by Julie Vail
She sipped her drink. “Yes, well . . . you haven’t experienced my temper yet. That’s all Italian.”
“Ummm. I’ll try to remember.”
“I think I got the best of both.”
“I’d have to agree with you there, sweetheart.” I reached out and stroked her hand.
“You’re sweet, John.”
I shook my head in disagreement, then asked, “Where did you grow up?”
“Right here. The San Fernando Valley, actually.”
“So you’re a native.”
“Um hum.”
“Your parents still alive?”
“Yes.”
“And they live here?”
“Yes. Same house I grew up in, and my sister is close as well. She’s married with a couple of kids. She’s an architect. Works for my dad.”
“What does he do?”
“Runs a construction firm.”
“Huh. What firm?”
She hesitated and looked down, embarrassed. “Uh, you know . . . a firm.”
I laughed. “What firm?”
She sighed. “Dunn/Gennaro.”
Now it was my turn to hesitate. “The same Dunn/Gennaro I see on all the commercial buildings in the city?”
“Yeah, the same.”
“That’s impressive, Gennaro.” She grunted and rolled her eyes. “How come you didn’t join the family business?”
“Not my thing, skyscrapers.”
“But it was your sister’s?”
“Yeah. I guess it was.”
“Are they proud of you . . . your parents? I bet they are.”
“Yes, I guess they are. I think they were surprised I chose medicine.”
“Why did you?”
She sat back and chewed on an ice cube. “I like to fix things.”
“So do auto mechanics.”
“Yeah, but doctors get paid more—until the malpractice insurance needs to be paid. I never question my decision to become a doctor until I have to pay that bill.”
“It’s not just the money, is it?”
“No.”
I waited for more, but got stugots. Our food came, and it smelled wonderful. The rellenos were big and cooked to a golden brown. The stem of the chile was huge, and I guessed that the relleno was mostly chile and very little egg. I cut into it and the cheese oozed out of the middle. I took a bite and the heat of the chile bit into my tongue. The sauce and the cheese fell together and I gathered my next bite with a little egg. I loved this dish, and this was the best I’d ever eaten. Mexican food was a taste I acquired after I moved here, and I’ve never looked back. Italian is still my favorite, though. My food was half-gone before I even looked up. Karen was eating a mess of brown stuff and I asked her what the hell it was.
“Chilaquiles. It is tortilla chips mixed with eggs and sauce, and I have them add chorizo. It’s a little bland without it. Here.” She thrust a forkful of food in my direction and I took a bite. It was fantastic. The crunch of the chips combined with the softness of the egg and the spice of the chorizo was great.
“I love this dish. Too bad I can’t have the same love affair with broccoli.”
“How can you when you’re eating jumbo candy bars for dinner? You need some retraining, lady.”
“I suppose. It’s my schedule. Sometimes I’ll go a whole week where I’m home by seven, then three weeks where I can’t keep track of the days.”
“Same here.”
“You look good, though. You work at it.”
“Not really. I chase bad guys once in a great while. You work out. You’ve got a great ass . . . et.”
She laughed. “Thanks, I think.”
“No, it was a compliment, definitely.”
“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
“Another one? Is it as good as the one you spilled yesterday?”
“Doubtful . . . but here it is: if you decide that you want to get to know me better, you will find me to be the laziest woman you have ever met. You are in very good shape, detective, but if you ever ask me to go jogging with you, we’re through.”
“I’ll cross it off the list, then. I don’t want to lose you over something as mundane as jogging.” I took my last bite and was disappointed that it was gone. I looked over at her plate, and she had some left, so I poked around a little with my fork. “If you don’t mind, though, I’ll keep an eye on your . . . asset, and if I see it . . . losing it’s form, then maybe I’ll take you for a little run. Nothing big. Maybe I’ll chase you down the beach.”
“And if you catch me?”
I smiled. “Then maybe I’ll keep you.”
She stared for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Sounds fun. You’re an ass man, then, huh?”
“Without a doubt. I can go on about this for a while, if it won’t offend you.”
“Oh, John, there is very little that offends me anymore. Please, feel free.”
“Alright . . . if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“There is nothing greater than a woman’s . . . sfogitelli.”
She threw back her head and roared. “I’ve never heard anyone refer to a woman’s ass as an Italian pastry.”
“Then you’ve never dated an Italian man. We have many names for the ass, as you so crudely call it—and most are food related. You see why, right?”
“Uh . . . maybe,” she laughed.
“Well, let me tell you, all I need to know about a woman is right . . . there.” I held up my hands for emphasis. “For instance . . . what she likes to do for fun. All in the . . .”
“Cappicola.” She laughed again.
“You’re getting the hang of it now. Very good.”
“Please go on. I’m intrigued.”
“Okay, so . . . a small, athletic tush tells me she likes to do yoga, maybe work out a lot. If she’s in the gym all the time, she’s not with me, so this is not the woman I want to spend a lot of time with—although looking at her butt has it’s upside.”
“I see.”
“The full, wide culi tells me that this girl likes roller coasters, carnivals and the like.”
“This is fascinating,” she teased. “So, the wide butt is the Italian pastry, or the spicy Italian ham?”
“You’re missing the point, Gennaro.”
“I probably am. Go on.”
“No, I think I’m done.”
“Oh, go on.”
“You’re not appreciating this the way I thought you would.”
“I’m stunned, is all. Please continue.”
“Nah. I’d better quit while I’m ahead. What about you? A favorite body part?”
“Smooth handoff.”
“Thanks.”
She paused for a moment and stared into her drink. “My favorite body part is not what you think.”
“You don’t know what I think.”
“I think I’m beginning to.”
“I’m trying to keep things at a PG rating or higher here, Gennaro.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“I’m a gentleman first.”
“I see.”
I chuckled. “C’mon, I’m dying to hear.”
She reached out and caressed the back of my hand with her beautifully manicured and tapered fingers, and said simply, “This.”
“Huh.” I sighed. “Really, Gennaro, this is not half as nice as a woman’s gagootz—yours in particular.”
“Oh, I disagree.” She picked up my hand in hers and continued. “There are 27 bones in this hand.” She caressed the back of my hand softly. “Can you believe that? It builds bridges and tears them down. It can bring life into the world, and then take it away in an instant. It can caress a cheek with a soft palm . . .” She ran her finger across my open hand, sending a tingle up my back. “. . . and break a jaw with an angry fist.” She closed my hand. “It is capable of so much good, and yet so much evil. How can that be, something so beautiful having that kind of power?”
I took her han
d and turned it over in mine. Then I looked in her eyes and said, “I will never look at a hand the same way again.”
She looked down at our hands, intertwined, and said, “You have beautiful hands, Detective. Big and strong, good proportions. Elegant. I felt very safe holding your hand while we were walking.” My heart was pounding. I couldn’t remember the last time a woman had this strong of an effect on me. I kissed the back of her hand.
“Are you flirting with me, lady?”
“I might be.”
“This is moving into R territory very quickly.” I held her hand in both of mine. “Explain those eyes to me,” I said, mesmerized.
“Well, they’ve seen a lot. And not nearly enough.”
“They’re very blue right now, but before, when I first saw you in the waiting room, they were darker. How do you do that?”
“It’s part of my allure.”
“Yes. It is.” I smiled and stared at her just long enough to force her to look away. Then I changed the subject. “You ever been married?”
“Nope. You?”
“Yeah. For about five years. Divorced for five.”
“What happened?” She took a sip of her scotch and the blush in her cheeks finally started to fade.
“Well, the marriage exploded into a million pieces when I caught her in bed with someone else. But it had been in trouble for a while. I don’t think she wanted to be married. I think she just liked the idea.” That was my story, and I was sticking to it.
“What about you?” she asked. “Did you like being married?” I thought for a moment. “It’s not easy being married to a cop. We’re not the most stable people.”
“Not what I asked, unless she was a cop, too.”
“No, she was . . . is an artist. And, to answer truthfully, maybe I liked the idea of marriage. But I saw my mother, and how she struggled after my dad was killed, and how she suffered emotionally. I watch my colleagues divorce, or their wives become widows. I can’t see doing that to a woman I love. Not again.”
She smiled. “You’re selling yourself short. Not to mention what you’re doing to all the single women lined up waiting for you.”
I looked around. “No lines that I can see, Gennaro.”
“It’s because you’re too busy saying no.” She drained her scotch. “Never say never, John. It makes you look foolish when you finally give in.”
I laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
We continued to talk, about everything and nothing. All I can say is when she took my wrist and turned it over so she could see the time on my watch, I was shocked when she said, “It’s midnight-thirty, John.” She sounded disappointed. Where the hell had the time gone? We’d been here for two hours?
I paid the bill, which was $25 with tip, and that included half a bottle of great scotch. We walked back into the restaurant from the patio, and the place was filled, including every seat at the bar. The din was louder now, and they had music playing. Karen said her goodbyes and the gentleman who took care of us all night came over and shook my hand warmly.
We exited into the cool air and I said, “Where to?”
She hesitated and I willed her to say, your bed? But instead, she said, “My car, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Oh, I insist. I always walk a lady to her car, especially in a neighborhood like this.” I took her hand without asking, and she held on firmly.
“You don’t have to protect me, John. I’m a grown up girl.”
I let go of her hand, took my jacket off, and draped it over her shoulders. It was a cool night, despite how hot it had been during the day. I put my arm around her and said, “I’m getting that message loud and clear, Gennaro, but you’ll make me feel better if you indulge me in this one little thing. Think you can do that, dolcezza?” Sweetness.
She laughed at that and put her arm around my waist. “I’ll try. Thank you . . . for tonight. How did you know where to find me? I didn’t even know where I was going to be until about eight o’clock.”
“I’m a cop, Gennaro. I can find anyone.”
She kept in step with me as we crossed the parking lot. We passed a sign that read DOCTORS ONLY. She pulled her keys out of the little purse she carried and pressed a button. I heard the locks click open on the little Audi. Nice car. It suited her. She opened the drivers side and threw her purse into the front passenger seat and turned to me. I leaned against the car and folded my arms.
“It’s midnight-thirty, Gennaro. You sure you don’t want an escort home? Hot chick, hot car . . .”
“Oh, I’m not worried.”
“I can see that.” I placed my hand on her cheek then reached into her hair with my fingers. “I like this. You have great hair.”
“Thank you,” she whispered shyly.
“So, you’ll put the purse under the seat while you’re driving? You’re just inviting trouble.”
“You’re like a Dutch uncle, or something.”
“Uh huh. Stick it under the seat?”
“Yes, yes I will.”
“Thank you. I don’t want to put a damper on our evening by lecturing you about safety, so remind me that you have one coming.”
“You mean I’ll be seeing more of you?” She reached up and ran her hands over my arms. She was still wearing my jacket.
“I would like that.”
“Me, too.” She slipped the jacket off her shoulders and handed it to me. I tossed it over the hood of her car, leaned in and kissed her. I slid two fingers into the belt loop on her pants and pulled her to me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and I kept one hand in her hair as I casually moved the other one behind her and let it rest on her backside. Being an expert in the field, hers was everything I thought it would be. I gently pulled her into me and kissed her deeply. That proved to be a mistake because she felt my happiness growing. She stopped kissing me and pulled away, her hips no longer touching mine.
“I think we’re asking for trouble, Detective.”
“If we ask, do you think it will come?” I moved to her neck, inhaling her scent as I planted small kisses.
“Uh huh, and so will I,” she whispered. Then she laughed. I don’t know if it was her words, or her laughter, that sent a charge through me. No matter. I was hooked.
“That’s a thought I’d like to keep with me for a while.” I reached down, put both hands over her backside, turned her around, and lifted her onto the hood of her car. She spread her knees and I stood between them, and she took my face in both her hands and kissed me again. By the time we finally pulled ourselves apart we had been kissing and talking next to her car for half an hour.
“Since you don’t strike me as a ‘backseat’ kind of girl, I’m going to send you on your way.” I managed to deposit her in her car, and just before she started the engine, she saw me adjust myself. I leaned in, kissed her again, caressing her lips with my tongue.
“Oh, lady blue, you are trouble.”
“Mmmm. . . .” she moaned, her lips still pressed against mine. “I like that . . . lady blue.”
“I want to take you home with me,” I said in her ear.
“And I’d like to go.”
“Good to know, but I think we both have a day tomorrow, huh?”
“Um hum.” Her mouth vibrated against my ear.
I pulled away finally. “Okay. Get going before I turn you into that ‘backseat’ girl I know you’ve always wanted to be. I’ll call you in about twenty minutes to make sure you got in safely.”
“Hey,” she said. “I think you have something that belongs to me?”
“Oh, yeah.” I pulled out the half-eaten candy bar and tossed it to her. She stared at it a moment and then gasped.
“I knew it. I trusted you.”
“That was your first mistake.”
She laughed. “You enjoyed it, I hope.”
“I’m enjoying your reaction more.”
“Goodnight, John,” she smiled.
“Goodnight, lady blue.”
She slowly op
ened the candy bar and began to eat it. “Mmmmmmm,” she teased.
“Enjoy, sweetheart,” I said as she slowly pulled away.
The walk to my car was along one. Incredible. That was the only word I could think of. I sat in my car for about ten minutes before dialing her cell.
“Hi, Detective Redhead,” she said. “Miss me?”
“You have no idea.”
TEN
The boy came downstairs. He heard his mother and father standing in the kitchen talking.
Go to your mother’s for a while. Take the kids, he was saying.
Why?
Because, Angela. Just do it!
I will not ‘just do it’! You tell me why I need to pack up my children and leave my home!
I’m working a case, and . . . the guy, he knows where I live. He knows I have a family. I just need you and the kids out of here for a few days, until we get him.
Merde! Una vita pazzesca conducete! Shit! The crazy life you lead!
I know. He took his wife in his arms. I’m sorry, Angie. If anything ever happened to you, or to the kids . . . I swear to God . . . His voice broke, and the boy ran downstairs and into his father’s arms.
I’ll do it! I’ll take care of her! The sergeant stood tall in white shirtsleeves, gun strapped under his armpit. A wisp of his black hair hung down over his eyes, and the boy could smell the mixture of cologne, cigarettes and sweat. He held his wife and his boy and he thanked God for them both. He prayed for the time to hold on to them for a little while longer.
I called her again the next morning on my way to the station. She had office hours all day, and I’d caught her in the car.
“Have dinner with me tonight, Gennaro.”
“I can’t, John. I have a meeting at the hospital.”
“What time?”
“Eight.”
“Okay, and when do you see your last patient today?”
She paused, then let out a sigh—the ‘I’m sick of you now’ kind. “Uh, I’m through around four-thirty or five.”
“My God, Gennaro. In three hours we could eat and have some great sex.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. A gentleman first, remember, dummy? I did not want things to start this way. I wanted to woo her. I wanted her begging me to take her to bed, not the other way around. I had a plan for this one and I was already fucking it up.