by Gina LaManna
“Exactly. Look at these pea-sized biceps.” Meg squeezed my arm. “Mashed potatoes.”
“Well, I don’t know much of anything.” Laurelei coughed. “But Carlos has been a good friend, so I’ll fill you in on the Tonka gossip column.” Her eyes shifted down the bar. “I’m not saying it’s bad, but I’ve got some new customers lately.”
I glanced at Meg, trying not to give anything away.
“They been coming here about...” Laurelei tipped her head back in thought. “Oh, a month or so. At first, I didn’t think nothin’ of it. They ate like fat kids, they tipped well, and they minded their own business. Good customers.”
“What changed?” I asked.
“Nothing, really. They still come in here, pretty regularly. They said they’re truckers, but that’s the odd thing. They don’t look like truckers to me.” Laurelei shook her head. “I have experience with truckers, if you know what I mean. These men aren’t truckers. I don’t know why they’re lyin’, but they are.”
“Do you know where they’re from?” I asked.
Laurelei shrugged. “They’re young and supple, heard one of ’em mention Chicago.”
“Do you have any ideas what they’re up to?” I asked. “How often are they in here?”
“Two, three times per week.”
“Is that normal?” I asked.
“What’s normal?” Laurelei shrugged. “It’s a little often for the normal truckers I get in here – they tend to make it around once or twice a week. But these guys...let me tell you something. They don’t make friends.”
“Make friends with who?” I asked.
“Me! Of all people. I’m friendly, ain’t I?” Laurelei narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m a sweet, young soul.”
I gave a small smile. “Of course you are!”
“You the sweetest, sexiest thing on the wrong side of thirty,” Meg said. “I’m not there yet, Miss Laurelei, but I will be soon. I’m coming fast, so watch out. I might catch ya.”
“We’ll see when the time comes. I take care of my body, mind you.” Laurelei lit another cigarette, contradicting herself. “These boys – they’re young, mind you. They’re transporting something, but it ain’t Walmart junk or cement. It’s something top dollar. One of ’em wears a diamond earring that I bet is worth my entire bar.”
“How do you know it’s real diamonds?” I asked, working hard to keep my voice level. “Couldn’t it be that fake stuff?”
“A girl knows her diamonds.” Laurelei looked at me as if I were completely uncivilized. “At least, the ladies do.”
“Amen.” Meg held up her hand for a high five, but nobody jumped on board. She quickly decided to scratch her head instead of leaving her hand hanging in the air.
“When would be a good time to swing back if I wanted to catch a glimpse of them?” I asked. “I won’t say anything. I’m just doing my due diligence for Carlos. Want to say I laid eyes on them myself.”
Laurelei squinted. “I don’t want nobody getting hurt on my watch. I ain’t getting on Carlos’s horseshit list.”
“We won’t get hurt,” I promised. “I’ll bring Anthony, the security guy. If something were to happen, it’d be his head on the line.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Laurelei said. “In fact, I think it’s a terrible one, and you should stay away.”
“But...” I started.
“But I’d like to extend you a formal invite to karaoke tomorrow night. Right here.” Laurelei spread her arms wide. “It’s been awhile since this town has seen some action. I miss the days your mother ran wild.”
I stood up, gesturing for Meg to do the same. I pulled as much money as I could out of my wallet and left a generous tip as I nodded to the owner. “We’ll see you tomorrow night. Thanks for the food and the talk.”
“I’ve got more of both,” Laurelei said. “Don’t be a stranger, you two. Lacey, it’s nice to meet you. If it means anything, you’re most definitely your mother’s daughter. There’s not a doubt in my mind her blood runs through your veins.”
As strange as it was, Laurelei’s closing words calmed me. I hadn’t expected to unearth sentimental stories and waves of emotion when Meg and I had set out to find waffles, but stranger things had happened.
But as we left, I had more questions than ever. What were these fake truckers doing in Gabe’s bar? What did Laurelei know about my mother’s mystery man – and possibly my father? And who in the heck had been found dead in my trunk last night? Though we’d unearthed some information, I felt like I’d taken ten steps backwards.
“We have a lot of work cut out for us,” I said, as Meg and I climbed back into the Fiat.
“Yeah.” Meg gave a firm nod. “You’re going to be fending off those Italians all day in addition to working for Carlos and trying to avoid more dead bodies in your car.”
I groaned, wishing Marco and friends would just disappear and make things one tiny bit easier.
“Some vacation,” I grumbled.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Meg said. “I expected nothing less from you. We’re the adventuring type. As much as I like laying out on the lake, I’d get bored after about ten minutes.”
“You’re right,” I sighed. “We can get rid of the Italians today, talk to the truckers tomorrow – and I have no idea how to start investigating about the body.”
“Yeah, but you forgot the most important thing.” Meg leaned forward and turned on the radio.
“What did I forget?” I asked, as she fiddled with the staticky stations.
“We need to pick out a karaoke song.”
Chapter 17
I’D BARELY TWISTED the front door open before a hand closed on my wrist and pulled me inside.
“I need to talk to you,” Anthony said, hauling me down the hall.
“Hello to you, too.” Slightly alarmed by his wild-eyed, crazed look, I let him half-drag me down the hall. “Is everything okay?”
“No. Everything is not okay,” Anthony said, his voice murderous. He turned the corner into the kitchen, stopped abruptly, and turned right back out.
My body twisted in circles with his motions, my wrist still gripped tightly in his hand. I craned my neck to see why he’d left the kitchen, and I got my answer when I caught a glimpse of Marco humming to himself and slicing tomatoes.
“Where’d he get those tomatoes?” I asked, as Anthony glanced up and down the hall.
“Get in here,” he said, opening a door directly in front of us.
I followed Anthony inside the door. He quickly shut the door behind us, locking the two of us in the dark broom closet.
“Kinky,” I said, my voice light. “You know we have a bedroom if you wanted to cuddle, right?”
“The bed is in shambles.”
“Fair point.” Anthony had let go of my arm, and I raised my hands like a zombie, feeling around in the dark. “So what brings us into a nice, dark closet?”
I heard Anthony move, but I couldn’t see what he was doing. Only a sliver of light made it under the doorway, and the closet was jam packed with cleaning supplies.
“They’re driving me crazy.” Anthony sounded on the edge of a mental breakdown. “I can’t handle it anymore.”
“Who?” I reached out, my arms finally bumping against what I thought might be Anthony’s chest. I let my hands feel around until they landed on the soft skin of his face.
“Ow, you’re poking me in the eye.” Anthony’s hands closed around mine, pulling my hands down and resting them at my sides. But he didn’t move away from me, and I could feel his closeness in the dark. “Marco. He’s been singing opera the entire time you’ve been gone and asking me what I use to moisturize. I can’t take it anymore.”
I couldn’t help it. I broke into a grin. “Well, I’m holding my breath. What do you use to moisturize? You do have nice skin.”
“He thinks I dye my hair! He touched it. Asked if he could try moussing it into a style,” Anthony’s voice grew thin, as if th
at would be the absolute worst thing in the world. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
I leaned into him. “Forget about it. He’s harmless. He’s a friend of Nora’s – you just can’t let him get to you.”
“I can’t ignore him when he’s belting Pavarotti into my ear.”
“We can ask him to tone it down.” I ran my hands up the outskirts of Anthony’s arms. “Are you okay? You seem a bit...on edge.”
Anthony’s arms tensed under my touch. “I’m fine.”
“Uh oh.” I gave a light squeeze to his biceps. “That’s code for something’s bothering you.”
“I’m fine, let’s just...let’s just get out of the house a little bit.”
“I just got out of the house,” I said. “Went to a delicious diner with Meg, and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Besides Marco’s opera?”
“Yes,” I said. “Is it something I said or did?”
“No.” I could feel Anthony shaking his head more than I could see it.
“What?”
“The events of yesterday and today,” Anthony said slowly, his voice guarded. “I can’t make sense of them yet. And I don’t like it.”
“Hey, welcome to my world,” I said giving a light laugh. “You’re talking to the girl who was investigating a non-existent sauce-man for like, three days.”
Anthony cleared his throat.
“Don’t feel bad about it. I’m just joking.” I stepped closer to him. “But talk to me. Run down your thoughts.”
Anthony didn’t speak.
“It’ll make you feel better. Just start talking.” I reached for his hand and held it tight. “Stream of consciousness, go.”
“Stream of consciousness?” Anthony asked.
“It’s where you say exactly what’s on your mind without using a filter,” I explained.
“I know what it means,” Anthony said. “I just don’t feel like doing it.”
“Try it. It feels good.”
“Exactly what’s on my mind?” Anthony asked.
“Exactly what you’re thinking. You can even start by saying I think this is stupid, but Lacey is making me do it.”
“Fine.” Anthony took a long breath and then blew it out before he began. “I’m thinking that I’m trapped in a tiny closet with my beautiful girlfriend, who thinks her hand is on my chest but really it’s closer to my belly button. I’m thinking that we haven’t got nearly enough alone time together lately, and I’d like to fix that sooner, rather than later. I’m thinking I won’t be able to focus on figuring out anything until she and I get to—”
“S’more. Let’s just call it s’moring,” I said, my breath catching in my throat.
“Hey, this is my stream of consciousness,” Anthony said. “Do your own.”
“Right. Sorry, continue.”
“I won’t be able to think straight until I get some alone time with her. And right now, I really want to touch her butt.”
A strangled noise escaped my throat. “Wow, that was...poetic.”
“So, may I?” Anthony asked after a moment of silence.
“May you what?”
“Touch your butt.”
“I think that goes with the boyfriend territory,” I said hesitantly.
Before I could finish my response, Anthony’s arms had snaked around my back and pulled me close, his hands resting just above my rear end as he gave it a quick squeeze.
“Better?” I asked. As much as Anthony’s little speech had made me smile, it had also made me want some serious alone time, too. Here in this dark closet, wrapped in his arms, I could almost forget everything going on outside of this room. Inside it was just me, Anthony and his wandering hands.
And then...opera. Marco’s voice pelted us through the doorway as he wandered up and down the hallway, singing at the top of his lungs.
“Stream of consciousness,” Anthony said. “I want to shoot him.”
“I would let you, but that would probably offend Nora,” I said. “Since he’s breaking our romantic vibe right now, let’s just talk about what’s bothering you. Then later after they’re gone we’ll really be able to enjoy our alone time.”
“I don’t like to talk.”
“Hmm, I never would have guessed,” I said. “Fine. I’ll start. I went to the diner today—”
“Where else did you go?” Anthony asked. “I checked the miles on the car, and I checked the distance to the nearest diner. They don’t match up.”
I sucked in air. “That’s pretty invasive, Anthony. Don’t you trust me?”
Anthony tensed, as if he was surprised. “I didn’t realize it was invasive...I was just worried—”
“Checking the miles on my vehicle is invasive,” I said, my voice firm. “I could’ve gotten lost. Or gone to the ice cream parlor. Or bought you a present.”
“Did you do any of those things?” Anthony spoke in a halting voice. “I just want to take care of you.”
My resolve softened at his sincere tone. “No, I didn’t do any of those things – I’m just saying I could have. If we’re going to do this, we have to have some trust in each other. You should be able to ask me where I went instead of tracking me. You should be able to tell me how you feel instead of making me guess. You shouldn’t need to know every single password and detail and happening in my life – trust me to tell you about the important stuff.”
“That might be difficult,” Anthony said, and my heart sank a little bit. I really, sincerely liked the man, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to deal with this level of paranoia for long. “But I’m going to try my best, Lace. I’ll still make mistakes.”
I smiled, though he couldn’t see it in the dark. “I make mistakes all the time. Speaking of...I went to a diner today – food was delicious, by the way – and it also turned out to double as Gabe’s bar. The one Carlos asked me to go to. Happy mistake.”
“What’d she have to say?”
“She? You know her?”
“I’ve been up here once or twice,” Anthony said. “Everyone knows Laurelei.”
“Well, she says that she’s had a few new customers lately. They say they’re truckers, but she thinks they’re lying.”
“She’d know better than anyone.”
“Says they’re too young, too fancy to be truckers. Do you think they’re our diamond guys?”
“Possibly. I wasn’t there to hear, so I can’t say for certain.”
“Well, you’re in luck. We have a karaoke date tomorrow night!” I cringed, realizing Anthony probably wanted to be as far away from amateur singers as possible. “Laurelei insinuated her new customers might be there at that time.”
“You’re on your own.”
“Anthony...” My grip tightened on his arms.
“We’ve got our own Pavarotti here! Why do I need to go to a bar to get more? I already know I don’t like it.” Anthony lowered his lips to my ear. “Why don’t we let everyone else go, and we can hang around.”
“But this might be our chance to meet the diamond runners. Then I could call Carlos, give him the info, and go on enjoying my vacation.”
“You haven’t had a vacation yet to enjoy,” Anthony said.
“Fair. But it wasn’t my fault. And if I don’t look into this stuff, who will?”
“The police.”
“Speaking of the police, do you think Carlos will be upset I called the police when I found the body?”
“Well, we don’t usually call the cops to clean up our messes,” Anthony said.
“It wasn’t my mess!”
“He was in your trunk.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Of course not, but what if it had something to do with you?”
“Me? Why?” My question went unanswered for obvious reasons. By blood and by surname, I was automatically involved with one of the most infamous mobs in the country. “I understand the Luzzi name, but me in particular? I’m a small fish.”
I took a deep, deep breath. I think I preferred when people didn’t know my name. Maybe I should come up with an alias for my mob job – after all, I’d had a stripper name for my last job. I could continue the tradition of having a different name for each one of my various careers. Maybe I could find a nice, intimidating mobsterista name. Lacey didn’t exactly spell BADASS.
“I’m not sure I can get used to this business,” I said. “I’m too innocent.”
Anthony’s arm tightened around my waist. “I can help you fix that.”
I gave him a light push backwards, but not too hard. I enjoyed being in his arms. His clean scent was crisp and fresh, as if he’d just shaved. There was a hint of mint with a twist of expensive linens, and I closed my eyes for a second, taking it in, leaning my head against his chest.
“Hey there, open your eyes,” Anthony said. “You’re allowed to fall asleep on me – in fact, I like it. But we’re in the middle of a conversation.”
I took a step backwards to gather my thoughts. Once I’d put sufficient distance between us, I crossed my arms. “So what should we do? I haven’t called Carlos, and I probably should, huh?”
Surprisingly, Anthony paused. “Let’s wait.”
“Wait?” I asked. “What happened to Mr. Honesty? You wanted to tell him about our relationship but not what’s happening out here?”
“That’s different.”
“Doesn’t he already know where you are? I thought you’d have called him on the way out to Tonka?”
“No.”
“Huh.” I considered this a moment. “Don’t you report to him?”
“Lacey, your grandfather signs my checks. I’m more loyal to him than I am to myself. But I’m not his pet. He’s hired me to do this job because he trusts me, and he doesn’t micromanage. I give him high level updates as I see fit.”