"Ask Chao. She was poking in your files a few days ago."
"Chao!" yelled Mickey, waving, until she realized she still had her mouse in her hand. Embarrassed, she put it down.
Chao appeared, looking suspiciously guilty.
"Where's the data? Where is my data ? Do you know what I have left? Three maps and two spectographic charts. And the presentation is," she checked her watch, "seven days, six hours and thirty-seven minutes away."
Chao folded her hands across her chest. "You've been ODing on the coffee again, haven't you? I told you yesterday where your files were. We just needed to find some space on the disk."
Mickey closed her eyes, and found happy thoughts to keep her temper in check. Chao had told her? Not likely. "I'm sure you didn't tell me."
Qiao looked unmoved. "Not only did I tell you, I sent you an e-mail, as well. Please check. In this day and age, you can never have too much CYA."
It sounded entirely plausible, although Mickey could swear she had heard nothing. "Well, don't let it happen again," she said, and then stalked back to her computer.
Behind her she heard a murmured, "Who magnetized her Wheaties?"
When she sat down in her chair, rolled on squeaky wheels to the keyboard and checked her inbox, there was the e-mail from Chao. Dated two days ago. Unread. She buried her head in her hands.
It was the sex.
Sex was killing her brain cells. The moon-eyed gazing into space, the idle doodling while processing the day's data, it was all because of the sex.
Okay, maybe it was a little more. Maybe she got a little gooey from the way Dominic looked at her, or maybe she drifted off when he rubbed her shoulders while she was watching season three of Red Dwarf . How could a woman not fall in love with a man who thought a life-form evolved from a cat was funny?
Immediately she hit the DM session.
Mickey says:"J.?"
Jessica says: "Yo?"
Mickey says: "How did you know when you loved Adam?"
Jessica says: "What is going ON?"
Beth wants to join conversation.
Jessica says: "Okay."
Mickey says, while shrugging in a mysterious manner: "Nothing."
Beth says: "What are y'all doing?"
Jessica says: "Mickey's in love."
Beth says: "OHMYGOD!"
Jessica says, instantly turning to Beth: "What do you know?"
Beth says, putting her hands up: "Nothing. I know nothing."
Mickey says: "Talk and die."
Jessica says, while pounding at the keys in frustration: "Who is he?"
Mickey says: "It's Dominic."
Jessica says, now needing to yell because normal communication channels are failing: "WHO IS DOMINIC?"
Beth says: "Have you thought through all the implications of this relationship?"
Mickey says, while ducking the truth as best she could. "I can't say much."
Jessica says, still pounding at the keys: "Where did you meet him?"
Mickey says innocently: "Starbucks."
Jessica says: "Is he homeless? Unemployed? Why the secrecy? You are not by nature closemouthed."
Mickey says snippily: "Yes, I am by nature close-mouthed. Besides, you were off getting married."
Jessica says, her voice growing even more in intensity: "Oh, yeah, throw that back in my face! You're ducking the truth."
Beth says: "You can't handle the truth."
Jessica says: "That's not funny."
Mickey says: "Actually, it is."
Jessica says: "Answer the #%%#*@ question!"
Mickey says, sticking to her guns: "We met in Starbucks."
Jessica says: "So why did you not tell us about Dominic?"
Beth says smugly: "I knew."
Jessica says: "I want to meet him."
Mickey says, while shifting in her seat. "Give us some time to get through the awkward beginning-dating phase. Meeting friends is a big step toward commitment, and I don't think I'm ready for that yet."
Beth says: "I should hope not."
Jessica says: "Beth, I'm cutting you off unless you tell me what's the issue with Dominic."
Mickey says quickly before Beth can interrupt: "He's a truck driver."
Jessica says: "You're dating a trucker?"
Mickey says: "Yup. Just happened. One of those things."
Jessica says: "And Beth, you've met him?"
Beth says: "Yup."
Jessica says suspiciously: "So what's a trucker doing in Starbucks?"
Mickey says defensively: "Truckers drink coffee, too."
Beth says: "Actually, that really is correct. We get cabbies in, as well, mainly on Mondays."
Jessica says: "I want to meet him."
Mickey says: "In time. First I've got to get this presentation done. Heidelman is coming in from Switzerland next week. This is my big chance. I invited Dad."
Jessica says: "Did he say he'd come?"
Mickey says: "Yeah."
Jessica says: "Gotta go. Lunch with hubby."
Mickey says: "Ciao."
Jessica signs off.
Beth says: "Are you NUTS?"
Mickey says: "There are things you don't know, that I can't tell you, but no, I'm not nuts."
Beth says: "Mickey, you're smarter than this."
Mickey says: "Trust me."
Mickey says, not willing to listen to any more lectures: "Must go."
Beth says: "Meet me for a martini."
Mickey says: "Can't. Got dinner with Dad tonight."
Beth says: "Be careful, Mick."
Mickey says breezily: "Don't worry. I'm going to be fine." And she logged off before Beth could say anything else.
Dominic's captain was starting to believe him. The two guys he shot pictures of worked for the labor-union treasury. And that was where he found the connection to Johnny C.
Johnny's brother-in-law had run in an election against one of them. Frankie told Dominic a couple of stories about the campaign. Apparently Johnny C. had pissed a lot of people off, including Vinny.
That afternoon Dominic played pool with Frankie at a ramshackle old warehouse on the South Side. When you asked for a beer, the bartenderhe said to call him Willypulled a bottle from a freezer full of ice and didn't bother to brush away the chips. The ice-cold liquid was more than tempting, but Dominic just waved it off when Willy offered him a bottle.
A tinny BB King tune played over the speakers, mixing in with the clink of balls and the snap of the bottle caps. Dominic eyed the table and lined up the shot with the nine ball.
"Are you sure that's the one you want?" asked Frankie, just as Dominic was prepared to shoot.
Dom shot him a cold look. "I was ."
Frankie shook his head.
Dominic straightened and then leaned on his cue. "What?"
Frankie pulled his innocent look. "I just think you're making a mistake."
"And of course you have my best interests at heart. Right?"
"I owe you some favors. I'm trying to be softhearted here. Work with me on this."
"Yeah," Dominic answered, and then bent down to make his shot.
The ball sank sweetly into the pocket. Dominic looked at Frankie, feeling smug and happy.
Frankie bent and lined up his shot. "You could have taken the eleven ball, as well."
"Smart-ass," muttered Dominic, loud enough for Frankie to hear.
While Dominic watched, Frankie sank the five and the two. Then he watched as Frankie sank the one and the four. Sad to say, Frankie sank the eight ball before Dom got another shot.
He handed over a twenty to Frankie. "You're nothing but a hustler."
"And you, my friend, make a fine mark."
Dominic avoided saying anything else. It was already hard enough. He was going to put Frankie away and that didn't sit well. Frankie had a solid heart, even if he did have some basic unlawful tendencies. Dominic knew he was doing the right thing, but sometimes doing the right thing sucked.
"Another
game?" said Frankie, his fingers dancing in the air.
"We playing for money?"
"Is there a God?"
Dominic held his hands. "You tapped me all out, big guy."
"You know what your problem is, Dominic? You have no faith in yourself."
"No, I'm a realist," Dominic answered as they walked back to a table in the corner. "Hey, I need you to let me in on Vinny's action."
Frankie leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "I'm fresh out of cigarettes."
Dominic held firm under the scrutiny. "I want something bigger. I need a little cash. Michelle's got her eye on a beamer." It was a heavy exaggeration, but in Frankie's current female way of thinking, it would make perfect sense.
"I don't know, Dom. You know I like you and all, but Vinny's such a tightfisted SOB."
"I understand," said Dominic, his fingers drumming on the table. He needed just a little more to push Frankie over the edge. And he knew exactly what that was.
"I could hook you up with Amber. A real date. She can meet Michelle at the park. The four of us. No prying eyes. No listening ears. It can be yours, Frankie. But there's a price."
"I'll do it," said Frankie, falling for it hook, line and sinker.
Even though his superior would approve, it was the second time in his life that Dominic was making deals with the devil.
Dominic put off calling Michelle as long as he could. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her. It was mainly that the ten Hail Marys he'd said did nothing to alleviate the guilt of bringing her further into his life.
Who was he kidding? She was already a part of his life. Every night they were together, permanence was creeping closer. He could see it in her bathroom shelves. He'd zoomed right past toothbrushes into mouthwash and deodorants. Something about hanging out at Dilly's, and the late-night meetings at the docks made him compulsive about his hygiene. Like minty-fresh breath could erase the feeling of filth.
He picked up his cell phone and dialed.
"Michelle? How's it going?" he asked, as if he hadn't just seen her four hours ago.
"Hey," she said, pitching her voice down low. Intimate. He loved the way she whispered to him when they were together. A soft-spoken wall that kept them from everyone and everything else.
"Let's go to dinner tonight," he said. They didn't do dinner often. His work hours usually ran late, but tonight was quiet. Nobody did business on Tuesday nights.
"I can't," she said. "I've got dinner with my dad."
"Oh," he said, waiting to see if she'd say more. If he were more presentable, she'd be inviting him along. Instead, he was a liability. His rules, he reminded himself.
"I should be back early," she said. "Come over."
He walked into the back room of the warehouse where Vinny was waiting for him. After months of work, things were finally progressing. He was getting in right where he wanted to be. "Ten o'clock?"
"Don't be late or I'll have to start without you."
His mouth went dry, and his cock went right to full liftoff. "Damn, Michelle. I can't go greet the boys like this."
She didn't have any sympathy at all. "You'll think of something," she said, and then hung up.
He put the cell phone neatly in his pocket and his hand searched for the envelope of cash, even though he knew it was there. The fat bulge pressed against his heart. He shoved the doubts away. This was work, he reminded himself. He was doing right. But something felt wrong.
It was twenty minutes after eight, and Mickey was sitting alone at the best steak house inside the Loop. All around her, men were drinking, smoking cigars and enjoying forkfuls of juicy, medium-rare, prime aged beef. She, on the other hand, had drunk two martinisdry, eaten half a loaf of pity-bread that the waiter had brought for her and read the colorful history of the restaurant four times.
She'd been stood up. By her own father.
Cursing her genes, she rummaged in her bag until she found her phone and she punched his speed-dial number. Why did she even bother? It takes two to maintain a relationship. Two . On the second ring, the efficient assistant, a Mr. Klein, answered.
"Where's my father? I've been waiting for exactly forty-seven minutes in the middle of Chicago, which is more than an hour from my home."
"My apologies, Miss Coleman, but your father cannot be reached."
"Is he in surgery?"
"No."
"Then where is he?"
"He can't be reached," the obstinate man insisted.
She picked up her knife, thinking knifely thoughts. "I'm his daughter."
"Orders are orders," he said.
"What's going on, Klein?"
"Your father is involved."
Finally, the truth. "With what?" she asked.
"A woman."
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
Two additional martinis, one shrimp cocktail and a piece of cheesecake later, the room began to warm nicely. Men glanced her way, and she would wave her fork with a Norma Desmond flourish. Let them stare. The phone rang and she picked it up, sure that her father was calling to apologize.
"Michelle?"
It was Dominic. Even better.
"Hello there, sweet cheeks," she said, smiling at the phone.
"Where are you?"
"Listening to you seduce me. Go ahead. Seduce me."
"Have you been drinking?"
"Is that offensive to you? You know, some men will not touch a girl when she's been drinking. I've never met any of them, though."
"You aren't going to drive, are you?" he said, ever the cop.
She sighed. "You're so cute."
"Don't call me cute."
She giggled. "Cute."
"Where are you?"
"Morton's steak house."
"Don't move. I'll be right there."
"To seduce me?"
"Yeah. Just don't move. And don't drive, will you?" She kissed into the phone. "Whatever you say, sweet cheeks."
Dominic committed seventeen traffic violations to get to State Street in under ten minutes. It was the longest ten minutes of his life. When he entered the restaurant, there she was, at a table with three sleazy businessman types. Bastards.
Dominic didn't bother with being polite.
He just stood and glowered.
Michelle got up, swaying slightly.
"I thought you were meeting your dad."
She hiccuped. "He stood me up."
His smile was forced, but at least he managed that. Her father was a first-class prick. "Say good-night to your friends."
She waved, a slight wiggle of fingers from a woman who never wiggled her fingers. "Goodbye, boys."
He slapped some money into the maître d's hand. "Thanks for keeping an eye out."
The man sniffed. "You're welcome, sir."
The sir made him smile. He loaded Michelle under his arm and half carried her to the car. "You shouldn't drink when you're upset. It's abusing alcohol."
She grabbed his crotch. "You're very sexy when you're giving lectures."
He fought her hands as best as he could, but maybe she copped a feel a couple of times, and maybe he didn't fight quite as much as he would if he were a gentleman.
By the time they made it to Schaumberg, she was passed out. He lifted her in his arms and carried her inside. And after he'd tucked her under the sheets, he removed the glasses and put them on her nightstand.
She looked so different without the thick frames. So soft and vulnerable. Of course, she'd hate it if she heard him say that. He had learned that much about her. He smoothed back the silky brown hair from her forehead. So soft and fine. Gently he kissed her forehead and let himself stare. She didn't like it when he stared, but sometimes he just couldn't help it.
"I love you, Michelle," he whispered, testing the words out where no one else could hear. They felt honest and true. Lying was his native state; the truth just made him nervous.
Then he settled himself in the chair beside her bed, with a bottle of
aspirin and a glass of water nearby. She was going to have a mother of a hangover when she woke up.
"So how are you feeling?"
Mickey blinked, then spotted a fuzzy Dominic in the corner. She reached out, grabbed her glasses, and instantly he came into focus.
"I'm feeling good."
"I've got some aspirin for you."
Had she needed aspirin? Mickey looked at him, confused. "Why?"
"You don't have a headache?"
Aha! She rememberedvaguelylast night. "Nope. I have developed a highly utilized tolerance for alcohol." She smiled brightly in case he doubted her.
"You should be careful. Next time you want to go on a bender, you call me instead. You know how many crimes are committed under the influence of alcohol? And if that isn't bad enough, that stuff will just eat up your insides."
Mickey glanced at the clock8:13 a.m. Way too early for lectures. "I solemnly swear. Cross heart. Word of honor. Next subject."
He took the book off the table next to him and flipped through the pages. "I made plans for Saturday. If you're up for it?"
"Sure."
He looked up, surprised. "Don't you want to hear what it is?"
She shook her head. "Nope. I trust you."
She watched him read through her book, his face intent. Then he put the book aside. Looked at her carefully. A very cop look. "What happened last night?"
"You'll think I'm pitiful."
"Uh, no. You can bet that there's nothing you could do that would make me think that."
"Dad's involved with a woman," she stated and then peered up at him to see how he took the news.
"Is this a new thing for him?" he asked cautiously.
"Oh, absolutely. Dad has, like, zero time for relationships," or so he always told her, "he's married to his job. He's a heart surgeon," she said, because that usually explained everything to people. They'd look at her with awe and reverence because she had sprung from the loins of a heart surgeon. Yeah, get over it .
"And he stood you up?"
"He forgot about me," she said, sounding amazingly sad.
Dominic came over and wrapped her up in his arms, exactly what she needed. For some time, she just stayed there, listening to the steady beat of his heart, letting his strength seep into her. It was nice and comforting in a way that martinis could never be.
It Should Happen to You Page 14