double up in the morning. I got dressed and continued getting ready for work.
I looked at my outfit in the full-length mirror and saw my pants slipping down. Okay, maybe I have lost w
eight. I stepped on the scale. Damn, she’s right. I had lost eight pounds.
I found a belt and struggled to put it on. With one arm still in a cast, it wasn’t easy. When I finished, I walked around. My pants didn’t slip. I had my usual cereal bar and headed to work.
Later on, my coworker set a cup of coffee down by my table. She had gotten me a fresh cup every day since I came back to work with a cast.
“Thanks.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was cutting back today.
“Open or closed?” she asked, lingering by the doorway.
“Open for now.”
“Sure,” she said, starting to walk out of the recording area.
I swiveled around to get back to work.
Voices from behind whispered, “She’s pathetic… boyfriend… drugs… stayed late to do those tracks.”
When I turned around to see who was talking, they were gone. Generally, I got along with everyone. Would they really talk about me like that? Maybe they were gossiping about someone else.
I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I had dark circles underneath my eyes. Lack of sleep was a bitch. Every time I went to the restroom and looked in the mirror, my looks had declined due to another rough night. I pulled cover-up out of my purse and dabbed it on. It helped a little.
On the way back to my desk, I got a bottle of water out of the vending machine. I intended to finish it before I left for the day. Too much caffeine and not enough water didn’t help the dark circles under my eyes. I lost track of time as I worked, though, and only drank half the bottle.
On the way home, I was glad I’d worn my lightweight pants and comfortable cotton shirt. The summer heat in the city could be unbearable in the wrong outfit. Every now and then, a light breeze blew, but unfortunately, the warm air only gave a little relief to the heat. October couldn’t arrive soon enough, as far as I was concerned. I was over September.
Almost to my building, I saw that wretched drifter. His stubble had turned into a beard. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and tucked my chin to avoid the wind carrying his pungent odor any closer. My hands shook a little. Caffeine withdrawal had kicked in.
“I used to be like you,” he said, looking my way.
Don’t engage, Fiona, just keep walking.
“Too good to talk to the likes of me?” I heard from behind.
I quickened my pace and turned the corner. I reached the door of my apartment building. I fumbled with the keys to unlock the main door, but my quivering hands wouldn’t cooperate, and I dropped them.
I heard the sound of a cart being pushed, one that didn’t move right. He’s coming. Why is he picking on me? He appeared around the corner, but his horrid, deep cough caused him to stop and brace himself against the building.
My heart raced. Sweat dripped down my head, yet I was cold and clammy. The warm breeze somehow chilled me. He moved forward as the one cart wheel swiveled aimlessly.
I finally got the key into the lock.
“I always watch you people. I used to be just like you.”
I looked at him. “You are nothing like me. Nothing!” I went inside and locked the door.
I heard hysterical laughter outside and knew exactly who it was. I ran up the stairs so fast that I was winded when I reached the top. Huffing and puffing, I went inside and bolted the door. I plopped down on the couch. Putting my face in my hands, I began to sob.
Why is he doing this? Is he so bored living on the street that he has to harass the locals? How can he even think he’s just like me? Is he playing mind games?
Chapter 39
Amber
It had finally been a week. At noon, Gabe was supposed to meet me on the Brooklyn Bridge. I wondered whether he’d found it in his heart to accept that I was standing by my friends despite their connections. It was possible that I had ruined our chance at everlasting love by saying too much, too fast.
I tried to put my doubts out of my head and focus on getting ready. I pulled my hair up in a ponytail that cascaded down my left shoulder, and smiled at my reflection. I put lilac lotion on my fingers and lightly traced my long neck with them. Inhaling the floral scent, I closed my eyes.
For a second, I had a strong memory of Gabe’s soft lips raining kisses down my neck. On the brink of reaching my hard nipples with his tongue, he had stopped. My breath hitched. He looked up toward me, penetrating my soul with his smoldering eyes. “I could hold you in my arms and get lost in your scent all day,” he’d said, right before he crushed his mouth on top of mine.
I exhaled, opened my eyes, and came back to reality.
I felt tingling between my thighs. I slid the moist panties down. Damn, I’ll have to find another sexy pair to wear! I had bought the red lace ones for this occasion. Unfortunately, I only owned a few enticing panties. I raked my hands through my sloppy drawer until I found a black pair. Pulling them out and inspecting them, I approved of the level of hotness, with the black lace and how they would ride high up on my buttocks. They weren’t as alluring as the red ones, but they were a close second.
I pulled them on. Turning side to side while looking in the full-length mirror, I approved of the combo of my red lace bra and black lace underwear. God, I hope Gabe gets to see this.
I put on a tight tank top. The deep red color complimented my auburn locks. I gazed into the mirror and ran my hands down my sides, admiring my slender figure and perky breasts. I pulled on a pair of black pants. I turned slightly, and my reflection showed how well the denim hugged my perky butt. I looked good, damn good. So good that Gabe wouldn’t be able to resist me. I bit my lower lip and thought of how my body melted into his whenever we kissed.
Even though our love was still new and exciting, I could imagine being with him for a long time. There was something about the way he moved, the way he listened to me, and especially the way he treated me. He was the one. I knew it through and through.
I took a cab to the bridge. Since it was nearly noon, I shoved my money at the driver and bolted out. I headed toward the walkway. Looking down at my watch, I saw that I had almost no chance of being on time. I sighed deeply as I increased my stride.
Up ahead, a crowd cheered as they swarmed around the walkway, nearly blocking me. The family had blue shirts with the word “Henderson” on the back. Why are they just standing there and not moving? Shit, don’t move to that spot, kid. The tall kid filled the remaining space to pass them. He stood, talking loudly. I approached them a second later.
The kid’s back faced me. I tapped him on his shoulder and yelled over their laughter, “Excuse me.”
He didn’t budge. My blood boiled from him being rude—all of them were. A man came from behind and squeezed past the crowd as he nudged the kid over with his right shoulder. Exhaling, I immediately followed. If he could manage the unbearable crowds of tourists, so could I. I mimicked his moves, staying close to him. We darted around numerous groups with ease.
The wind whipped my ponytail around my neck. My curls pricked my collar like tiny needles. A constant whooshing sound from the cars driving below muffled the clip-clop of my shoes hitting the wood planks.
I saw the Manhattan tower ahead. Gabe would be at the Brooklyn one. I glanced at my watch.
Damn. I’m late.
My heart raced as I tried to speed walk and keep up with the man on a mission, but he disappeared as the sea of people engulfed him. Shit! I’m going to have to make it through the crowd without him leading the way.
Sweat trickled down my forehead. I wiped it away with the back of my hand. As I struggled to make it through the never-ending stream of people, the drum beat of my heart pounded louder. So much for smelling like flowers. Now I am going to smell like I just got back from the gym. Ugh.
Eventually, I passed the Manhattan tower. Hold on, Gabe, I’m coming.
The closer I got to the meeting point, the more I feared losing Gabe. If my choice to stick by my friends despite their shady relationships led to the ending of Gabe and me, I would feel as
though the city had won—as though it had beaten me.
The city seemed to have a personality, the kind that I either loved or hated. Sometimes, I swayed back and forth between love and hate. I loved the vibrant energy of the city. I hated that it took a lot of resources just to survive. Most of all, I hated the people who lived or worked in the city and had infected my life with their wicked ways by manipulating my friends and driving a wedge between Gabe and me.
Will I lose Gabe forever? I couldn’t breathe. Losing him would be like losing the warmth of the sun and living in cold darkness. My jaw went slack, and I couldn’t exhale for a second. Gabe stood for everything good. He was my only bright spot, shining a light of hope in a city where evil had terrorized my friends. Finally, I exhaled. I closed my dry mouth and swallowed, trying to push down the lump that had crept up in my throat. It didn’t budge.
I increased my pace, trying to get there faster, but the people on the bridge made it difficult. I was only halfway to the next tower, where Gabe could be. I thought of texting him, but it would just slow me down. There was no chance of jogging. I could use the bicycle lane, but that would be crazy. For a second, a woman looked down at her cell phone as she crossed over into the bike lane. I held my breath as a cyclist approached her going fairly fast. The man on the bike rang his bell. She sidestepped just in time to avoid getting hit. Damn, too close.
Minutes went by. My feet couldn’t move fast enough. Will he leave before I can reach him? Luckily, the crowd started to thin out, and I could walk faster. I finally got there. I turned the corner and went around the tower, holding my breath and waiting to see if Gabe was there.
The love of my life stood in front of me, looking out at the east river. I let out a big breath to release all of my pent-up tension. He came. His sandy-brown hair had a soft glow from the warm afternoon sun. He wore black dress pants, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a red tie. Biting my lower lip, I imaged undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his abs. He held a bouquet of red roses. As though he was in a trance, he pulled the petals off of one of them. He watched as they cascaded to the ground one by one. Tears filled his eyes.