She narrows her eyes at me. “You sure this don’t got nothing to do with Jessica Schultz?”
I look her straight in the eyes. “What the hell are you talking ‘bout, Chrissy? Of course it doesn’t.”
“I don’t believe you,” she says, but she does climb off my lap.
We sit there quietly for a minute, Chrissy sipping her beer. She’s pissed at me. She’s gotta be. I can’t blame her.
“I’ll take you home,” I tell her. “Whenever you’re ready.”
At first I think she’s gonna tell me to go to hell, but she nods. “Thanks.”
“Also,” I say, “if you fuck my brother, you’re fired.”
She laughs. “You’d probably punch your brother in the nose before you’d fire me.”
I smile back at her. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
The laughter fades from her face, and now she’s giving me a look I can’t interpret. “Just so you know,” she says, “if you ever change your mind…” She straightens out my collar again. “Well, you can go fuck yourself. You totally blew it, Moretti.”
This time, I’m the one who laughs. “Noted.”
I can’t say it isn’t a disappointment that I won’t be going home with Chrissy tonight. But at the same time, I couldn’t do it. If I spent the night with Chrissy, I wouldn’t be able to quit thinking about her best friend, and that wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
Chapter 42
Nick
I almost don’t answer when I see Valerie’s name pop up on my cell phone.
Last night we were at my place and I was trying to start things up with her. Nothing crazy—just kissing her and unhooking her bra while she sat on my lap. I whispered in her ear, “Let me go down on you.”
I’d like to think that’s something I’ve gotten really good at. Fucking—thrusting in and out—isn’t really possible for me for a number of reasons. I can’t feel my dick. I can’t maintain an erection without constant stimulation and a dose of Viagra. I don’t have any power in my legs to help me thrust. All in all, it’s not a great situation. The times I’ve fucked Valerie, she’s looked bored. I’ve gone down on many, many women, and I’ve perfected my techniques.
So I thought Valerie would be up for getting eaten out. But she just crinkled her nose and said, “Don’t bother.”
It’s one thing if a girl is dating you at least partially for your money—that’s almost all of them. You can’t help that. But if she doesn’t like me at all, that’s where I draw the line.
Still, I answer the phone. I’m too busy to think about trying to find another girl right now—may as well stick it out with Valerie for a little longer. She’s sexy, at least.
“What is it, Valerie?” I say.
“Hello, Nicky,” she purrs into the phone. “Guess where I am!”
“Chanel?”
“Ooh, you’re close,” she says. “I’m at Oscar de la Renta. And I have found the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen. I swear to you, Nicky, you’ll just die.”
“Congratulations,” I mutter.
“So can you meet me here and buy it for me?” she asks.
I laugh. Valerie is so goddamn predictable. “How much?”
“It’s a total bargain,” she says. “Only $5,990. That’s a steal at Oscar de la Renta.”
“Valerie, sweetheart, there’s no way in hell I’m buying you a six thousand dollar dress.”
I can hear her pouting on the other line. “But you need to see it. I swear, when you see how it looks, you’ll know it’s worth it. Will you meet me here at six?”
I’ll meet her at Oscar de la Renta. But I’m not buying that dress. Maybe something cheaper or else I can talk her into dinner at a fancy restaurant instead. Valerie is easily distracted.
“Make it seven,” I say.
“You won’t regret it,” Valerie says in a sing-songy voice.
I really gotta get a new girlfriend. There are a lot of possibilities, but nobody that would be any different from Valerie. I lust after her, but I don’t love her. I’m not even sure I like her. And I try not to think about what she sees when she looks at me. It’s a bad situation I’m in. You got lots of money and a disability, and some kinds of women see you as an easy target.
The truth is that the only woman I’ve really loved in my whole entire life is Jessie Schultz. And at this rate, I’m not sure that’s likely to change.
My phone rings again and this time I see Ma’s name on the screen. She only recently got her first cell phone, which she keeps in her purse and never, ever uses. So a call from her is unusual. It’s alarming.
“Ma?” I answer.
I don’t hear anything on the other line. Maybe she butt dialed me.
“Ma?” I say again.
This time I only hear crying. Shit. “Nico…”
“Ma, what’s wrong?” I say.
“It’s your father,” she manages. “He… Nico, he had a heart attack. We’re in the hospital.”
I look at the enormous pile of papers on my desk. “I’ll be right there.”
_____
I hate hospitals.
I speed all the way to Brooklyn, to the hospital where my father was admitted. The parking lot is full, but there’s a handicapped spot available, so I grab it. I have to push away the sick feeling I get when I go through the automatic doors at the hospital entrance. I haven’t been in a hospital since my injury—it brings back memories I’d like to forget.
I make my way to the cardiac ICU, where Pop is being held. There’s a nurse at the station at the front, who eyes me suspiciously as I wheel myself in.
“May I help you return to your room, sir?” she asks me.
I stare at her in disbelief. Yes, I’m in a wheelchair, but I’d like to think it bears zero resemblance to the piece of shit hospital chairs. Also, I’m wearing a dress shirt and tie. Do I really look like a patient to this lady? Is she shitting me?
“I’m here to visit my father,” I say patiently. “Angelo Moretti?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” she says. She has the good grace to blush at least. “He’s in the third room on the left.”
I’ve always thought of my father as the strongest man I know. Even when he was at his worst, he always had this sense of power around him. It was why people respected and also feared him. One look into Angelo Moretti’s eyes and your body turned to ice. I admired the hell of that.
It was what I always strived to be. Powerful. Intimidating.
Right now, my father looks old and shriveled. Every drop of that power is drained from his body. His face is ashen, he’s wearing a hospital gown, and there are wires jutting out from underneath the gown in every direction. There are prongs carrying oxygen into his nostrils, and each breath seems to be a struggle for him. But his eyes are open and he smiles weakly when he sees me.
“Nico,” he manages. “There you are.”
I’m apparently the last to arrive. Ma, Nonna, and Tony are already in the room. I got here as fast as I could, but I’m the only one who doesn’t live in Brooklyn. But the second Pop is stable, I’m having him transferred out of this piece of shit hospital to the best facility in Manhattan.
I reach out and grab Pop’s hand, which is ice cold. He gives me a weak squeeze.
“He was coming home from work,” Ma tells me. “He walked in the door and said, ‘Teresa, I got the worst heartburn ever.’ And I knew. I called 911 right away.”
“What happens now?” I ask.
“They did this catheter procedure on my heart,” Pop says. “But… it was no good. It didn’t work. The blood vessels were too blocked up.”
“They said he needs bypass surgery,” Ma adds. “They want to do it tomorrow.”
“Not here,” I say sharply. “You go to Mount Sinai for that.”
Pop looks doubtful. “Mount Sinai?”
“You’re not having heart surgery here.” I can’t believe they even do bypass surgery at this piece of shit hospital. “We’ll get you transferred. I’ll take care of it.�
��
My parents exchange looks. “I don’t know about this, Nico,” Ma says.
“Listen to Nico, Pop,” Tony speaks up. “If he says go to Mount Sinai, then go. He knows what he’s talking about.”
“Okay,” Pop says to Tony. “I’ll go if you think I should.”
I’m glad Pop is doing what I want him to do, but I’m furious that it took Tony saying so to get him to agree. After all, what the hell do I know? I can’t even fucking walk.
Chapter 43
Nick
I make a few calls and my father is going to be transferred to Mount Sinai first thing tomorrow morning. Then he’ll go to surgery with someone who’s actually qualified.
Ma tries to persuade me to stay with her in the house, but I want to be back at my own place. I got all my stuff there, and staying in that den brings back too many bad memories. Also, even though Pop is going to have surgery tomorrow, I gotta go to work at least part of the day. Taking a day off is not an option for me right now. There are too many projects going on and there’s nobody to cover for me.
When I get back to my apartment, I see that I got four missed phone calls from Valerie. The last thing I want is to talk to her right now, but then I remember that I stood her up at Oscar de la Renta, so I feel bad and call her back.
“Nick!” She sounds furious and I’m immediately sorry I called. “I was waiting for you at the store and you never showed up!”
“I’m sorry, Val,” I say. “My father… he had a heart attack and I had to drive out to Brooklyn.”
“Oh.” Her voice softens. “I’m so sorry, Nicky.”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“So… how about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” I say. “You mean you want to come to the hospital?”
Maybe I underestimated Val. It would be nice to have her at the hospital while Pop is having surgery. It’s gonna be hard to get through that. Valerie holding my hand will make me feel better.
“No!” Valerie laughs. “I mean to meet at Oscar de la Rentas!”
Is this woman out of her goddamn mind? “Valerie, my father’s having surgery tomorrow. I’m not buying you a dress!”
“Well, it’s not like you’re having surgery.”
I shake my head at the phone. “You know what, Valerie? We’re done here. This isn’t working for me.”
There’s a long pause on the other line. “You’re dumping me, Nick?”
Well, there’s no point in sugar coating it. “Yeah. I am.”
“You’re dumping me?” Valerie sounds astonished. I’m getting the feeling she doesn’t get dumped very often. “Are you serious?”
“I’m serious.”
“I want all my stuff back,” she says.
“What stuff?”
“My stuff that I left at your apartment.”
Valerie rarely spends the night here. It’s not like I’ve given her a drawer. I’ve never dated a woman long enough for that. “I don’t know what stuff you mean.”
“Like my moisturizer,” she says. “And I think I have some shampoo in your shower.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll have all your stuff sent over to your apartment. Okay?”
She’s quiet on the other line. “I can’t fucking believe you’re dumping me, Nick. You really think you’ll get someone better?”
I don’t know what to say to that. Probably. Hopefully. Can’t be much worse.
“Good luck with that,” she says. “I’m sure there are a lot of hot girls out there who want a crippled guy who can barely get an erection.”
Five years ago, a comment like that would have gotten to me, when I might have believed it was true. Now it rolls off my back. Whatever their motivations, there are plenty of women who want me. The only thing I want right now is out of this relationship and out of this phone call.
“I’ll get someone to send you your stuff,” I say to her. “Good bye, Valerie.”
She starts to say something else, but I’ve already hung up. I knew it would end this way. It usually does.
My back is aching from the number of hours I’ve spent in my chair today, but I decide to make one more phone call. I want this Valerie thing to be over once and for all.
“Hey, Chrissy,” I say.
I was worried it might be awkward after that night at the bar when Chrissy and I were kissing, but it wasn’t. She acted like it never happened, and I took her cue and acted the same. Also, she’s got a boyfriend who’s tall and strapped with muscles that make me hesitant to ever touch her again. It’s obvious Chrissy wasn’t too broken up I turned her down.
And I’m glad I did. Chrissy’s a great assistant, and I’d never want to do anything to jeopardize our working relationship. Wendy’s also great, but there are things I can ask of Chrissy that I wouldn’t ask of Wendy. Like what I’m about to ask right now.
“Nick…” I hear the smile in her voice. “You’re calling awfully late. This has gotta be interesting.”
“I got a job for you to do.”
“Tell me.”
“I just broke up with Valerie,” I explain. “I want you to get her stuff out of my place and bring it to her building. I’ll give you the address.”
“Aw, sorry to hear about that,” Chrissy says.
I shrug. “No big loss.”
“Don’t get all choked up on me, Moretti.”
“I’ll put her stuff in a box,” I say. “Just get it out of my place tomorrow morning. I’ll leave the key with the doorman.”
“Got it, boss,” Chrissy says.
“Good.”
Chrissy is quiet for a second, then she says, “You okay over there? You sound… off. You’re not that broken up over this girl, are you?”
“No, I…” I hesitate, then I realize who I’m talking to. This is Chrissy, who’s been in my house many times before. She knows my parents—she’ll get it. “My father had a heart attack today. He’s going to be having bypass surgery tomorrow.”
“Oh, shit,” she murmurs. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, Nick. I know how you felt about your dad.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“Hey,” she says, “you want me to come with you to the hospital tomorrow?”
I consider her offer. Even though Valerie never offered to accompany me to the hospital, the truth is that I didn’t want her there. Not really. But it’s different with Chrissy. It would be nice to have her there.
“That would be great, actually,” I say.
Chapter 44
Nick
None of us talk while we wait for Pop to get out of surgery. Ma just sits there, staring at the wall, intermittently crying. Tony is reading a magazine, but every once in a while, he runs out to take a call. Nonna is praying to herself, her lips moving silently while her head is bowed.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m too anxious to read or get any work done, but doing nothing is driving me up the wall. Chrissy is in the seat next to me, and at one point, she reached out and took my hand. Ma probably thinks we’re dating, but I can’t concern myself with that now.
After I’m there about three hours, my cell phone rings. I see the number of my assistant Wendy on the screen. I can’t think about work right now, but I figure I better take the call. Wendy isn’t an alarmist. She knows I’m waiting for Pop to get out of surgery, so if she’s calling, it’s gotta be important.
“Nick,” she says. “How is your father?”
“Still in surgery.” I nearly choke on the words. The bypass is supposed to take at least four hours, probably more like five or six. I’ll have lost my goddamn mind by then.
“I’m sure he’ll pull through,” Wendy says.
“Yeah,” I say. I don’t know if I believe it. I spent too long reading about all the risks of the surgery last night, until I made myself sick. “Is everything okay over there?”
“Well…” Wendy hesitates. She never would’ve bothered me here if it wasn’t something important. Wendy’s great—real efficient, smart, and bos
sy when she needs to be. She’s a single mom in her forties and I pay her what she deserves. We only once made out in my office, but we never talk about that. “Look, Nick, I just thought you should know this. Russo pulled all his guys out of the hotel.”
It takes me a second to absorb when she’s telling me. Marco Russo is the contractor who’s responsible for the paint job in the hotel. He’s been dragging his feet, because the contract he had with Pop didn’t mention any kind of timeline. I been meaning to tell Pop to give him a call to tell him to speed things up. But him pulling out entirely? That’s a blow.
“You sure about this?” I ask Wendy.
“Yes, I’m sure.” She sounds offended, but then her voice softens. “The timing sucks, I know.”
“The timing’s no coincidence,” I mutter. “That asshole must have heard about my father and figured he could get away with it.”
Chrissy is looking at me with raised eyebrows. I wave my hand at her to indicate that everything is okay, even though it’s not. This guy Russo is taking advantage of Pop being sick to get out of the work that we’ve contracted him to do and even paid him a hefty advance. I’m not going to let him get away with this. I don’t care what it takes—I’m building this hotel on schedule.
“Set up a meeting with Russo,” I tell Wendy. “As soon as possible.”
“Nick,” she murmurs. “With everything going on, don’t you think…”
“I gotta deal with this,” I say sharply. “It’s not going to make my father well again if I let this hotel deal fall apart, is it?”
Wendy is quiet for a minute. Finally, she says, “I’ll set up a meeting.”
“Good.”
It takes another two hours before the surgeon comes out to tell us that the operation was a success, but that Pop is still on a ventilator in the ICU. They say we can go see him, but immediate family only.
It was hard enough seeing Pop after his heart attack. It’s worse now. His face is a gray color, his eyes are shut, and the ventilator is blowing air into his lungs. He looks like he could be dead. Ma takes one look at him and she starts sobbing uncontrollably. Nonna is crying too. I look over at my brother and even he’s wiping his eyes.
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