by Roy, Niecey
Waiting for Richard to return was as uncomfortable as one might imagine with Catherine glaring at the front door as well as anyone who walked past us to go inside. A couple of scruffy-looking guys about my age with backwards caps and patchy facial hair slowed to check us out, but Catherine’s withering glare sent them inside without a word.
I tried not to imagine a pregnant Catherine doing major damage to a home-wrecker, but the problem with that was I knew if Catherine wanted to, she could probably beat the crap out of someone. She’d never been one to be pushed around. Catherine had always done the pushing. If it weren’t for the situation we were in, I might have smiled.
Four long minutes later, Richard appeared
“Jeez, you took long enough,” Lexie said with one hand propped up on a skirted-hip.
“It’s called covert surveillance,” Richard said with his chest puffed out.
Catherine yanked the door open. “Can we go in?”
“They’re at a table in the corner. There’s a second floor. Just go up the stairs and we’ll have a clear view of your man and his—”
“Let’s go!” I said before Richard said something that would earn him a black eye. I stepped inside and looked around. It definitely was a strip club, one of those topless ones where the women wore a thin string down below to barely cover anything and left nothing to the imagination.
I started for the stairs, but Catherine shot around me and made a bee-line through the middle of the room, straight for Tony and his girl in the corner. I had no choice but to weave around the tables after her. A hip-hop, bump and grind song blared from the stereo and two women on stage did some very bendy moves on the stripper poles while the men scattered around the room and those sitting around the stage leered and whistled. My skin crawled and in the back of my mind, I wondered how they could sit around and eat beer-battered appetizers and hot wings with a woman’s crotch in their face.
“This is disgusting,” Lexie mumbled behind me. I reached back blindly and she took my hand.
I didn’t know how Tony hadn’t spotted us. Catherine took a table near him and the woman sitting in the corner booth. A large post shooting from the ground to the ceiling obstructed my view and I sat her down next to the beam so she wouldn’t stand out. As if we didn’t already. The curve of Tony’s booth kept us hidden from his sight now that we were all seated, but if I leaned forward and craned my neck, I had a perfect view of him.
“I wonder if they’ve got good wings here.” Richard plucked a menu out of the rack that stood against the beam. Shaking my head, I slashed my hand in front of my neck and he set the menu down.
“I’m a little hungry, too,” Lexie whispered in my ear. “But I am not eating in this dive.”
“If you’d eat more than a granola bar all day, you wouldn’t be starving. A sign on the wall illuminated by a black light displayed neon pink lettering boasting twenty-five cent wing night and dollar pitchers. “We’ll eat once this is over.”
“She is out of control.” Lexie slouched in her chair and tried to look inconspicuous. Too late—we’d already caught the attention of a table of business men. Creeps.
The music changed and Joe Walsh’s “Life’s Been Good To Me” came on. Intermission. The leering customers didn’t seem to mind since there was no shortage of scantily clad women making their way from table to table, smiling for tips and shaking it in hopes of being asked to give a lap dance. I assumed, anyway.
Catherine leaned forward as far as her baby belly would let her, and peeked at her husband. To no one in particular, she said, “This is a real nice shit-hole to take a date. She must be trashy.”
“Maybe she’s a stripper,” Richard suggested and I was glad he was across the table, just out of Catherine’s reach.
I pulled Catherine back. “Sit. You’re going to get us caught.”
But then I leaned forward to take a peek because my curiosity was on overdrive. Tony and the brunette sat closer together than I would have liked, but there still didn’t seem anything intimate about their posture.
“What are they doing?” Catherine asked, her right leg bouncing under the table.
“They’re not doing anything but eating, looks like,” Richard said.
“What are they eating?” Catherine drummed her fingers against the table.
“Wings and cheese sticks,” Richard said.
“That bastard,” Catherine ground out through clenched teeth. I didn’t see the significance; Tony always ate wings and cheese sticks. “Is he touching her?”
Richard shook his head. “Nope. Oh, here’s the waitress. You guys sure you don’t want wings?”
“It does sound good,” I said, wondering if the health department ever dropped in to a place like this.
“We didn’t come here to eat,” Catherine snapped.
“Drinks then,” Lexie said. The waitress stopped at the table and Lexie said, “We’ll take six shots of tequila and an iced tea.”
The waitress glanced at Catherine’s belly and nodded. When she was gone, Catherine stood and leaned to look around the beam. “They’re sitting close, don’t you think?”
Richard fidgeted under Catherine’s penetrating stare.
“Uh, not really. A little.” Noticing the anger rising in Catherine’s eyes, Richard quickly added. “But they’re in a corner booth. They really don’t have a choice.”
Catherine relaxed. Just a little.
The waitress appeared with the shots and I had mine down within seconds and sucked on a wedge of lime like this was the last time I’d ever taste one. And it might be. I was still worried about us making it out to the vehicle alive.
Over the next ten minutes we spied on Tony and the woman stuff fried-food into their faces. I prayed Catherine couldn’t hear my stomach growling over the sound of stripper music; I didn’t want a reason for her to yell at me. She was so keyed-up that her fingers dancing quickly over the tabletop. On any other day I might have covered her hand and told her to calm down, but she wasn’t in the mood to be soothed.
In those ten minutes, I concentrated on Tony who seemed to be paying close attention to two men across the room sitting at a table on the other side of a pool table. One man wore a ball cap pulled low, a dark blue t-shirt with writing on it I couldn’t read. The shirt was tight over his beer belly and a pair of white sneakers peeked out from under the table. The man across from him was dressed more conservatively in a pair of dark jeans paired with a green and tan plaid long-sleeved button-up shirt. He wore his ink black hair slicked back, and in the last five minutes he had fingered the ends of his dark mustache about twenty times.
I had my suspicions and I didn’t like where my imagination had taken me, but given Tony’s line of work, it wasn’t a far cry to think our little ragtag crew was witnessing some kind of stakeout. Probably ruining months of police investigation. When Catherine stood abruptly and announced she was going to the bathroom and disappeared, I nudged Richard’s shoe under the table and he looked up from his phone.
Leaning over the table, I whispered, “I think they’re on the job. Tony’s a plain-clothes detective.”
Richard got a deer-in-the-headlights look and jerked his head to face Tony and the woman. “Oh shit. I can’t get arrested for ruining a police investigation; I’ll get fired. Oh man, oh, this is not good. Britney is going to dump me.”
“She won’t dump you,” I promised, though I had no right to promise anything I couldn’t control. “I’m sure she’ll understand. Just tell her I dragged you into this.”
“With my ex-girlfriend? She’ll kill me!”
“Richard, I’m not your—”
“It’ll be fine. Let’s just get Catherine out of here and go,” Lexie suggested. “We can meet her at the bathroom and tell her this is police business and maybe she’ll drop this cheating thing for good.”
But we didn’t have a chance to do any such thing. A flash of blonde whirled past the table and I stood to watch Catherine stomp-walking in Tony’s direction.
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“Oh no,” Lexie said.
The tiny little nerve endings throughout my body went haywire and it was almost as if time stopped and the rest of the scene played in mute. I felt like my body was on slow-mo as I followed behind, but I never caught up to Catherine until she stood fuming in front of Tony’s table. The woman peered up at Catherine, a confused expression on her face as she glanced at Tony, then at the table of men across the room.
In one swift motion, Catherine picked up Tony’s soda and threw the liquid in Tony’s face, a lot of it splattering on the woman beside him, whose jaw dropped in surprise. Catherine threw the plastic cup at the woman, hitting her in the forehead, then reached across the table and slapped Tony across the face. Hard. The woman scooted away from Tony and clutched her forehead.
“You miserable, cheating, no-good prick! You better find a good attorney because I’m going to make you wish you were dead!” Catherine raised her chin and spun around and stomped off in the direction we’d come from.
I exhaled a heavy breath and realized I’d been holding it in. Tony looked like he’d been hit by a truck, a petrified glint to his eyes, but I didn’t have time to ask questions. I was afraid of what Catherine might do next or who she might physically assault on the way out of the bar. I turned and bumped into Lexie, who bumped into Richard, as we hurried after Catherine.
I barely cleared the door before Tony flew past me at a run.
“Cat, baby, wait!” Panic tipped his words and when Catherine walked around the bar, he cursed and ran after her.
I could hear her from where I stood frozen on the sidewalk. “Don’t you touch me, you bastard!”
I cringed and Lexie took my hand. We walked slowly to the side of the bar and peeked around the corner. Tony had her stopped a yard away, his hand on her forearm.
“Honey, it’s not what you think! I swear! Please. She’s not my girlfriend. I would never, ever cheat on you, I swear to God. Please.” Tony’s plea got Catherine to pause for only a second before she shook her head once in finality.
“Tell it to your attorney.”
A hand clasped my shoulder from behind and I turned. It was the woman who had been sitting with Tony. The sleeve of her shirt was wet from the soda Catherine had thrown.
“I’m just his partner,” the woman said.
“I know. I’m sorry. I hope we didn’t ruin anything.” I glanced at the door, fearful the two men inside might walk out and catch us.
“It’s okay. We’re supposed to look like a couple. I think she might have convinced everyone in the room we are, just not the way we’d been going for.” She smiled sheepishly and shook her head. “Tony said she was a tough one, but I had no idea. I hope he never pisses her off—again. But we better move to the side of the bar.”
We were all nervous to get any closer to Tony and Catherine, but when we rounded the corner, they were whispering, which was a good sign. Then Catherine’s shoulders began to shake. Tony pulled her into his arms to soothe her as best he could with her bulging belly between them.
“I hope we can do something like this next weekend.” Richard nodded at the woman cop and posed with his hand on his hip. “I’m the highest rank in my clan with covert operations.”
“Your clan? Are you in a gang?” she asked and narrowed her eyes at him.
“What? No!” he sputtered. He looked to me for help.
“Richard is going to be a professional video game player.” I patted him on the back. “He’s very good at it.”
“Right. Of course.” She stepped away and put a cell phone to her ear. “Excuse me. I need to call this in.”
Lexie tugged on my shirt. “Let’s get out of here. Those guys over there are freaking me out.”
Two thugged-out teenagers leaned against a building across the street, watching us.
“Head to the car,” I said. “I’ll get Cat and Tony.”
Tony left with us after a brief conversation with his partner. He and Catherine sat in the very back, and were all over each other kissing and vowing their eternal love the entire drive to Richard’s house. The atmosphere inside the vehicle could only be described as relief. Relief we hadn’t gotten shot, relief Tony was the guy we’d all known him to be, relief we hadn’t blown their cover and ruined what Tony said was a year-long investigation.
“I think I need a chick flick and a tub of popcorn,” I looked back at Lexie sitting alone in the second row of seats.
“And sweat pants and ice cream.” She smiled. “I could use a girl’s night.”
After the excitement of the afternoon, I’d need a gallon of ice cream to calm my nerves. “Maybe you can tell me what’s bothering you and why you’re not answering Jeremy’s phone calls.”
“You noticed?” She frowned.
“All afternoon.” I reached back and squeezed her hand. “You know I’m here for you whenever you need me.”
Richard pulled into his parents’ driveway. “Man, that was fun.”
I didn’t think there was any point in arguing with him so I handed him his binoculars and smiled. We all climbed out and Tony led Catherine away to their van parked at the curb in front of Richard’s house.
“I can’t wait to tell the guys I was in a strip bar spying on a cop,” Richard said. “Man, Britney’s gonna think I’m badass.”
“Let this be a lesson for you,” I told Richard. “Pregnancy hormones are dangerous. Use a condom.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I just think you should talk to him about all this before it gets any worse,” Catherine insisted as she dabbed the bridge of her nose with makeup powder. “Do you guys think it’s hot in here? I swear, I’m sweating like a pig.”
We were holed up in the parlor on the opposite end of the banquet hall at Weeping Willow Country Club on the outskirts of Lincoln. The decorating was nearly completed after three intense hours of the Gorecki women facing off with the Buchanan women. Mom had wanted us to do it all ourselves, but that’s Mom; at her prime in the midst of chaos. A trait derived from years of reining in grade school kids.
Deborah Buchanan, however, was good at giving orders, too. She wasn’t backing down. She’d come in with her loud voice and a professional decorator and wedding planner at her side, while Mom sputtered, her face turning increasing shades of red. It was World War III out there and us girls were in hiding. Catherine had tried to drag Mom out with us, but she wouldn’t budge, not with Demon-in-Chanel out there trying to run the show.
I was happy to be out of the crossfire for a little bit.
Lexie was a nervous wreck, practicing the deep-breathing technique, even though it never seemed to help any of us. Her flushed complexion and tapping fingernails on the granite counter was proof Lexie needed a new technique, something with more structure.
I sat up tall in the plush rose chair and said, “Catherine, show Lexie how to do Lamaze breathing.”
Catherine glanced over at Lexie. “Lamaze really does help.”
“Lamaze helps push a baby out of your vagina, not with this!” Lexie snapped, her voice on the edge of a shriek.
“Okay then,” I said and slouched back into the chair. I took in Catherine’s annoyed expression and said, “Don’t even try to reason with her. She’s out of it.”
“I can’t handle this anymore. Jeremy is out of control. He told me to leave it alone.” She wrung her hands together. “Leave it alone? Do you see the way Deborah has been treating Mom? I am so pissed right now.”
The unspoken words were that Deborah also treated Lexie the same way. We’d all seen it. What I wanted to do was take my twin and run. Lexie needed to be with someone who protected her, not with a mamma’s boy who stood by while his fiancé was talked down-to. Deborah was from The Lifestyles of the Rich and Snobby; to her, my family was nothing more than mice ruining the upholstery in her new Bentley parked outside, sideways in two slots so no one would put a dent in it.
“I was hoping I was just being paranoid about that.” I frowned and checked my phone
for a message from Matt. He was out at his dad’s farm, helping round up cattle that had escaped through a broken fence. The other day I’d made him put on a cowboy hat for me and I’d nearly been struck dumb by how insanely sexy he was in it. We hadn’t talked much for the next hour.
I pinched my lips together to keep from grinning like a fool.
“No, you weren’t,” Lexie huffed and then dropped into a chaise lounge. “She’s a snob; I’ve always known that, but I didn’t think she’d treat my parents the way she is. I’m seriously sick to my stomach.”
“I should punch her in the nose,” Catherine said, crossing her arms over her swollen belly.
“Tony would arrest me if I allowed you to punch anyone in the nose,” Lexie said, her face softening into a smile. I hadn’t seen her smile in days and no matter how much I pressed her to open up to me, she insisted she was fine. Lexie sighed. “Where’s Roxi at? She can punch Deborah and Tony wouldn’t arrest her for it.”
“No one is punching anybody,” I said. “And Rox won’t be here until tomorrow for the engagement party. She’s helping Leo out tonight.”
Lexie’s lips twitched at the mention of Leo, but I tactfully pretended I hadn’t noticed. She stood, her brow furrowed and her face strained with exhaustion. There were dark circles under her eyes. When was the last time she’d had a good night’s sleep?
Lexie sighed. “I better get back out there before someone gets hit with a hammer.”
Catherine stood up, not without difficulty, and went to push Lexie back into the lounge chair. “No. You need to rest a little bit. They will all be fine. And honestly, I can’t stand to hear Deborah’s shrill voice much longer. Let’s just stay here.”
Mom could handle herself—she was from a family of six girls. If she had to, she’d tackle Deborah and stuff a bouquet down her throat. I was more worried about Lexie having an anxiety attack. I went to sit next to her, taking a shaky hand in mine and began massaging. The stiffness in her shoulders eased. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair.