While Dante was busy in the kitchen, I sneaked into my bedroom to make a few calls. If I didn’t do at least something to try to find Sasha tonight, my anxiety would ruin everything.
I called Channel 5 first. The friendly receptionist told me my best bet was to come by the studio in the morning. The same crew who covered the protest would be working then. I should ask for the producer. Then I called James and left a message asking him to call me if he had any luck tracing the license plate. My last call was to Darling. The salon manager, Shelley, told me that Darling was sleeping. That she hadn’t slept at all the night before and now had finally crashed. I didn’t want to wake her so I told Shelley I’d be by in the morning.
THE CANDLES WERE LIT and the lights dimmed. Bobby would be here soon. I was nervous, so I let off steam by dancing around to the White Stripe’s “Seven Nation Army” while singing at the top of my lungs. I kept annoying Dante trying to get him to dance with me. He finally banished me to the living room.
“Did I mention you have awful taste in music, too?” Dante hollered from the kitchen.
“Oh, be quiet, you old fart. This is what all the hip kids are listening to.”
“Using the word ‘hip’ makes you unhip,” he yelled back. I hid my smile in case he was looking.
The entire apartment smelled amazing from Dante’s magic in my kitchen.
Until Bobby arrived I would dance. As night fell, my giant windows reflected my shadowy figure moving around like a banshee. I never bothered to close my blackout shades. I didn’t give a damn if someone wanted to watch me walk around naked or dance like a madwoman. It wasn’t worth the claustrophobic feeling I’d get closing off my views. However, the contractor was installing smart windows in my new place in the Tenderloin. My phone would allow me to control the tint on the solar-powered windows to dim the sunlight in my eyes or provide complete privacy.
Until I moved, I’d live the way I always did: transparently.
My building was the tallest one in the city so anyone spying would have to be some pervert in a nearby building. Besides, the stupendous views were why I bought the place. To the north was a view of Fisherman’s Wharf and Alcatraz. Off to the left—the Golden Gate Bridge. To the west was North Beach—the Italian section of town—then beyond that Treasure Island and to the right of that—a smidge of the Bay Bridge.
“Gia, can you come here, a sec?”
I turned off the music and headed into the kitchen. He was stirring something that smelled like heaven.
“I’m glad to see you getting involved in this Swanson Place.”
“Yeah.” I instantly felt uncomfortable.
“But once that’s over, what do you think you want to do?”
I took a slug of wine and shrugged. “What do you mean? I’ll do what I always do.” Nothing. Drink. Smoke pot. Have sex. Do karate.
He frowned. “Gia. You need to do something. Being involved in your dad’s company could be a really great thing for you. You’re a brilliant woman doing nothing with your mind.”
“I’m doing something.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m helping find Darling’s granddaughter.” It sounded lame even to me.
“Gia.” His tone said it all.
“I haven’t decided what to do with my life, yet.” I was whining. It was not attractive, I knew.
“You are almost twenty-four.”
I swallowed the dismay rising in my throat and looked away.
“Swanson Place is a great project for you. It speaks to your passion to help people. I think you really could do a lot with projects like that.”
Without answering, I grabbed the bottle of bourbon and left the kitchen. I stepped out on the balcony to sneak a cigarette.
Making Swanson Place happen would be really good for me. But was it as altruistic as it appeared or was it truly selfish? Something for me to ease my enormous crushing guilt over Ethel’s death. I’d asked her to get a message to Kato and not long after that she’d ended up dead. I’d thrown this innocent woman with nothing more than the clothing on her back to the wolves. The Sicilian Mafia was after me and she got in the way. She was no match.
They disposed of her without a second thought.
I couldn’t prove it, but the coincidences were too staggering.
They killed my mother, father, brother, and godfather. They tried to kill Kato, but were interrupted. Why wouldn’t they kill a poor homeless woman who stood in their way?
But Ethel, like Kato, should never have been brought into their sights. That was on me.
Pushing all those thoughts back, I decided I was going to try to enjoy this night of good food, yummy wine, and amazing company. I’d done everything I could tonight to find Sasha. Maybe I’d have better luck in the morning.
As I thought this, the doorbell rang and my pulse raced.
I hadn’t seen Bobby in two weeks. Two long weeks.
Quickly, I stubbed my cigarette out in my L’ Hotel Paris ashtray and sprayed my tongue with some of the mint mist I kept on the balcony.
I FLUFFED MY HAIR AND fixed my lipstick in front of the giant and ridiculously expensive Waterford Crystal mirror hanging on the wall inside my front door. Dante grinned over my shoulder.
“You’re acting like a school girl going to prom for the first time.”
I swatted him. “You know I never went to prom.”
“Not my fault.”
“Was, too. You’re the one who had to get a compound fracture skateboarding two days before prom.”
“You could’ve gone with a million other guys. I have no idea why you wanted to go with your gay best friend.”
“I didn’t want to go with anyone else.”
I watched in the mirror as a flush appeared on my cheeks. We both knew it was because I was in love with Dante at the time and refused to believe that I couldn’t change his mind.
Dante, who read my mind as he always did, leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“It’s way better this way. We will be friends forever. We are famiglia, Gia. Nothing will ever change that. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dante.”
Luckily a knock on the door broke through the sentimental moment. I took a deep breath, smoothed down my skirt, and opened the door. For a second, I froze, staring at Bobby. He wore a white shirt unbuttoned a little to reveal his smooth, tanned, hairless chest, faded jeans and flip flops. Totally beach boy in the big city. I took him in and smiled. To some people, he probably looked like an average attractive guy. But when he smiled at me—he flat out took my breath away.
He was smiling now.
“Can I come in?”
I was startled out of my lust-filled stupor. Even after several months of dating he still did that to me. When he kissed me, I was intoxicated by the smell of his skin and the taste of his mouth. I didn’t want it to end, but could feel Dante’s presence over my shoulder. I drew back and clapped my hands together.
“Bobby Kostas, I’d like you to meet my dearest friend, my brother, really, Dante Marino.” I gestured toward Dante. “Dante, this is ... Bobby.”
The two shook hands heartily and smiled and then Bobby grabbed Dante and brought him in for a hug. And no, there is no goddamn way those were tears. Must’ve been the onions.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bobby speared his first bite and then closed his eyes as he chewed. I waited and watched, shooting an amused look at Dante, who held his finger to his lips.
When Bobby opened his eyes, he shook his head. “Hot damn.” His smile lit up his face.
“It’s orgasmic, isn’t it?”
“I have no words,” Bobby said.
“It defies description, right?”
“Exactly.”
“You two are too kind,” Dante said with false modesty. “But, really, thank you. I truly appreciate it.”
I couldn’t stop grinning. “I always love it when someone tries Dante’s cooking for the first time.”
“I can see why
. It’s life changing,” Bobby said, taking a sip of his wine.
Over his shoulder, I could see my reflection in the mirrored dining room wall. The candle light was flattering. My eyes were sparkling and my cheeks pink. My dark hair was mussed a little bit from me running my hands through it.
That, I told myself, is the face of a happy woman.
But then Sasha’s face came back to me. How could I sit here enjoying myself when she could be hurt or dead somewhere? I remembered Darling grabbing my hand and making me promise to find her granddaughter. Shit.
If only I had got the name or number of that redheaded woman who had seen the kidnapping. She might have information that could help me track down the kidnappers. If only I knew what the words on Sasha’s calendar meant. I closed my eyes. I was a failure. I sat here drinking and laughing and Sasha could be dead somewhere.
But here I was.
Suddenly, my appetite was gone. Too many bad thoughts and feelings were surfacing. Things I kept pressed down deep inside. My own mother loved my brother more than me. I was unlovable. And a fuck up.
I reached over and poured more wine into my glass, downing it and then poured some more. Dante raised an eyebrow at me that I ignored.
Bobby pretended not to notice. His first mistake. “When are we going to take a weekend trip up to Calistoga?” he said.
A wave of unease passed through me. What the hell was wrong with me? Bobby’s affections suddenly felt suffocating and I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to spend a weekend with him. I didn’t even know if I wanted to spend the rest of this night with him.
A pall had fallen over the table.
“I’ll get more wine.” I stood. Behind me in the mirror, I saw Bobby shoot Dante a look. Dante shrugged.
I was a disaster. Cursed. The dysfunction was rearing its ugly head. I’d thought I could keep it at bay. Boy, was I wrong. In an instant, I’d changed the whole tenor of our lovely dinner party. I was an asshole. I sucked.
Bobby and Dante struck up a conversation about the San Francisco Forty-Niners. Probably to cover up the awkwardness I’d created. Making sure they weren’t looking, I poured a good-sized slug of bourbon in my glass, downed it, poured another, downed it, and then grabbed a bottle of red from my counter.
The booze hit me like a Mac truck. I stumbled a little as I entered the small dining room’s space. Dante shot me a concerned look over Bobby’s head. I rolled my eyes at him. I could handle myself. I was fine. If anyone could handle their booze, it was this girl. I had drunk bigger men under the table more times than I could count. I poured another glass of wine and smiled, trying to ease the tension.
“To the two most handsome, talented men in San Francisco!” I lifted my glass. Sure, my words might have been a teeny tiny bit slurred. It was all good. I could get smashed in my own place to celebrate this momentous moment. I didn’t have to drive. I was already home. I was with two people I trusted with my life. It was all good.
How much trouble could I get in?
I WAS SLUMPED ON THE couch with my feet up on the coffee table swirling the ice in my glass.
Dante had just left. Bobby was beside me looking down. His forehead was furrowed. He reached for my glass.
“Maybe we should get you started on some water.”
I straightened up. “Yeah. I don’t want a hangover tomorrow.” I set my glass down and gratefully took the big glass of water Bobby handed me. “Thanks.”
I gulped most of it and then felt a little sick. The flicker of the dying candles made stationary objects appear to shift and undulate.
“I don’t think I should be here enjoying myself, right now.”
Bobby traced his fingertips on my bare arm, sending shivers and waves of desire through me. “Is that what’s been bothering you tonight?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I am selfish.”
“You are not selfish. You have the biggest heart out of anyone I’ve ever met.”
I gave him a doubtful look. He must be drunk, too.
“Is there anything you could be doing right now to find her?”
I thought about it. “I guess not.”
“Then, quit thinking about it. I’ll help you get your mind on other things.”
He leaned over and within seconds we were both naked, our clothes flung across the room and I was astride him on the couch, giving any neighborhood perverts the show of their life.
Later, after we had moved to the bedroom for round two and had taken a long shower together afterward, I heard Bobby clear his throat.
I felt a wave of apprehension trickle through me.
“Gia,” he propped himself up on one elbow and looked over at me in the candlelight.
“Yes?” I could hear the nervousness in my voice. Was he dumping me?
“I was thinking. We’ve been dating for six months now, right?”
I nodded, too nervous to speak.
“And I’m moving up here in January, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“What would you think,” he looked down and ran his fingers across my bare belly. “What would you think about making this something ...”
He broke off and I watched him swallow. He was nervous. It made my mouth go dry.
“What do you think about being exclusive?”
I closed my eyes.
“That bad, huh?” He said. He sat up and I could hear a flicker of both anger and hurt in his voice. His hand left my belly.
I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not ... I’m just not sure.”
“Fine.” He crossed his arms and looked away.
“I told you when I get close to someone ...”
He waved his hand angrily. “Yes, you run away. I know that. Somehow I was stupid enough to think that I was different than all those other guys you ‘get close to and run away from.’”
I sat up now. “But you are!”
Now he stood. “And yet, you are lumping me in right with them and reacting the same way.”
“It’s different.” I love you.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “And how’s that?”
“I don’t know.” Because I suck.
“Great.” He stood and hunted around on the floor. He grabbed his T-shirt and yanked it on.
“Are you leaving?” My voice was nearly a shriek.
“Why should I stay?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s different because with you, I’m scared.”
“Oh, that makes me feel a lot better,” he said sarcastically and tugged on his jeans.
“I’m terrified.” Please don’t make me say it. Please.
“Even better.” He yanked his phone from my charger and headed for the doorway of my bedroom.
“Gia, when you figure out whether or not you’re ready to have a relationship with me—on my terms, which means only dating me—give me a call.”
“Bobby!” I yelled it. “I swear I’m not sleeping with anyone else. That’s not what this is about.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “That’s what being exclusive means.” He waited, staring. I wanted, more than anything, to rush over and kiss him and tell him I’d commit to him and would be exclusive but something deep inside me stopped me from moving. I was frozen, paralyzed. I couldn’t speak a word.
After a few seconds, he sighed and left, slamming the front door behind him.
Deja vu. Flashbacks of James storming off came into focus. He didn’t say the same words, but it’s exactly why he walked away, as well. I was fucked up, totally incapable of having a relationship.
I lay in bed until the candles completely burned out.
Around four in the morning, I threw back the covers and got dressed. Pulling the collar of my leather jacket up, I laced up my motorcycle boots, tucked my gun in its holster, grabbed a fifth of Wild Turkey and headed toward the Tenderloin.
The night was dank and cold and anyone with half a brain was already tucked in bed or bundled up in blankets in an alley. Once I was at the plaza,
I stood staring at the place where George had lain on the ground. Then, imagining a group in masks grabbing Sasha, I headed toward the spot where I’d seen them stuff Sasha in the SUV, hoping that somehow just by being there and retracing her abduction, I would have a clue where she was.
I stood and took a slug of the whiskey as I stared at the spot where I’d last seen Sasha.
After a few minutes I sat down, putting my back against a small wall. In the orange glow of the streetlights I spotted a shadowy bulk moving closer. If I squinted, instead of a man pushing an overflowing shopping cart, it looked like a hulking, lumbering Grizzly bear headed my way.
When the man was a few feet away, I recognized him.
“Why aren’t you sleeping, Sly?”
He shook his head. “Charlie coming to get me when I close my eyes. If I go to sleep, I’m dead man walking.”
“Oh honey, you’re safe now.” I patted his back. “The war’s been over a long time, my friend.”
“The V.C. never sleeps.” He sighed. “I gotta be on guard.”
I had nothing to say to that. The Viet Cong weren’t in San Francisco, but there was somebody out there making people disappear.
Standing up, I brushed off my jeans and handed him the whiskey. He took a gulp and handed the bottle back to me.
I shook my head. “All yours. Stay safe out there.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning, I woke up furious for sleeping so late. It was ten. I hadn’t gone to bed until six, but still. I had a shit ton to do. I was also angry with Bobby. He gave up on me so easily. It was his fault for bringing up getting exclusive and shit.
I didn’t understand what was wrong with the way our relationship had been going. Why had he tried to rush things? It didn’t even make sense. If he was already living in San Francisco, then I could understand him wanting to be exclusive, but hell, we were still in a long-distance relationship. There was no need to get excited and put labels on it.
Gia and the Forgotten Island (Gia Santella Crime Thriller Book 2) Page 7