by Marie Force
On the way to the airport, they stopped at Wal-Mart where she bought a new car battery. Michael installed it for her, and when she started the car, he dropped the hood.
“Good to go,” he said after he put the old battery in her trunk. “I’ll see you at home.”
The easy familiarity of the statement hung in the air between them. Juliana finally looked away from him. “Thanks for the help.”
“No problem.”
She parked behind him across the street from the house.
“Come here for a minute.” He gestured her over to a car parked further up the street, tapped on the car window, and when it was rolled down he extended his hand to the man inside the car. “Michael Maguire.”
“John Tanner.”
They shook hands.
“This is my roommate, Juliana Gregorio. Juliana, John’s a police officer. He and some of his colleagues will be keeping an eye on us until the trial is over.”
Juliana shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Maguire.”
“Thanks. Have a good night.”
As they crossed the street, Juliana asked, “Is that because of what happened today?”
“That and a few other things. They wanted me to have protection anyway, but I refused it.”
“You asked for it because of me.” She followed him inside. “Maybe I should go home. You don’t need to be worrying about me right now.”
“I don’t want you to go home. I just want you to be careful.”
“I almost left this morning anyway.”
He stopped and turned to her. “Why?”
She shrugged. “The whole thing seemed so bizarre in the bright light of day. I mean, I met you on an airplane on Friday, and now I’m living with you?”
“It’s temporary, right?”
She nodded.
“Did you go to your place today?”
“Yeah.”
“How was that?”
“I was glad I had somewhere else to live,” she confessed.
“See? There you go. Don’t make it into something it’s not. We’re friends, right?”
“Right.”
“And friends help each other out. Like that dinner you made.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’ll be thinking about that for days.”
She smiled. “You’re easy.”
“Yes, I am,” he said, feigning insult. “Do you have a problem with that?”
She held up her hands and laughed as she sat on the sofa. “No, no problem. I was thinking about Rachelle. I promised her I’d go back to see her again this week. I could do it after work on Wednesday if that’s good for you.”
“Sure. I should be able to do that.” He started up the stairs. “I need to finish some work.”
“Thanks again for helping with my car.”
“You’re welcome.” He hesitated on the stairs as if there was something else he wanted to say.
“What’s wrong?”
“Paige called me at work today.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Not really. Of course her father also called my boss. Fortunately, Tom’s a good guy, and he didn’t really say too much about it other than to ask if my mind was on the trial. It just pisses me off that her father thinks he can call my boss about my personal life.”
Juliana shook her head. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“The timing couldn’t be worse. It’s the last thing I need to be dealing with right now.” He rubbed his face wearily. “I have a bad feeling that things with her could get ugly before all is said and done.”
“It got ugly when she hit you.”
Michael stared at her. “Yes, it did, didn’t it?”
He looked so tired and sad that Juliana resisted the sudden urge to hug him. She swallowed hard. “Try to get some sleep tonight. You need it.”
He nodded. “Good night.”
“Night.”
Early the next morning Juliana took the extra chicken parm to her mother’s house in Highlandtown. She had made that drive almost every day for four years and could just about do it in her sleep. Outside her mother’s dingy rowhouse, Juliana took a moment to work up the fortitude it took to walk into the house where she’d grown up. She didn’t have many happy memories of the years when there’d never been enough of anything—money, love, affection… At twelve, she began babysitting the neighborhood kids so she could pay for her own clothes, and she’d been working ever since.
Realizing time was getting away from her, she got out of the car and went inside.
“Ma?”
Juliana put the food in the refrigerator and went in search of her mother. She found her still sleeping and nudged her awake.
“What do you want?” Paullina asked with a nasty sweep of her hand.
“I just stopped by to bring you some dinner for later,” Juliana said, attempting to straighten up the messy bedroom. Clothes and newspapers were strewn about, an ashtray overflowed, and the remnants of an all-night happy hour were on the bedside table. I’m so glad half my monthly income goes to pay for this dump. “Have you been smoking in bed again, Ma? What’ve we told you about that? You’re going to burn the house down.”
Paullina sat up and defiantly lit a cigarette. “What the hell time is it anyway?”
“Eight.”
She groaned and rubbed her head. “That’s too goddamned early.”
“I have to work at nine, and it would be too late for dinner by the time I got here after. It was now or never.” Juliana almost gagged as she picked up the ashtray and dirty glass off the table and took them into the kitchen. Somehow a woman who couldn’t get around to feeding herself managed to have no trouble keeping up a steady supply of booze and cigarettes. Despite numerous attempts, her children had been unable to identify her supplier.
“How was your romantic weekend,” Paullina asked with a sneer as she took a long drag on her cigarette.
Juliana returned the empty ashtray to the bedside table. “It was great,” she said with a forced smile.
“I don’t know why you stay with that loser. He’s never going to marry you.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t care about being married,” Juliana snapped and then was mad at herself for taking the bait. So many years of bitterness and booze had made her once beautiful mother into an ugly person. Juliana waged a daily battle to keep from being sucked into her web of misery.
Juliana’s cell phone rang, and she saw it was Mrs. Romanello, who lived next door to her and Jeremy. If Paullina was Juliana’s mother by birth, Mrs. R was the mother of her heart.
Juliana went into the living room to take the call. “Good morning.”
“Hello, hon. Where are you hiding out? I have something here for you.”
“What is it?”
“A delivery. You’ll have to come see.”
Juliana checked her watch. “I’m at my mother’s. I’ll stop by on my way to the salon.”
“See you then.”
She went back into the bedroom. “I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t let me keep you.”
“Do you need anything?”
Paullina waved her hand. “With all this? What more could I want?”
“I have something to do tomorrow after work. Do you still have the money I gave you last week? You could order a pizza for dinner.” Juliana doubted she would bother. If someone wasn’t there to make sure she ate, all she did was drink.
“Stop hovering.”
“There’s chicken parm for tonight. I want you to eat it, do you hear me?”
“Go to work, Juliana.”
Juliana turned and left the room without another word. Why do I bother? If she wants to drink herself to death, maybe I should just let her. No one else cares if she does. Why do I?
Driving back to Butchers Hill on Eastern Avenue, Juliana pondered those questions. Born eight years after Vincent, Juliana knew she had been an accident. Her oldest sister and brother,
Serena and Domenic, fled the moment they graduated from high school. Both had families on the West Coast that Juliana barely knew. Hell, she barely knew them. They moved out before she was six. She couldn’t blame them for running for their lives after they endured some of the worst years of their parents’ marriage. Donatella and Vincent lived in Baltimore but only bothered with their mother when Juliana guilted them into it.
All her life Juliana had been the adult in her relationship with her mother. Maybe it’s my fault she can’t do anything for herself. Maybe if I just stopped she would have to deal with the mess she’s made of her life. Even as she thought it, though, Juliana knew she could never follow through with it.
Her mood lifted when she parked on Collington Street. Without even a glance at her own front door, Juliana walked into Mrs. Romanello’s cluttered house. “Hello!”
“Back here!”
The first thing Juliana saw when she walked into the kitchen was the huge vase of at least two-dozen fragrant red roses. “Oh, wow!” She leaned in to breathe in the scent. “Who sent you flowers?”
Mrs. Romanello kissed Juliana’s cheek. “They’re not for me, hon.” She handed the card to Juliana.
Startled, Juliana said, “For me?”
Mrs. R nodded. “Open it.”
Juliana fumbled with the envelope and pulled out the card. “88 days. I love you. Jeremy.”
“Jeremy?” Mrs. R asked.
Juliana nodded and blinked back tears.
Mrs. R reached for Juliana’s hand. “Did something happen this weekend?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Tears and two dozen roses? Something happened.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Of course. How about some coffee or breakfast?”
Juliana smiled. Mrs. R, who was widowed with four children scattered around the country, loved to feed her and Jeremy. “I’m good, thanks. I need to get to work. Why don’t you keep the flowers and enjoy them?”
“Don’t be foolish. Take them over to your house.”
“Um, I’m actually staying with a friend right now.”
Mrs. R’s eyes narrowed. “What friend are you staying with? What’s going on, Juliana?”
Juliana sighed. “Jeremy and I are taking a break. It’s nothing, really. We just need a breather to figure some things out.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. People who love each other don’t take breaks.”
Ouch. “It’ll be fine,” Juliana said with more certainty than she felt. “I’ll take the flowers to the salon.” She tipped the vase over the sink to dump out the water.
“Where are you staying?”
“With a friend. I’m fine. I promise.” Juliana kissed her. “I’ve got to go.”
Mrs. R took hold of Juliana’s chin, her wise old eyes scanning Juliana’s face. “You’re not fine. I know you. But I won’t push. You know where I am if you need me.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Juliana hugged her, picked up the roses, and left.
At the salon she deposited the roses on the reception desk. The salon was all glass, track lighting, mirrors, light wood floors, and modern art. Juliana loved the clean, stylish look of the place and the fragrant scent of the beauty in the air.
“Where’d you get them?” her friend Carol asked. “Jeremy?”
Juliana nodded.
“Uh oh. What’d he do?”
“Since when do roses mean trouble?”
“A dozen red roses means I love you,” Carol said, following Juliana to the break room to stash their coats and purses. “Two dozen means I’m sorry for something.”
“Have you been reading Glamour again?” Juliana asked with amusement, which faded when she thought of the other thing she needed to tell her friend. “Hey, so, you won’t believe who I met on the plane.”
“Who?” Carol filled two mugs with coffee. Her short red hair was stylishly teased into spikes that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. On her the style was avant-garde.
“The Benedetti prosecutor.”
Carol paled. The loss of her young cousin was still a raw wound. “Michael Maguire?”
Juliana nodded.
“I’ve met him a few times at my aunt and uncle’s house. He’s very good about keeping them informed.”
Juliana wasn’t surprised to hear that. She took the cup of coffee from Carol and squeezed her arm. “He says they’re going to get them, Car. He has no doubt.”
Carol nodded and dabbed at her eyes before tears could ruin her makeup.
“Juliana, your nine fifteen is here,” the receptionist announced through the intercom.
“Are you okay?” Juliana asked Carol.
“Yeah. I’ll just be glad when the trial’s over. We all will.”
“I’m sure.”
“We’d better get to work, but I still want to know why Jeremy’s in the doghouse.”
“You’re imagining things,” Juliana said, and they walked out to greet their clients.
Chapter 12
On Wednesday, Michael picked Juliana up at the salon just after six.
Once she was in the car, she kicked off her shoes and groaned. “God, my feet are killing me.”
“I don’t know how you stand up for nine straight hours.”
“I’m used to it, but sometimes my feet let me down,” she said, rubbing one of them.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Shampoo samples for Rachelle.”
“She’ll love that.”
“I brought my scissors, too. I thought she might like a trim.”
“Thanks, Jule.”
Startled, she looked over at him.
“What?”
“That’s what Jeremy calls me,” she said softly.
Michael cringed. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I don’t mind. It’s just that no one else calls me that.”
“How are you holding up? What is it? Day three?”
She nodded. “Three down, eighty-seven to go, but who’s counting?”
“Not you of course.”
“Can I ask your opinion on something?”
“Shoot.”
“If a guy sends a girl two dozen roses, what’s he saying?”
“What color?”
“Red.”
“That he screwed up. Definitely.”
Juliana laughed. “Am I the only one who’s never heard that before?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Jeremy sent them to me yesterday.”
“So people are wondering what he did?”
“Yes!”
“It was a nice thing for him to do,” Michael conceded. “He didn’t have to.”
“I just wonder what else he’s doing,” Juliana said, biting on a thumbnail.
Michael kept an eye on the rearview mirror as they sat in heavy traffic in the southbound lane of the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. “Try not to think about it.”
“It’s all I think about. I just wonder, you know, is he doing it with someone else right now? Right at this very moment?”
“You’re going to drive yourself crazy with that.”
She sighed and rested her head back. “I know.” Glancing over at him, she noticed how handsome he was in a dark pinstriped suit. They hadn’t even known each other a week ago, yet there seemed to be nothing she couldn’t talk to him about. “Have you heard any more from Paige?”
“She’s been oddly, strangely quiet. I’m not complaining, but I’m wondering when the other shoe’s going to drop.”
“Maybe she’s given up.”
He snorted. “I doubt it. I just hope she leaves me alone during the trial.”
After more than an hour of crawling through rush hour traffic, Michael drove past the hotel to make sure he wasn’t being followed. It was almost seven thirty when they finally pulled up to the J.W. Marriott.
Rachelle was delighted to see them and thrilled with Juliana’s gifts as well as her plans for a haircut.
“Don’t let me keep you ladies,” Michael said. “I’ll order us some dinner. Any preferences?”
“Whatever you’re having,” Juliana said.
“I already ate,” Rachelle told him and then turned to Juliana. “You look so cool all in black.”
“It’s what we wear to work at the salon. Keeps it easy.” Juliana draped the cape she had brought from the salon around the girl’s slender shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair. “You did a good job with the round brush.”
Rachelle’s face lit up. “Do you think? I spent extra time on it today when I heard you were coming.”
Juliana smiled at her in the mirror. “So how about some layers and bangs?”
“You’re the expert. Whatever you say.”
“Let’s wash it first.”
Combing out Rachelle’s wet hair, Juliana noticed the girl wasn’t as animated as she had been the other night. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
Rachelle shrugged. “I’ll have to testify soon.”
“Are you nervous about it?”
“Sort of. They’re really bad dudes, you know? Michael told me they’ll try to scare me when I’m on the witness stand, so I shouldn’t look at them except for when I have to identify them. I just need to tell the truth.”
“That’s right,” Juliana said, her heart aching for Rachelle.
“Those kids weren’t doing anything wrong,” Rachelle said softly, her eyes a million miles away.
Juliana continued to brush her hair.
“They were riding their skateboards in the parking lot when the car pulled up. I saw they were scared when they realized who was in the car. That’s how I could tell they knew them. The two guys started yelling, and then they were shooting. They didn’t see me, or they probably would’ve shot me, too.”
“Thank God they didn’t see you. What did you do?” Juliana rested her hands on Rachelle’s shoulders and talked to her in the mirror.
“For a few minutes after they drove off, I was just frozen. I couldn’t move. And then I ran back to my aunt’s apartment. My mom said I was screaming. I don’t remember that. The cops came, but I couldn’t talk. For like three days, I couldn’t talk. The doctors said I was in shock.”