If Wishing Made It So

by Lucy Finn

  ‘‘No.’’

  Jake snorted at that. Quick as a striking snake, he reached over, grabbed Mike’s hand, and turned it palm up.

  Mike gave him a puzzled look.

  Jake dropped another pinch of salt into the upturned palm.

  ‘‘Son,’’ he said, ‘‘you don’t know shit about women. I suggest you toss this back and get Lady Luck on your side. You’re going to need all the help you can get.’’

  Chapter 15

  Mike Amante had heard the old joke, ‘‘Why are New Yorkers so depressed? Because the light at the end of the tunnel is New Jersey.’’ He knew people sneered and called the Garden State the armpit of America. He couldn’t deny that the industrial North Jersey landscape along Route 1-9 looked bombed-out, gray, ruined, stark, and bleak. And it was true that the landfills next to the turn-pike sometimes caught on fire.

  But Mike had fallen in love with the Jersey shore. He intended to move there. He’d looked at a couple of houses in Margate and Avalon a month ago. He just hadn’t gotten around to telling Kiki that yet, in the same way he had avoided telling her he had decided to quit real estate and go into the detective business with Jake in Atlantic City, or AC as the natives called it.

  But Camden did not rank on his list of favorite New Jersey cities. In recent years it had taken over top honors from Detroit for having the nation’s highest crime rate. It had become the new Murder City. Not surprisingly, Marty Biz called it home.

  Mike and Jake decided to split up the surveillance of Marty into six-hour shifts each. If nothing panned out in two days or so, they’d come up with a plan B. They kicked around some ideas before Jake got in his white, five-year-old Ford Taurus to make the forty-minute drive to Camden.

  ‘‘Another thing, Mike,’’ Jake said. ‘‘A hundred-thousand-dollar Mercedes Roadster isn’t going to blend in real well in Marty’s neighborhood. Maybe you better rent a car or something.’’

  ‘‘It cost more like a hundred and fifty thousand. And I was thinking the same thing. I’m going to garage the Mercedes for a while and go buy something more practical.’’ Mike thought for a moment. ‘‘A Toyota Prius maybe.’’

  Jake shrugged. ‘‘Yeah, sure. But a Camry might work out better. More common, but it’s up to you. Let’s see.’’ He glanced over at the dashboard clock. ‘‘It’s getting close to eleven now. I’ll grab some lunch to take with me and still get there around noon. You show up to take over around what, six?’’

  ‘‘Right. I’ll phone you when I’m on my way.’’ Mike thumped the top of the Taurus a few times with his hand and Jake drove off. His adrenaline was pumping. If it weren’t for being miserable, he’d be a happy man.

  Tony G. ‘‘cleaned up well,’’ as they say. Hildy tried to view him objectively. Nothing could be done about the broken nose and smashed cheekbone. Yet, now that he was dressed in his designer clothes, his rugged face gave him an undeniable masculinity that the sockless Italian loafers and ivory silk shirt couldn’t undermine.

  She had to admit he turned heads. A pert, pretty, and very buxom green-eyed blonde, who had been standing behind them on the up escalator inside the hotel, had actually slipped a piece of paper with her name and room number into the pocket of his Versace sports coat.

  Hildy, noticing the incident, had reached into Tony’s pocket and handed it back to the embarrassedwoman. ‘‘You seem to have dropped this,’’ she said coolly. She prayed she could be as self-possessed when The Plan went into play. She checked her watch. Eleven o’clock. It was all about to begin.

  Not entirely by accident, Tony G., with Hildy’s hand resting lightly inside the crook of his arm, exited from Caesar’s onto the boardwalk at exactly the same time Mike was jogging up the boardwalk from the direction of Jake’s office.

  Hildy spotted Mike when he was still a hundred yards away. Her heart began to race. She knew the way he ran; she had seen him hundreds of times on the football field. As a woman in love, she would have recognized his build, his posture, and the color of his hair even if he had been in the middle of a crowd in Yankee Stadium.

  When the distance between them closed, Mike looked right at Hildy and broke into a small smile before quickly and politely averting his eyes. There hadn’t been a glimmer of recognition in his face. He had seen and noticed a pretty woman, but he didn’t know who she was.

  Hildy felt poleaxed. He didn’t know her? Her temper soared into the absolutely, positively furious zone.

  Then, as he was about to jog past, Mike suddenly stopped running. He turned. He narrowed his eyes. He cocked his head. ‘‘Hildy? Hildy!’’ The name burst from his lips, a word that captured all the wonder and perplexity he felt. Joy leaped up as he beheld her. He was a man transfixed.

  Hildy went still as a statue. Their eyes locked. The rest of the world disappeared.

  Mike uttered her name again. ‘‘Hildy? Is it really you?’’ He couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Hildy had always been an adorable girl. This—this was a woman whose beauty took his breath away.

  Even though Hildy had hoped to keep rein on her emotions, a bolt of desire like a lightning strike hit her full force. Her eyes softened. Her passion flared. Her determination to be silent, to turn away, wavered. She would have answered, speaking Michael’s name like a plea, like a prayer, but she didn’t get the chance.

  Tony G. had stepped between them, breaking the spell, and put out his hand.

  ‘‘I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure,’’ he said, his Italian accent making each word sensual and so European.

  Mike noticed Tony G. for the first time. Shock replaced the wonderment on his face. He automatically took the offered hand and shook it. ‘‘I’m … I’m Michael Amante. Who are you?’’

  Tony G. gave a little bow. ‘‘I am Count Carmello Arigento. So, how do you know the enchanting Ms. Caldwell?’’

  Mike’s eyes returned to Hildy; he couldn’t look away. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone in his entire life.

  ‘‘You didn’t answer the count’s question, Mike,’’ she said, remembering as per The Plan to put ice in her voice.

  ‘‘Huh? Oh.’’ He looked at this Count Arigento who was clearly waiting for his response. He couldn’t figure out what the man was doing with Hildy. He looked far too old for her. He didn’t look her type. Anyway, she wasn’t supposed to be seeing anyone, according to George Ide.

  Mike frowned. He growled at the stranger, ‘‘Hildy and I went to high school together. And how do you know her?’’ He thrust his chin out at Tony G. and puffed up his chest.

  Tony’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he answered in mellifluous tones. ‘‘How? I know her with my eyes, my lips, my touch, my every sense, for she delights them all. But you perhaps mean how are we acquainted?’’

  Mike had to restrain himself from taking a swing at this arrogant ass’s already flattened nose. ‘‘Yeah, how are you acquainted with Ms. Caldwell?’’

  ‘‘I am a business associate of her brother-in-law. I had the honor of escorting Ms. Caldwell in Rome when she visited earlier this year. She has generously agreed to return the favor now that I am in America, yes?’’ He turned and gave Hildy an adoring gaze.

  Mike gazed at Hildy too. He wondered why he had never realized she could look so elegant, so sophisticated, so incredibly sexy. It must be her clothes. Outside of the senior prom, he had never seen her this dressed up. And this was no white chiffon prom dress with a corsage pinned on it. This woman was dazzling. She could be on a magazine cover.

  His spirits plummeted. How could he have not seen it before? He was such a fool, such a frigging loser. This angel had been his. Just last night she said she loved him, that she had never stopped loving him. Now she probably hated him.

  He kept staring at her. He couldn’t help himself. Hildy’s face revealed nothing of what she was thinking, but something in her eyes when she first saw him had given him hope.

  At that moment, Hildy reached out h
er hand and touched the count’s cheek lightly with her fingertips. All of Mike’s hopes vanished and were replaced by an ice pick sticking in his heart.

  ‘‘Carmello has always been a delight. I have such wonderful memories of the eternal city because of his kindness,’’ she cooed.

  Mike suddenly saw the world through a red haze of impotent rage. He wondered just what had happenedin Rome to make ‘such wonderful memories. ’ He knew Hildy never slept with the guy, that was some small comfort. But what did happen between them?

  ‘‘I am such a lucky man to have a beautiful woman such as Ms. Caldwell willing to spend time with me,’’ Tony G. responded, again beholding Hildy as reverently as if she were the Mona Lisa. ‘‘I am hoping she will consent to let me be more than just an occasional visitor in her life.’’

  Mike’s nostrils flared. He thought his head was going to explode. His hands tightened into fists. What a line this guy was handing her. Mike felt he had to say something. He started to speak, but before the words left his mouth he heard an all-too-familiar shriek from somewhere behind him.

  ‘‘MICHAEL! MIIIII-CHAEL! Here you are! I’ve been searching the entire boardwalk for you. I’m putting together the guest list.’’ Kiki bore down on the three of them from the direction of Trump Plaza, descending like a B-1 bomber in a dive, a piece of notepaper waving in her outstretched hand.

  Kiki stopped in front of the trio and pulled off her sunglasses. She looked at Tony G. with interest. She glanced quickly at Hildy. She clearly didn’t recognize her as the same girl who had sat soaked and bedraggled on the beach the day before. She returned her gaze to Tony. She batted her eyelashes at him, coquettishly. She held out her slender fingers in his direction and gushed. ‘‘Oh, are you a friend of Michael’s?’’

  Tony G. brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them while holding her eyes with his own baby blues. ‘‘Count Carmello Arigento. I’m a friend of a friend, you might say. And you are?’’

  Hildy’s voice broke into the tête-à-tête. ‘‘Count, you are holding the hand of Kiki, the famous photographer.She’s Michael’s fiancée.’’ She looked directly at Michael with eyes of steel as she uttered the hateful word. He looked stricken.

  ‘‘I must congratulate you both.’’ Tony G. dropped Kiki’s hand and clapped Michael on the shoulder. He exuded goodwill. Then he moved next to Hildy and put his arm possessively around her.

  Mike stiffened when Tony G. made the move. He watched with horror as Tony’s fingers lightly massaged Hildy’s upper arm. He wanted to murder this guy.

  ‘‘And I just had the most wonderful idea,’’ Tony said, all smiles. ‘‘Why don’t you two join us for dinner tonight? Perhaps I could convince Kiki to fly to Rome and photograph my villa. I have George Clooney coming to visit in August.’’

  ‘‘Sorry, I’m busy,’’ Michael snapped.

  Kiki wound her slender, tanned arm through Michael’s and overrode his refusal. ‘‘Darling, it would be lovely. We should go.’’

  Michael didn’t even look at Kiki. All he wanted to do was tear Hildy out from under this guy’s hands. He glowered. ‘‘I have to work. You go if you want to.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps you can join us for drinks afterward, sweetheart,’’ Kiki pleaded. ‘‘What time will you be done?’’

  ‘‘Late. Too late.’’ The words tore at his heart. What if it were too late? What if he had lost Hildy? Maybe she’d sleep with this count just because Mike had hurt her. The thought was unbearable. He needed to get out of here. Hildy wasn’t even looking at him now. She was whispering something in the count’s ear. Michael couldn’t stand to watch any more of this.

  Tony G. spoke up. ‘‘It’s settled then. We will meet Kiki at nine, at Mía’s, that lovely restaurant off the main lobby in Caesar’s. With a little luck, Mr. Amante will be able to join us for dessert and drinks. Somehow I believe he’ll be able to be there.’’ He winked.

  Michael thought there was something strange about Count Arigento. He couldn’t figure it out, but something was off. One thing he was sure of though—this guy was the most arrogant son of a bitch he’d ever met.

  Chapter 16

  A man sorely troubled in mind and spirit needs a diversion. Mike, shaking Kiki loose from his arm, told her he’d catch up with her later. Not bothering to change out of his running shorts, he jogged off the boardwalk to the nearest car rental kiosk. He quickly arranged for a weekly rental on a bronze-colored Ford Fusion that came with a radio/CD player and an air conditioner but not much more. He got in and drove it directly to a Toyota dealer.

  When he pulled into the new car lot, the sun was beating down furiously on the black asphalt, making the air shimmer above the softening surface. A smiling salesman, the armpits of his dress shirt soaked in sweat, hurried over to Mike the moment he emerged from the Fusion.

  The heat clutched at Mike with sweaty hands. He felt surly. He barely nodded at the salesman, then followed him over to a demo car sitting on the lot.

  Mike wasn’t sure why he was looking at a Prius anyway. He pretty much hated the styling of the economy car in front of him, which the salesman quickly informed him was painted in the latest color, something girly called Driftwood Pearl.

  But when the salesman opened the car’s hood and gave the spiel about ‘‘synergy drive,’’ Mike forgotto be in a bad mood. Always a car enthusiast, he found himself fascinated—especially when he discovered the engines were placed under the body of the car, not under the hood. He also thought an average of forty-six miles per gallon sounded damned good, especially if he had to start budgeting his funds in the near future.

  His spirits improved by the minute. He got in the small automobile and inhaled that new-car smell. The salesman handed him the keys, and Mike drove off the lot in the direction of the Atlantic City Expressway, where he zipped along at sixty miles an hour for a while.

  He played with the JBL six-disc in-the-dash CD changer with nine speakers in seven locations. He turned up the bass when he popped in the Bruce Springsteen album he found on the passenger seat and started singing loudly along with the CD about being born in a small town. He felt duly impressed by the Bluetooth phone in the steering wheel, the GPS system, the sunroof, the heated mirrors, and the leather interior. He felt a rush of happiness.

  Women shopped to feel better. Guys went to look at new cars.

  By the time Mike got back to the dealer, he really wanted a Prius, preferably in metallic Barcelona red. However, he ordered one in magnetic gray metallic with a dark gray interior, which was a lot more practical for surveillance work. He added every option available, and the price still totaled less than a sixth of what he paid for his Mercedes.

  Mike started whistling. He thought about the look on Hildy’s face when she saw what he had bought. He fantasized about selling his Mercedes and buying her a Prius too. He’d get her the red one for sure. He’d still have money left to make a down payment on a house for them near the ocean, maybe one right on that street they had walked down together last night after the pizza at the Dark Star Café.

  At that moment, a cloud passed over his sunny outlook. It was stupid for him to think about buying a house with Hildy or showing her his car. The only thing he had to look forward to was seeing Kiki’s face when she saw what he had purchased. She’d be apoplectic. She’d probably refuse to ride in it.

  By the time Mike signed all the papers, it was late in the afternoon. He had just enough time to get back to the hotel room and change before he headed to Camden to relieve Jake. His partner had called a couple of times, mostly out of boredom. Nobody had shown up at Marty’s home, but Jake spotted Marty when he came out to pick up the mail and yell at some kids who were throwing firecrackers in the street.

  Once he was inside the hotel room, Mike discovered Kiki was absent. According to a note she left, she had an appointment with a florist to decide on the bridal flowers. He had another bout of heart-burn when he read that and reached for the roll of Tums.

  He tried to contac
t Hildy as soon as he retrieved his cell phone. She still wasn’t answering his calls. He felt frustrated. He wanted to hear her voice. Even that wasn’t enough. He wanted to see her dimples when she smiled.

  As he headed out the door, he made a decision. He would try to get back to that dinner tonight, just as soon as Marty Biz went to bed. He had to see Hildy, he just had to. Maybe he could figure out a way to get her alone for a couple of minutes.

  ‘‘Is this really necessary?’’ Hildy asked unhappily, finding herself in a spacious hotel room in Caesar’s, arranged partly by Tony’s charm but mostly by a touch of magic. Her complaint came when Tony threw another handful of golden sparkles at her, and she had found herself dressed in an entirely new outfit.

  ‘‘I don’t think Mike really noticed what I was wearing,’’ she murmured as she stared at herself in the mirror.

  The genie stood there, his fingers holding his chin, evaluating Hildy’s outfit like fashion guru Tim Gunn looking at a style-challenged housewife on the Bravo channel. ‘‘He noticed. Trust me, he noticed. You’re just upset because you’re showing a little cleavage.’’

  ‘‘A little cleavage! This off-the-shoulder neckline exposes everything but my nipples. I can’t wear this!’’ She turned around so she could see the back of the sleek black dress with its filmy accents of gold gauze.

  ‘‘You are exaggerating. Your breasts are completely covered, or nearly completely covered anyway. The dress is perfect, another of Donna Karan’s new collection. It’s daring but obviously couture. You look like a million dollars.’’

  ‘‘But I don’t look like I always have. I don’t look like myself!’’ she wailed.

  Tony G. offered no sympathy, just a sobering dose of truth. ‘‘Ms. Caldwell, you are not the same person you were two days ago. You have received, if I may be blunt, carnal knowledge, so like Eve after eating the apple, you are no longer a naive child. You have discovered that your belief system, one that did not allow for genies or magic, was totally in error. And you have gotten a glimpse of evil. You have emerged from the cocoon of your former, not very worldly, self. Who you choose to be will be up to you. But it will not be the same person you were.’’