I’d just clamped a Marlboro between my lips when the door blew open, courtesy of my buddy, Jimmer Cheadle. At six feet six inches tall and wide as a Peterbilt truck, Jimmer wasn’t exactly docile.
He scowled at my unlit cigarette. “I thought you were quitting that nasty habit as a New Year’s resolution.”
“Nope. Did you get hired by the resolution police to crack down on repeat offenders?”
“Funny.” A smirk settled on his mouth as he plopped in the buffalo skin chair across from me, propping his size-twenty feet on my desk. “I just figured now that you and Tony have been shacked up for almost a year, you’d be hankering to hear the pitter patter of little feet. Sucking on a cancer stick is a no-no, little missy. That kid’ll have three eyes.”
I flicked my bejeweled Zippo lighter—a gift from Martinez. “I already hear the pitter patter of Martinez’ bodyguards feet. Constantly.” I inhaled. Exhaled. “Besides, if I want to subject myself to pooping, barfing, and screaming, I can get it from Kim’s precious babe, Abby. I’m cool with not smoking around her little baby lungs, but I hate that Kim and Murray make me bathe in hand sanitizer before I can even poke her jelly belly.”
“I hear ya. Know what I hate? When the first question outta my date’s mouth is if I want kids.”
I tried to wrap my head around Jimmer dating. I must’ve had a funny look on my face because Jimmer said, “What?”
“Just envisioning you on a date.” I paused and blew a smoke ring. “Nope. Sorry. No can do.”
Jimmer shook his finger at me. “I had a damn date last night. I know how to treat a lady, unlike some guys.”
Was that a shot at Martinez? And wasn’t it ironic it was justified this time? Wasn’t I chickenshit for not asking Jimmer if he knew whether Martinez was stepping out on me and why?
“Anyway, I’m here because I need a favor.”
I’d say yes to anything to take my mind off cheaters and cheating and stupid Valentine’s Day. “Sure. We waiting until Kev gets back?”
“Nope. This is just between you and me, little missy.”
Anticipating a chance to kick some ass, I tucked a couple of zip-ties in my pocket. I decided to leave my gun, figuring Jimmer probably had an extra one on his person I could borrow and slipped on my black down parka. I practically skipped down the stairs with excitement.
Jimmer rarely drove the same car twice, so I did a double take at seeing his big body in the tiny blue Metro, idling by the curb. I hopped in and he cut across three lanes of traffic connecting two city blocks, the bald tires spinning on the ice. For a brief second I thought he was dragging me to Bare Assets to face Tony, but he parked in front of Victoria’s Garden, the flower shop that sat down the block from the strip club. Then he bailed out of the car, leaving me no choice but to duck inside the shop after him.
Customers were in line at the register and I noticed other employees frantically arranging posies at work tables in the back. The humid scent of flowers and dirt clung in the air, reminding me of a cemetery.
I snagged Jimmer’s coat sleeve. “Dude. You took a wrong turn. You realize we’re in a flower shop, right?”
“You’re fucking hilarious. Yes, I know where we are. I need to buy something for Valentine’s Day for this... ah... woman I’m seeing.” He shuffled his combat booted feet.
Jimmer, nervous? Really? After all the crap he’d given me over the years, now, I could totally razz him. “This was your big favor? I don’t get to shoot stuff up or knock bad guys’ dicks in the dirt? You need my help picking out... hearts and flowers and lovey-dovey shit?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Who is this for?”
“You don’t know her. Which is why I need to cover all the bases, since I ain’t even been to first base with her yet.”
A smart remark dried on my tongue when I noticed the flush on his cheeks. My badass, gun-toting, pawnshop-owning friend was clearly flustered by his feelings for this woman.
So being a sucker for this big guy’s sweet side, I took pity on him and dialed back my anti-Valentine’s Day attitude. “I’ll pick something flashy. And phallic.” We browsed the buckets of fresh flowers lining the sales floor. We inspected shiny green plants. We studied exotic single blooms in fancy vases. Too many colors and styles caused an expression of pure panic on Jimmer’s face.
That’s when Lulu noticed us. I’d heard rumors that Lulu had traded in her pasties at Bare Assets for working with pansies at the flower shop. We knew each other in passing from hanging out at the Hombres clubhouse since she had an on again off again thing with Buzz, one of Martinez’ bodyguards.
Lulu squealed when she saw Jimmer and squeezed him tight. “Big J! You naughty rascal I’ve missed seeing you.”
Big J?
“And I’ve missed seeing you spinning on that pole, sugar plum.”
Sugar plum?
Lulu glanced over her shoulder. “Now, don’t you be telling secrets outta turn, Big J. I’m tryin’ to be respectable.” She patted his arm and cooed, “What can I help you with?”
“I need something for Valentine’s Day.”
I should’ve walked out right then; it was obvious Jimmer didn’t need my help. But I stayed out of voyeuristic curiosity. Could lovely Lulu coax notoriously cheap Jimmer into forking over a big pile of bones so he could get to first base with his mysterious lady friend?
“You thinking flowers? Candy? A stuffed animal?”
“All of ’em. Probably.”
Lulu playfully hip-checked Jimmer. “Sounds like someone else has fallen down the rabbit hole into love. Seems to be an epidemic with tough guys of late.” Lulu winked at me. “Wouldn’t you agree, Julie?”
I blinked. Then my gaze narrowed. Was she being sarcastic?
Jimmer scowled. “I ain’t in love. If that’s what she’ll think if I send her flowers, then I’ll just give her an AR-15 and a Snickers bar.”
“No need to be hasty, I was just funning with ya, Big J,” Lulu assured him. “The display case has lots of beautiful arrangements.”
I tuned out their conversation, my sour thoughts flashing back to the first time my ex-husband had brought me flowers. On Valentine’s Day. Trying to worm his way back into our bed after I’d confirmed the son of a bitch had cheated on me. Whenever his stories hadn’t matched up, and whenever he’d showered me with flowers, I’d assumed he’d been dipping his wick elsewhere again. Did that make me just like Natalie Brunson’s husband? Believing that once a cheater, always a cheater?
If Martinez was cheating on me, could I forgive him?
What if you’ve misread the situation?
If I really thought about it… seemed I was always jumping to the wrong conclusions when it came to Tony Martinez.
Maybe I needed to take a big breath and stop thinking the worst.
“Hey Julie! How did you like the flowers?” Lulu asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Those?” I pointed to the surprisingly tasteful bouquet Jimmer had selected. “They’re great.”
“Not these. I’m talking about the dozen-and-a-half white roses Mr. Martinez bought the day before yesterday.”
My body went motionless. “What roses?”
“The ones he picked up when he was in here with Buzz. He bought us out of white ones.”
I blinked at her.
“You sure it was Tony?” Jimmer asked.
What a stupid question. Of course Lulu knew it was Tony. She used to work for him.
An uncomfortable silence distorted the sickly-sweet air.
Lulu laughed a bit loudly. “Forget I said anything.” She beamed at Jimmer. “Cash or credit?”
I said, “I’ll wait outside.”
Even the air seemed extra cold on my burning cheeks. I considered walking back to the office. Or straight to the closest bar, which ironically enough, my cheating bastard of a boyfriend owned.
I paced and smoked and examined the facts.
Fact 1: Tony had been physically and emotionally scarce in recen
t months.
Fact 2: He hadn’t denied he was cheating when directly asked after I smelled perfume on him.
Fact 3: I saw him having coffee with a woman today and his bodyguard lied about it.
Fact 4: He’d purchased flowers I hadn’t seen... two days ago.
Yeah, wasn’t a big fucking leap to put two and two together and it added up to him indulging in foreplay with someone else.
I didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Or ask Jimmer if I could borrow an AK47 for an hour or so.
Jimmer exited the flower shop with empty hands and he wore that pissed off look I recognized.
Probably pointless to deflect but I tried anyway. “Where are the pretty posies?”
“Bein’ delivered along with the candy and balloons. Now tell me what the fuck is going on between you and Martinez.”
“Why, whatever do you mean?” I batted my eyelashes. “Everything is rainbow-colored sprinkles and lollipops. And I hope for Lulu’s sake she doesn’t tell Buzz that she probably ruined Martinez’ Valentine’s Day surprise for me.”
“You’re lying.”
I stood on tiptoe to poke him in the chest. “Yes, I am. But drop it.”
“I’m gonna drop kick that motherfucker into next week—”
“Huh-uh, butt out. I’ll handle it. Promise me you’ll mind your own beeswax this time.”
Jimmer looked torn. He loved to rip Martinez a new one when it came to his treatment of me. But I rarely asked him to promise me anything, so he knew I was dead serious.
“I’m agreeing to this under protest.”
“So noted.”
He didn’t speak again until his piece of junk car idled in front of our building. “Keep me in the loop, Julie. Don’t do nothin’ stupid.”
“Like what?”
“Like letting him get away with this.”
The day deteriorated from there.
Loud voices echoed down the hallway. Marcia Bueller shouting at Glen Bueller. Kevin attempting to keep the peace while the redheaded home wrecker watched the scene unfold with a smug smile on her painted lips.
No one noticed my approach until I said, “Maybe we oughta take this into the conference room before someone calls the cops.”
The trio marched into the office after Kevin.
I popped three aspirin before joining them. Everyone stood in a tight circle of anger.
“What is wrong with you?” Marcia demanded of her husband. “She’s only two years older than our daughter!”
“Age is just a number, Marcia,” Meghan inserted.
“It’s Mrs. Bueller to you, you little conniving bitch. Show me proper respect.”
“Marcia. Stop it.” Glen sighed. “This isn’t working.”
“It was working fine until you quit your position in the firm and she went to work for you.”
“You are in denial that anything was fine. Dammit, Marcia, can’t you just admit we’ve both been miserable for years?’
“Years? My god. What is wrong with you? We haven’t been miserable!”
“So that’s why you hired a private detective? Because we’re so blissfully happy?”
Marcia snapped back, “I hired him to find out if you were having an affair.”
“Clearly, I am.”
“And you don’t have an ounce of remorse.” Her eyes became small slits. “You wanted me to find out.”
Glen nodded.
“So we could fix it?”
God, it was like a punch in the gut to hear the thread of hope in her voice.
“There’s only one fix for this.” Glen paused. “A divorce.”
“No. You’re having some kind of midlife crisis. We’ve been married thirty-five years, Glen. We’ll go to counseling.”
Glen shook his head. “Too late. I want a different life than you do.”
“A life with her? Because she’s willing to spread her legs for you anytime you ask?”
“Hey, that’s not fair. It’s more than sex between us.”
No one paid attention to Meghan’s half-assed protest.
Glen blurted, “You make me feel old, Marcia. And you have since I was a young man of thirty. I’m tired of planning for the future. Why can’t I live in the now?”
“Because, despite acting like one, you’re not a teenager,” she sneered. “You’re a professional man with commitments and responsibilities.”
“And they’ve been a noose around my neck. And my balls. A noose I’m finally starting to loosen.” He squared his narrow shoulders. “I intend to spend my remaining time living the life I should have. Regardless if that life is with Meghan.”
That floored me. And Meghan apparently.
All the blood drained from Marcia’s face. “Are you dying or something? Is that why you’ve made all these drastic changes in the last year?”
“If dying a little inside every day counts... then yes. I’m dying. The life we have together is slowly killing me.”
Ooh. That was harsh.
The elegant Mrs. Bueller screeched like a barn owl. Her hand shot out so fast I didn’t see it connect with Glen’s face until the sharp crack echoed. The second slap included a swipe from her talons that left angry red welts on his skin from his cheek to the collar of his shirt.
We all stood there in stunned silence.
Then I saw Marcia twitch. I quickly stepped in front of her as she launched an attack at Meghan. Her wild swing caught me in the side of the head. Although tweety-birds spun in my vision, I managed to keep focused on my training and swept her feet out from beneath her. Then I flipped her on her stomach, pulled a zip tie out of my pocket and secured her arms behind her back. I resisted throwing my hands up in the air like a champion tie-down calf roper.
Glen and Meghan gaped at me, no surprise, but I was surprised by the flabbergasted look my partner leveled on me.
I bristled. “What?”
Kevin jammed a hand through his hair. “When did you learn to do that and... Why?”
“We’re in the bond enforcement business now. I just proved how fast I can take down a threat.” Probably over the top, but I cracked my knuckles. “Dog the bounty hunter ain’t got nothin’ on me, hoss.”
“Here’s a threat, you psychotic idiot. I will sue you if you don’t unhand me right now,” Marcia snapped.
Unhand me? Had I stumbled into a Shakespearian farce? I looked at Kevin.
“Thanks, Jules. Go ahead and finish your other report in your office, I’ll take it from here.”
Wasn’t that a kick in the ass? Dismissed for taking my job performance to the next level. On behalf of all the ladies who’d come face-to-face with the other woman, I realized too late that I should’ve let Marcia pummel Meghan into the carpet. Hell. I should’ve held her.
I slammed my office door and smoked the afternoon away. Pacing, trying to figure out my next move. Did I confront Tony? Let it ride? Or did I hand him his walking papers?
Hour one: confronting him was the frontrunner.
Hour two: walking away from him took the lead.
By hour three… I wondered if I even owned a spine as I considered forgiveness.
Kevin entered my office. “Sorry about earlier with the Buellers. You just had that look in your eye and it never bodes well for anyone.”
“What look?”
“Blood.” He cocked a hip on my desk. “So, Smokey the grouchy bear, you’ve been more pissy than usual the last couple days. And your thug boyfriend hasn’t stopped by. What’s up with that?”
Kevin was not only my business partner, but my oldest friend. I was tired of sucking it up, mucking it up, putting on a tough girl front when it came to my relationship with Martinez. I needed to vent. I needed some advice. And it appeared Kev was offering. “How about if we trot down to the pub and I’ll fill you in over a pint or ten?”
“Is that your way of asking me to be your Valentine?” he asked with a snicker.
“Fuck off.”
Sanford’s Pub and Grill has quirky junk
tacked on the walls, like old license plates and metal advertising signs from the 40s and 50s. We headed to our usual table in the corner. Kevin ordered an Oil Can stout, a beer as dark and thick as Molasses. I ordered the Irish red.
Couples started pouring in. Happy duos out on a date for Valentine’s Day. Smooching. Holding hands. Sharing a plate of half-price appetizers. I wondered how many of them were cheaters.
A hot, young scantily clad woman in ass-baring short shorts and a nipple-baring bra two sizes too small—sashayed up to our table, holding a tray of flowers. “Would you like to buy a rose for your lady?” she cooed to Kevin.
I slammed my beer mug down and growled, “I’m not anybody’s goddamn lady.”
She scampered off like a scolded pup.
Kevin sighed. “Scaring off the waitstaff? That’s a new low even for you. Start talking.”
My beer had gone warm by the time I’d finished my tale of woe.
Kev didn’t say anything. He just continued to make water rings on the bar napkin with the bottom of his beer glass. When he finally looked up at me, I did not see the Martinez is an asshole solidarity I expected.
“What?”
“You’re such a girl sometimes.”
That got my back up. “Excuse me?”
“This ‘whatever should I do’ hand-wringing Julie in front of me? That’s not you. The chick who threw a woman on her face today and zip-tied her hands? That’s you. That’s the Julie who should be dealing with this Martinez problem.”
Odd thing? I didn’t get all prickly and defensive because Kevin was right. I’d let a lot of stuff slide with Martinez. I’d been the dutiful girlfriend. Giving him space. Not interfering with his work. Waiting for him to come to me. Waiting for him to come clean.
No more.
Kevin laughed. “Now that’s the look I was hoping to see.”
“Which look is that?”
“You. Loaded for bear.” He grinned. “Happy Valentine’s Day, killer.”
I bussed Kevin’s cheek and slipped out the door.
~*~
Revved up by Kevin’s advice, I drove to Fat Bob’s.
The parking lot was jammed and a short line of people waited in the frigid air to get inside. Nothing said love on Valentine’s Day like hanging out in a skanky biker bar.
Guns and Roses Page 19