The Unforgettable Queen of Diamonds

by Nellie K Neves

  Between her disappointment and my broken heart, we’re quite the pair. Glad Hudson’s not around. His girlfriend Jill is the light of his life and both Vic and I agreed that we’re throwing him in the nearest trough the next time he starts gloating. Misery loves company and loathes his happiness.

  “He doesn’t get it,” Vic breezes back through the double doors with yet another plate, “it’s where the money is. These aren’t fly by night operations. It’s another form of independence from the social norm.”

  She moves to set the plate in front of me, but between all her other creations, there isn’t a square inch left. Vic frowns at me until I pick up a plate of deep fried something.

  “You need to eat.”

  “You need to stop cooking.” I pick up one of the balls and sniff it. “What is this?”

  “Deep fried mac and cheese. I thought they’d do well at the concerts.” She groans as if the next part will hurt. “In my booth, where the food gets cold, and I have to schlep back here to get refills like a snack bar attendant.”

  “You know dad’s going to hate this.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She sets her plate down in front of me. If I’m not mistaken it’s a homemade waffle cone stuffed with fried chicken bits. “He wants the regular, nachos with cheese from a pump and hotdogs boiled in old water.”

  I pop the fired bit in my mouth and instantly melt with it. “Oh my gosh,” I say without bothering to swallow. “This is amazing.”

  She smirks. “Just imagine if you ate it hot an hour ago when I brought it to you.”

  I set the plate on the file cabinet behind me. “I haven’t been hungry.”

  “I noticed.” She perches on the edge of my desk like this is about to be some counseling session.

  “Don’t start acting like you’re the nosey one. We both know that’s Hudson.”

  “I know my place, don’t you worry,” Victoria smiles, “but I am the one who’s been through her share of bad decisions, so if you want to talk about it, I’m around.”

  “Same goes for me, you know. Dad’s been getting to you. I can see it. Between his bad heart and your temper, I’m not sure who’s going to kill who.”

  Victoria snags a popcorn chicken from the cone and shrugs. “I’m planning on going crazy soon, feel free to join me.”

  “Join you? I’m already there.”

  She moves to the door and pops it open. The smell of the fryer and something sweet catches me by the nose.

  “You’re not crazy,” she says, hesitating in the doorway.

  “Oh no?”

  “No,” she steps through before she says, “you’re lovesick and won’t admit it, close but not crazy.”

  The door clicks shut before I can throw anything. She’s faster than Hudson, been around me too long, I suppose. But she’s wrong. To be lovesick, you’d have to be in love. To be in love, I’d have to know the person I’m in love with. Roman is fictional at best, like any dream too good to be true, once it’s over, he’s best forgotten. No way will reality ever live up to what I thought we had.

  ✽✽✽

  Roman

  It’s suicide.

  I know better.

  I turn the knob anyway.

  A flurry of smells accosts me as I step through the cottage door. The kitchen is a conglomerate of pots, pans, steam and smoke. Somewhere in the haze, Victoria pops up. Her mouth falls open in shock. I don’t know what Kennedy’s told her. For all I know, she’s more dangerous than half Dark Fox’s men. Her knife skills alone have me cautious.

  “What are you doing here?” Victoria lingers on the ‘you’ of it all, as if anyone else in the world would be welcome, but not me.

  “I wanted to see her,” I say.

  “She doesn’t want to see you.”

  The curtains are drawn over the glass double doors to her office. I don’t know if she’s there, or if I’m wasting my time.

  “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  “She’s doing just fine without you.”

  “Please,” I take a step toward the kitchen island, the same one where I thought of five ways to get to Kennedy, “I don’t know what she’s told you—”

  “Nothing,” Victoria says, picking up a knife. She lets it glide through a tomato with razor thin accuracy. “She hasn’t said anything, but I’ve known Kenny her whole life. I know when she’s hurting.”

  “I need to explain everything. If she had a chance to hear me out, maybe it’d be different.”

  “Maybe it’d be the same, except wounds would be reopened.”

  “Please,” I set my hands on the counter, “tell me where she is.”

  Victoria drops the slices into a bowl of batter. After a swish of her hand, she retrieves them and slides them into a fryer. “She’s our favorite, you know? Hudson, Dad, me, we all think she’s the best of us. Me, I cut out of this place as soon as I could. I could live here, but I like having my own space, and my own life. But Kenny, Kenny sticks it out. She took over management when dad’s heart started to give him trouble. She raised Hudson. She’s the mom around here, so you can’t expect me not to protect her a bit.” She hands me the fried tomato slice on a napkin. “Tell me why I should help you out.”

  I set the napkin on the counter. With all the courage I have left, I draw in a deep breath. All I have left is the truth.

  “Because I fell in love with her.”

  A slight twitch to her eyebrow is the only indication I have that I might have surprised her. She weighs it in her mind, presses her lips together, then yells, “Kenny, can you come here? I think I got the tartar sauce too spicy again.”

  She’s been here the whole time. Does she know I’m here? Is she coming? I can’t stop my racing mind. With sweaty hands, I run my fingers through my hair, and brush a palm over my unshaven face. Rick’s right, I probably do look like death.

  Sounds of movement come from beyond the door. The knob rattles. Soft strains of country music filter out as it cracks open, and then her voice.

  “Why are you asking me? You know I’m a wimp when it comes to spicy stuff.” She looks up, but all she sees is me.

  ✽✽✽

  Kennedy

  My breath catches in my throat.

  “Roman.” It’s my voice, but I know I didn’t issue the command to speak. I search out my betrayer, but Victoria is already switching off burners and wiping her hands.

  “You two should talk,” she says with a squeeze to my arm. Uncharacteristically, she pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “Give him a chance.”

  I watch her leave, fully aware of how alone I am, and the man she chose to leave me with. The door clicks shut. I can’t be this close to him. I walk to the opposite side of the island, only comfortable once I have a barrier.

  “So, talk,” I say.

  “I miss you,” Roman takes a step toward me, but I move back. His lips part as if it hurt him. “You haven’t missed me?”

  “I don’t know you,” I say, barely loud enough to be heard over the pots still simmering on the stove.

  “You know me, Kennedy. You just didn’t know everything.”

  “You used me.”

  “I followed orders.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  I wish he’d fight back, argue, so I could scream some obscenities and send him packing. The look of devastation on his face is more than I can bear. Mixed with the purple bruises on his left cheek and cut to his lip, I only want to pull him close and take care of him, but that would be a mistake.

  “Who are you? Really? Is Roman Palermo even your name?”

  “Yes,” he says. “I used my own name to go undercover this time. It’s been a nice change of pace.”

  “This time? This is normal for you then? The guns and fighting, and butterfly stitches?”

  He looks away, careful to try to hide the emotion and pain. “I go undercover sometimes. People tell you more when they don’t know you’re a federal agen
t. Normally, I stay behind the computer, but things got sticky.”

  “That’s why my brother thinks you’re an accountant.”

  “I told him exactly what I just told you. He drew that conclusion on his own.” Roman clears his throat. “I’ve tried not to lie, if possible.”

  “But this time, this sticky time, things changed?”

  “I’m a trained agent. I don’t like the field, but I can hold my own. Rick needed me out there.” Roman takes a step closer. “You needed me out there.”

  “You could have told me,” I stop myself, “or is this some, if you told me you’d have to kill me type situation?”

  “Nothing like that,” he’s quick to set me straight, “but being undercover, you keep it close to the chest.”

  “Was any of it real?”

  “All of it.” He moves to come around the island, but I reverse back, keeping the distance between us like some childhood game. He stops, begging me with his eyes to let him closer. “I’m going crazy, Kennedy. I miss you. Let me show you who I am.”

  I’ve never been a skeptic, but I can’t help it after what he’s put me through.

  “How on earth could you show me anything that would make me believe you?”

  “I want to show you a part of me even the FBI doesn’t have.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Roman.”

  His lips press into a straight line. “I want you to meet my parents.”

  Chapter 20

  Roman

  She wouldn’t ride in my car. Shouldn’t surprise me, I guess. Not after all the lies I’ve told. I’ve broken her trust, but if I have to crawl through fire or beg her for the rest of my life, I’ll do it.

  Kennedy steps out of her sedan. I stuff my hands in my pockets. I’ve never brought anyone home before. Even if I were buck naked in my parent’s driveway, I don’t think I’d feel any more vulnerable than I do right now. She wants to know who I am, then this is the best way.

  I reach for her hand, but she crosses her arms tight around her center. I stop her early. “My mom is gonna assume a lot by me bringing you here. I understand you need space, but I’m warning you that she’ll probably have a wedding planned before we leave.”

  Kennedy’s eyes narrow. “Why? Is that what she does when you bring girls home?”

  Can’t she see that she’s stripped me down to the bone? Yet, she still tries to cut me.

  “I’ve never brought anyone home. Not ever.”

  I jog up the steps, aware that Kennedy hasn’t moved an inch. Six seconds tick by before she falls in beside me. She won’t take my hand, but at least she’s near enough to feel her warmth.

  My mom’s footfalls pound out the seconds until she’ll pull open the door. I tack on one last word of caution. “They don’t know what I do for a living. They think I’m a bookkeeper for a law firm.”

  That same distrust billows up in her eyes, but I hope she’s also starting to see the way I’m trying to keep the people around me safe. The door pulls back and mom smiles ear to ear.

  “Roman! I wasn’t expecting you! What a delightful surprise!”

  “Hi, Ma,” I sink into her embrace, squelching the cries of pain from my aching joints. “We were in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop by.”

  Her eyes widen to disbelief. It’s only then that she notices Kennedy. Her hands clap over her mouth to trap in the squeal of delight. They explode out and wide, capturing Kennedy before she has a chance to say a word about it. They rock back and forth, locked in a tight embrace I can’t help but envy.

  “Oh,” she lets go of Kennedy long enough to squish her cheeks between her palms, “is she the one you were telling me about? Oh, I knew you’d find someone, Rome.”

  I set my hands on her arms, trying in many failed attempts to peel her from Kennedy. “Yeah, she’s the one, Ma, but maybe you can introduce yourself before you manhandle her anymore.”

  She slaps my arm with good-natured love. “Well, if you were a gentleman, you would have introduced her already.” Mom pushes the door wide. “Come in, come in. I’m Sylvia Palermo. Welcome to our home.”

  “Hi,” Kennedy’s voice is bashful and timid compared to my boisterous mother, “I’m Kennedy Cartwright.”

  “What a perfectly lovely name. Come right this way. I’ll put on the iced tea and grab the photo albums.”

  She hurries into the next room and Kennedy shoots me a worried glance.

  “Photo albums?”

  I shrug. “You wanted to know who I am. She’s the number one lady to tell you.”

  She starts to follow mom, but I set my hand to her lower back to lead her into the living room. I take heart that she doesn’t slap me this time.

  ✽✽✽

  Kennedy

  “Oh, here he is in the third-grade play. He was supposed to be part of the straw house, but we figured out early on he was allergic, so they put him as one of the brick house boys.”

  In the photo, a young Roman smiles from behind red paint smeared all over his face. I run a finger over the plastic protecting it. Strange to see him as a child. Before he became all about guns and protection and national security.

  “He sneezed so many times in rehearsal, the director swore he would make a better big bad wolf.” Sylvia points to the next picture, Roman still grinning but snot nosed and eyes red with allergies. “Poor kid. I think it kept him from a future in Hollywood.”

  I glance up at Roman from where I’m sitting with his mom on the couch. She points to another picture, but he smiles and my world spins. I don’t know where to draw the line in my new reality. Is he the guy with the gun, or the sweet kid I’m seeing in pictures, but all grown up? Is it possible to be both?

  “This was his awkward stage in high school. He had an awful time with acne, you see.”

  Roman rocks back in his chair, covering his face with his palms as I try not to laugh. He’s come a long way from those years. Even through the acne and crooked smile, I see what he holds inside. His heart shines through, and even mad at him, I can’t ignore it.

  “I think he’s still handsome,” I say, making eye contact with him. “His true character shows in his smile.”

  I don’t want to admit it, but sitting here, listening, looking at the pictures, it all shows me he’s exactly who I thought he was. But even if I did know him, what about the rest? His ability to lie? His career? His double life? Do I let it go, or do I walk away knowing what I stand to lose?

  “Oh, he is a good boy, you know.” She turns the page. “See this? When he was thirteen, he helped out at the local sanctuary for birds. Came home covered in bird droppings, but he loved helping out. Oh, and this one. He used to help the old man across the street by mowing his lawn every other week. Old Hugh always tried to pay him but Roman told him it was good practice.”

  My heart warms at the stories, but I struggle with how to put it together.

  “It’s been nice having him working at the law firm.” Sylvia turns another page. “He’s around so much more now. We don’t get to see his sister or brother that often. Roman is such a dear and tries to drop in a few times a week.”

  “I can tell he cares about you.”

  “That says a lot about a man, doesn’t it?” Sylvia winks. “A guy who takes care of his mother will always take care of you.”

  “It’s true,” Roman says.

  I don’t acknowledge him, but Sylvia plows on just the same. “He’s always been that way, overly protective, sacrificing for the greater good. Figured he be a cop or something, not a bookworm. Not to say I’m complaining. It’s nice not worrying about him. Except,” she looks up at him as if the thought just occurred to her, “what happened to your head this time?”

  Roman sets his drink to the side table and gives her a tight smile. “A box of books fell off a top shelf. My fault really.”

  She continues with her stories, but I watch Roman instead. He hates lying to her, but obviously she can’t handle the truth. As she said only moments before, he’
s protecting her, sacrificing what he wants for what she needs.

  “How’s dad doing today?” Roman’s question jars Sylvia from her story.

  “Oh, he’s okay, I think. Pretty coherent. I’m sure he’d love to meet Kennedy.”

  She stands and sets the album in my hands before she exits down the dim hallway. Roman rises and takes a few steps toward me, cautious for my reaction. When I give him none, he slides in where he’s mother was sitting.

  “Learn anything?”

  I chuckle a bit, looking at the picture of him in a tux with tails, no older than thirteen. “You’ve been playing the piano a long time it seems. I guess I thought it might be fake somehow, something they had you learn for your cover.”

  Roman waits a second before he says, “I’m the same guy you thought I was, but I can’t sign you to a label.” His touch tickles at the side of my face before he tucks my hair behind my ear. “If I could, I would.”

  Words hedge up in my throat, but before I can form a sentence, Sylvia beckons us from the end of the hall. Roman stands first and extends a hand to me. “Let me help you up. This couch eats people.”

  I take his invitation and let him pull me to my feet. We end only a few inches away from each other. Roman bends to kiss me, but I turn my face at the last second, giving him my cheek. Warmth burns my skin where his forehead falls against me.

  “Come on.” His whisper tickles my ear before he takes my hand and leads me down the hall. We pass more pictures of Roman, and others with his siblings. Funny to see how similar our families are. I swear I have the same sort of pictures in our hallway at home.

  “Not too long,” Sylvia says to Roman before she lets him in. “He’s very tired today. I don’t want to wear him out before he can eat something.”

  Roman gives her a quick nod and my curiosity peaks. His grip tightens on my hand, but I get the feelings it’s about strength for him, not affection for me. Seeing his dad is hard. When Roman moves out of the way, I understand it.