All characters you recognize from the J/E Plum series have been borrowed for fun, not for profit.
Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. I think you're all pretty swell for taking the time to do that. On to the next one. Have a super groovy week!
- T
Chapter 4
"I'm dreaming. This is just a bad dream, a nightmare. Any minute now, I'm going to wake up and―"
Johnny interrupted, "Listen, Doll-face, I think we―"
"No! You listen, you overgrown…" I uttered a string of incoherent syllables, trying to come up with a witty but insulting name. Drawing a blank, I spat, "Asshole!"
Several deep breaths passed through my nose before I continued. "Let me make this perfectly clear. I am not jealous of anyone you date, because I am not interested in you. I'm definitely not attracted to you. Right now, I despise you. There will never be anything between you and me. And, just in case you need it to be repeated, I have a boyfriend!"
"All right, jeez, I got it. You can't blame a guy for trying." He reached into the backseat and deposited my purse in my lap. "You really need to get a grip. Why don't you dig around in there and find your Midol? Them hormones of yours―"
Letting out an intense, agitated roar, I jumped out of the car and slammed the door. It popped back open, so I slammed it again. Hoisting my bag up on my shoulder, I stormed through the office door where Connie and Lula stared at me bug-eyed.
"Grab your purses. We're going to lunch," I announced.
"Great. I'm starved. I ain't had nothin' to eat today," Johnny said, as he swaggered through the door behind me.
Through clenched teeth, I punctuated each word with a stern poke to his chest. "You." Poke "Are." Poke "Staying." Poke "Here!" Poke.
"What am I supposed to eat?" he whined.
Connie reached into her desk and pulled out a package of orange peanut butter crackers.
"Here." She tossed him the package. "Tell Vinnie I'm going to lunch. If he doesn't come out here, turn the sign and lock the door. And don't answer the phone. Let the machine get it."
Johnny's mouth was still hanging open as the three of us scrambled out the door.
"Whoo-wee, girl! I ain't seen you that mad since—" Lula thought for a second. "I guess since never. I was even a little scared. What'd that greazy Italian do that's got you all riled up?"
"I need to calm down and eat first," I replied, pacing the sidewalk frantically.
"We're taking my car," Connie announced. "You're likely to cause an accident in your state. Where do you want to go?"
I climbed into the back, and Lula rode shotgun.
"Someplace where I can get a beer," I stated.
"Shorty's it is," Connie decided, and we pulled out of the lot.
It seemed both of my friends were afraid to sit next to me, because Connie smooshed herself into the booth next to Lula. While we ate, they talked about fashion or hair or something like that, I think. I really wasn't paying attention. I was too busy stewing about the male chauvinist pig I'd been saddled with.
I'm doing this for the money. I'm doing this for the money. The words were like a drumbeat in my head.
"What are you doing for money? Jackass Johnny isn't trying to pimp you out, is he?" Lula wagged her finger at me.
"What? No!" Note to self: keep your lips closed when talking to yourself.
"Huhn, he better not," Lula grunted, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Listen girl, if you ever get that desperate for cash, you should think about selling sex toys for one of them home party deals. Once you get them women liquored up, they'll be buying that shit like crazy. Hell, I spent so much at one party that I had to live on mac 'n cheese for like a whole month. I mean the cheap store brand shit. Not the good kind."
"I'll keep that in mind." Licking the last of the barbecue pork off my fingers, I held my empty bottle up to signal the waitress for another.
"Whoa, Steph. You think that's a good idea?" Connie asked. I held my bottle up higher and glared at her.
"Let the girl drown her sorrows."
Lula was a good friend to support me when I was down. I mentally commissioned a shiny gold star for her and tried to figure out if it could be pinned on her chest with all that cleavage spilling out of the top.
"I'm just glad we took your car, seeing as I had the interior detailed on my baby. I don't need no barbecue-beer-pork throw up contaminatin' it."
Scratch my kind thoughts.
I knew right where to stick that star, and I'd make sure it was real pointy.
"I'm fine. I know my limits."
The waitress set the beer in front of me and took the empty away. After all the beer and pizza nights I'd had with Joe, I think I was building up an alcohol tolerance. This was my third beer, and I knew a fourth would put me into snoresville.
Connie waited for the waitress to clear the table before leaning in, "All right, you've had your food and several drinks. Now spill. What happened?"
"Ugh, I don't know where to begin. Wait― yes I do. He's a big, stupid jerk. He smells like a spiced squid. He has no manners, the worst pick-up lines, but yet he managed to get a date for tonight. Then, God knows why, he somehow thought I had the hots for him, and that I was jealous of Shelly." I assumed Connie had briefed Lula about Johnny's date situation.
"The worst part was when he tried to console me by offering to—" I had to stop and cringe before I could finish my sentence. "Throw one into me at my place before we came back to the office."
I sat back and waited for them to soak in my confession of the embarrassing ordeal. My eyes tennis-matched between their frozen expressions. Clearing her throat, Connie covered my hand with both of hers.
Here it comes, the sympathy I desperately needed.
"Stephanie, it's not uncommon for co-workers of the opposite sex to become attracted to one another. Office romance happens all the time. When a man and a woman are around each other day-in and day-out, they start to develop feelings for each other. If they weren't working together, they probably wouldn't give each other a second glance," she said matter of factly.
"Yeah, look at you and Batman," Lula agreed.
Lula liked to refer to Ranger as Batman, because he dressed mostly in black. In addition, he was the kind of guy who would scare the shit out of any criminal in a dark alley at night.
I shot Lula an evil glare for bringing up the taboo subject.
Connie quickly realized my irritation. "Uhh, that's not exactly what I meant. I was thinking more along the lines of how opposites attract. For example, why do you think so many wrinkly-faced politicians hook up with their secretaries?"
"Hunh, it ain't just their faces that's all wrinkly. Even after you fluff them old geysers up, they still got a shriveled hot dog hanging between their legs." Lula picked at her teeth with her thumb nail. "I'd say, honey, unless you like getting pinched, you're putting on your own love glove."
"You slept with politicians?" I asked, slightly taken aback.
Before there was Lula the file clerk, there'd been Lula the 'ho—her words, not mine. I never gave much thought to the guys she may have serviced in the past. I just figured they were all your average Joe. Not my Joe, of course. He was well above average.
"Hell yes, I did. I was in demand, and they didn't always want to play hide the salami neither. Politicians are into some weird shit. It's a good thing for them I wasn't a blabbermouth like some 'ho's. You'd be shocked at what kind of sickos are running this country. I don't even like to vote anymore."
"See, everyone has sexual urges, Steph. Sometimes an attraction can happen very quickly. You know, love at first sight and all that. In a close working situation like yours, it's bound to happen. You have to be able to interpret your partner's next action without speaking. It requires a special bond." Connie still had my right hand trapped between both of hers, and it was starting to feel sweaty.
"Uh-huh." I listened intently for Connie's observational wisdom to help me deal with Johnny. I found myself nervously picking at the yellowed epoxy on the wooden table which flaked off like old nail polish.
"Now, I want you to carefully think about Johnny. Evidently, you have quite a few emotions stirring right now because of him. You have to be totally honest with me because how you answer this question may very well affect your entire future."
Connie looked deeply into my eyes, and I took a large swig of beer, as I hung onto her every word. "Steph—are you jealous of his date?"
I ripped my hand away to cover my mouth before I spit beer in her face. Both Lula and Connie exploded with laughter.
Thinking back, Connie had probably deserved a beer shower.
"You're scum, Rosolli!" I dropped my shaking head into my hands. Special bond my ass. Once again the butt of Connie's sarcastic humor, I should've seen it coming.
"Oh, shit. That's funny." Connie slapped the table.
It really wasn't.
Connie thought she was the queen of comedy after her stupid Dr. Phil moment because of how hard Lula was laughing. The thing she never realized, however, was that people were laughing at her actual laugh, not her jokes.
Connie's laugh, when she exhaled, sounded like a rhesus monkey screech. When she inhaled, it was the sound a hippopotamus would make if he were to step on that monkey. No, maybe it was more like a donkey's hee-haw. Well, that wasn't exactly the right description either. Anyway, it was super hilarious when she did it, but no one ever told her how funny it sounds, because we don't want her to stop.
Pretty soon everyone in Shorty's was looking over at our table and giggling, trying to figure out who was playing the accordion off-key. Connie and Lula's laughter was infectious, and I soon joined in. I was still angry, but alcohol made it easier for me to laugh.
Lula calmed herself down to a mild chuckle. "Girl, I ain't laughed that hard since one of my johns shut his pecker in the car door. You gotta break that shit down for us. I want details."
The girls continued to roar with laughter, while I enlightened them about my first excursion with Johnny. I expected us to be kicked out soon due to the noise level.
"Hunh, I'da thrown my fist in his face if he'd said that shit to me." Lula folded her arms in front of her and did that circle thing with her head, brazenly moving it about her shoulders. "You need to dump his ass and remember who your real partner is."
Lula was hurt and thought she'd been replaced. I needed to give her some reassurance.
"We're still partners. Believe me, you're a much better partner than Johnny."
"Then why didn't you take me with you today? I heard you call him partner. Vinnie said he's your new partner. I don't get what's going on."
"Well, he is my partner too. Kind of. It's complicated."
"What's complicated? This just don't make no sense. All I know is I can't live on my filing wages alone. I count on that bond money we share. I'm accustomed to a certain lifestyle. I've got rent to pay and beauty regiments to upkeep. How's this gonna work? Is there gonna be a schedule, or am I supposed to duke it out with Johnny Revolta to get to be your partner for the day? All this stress is gonna give me diarrhea. Where's the dessert menu?"
"He reminds me more of Andrew Dice Clay," Connie observed and handed Lula the dessert card.
I took another long pull from my beer. They were going to find out the truth sooner or later. I was afraid the amount of alcohol would cause me to divulge too much information. Just a few beers would normally give me diarrhea of the mouth. Sometimes I wished that I were two people, so I'd have someone to bounce ideas off of without embarrassing myself. They didn't need to know all the details about my negotiations with Vinnie. I had to choose my words carefully.
"It's not a competition, Lula. I'll be working with both of you. It's just that right now I'm sort of training Johnny. You already know the ropes for picking up skips. You could even pick up a few on your own. Once he gets the hang of it, it'll be me and you again. Johnny will either be working solo, or sometimes the three of us will work as a team. I'm sure you can see the advantages of that."
"Why are you training him? Somethin's fishy." Lula motioned for the waitress to take our dessert order.
Connie and I decided to split a piece of double fudge chocolate cake. Lula ordered her own. I hoped enough time would pass for Lula to forget about the conversation.
"I really like your purse, Connie. Is it new?" I asked.
"No, I've had this bag for months. And you're changing the subject. Since when did you become the resident trainer for bounty hunters? Why isn't Ranger training him?" Connie's forehead rumpled as she rubbed her chin.
"Ranger is out of town. Anyway, I can train Johnny. I've been doing this long enough." I ignored Connie's snort and continued, "By the time I'm through with him, he'll be picking up the mid-level skips. That way we can keep more money in-house."
"He's gonna get the skips your skinny ass is too chicken-shit to go after?" Lula asked.
"I'm not chicken-shit. I'm just…selective," I clarified.
"So, you're taking money out of RangeMan's pocket and putting it into Johnny's? That's harsh, girl. I know you hooked up with Officer Hottie, but Batman don't deserve to get dissed like that." Lula was getting way off topic.
"RangeMan doesn't want the skips Johnny will be going after. They're not even worth their time," I explained. "Besides, Vinnie isn't going to pay Johnny as much as he would have to pay RangeMan."
"So, you're helping Vinnie increase his cash flow out of the kindness of your heart? Huh-uh. I think he's blackmailing you. What kind of dirt's that scumbag got on you?" Lula folded her arms.
"He's not blackmailing me, Lula. I'm doing this to better myself—a personal challenge, if you will." I looked between them both guardedly. They returned their own suspicious glares. The awkward silence made me anxious.
"I'm going to play the jukebox. Any requests?" I was barely out of my seat when Connie grabbed my arm and forced me back into it.
"Vinnie cut you a deal, didn't he?" Connie narrowed her eyes at me.
"Well, sort of." Shrugging, I nervously picked at the chipped table surface again.
"What kind of deal?" Lula asked.
I sighed and said, "I didn't want to say anything, until I knew he was going to work out for sure."
Bye-bye new car. Adios Caribbean island. I was going to have to give up something to them. These two were relentless when it came to prodding for details—especially Connie. She'd find out somehow anyway. Maybe she could get a raise with all of this money Vinnie was expecting to make.
"It's really not a big deal. Johnny needed a job, and Harry and Lucille pushed Vinnie into hiring him. It wasn't Vinnie's idea, but for now we're all stuck with him, because Harry was gonna pull his backing if he didn't hire Johnny. I agreed to train him if we could have him at our disposal when we needed some muscle picking up a skip."
Connie narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't sound like such a great deal. You would still have to split the recovery money three ways."
"But, we would be able to pick up higher dollar skips. Plus, I negotiated a percentage fee. Lula, you and I will split an additional seven percent of whatever Johnny's take is when we work with him. And this way, we all get to keep our jobs. It's a win-win." I gave Lula and Connie a big smile.
I hoped they would both see me as a smart business woman and leave it at that. I still had the percentage of Johnny's solo skips coming to me. That was all mine, and I was definitely going to earn every penny of it. Probably, I would need to set some aside for therapy sessions after working that closely with Johnny.
Lula cocked an eyebrow. "So, why didn't you just tell me that? Why do you need to be all secretive and shit? Unless, you wasn't planning on splittin' the take with me."
"I wouldn't do that. Like I said, I was feeling him out before I said anything." My voice sounded whiny to my own ears.
"Sounds like Johnny wants to feel you up," Connie snickered.
I shook my head. "That's not funny. Thanks for bringing it up again. I think I need another beer."
"The one in your hand was last call. I need to get back to the office and see what kind of damage Johnny has done." Connie scrunched up her face in a peculiar grimace.
"What's that look for?" I asked.
"I just had a terrible vision of returning to the office and finding him having a threesome with Joyce and Vinnie." We all groaned and gagged at the image of that.
"Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't trust him alone with you. You shoulda brought me with you today. You know, like a chaperone. Did he try anything with those nasty thumbs?" Lula asked.
"No, and there is no way the three of you would fit in my car. Where would we put the skip? Besides, I flat out told him I wasn't interested. He even met Joe. I introduced them at the station. This is strictly a working relationship, and we all need to work together amicably. We both need this extra money, so cut me some slack. Okay?"
"Fine. But if I find out he's messin' with you, I'll bust a cap in his ass and set him straight."
"I really don't think it will come to that." I'd shoot him myself if it did.
"Well, if you need me to back you up, we'll take my Firebird. I really don't want that sicko-suave in my baby, but I'll just put a Ziploc on the headrest. Crisco's a bitch to get out of the upholstery. Believe me, girl, I know."
There could've been any number of reasons for Lula to have Crisco in her car. Lula being Lula, my first thought was that she used it for something sexual. I'd just finished eating lunch though. Probably not a good time to ask.
I looked around the restaurant. Lunch rush was over and there was only one other booth occupied. The waitress was staring at us from her side of the bar. Obviously her shift was over, and she was hanging around waiting for our tip. I waved her over and told her we were finished. She dropped the check on the table and cleared the dessert plates.
"My treat," Connie said, grabbing for it. "You've had a rough day, sugar-buns."
When the fresh air hit me, I realized I was a little more than just buzzed. I wasn't sick, but I probably shouldn't have had that last beer. I climbed into the backseat of Connie's Camry and let out a burp that tasted like chocolate cake.
"Did Vinnie give you any of Johnny's history when you were in the office?" Connie asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
"Just that he was orphaned, and Harry and his wife pretty much raised him after that. Why? What do you know?" I asked anxiously.
The fact that Connie was bringing up Johnny's past meant she had some prime dirt on him. She was always in the know, serving as my reference library for the community gossip, while at the same time managing to keep her own personal life somewhat of a mystery. She was a relentless bloodhound when it came to investigating the private lives of others. When Connie didn't know something, she had an arsenal of resources in her pocket to sleuth out the facts. Her enigmatical lifestyle made me wonder if she made it her job to know everyone's business just in case she needed to extort someone in the future. On the other hand, maybe she was just nosy.
"Well, Vinnie didn't really tell me anything when he brought Johnny in today. He wasn't very forthcoming with information after the two of you left either. So, I called my great aunt Sylvia to see if she knew anything."
"She's still alive? She's got to be like a hundred," I marveled.
"Close, she's ninety-seven and living in the nursing home. Her short term memory is gone, but she has the recall of an elephant when it comes to mafia history. She could tell you stories like they just happened last week. It's funny how the dementia hit her."
"That's too bad," I said sympathetically. "Did she have any dirt on Johnny?"
"She's got dirt on everybody. She said his mother died when he was little. Cancer or something. His father, John Sr., was a real piece of work. He'd give Joe's dad a run for his money." I gave Connie an understanding nod when she glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
Morelli's father had been an abusive alcoholic. While Joe was the second youngest of five siblings, it wouldn't surprise anyone to find out he had a half-brother or half-sister or two floating around town. Everyone knew Joe's dad had cheated, even his mom.
Angie Morelli had chosen to ignore Rocco's infidelity not only because she'd feared her husband, but also because of what the neighbors might have thought. Either way, Mrs. Morelli was a good Catholic and had figured one day God would hear her silent prayers for salvation during Sunday mass and straighten all of her problems out. And one day, He did.
Joe once told me his father's final fuck you to the world had been when he'd chosen to die one February during a harsh cold snap. The frigid temperature and bitter wind had made your eyes sting and water at the burial site. Joe said the bastard had probably wanted to see tears in his family's eyes, so he could pretend they were actually mourning his death.
Joe didn't reminisce about his childhood much, because it reminded him of the parts he struggled to forget. His face had lit up when he described the beautiful sunny day after they put Rocco in the ground. The clenched muscles in his jaw had relaxed and the tension had left his eyes. I was sure the entire Morelli clan had experienced a solaced feeling of emancipation without the patron figurehead to torment them.
The harshness of Joe's dad had frightened not only the Morelli kids, but also the neighborhood kids, including me. I'd assumed that was why Joe chose to travel the distance to my block for his recreational debauchery. I couldn't imagine a worse human being than Rocco Morelli, as Connie had described Johnny's dad. Maybe there wasn't a nearby neighborhood where Johnny could venture to play. Perhaps that was an explanation for his lack of social skills.
Lula interrupted my fleeting comparative thoughts. "Was John Sr. connected too?"
"Yeah. From what Sylvia told me, that wasn't always the case. You probably don't know this, but Harry wasn't born into the family," Connie said.
"I guess I never really thought about it. Is that what Sylvia said?" I asked.
"No. That part I already knew. I know a lot about Harry. I just asked about Johnny," Connie said.
"What do you know about Harry?" I inquired.
"I know he got started doing some small pick-ups for the low level guys when he was in his teens. He had a knack for it and the attitude. The boss took an interest in him and gave him more responsibility. Next thing you know, he's making money hand over fist."
"So, his brother John Sr. followed suit," I deduced.
"That's what I figured, too. But Sylvia said it wasn't that simple. She indicated Harry kept nagging John Sr. to join up but was always refused. John Sr. tried to make ends meet truck driving, but gas prices back then were high, and the wages were pretty shitty. Lots of times, companies didn't even pay benefits."
Connie stopped at the red light and studied the car filled with gang bangers on her right. The passenger in front had his window rolled down, and a mixture of slang and vulgarities streamed out of the car.
"Didn't they even have gas rations back then?" I added.
"Huh? Yeah, I guess." She rolled up her window, as if they might eavesdrop on our conversation. I don't think they'd really even noticed us. I assumed the guy in the backseat was rolling a joint the way he busied his hands in his lap. The light turned green, and we started moving again.
Lula clucked her tongue. "Girl, get to the story already. This shit's boring. I thought you was gonna tell us how that big dummy's dad kept him chained in the basement or something and now he's part animal. I don't care about no history about America's gas. I feel like I'm listenin' to a damn book report."
"I'm getting to the good stuff, but I gotta tell you some back story first." Connie tapped her chin. "Now, where was I?"
"Johnny's dad was a broke-ass truck driver who was too stupid to make some real money workin' for Harry. Then you guys turned into the History Channel," Lula retorted.
"Oh, yeah, now I remember. Harry saw how much his brother was struggling and really wanted to help him out. By that time, Harry had really made a name for himself and had his own crew. He kept telling John Sr. to come work for him. Harry told him he could still drive truck, because they needed someone they could trust to move around some merchandise."
"What kind of merchandise?" I queried.
"I don't know, just― stuff." Connie shot me another look in the rearview mirror that meant she knew, but if she told me, she'd have to kill me.
"Anyway, Harry told him he wouldn't have to really get his hands dirty if he was just doing some transporting. But John Sr. didn't want anything to do with mob business. That is, until his wife got sick. There wasn't any insurance and the medical bills started piling up. Harry promised to cover all his debts and assured his brother he would want for nothing if he came to work for him. John Sr. was flat broke and had no choice but to take him up on the offer. Sylvia said his wife later died that same year."
"How old was he when his momma died?" Lula asked.
Connie shrugged. "Toddler I guess. I didn't ask."
"That's really sad he lost his mother so young. I wonder if he remembers her," I contemplated.
Connie was taking the long way back to the office, so she could finish the tale. I noticed we had passed the same buildings a couple times and figured there was more to the story since we were nowhere near the bonds office.
"I take it John Sr. continued to work for Harry after his wife died?"
"Yeah. Once you're in the mob, there's only one way out," Connie pointed out.
"Since Johnny went to live with Harry, I guess John Sr. took that way out. Did Sylvia know what happened to him?"
"Yeah, I wanna know did they find his body, or did he get buried in some parking lot like that Jimmy Hoffman?" Lula remarked, shivering. "That's gotta be about the time they put up the mall. I don't like the idea that next time I go shopping for shoes, some zombie arm could reach up outta the asphalt and grab my ankle. I hate zombies."
"Jesus, Lula. Where do you come up with this crap?" Connie shook her head. "First of all, it's Hoffa, not Hoffman. Secondly, if a zombie arm is going to grab your ankle, it won't be John Sr.'s. Aunt Sylvia told me what happened to him."
I was afraid of the traumatizing answer Connie would provide, but I had to ask. "So what'd she say happened to him?"
"I'll give you the cliff notes version, otherwise I'll run out of gas. She said he used to take Johnny with him to the pool hall and let him play pinball, while he got tanked and picked up women. One night, John Sr. hooked up with a knockout blond bimbo and sent Johnny on his way to walk home. Turns out the woman was the wife of a guy who worked for a rival mafia family. The husband came home and found the two of them humping on the living room floor. The guy grabbed the poker from the fireplace and bashed John Sr.'s head in. They dumped him in an alley and left him for dead—but he wasn't dead. He was in a coma for weeks before he finally died. Never woke up. Johnny stayed by his side the whole time. He even held his father's hand as he took his last breath. That's when he went to live with his uncle, Harry the Hammer."
"How old was he when that happened?" Lula asked.
"Sylvia said he had to repeat a grade in middle school, so I guess whatever age you are then," Connie said.
"Wow." That summed up pretty much everything I was thinking at that point. How awful for him to have to deal with losing both his parents at such a young age. He was probably forced into a life of crime like his father. No wonder he was so screwed up as an adult.
"Hunh, no wonder that dude is so messed up. Probably he needs to see one of them head shrinkers. A guy who acts like that ain't right in the head. You know what he needs is a good old fashioned phlebotomy," Lula noted and straightened her sunglasses in the sun visor mirror.
"I think you mean lobotomy," Connie corrected.
"What'd I say?" Lula flipped the visor back up and turned to Connie.
"Phlebotomy."
"What's that mean?"
"That has to do with drawing blood."
"Well, I say the bloodier the better. Lord knows that fool deserves it," she tossed back. "Are you gonna stop at the mall one of these times? You done passed it three times now, and I'll bet there's a sale going on in one of them stores."
"I thought you were afraid of a zombie grabbing your ankle," I reminded her.
"Hunh, I ain't walking across no parking lot." Lula turned to Connie. "You could just drop me off at the door."
"We're not going to the mall," Connie said flatly. "I was just stalling, so I could tell you about Johnny."
We'd been driving in circles for quite a while. I felt like I was trapped in a mobile fishbowl watching the same scenery pass me by. Lula and Connie's previous exchange had left me with an image of a bloodied Johnny having brain surgery on an operating table. My stomach began to churn, and I rolled down the window.
"Let me know if you gotta hurl, and I'll pull over," Connie offered.
"Yeah, you look kinda green," Lula agreed. "Here." She handed me a plastic grocery bag she'd pulled from her purse.
"Just take me home, Connie. I'm going to take a nap. Joe can take me to pick up my car later." I yawned and rubbed my hands over my face.
"You don't worry 'bout nothing, girl. Me and Connie will set the record straight with that prick when we get back to the office. Officer Hottie's gonna have his ass in a sling when he finds out about this," Lula promised.
"Oh God, that's the last thing I need. Please, both of you, promise me you won't say anything to Joe."
I made them both pinky swear to keep our lunch conversation a secret. The car rolled to a stop in front of my building, and I headed to the door after saying my goodbyes and reminding them to keep their lips zipped. I saw the dumpster in my peripheral and was thankful the wind was blowing in the opposite direction.
I assumed Mrs. Bestler, one of the senior citizen tenants, was on her lunch break from playing operator as I exited the elevator. After several missed attempts, I finally keyed open the lock and kicked off my shoes. I was hot and continued to strip off my clothing, while I shuffled to the bedroom. Overwhelmed and exhausted, I flopped down on the bed.
I didn't want to think about Johnny's horrible childhood. What Connie said had made me see him in a different light. Joe's father was similar to Johnny's. They were both womanizers and drunks. It made me sad and nauseous. I had to change my focus.
I thought about my parents who had cared about me and provided a safe, stable and loving environment to grow up. Closing my eyes, I thought about Joe wanting to play astronaut this morning and smiled. After setting the stage for a pleasant dream, I was instantly asleep.
"You might want to lock your door if you're going to sleep naked," a gravelly voice boomed.
Startled awake, I instinctively grabbed my bedspread and covered myself. Joe stood at the foot of my bed with his hands on his hips. I had to pee, badly. Keeping the blanket wrapped around me, I dashed into the bathroom. It took me a few seconds to pull the whole blanket in, before I could close the door.
"I've seen it all before, Cupcake," Joe shouted through the door.
"Go away, Joe. I have to pee. You're giving my bladder stage-fright." I clenched and listened for his footsteps.
"Don't worry. I'm going into the living room. I won't be held responsible for giving you a urinary tract infection," he snorted sarcastically.
I heard him walk away and let loose. Aaah, sweet relief. I washed my hands and brushed my teeth. I must not have moved at all in my sleep, because my hair was pretty decent, and the make-up was still where it should be. Since I was already naked, and Joe was there, I might as well try and make up for that morning. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I left it slightly open in the front, making sure the tops of my breasts were exposed for maximum reaction.
I opened the door and was surprised to find Joe sitting on the side of my bed. Good. He was already in position.
The hum of the bathroom fan reminded me to turn around and shut off the bathroom light. In doing so, my foot got caught up in the dragging comforter, which then caused me to trip and fall on my hands and knees.
"There's my graceful girl," Joe observed with a huge smile.
"Shut up. I was trying to be sexy."
"You are sexy, Cupcake."
"I thought you were in the living room?"
"I was. I turned around and came back here."
Figuring I might still recover from the fall, I got up and re-wrapped the blanket like a sexy shroud the best I could with him watching me.
"I'm glad I did," he snickered. "I wouldn't have witnessed another one of your amazing talents."
"Huh?"
"Stunt comedian. You're sexy and funny. Really, Steph, I think you're ready to quit your day job."
"What are you talking about?"
Joe began to clap rhythmically. "Ladies and gentleman, please give it up for the lovely and talented, Ms. Stephanie Plum. She'll be okay, folks. Don't try any of these stunts at home. She's a trained professional. I'm sure you've enjoyed the show, so tell your friends Stephanie will be appearing on Thursday and Saturday nights. Drive safely and remember to tip your server. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." Joe grinned, rubbing his palms back and forth on his jeans.
I tilted my head and glared at him. "Was that supposed to be funny?"
"Yeah," he chuckled softly. Joe's enigmatic smile was mixed with a look of anticipation. Almost like he had poked a sleeping bear and was waiting to see if it would wake up and maul him.
I let my expression soften to a jovial grin. "Don't quit your day job. Leave the comedy to the professionals."
"Oh yeah? Think you can you do that trick again?"
"Nope. I'm going to show you something I'm even better at," I said in a sultry voice.
I very carefully sauntered over to the bed. The chocolate of his narrowing eyes turned dark and his lips parted slightly. His gaze lowered to my breasts. When his eyes swept back up to meet mine, they were filled with lusty desire. It turned me on, and I felt the sex kitten wanting to come out and play. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I gave him a shove and he fell back onto his elbows. I climbed onto the bed, one knee at a time and straddled his waist. My eyes fluttering closed, I leaned forward to place my lips on his.
The kiss was just heating up when he pulled back. "I hate to say this, Cupcake, but it's 5:30. Don't we have to be at your parent's by six?"
"Damn, I forgot," I said disappointedly and started to ease off his lap.
He grabbed my hip to stop my movement. "I can forget too. Dinner? What dinner? See, already forgotten."
"Nope. We have to go. I'll make it up to you later," I said giving him a light kiss. "I promise."
"You and your promises. I'm holding you to that." He smiled and kissed me back.
I began rushing through my drawers and closet looking for clothes. Both were mostly empty. Boy, I really need to do laundry. Luckily, I found a pair of string bikinis nestled underneath a pair of granny panties, which I'd only been saving for times of desperation. I would have resorted to dressing in the bathroom to keep those bloomers under wrap, because Joe would never have let me live it down if he'd seen those.
"Do these smell clean?" I asked, tossing a pair of jeans I found on the floor at Joe.
He sniffed and tossed them back at me. "They smell like you."
"Clarify that. Do they smell like clean me or dirty me?"
"The way you smell makes me have dirty thoughts. If you don't have your pants on in thirty seconds, we will definitely be late to dinner," came his husky reply.
I quickly shimmied into the jeans before he made me forget dinner altogether. Joe could seduce me into forgetting my own birthday party if he really wanted to.
And I live for birthday cake.
He raised an eyebrow. "So you gonna tell me about your new partner? Is there anything I should be concerned about?"
"Only if I murder him," I retorted, pulling on a v-neck t-shirt. "He's a pig."
"What do you mean?"
"His life revolves around sex."
"I like him already. As long as he keeps his hands off you."
"I'll break the rest of his fingers if he touches me."
I wasn't about to open a can of worms by telling Joe about Johnny offering to—ick. I couldn't bring myself to even think about it. I would have to work closely with Johnny making sure he was prepared for the task of bounty hunting. The last thing I needed was the Italian Stallion scrutinizing our every minute together because he was insecure.
"How'd he break his finger? I didn't notice anything when I shook his hand earlier."
"Both his thumbs, not his finger. It was a long time ago. I don't know how, and I'm not going to ask him about it," I answered bluntly.
Joe dropped it with the curtness of my response. I tried to come up with a topic changer, but my focus was pretty much dedicated to finding a clean pair of socks. If he kept asking questions, he'd become suspicious of Johnny's past and want to run his name.
"What's Johnny's last name? I'd feel a little better about the guy working with you if I knew he was clean," Joe said, leaning against the doorjamb.
"He didn't tell me. They call him Johnny Thumbs." I wasn't exactly lying with my reply, just avoiding the truth. I also avoided mentioning the fact he was Harry's nephew. Having an ex-mob partner probably wouldn't sit well with Joe.
"Sounds like a mob name. You think they call him that on account of his broken thumbs?"
I mentally cringed, not liking the direction he was headed. "Yes, detective, you deserve a promotion with investigative skills like that. Now help me identify some clean socks, would ya?"
"It's not that cold out. Just don't wear any socks." Joe maintained his position by the door. "So, do you think he's going to be any good?"
"If the FTA is a desperate female!" I snorted. "Yeah, he can just use his twisted idea of what a woman wants to hear and charm her into his car like the pied piper."
"Wow. He sounds like quite the ladies man. Now I really want to see this Johnny guy in action. Maybe I can pick up a few tips from him."
"You'll be singing soprano if you try any of his lines on me. Besides, you don't need any pointers. He should be taking lessons from you. You got me, didn't you?"
"Yep." Joe strutted over and turned me around in his arms. "And I'm never letting you go," he said with a kiss.
There was a knock at the door.
"Expecting someone?"
"No," I answered, wondering whom it could be.
Joe left to check on the interruption, while I put on my shoes. My eyes bugged out when I walked into the living room. I almost groaned out loud upon seeing the drop-by guest.
"Look who's here, Cupcake. Your partner." Joe smiled widely.
"How did you know where I live?"
"It's in your records," Johnny replied with a shrug.
"You read my personal file?"
I was disconcerted, although there probably wasn't anything in there that wasn't already public knowledge. Whatever didn't spread through the Burg gossip chain about my life usually ended up on the front page of the Trenton Times.
"Yeah. What else did I have to do when you ditched me at the office? When's the last time you updated your information? I'da never figured you only weighed 112 pounds on account of all them doughnuts you eat." Johnny looked to Joe. "You must've picked her up before. What do you say she weighs?"
Joe smirked and rubbed his chin. "Well―"
I stopped him before he could put his foot in his mouth. "Answer that, and you're a dead man, Morelli."
I glared at Joe, until he changed the subject. "So, Johnny, what brings you by tonight?"
"I wanted to talk to my partner about something that happened earlier," he replied. I shook my head slightly with wide eyes, signaling now was not the time. I didn't think there would ever be a time when I wanted to talk about what happened between us earlier.
Joe's forehead creased, as he turned his attention to me. "What happened earlier?"
"Oh, umm…" I really hated being put on the spot like that. "He's probably wondering why I didn't come back to the office after lunch. I had a beer and had Connie drive me home. Which reminds me, can we swing by the office later, so I can pick up my car?"
"Your car's outside," Johnny stated.
"How is my car outside? I left it at the office."
"I drove it here. I think you broke the lock when you slammed the door. It shuts, but it just don't lock no more."
I reached into my purse and pulled out my keys. "How did you get here without these?"
Johnny looked from me to Joe, then back to me. "Uhh…."
"Never mind. There just better not be a bunch of wires hanging down when I get in my car," I huffed.
"Nope. It's all put back nice and pretty like," Johnny beamed.
"We'd love to stay and chat, but Steph and I were just on our way out," Joe said.
"Guess I'll be goin', too. Say, I'm pretty hungry. All I ate today was some orange crackers. Did yous guys eat yet?" Johnny asked.
"We were just on our way out to eat. Sorry," I said, almost snapping my fingers to emphasize my embellished, darn-it-all tone, but that would've been laying it on a bit thick.
"I'll just tag along."
Evidently, I hadn't been blunt enough about my heave-ho.
"Where do you want to eat?" Johnny continued. "Is there a Knockers around here?"
"I don't think so. What's Knockers?" My curiosity got the better of me. Joe's snicker told me I shouldn't have asked.
"It's like Hooter's, 'cept the chicks are kinda butterfaces. Their food ain't so expensive, and you got better luck taking your waitress home," Johnny so quaintly informed me.
"You know what butterface means, Steph?" Joe was purposely fueling the fire.
I closed my eyes before they could roll. I needed to ditch Johnny and do so quickly.
"We are having dinner at my parents. We really—"
"—think you should come with us. Steph's mom always makes extra," Joe rattled off quickly. He took a step back, knowing an elbow to the gut was seconds away.
"Okay, sure. I ain't had a home-cooked meal in a long time. Any babes gonna be there?"
"None that aren't already taken," Joe responded, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
"If you want to go with us, we need to leave now. Dinner is at six sharp and we can't be late. My mother doesn't need another reason to complain to me." I would have to thank Joe later for taking up the slack in my Burg manners.
Johnny yelled shotgun, and I told him either to get in the back or go home. He pouted about that for a few minutes after getting into the back of Joe's SUV. I think he kicked my seat too. Was he eight years old or what? I could only imagine what was about to transpire when Johnny met my family.
"I thought you had a date with Shelly tonight?"
"After you left me at the office, I got bored. So I decided to make it an early date with the cherry-pop and left when Connie got back. I went over to her house to work my magic. She was all excited to see me. She lit a bunch of candles. Then she wanted to read her poetry to me, 'cause she thinks I'm all into poetry or somethin'. Man, I shoulda never told her that poem. Her's was all bullshit, sappy crap. You know what? It didn't even rhyme. After about ten minutes, I'm ready to blow my brains out. I couldn't take it no more. But, being the gentleman I am, I told her it made me hot, and we needed to get down to business before I blew in my pants. I lied though. I was hoping she would quit yappin', 'cause I couldn't even get my dick hard."
Joe chuckled, and while glaring, I gritted out, "How romantic."
"I know, right? So, instead of jumping on me, she said she's got a play she wrote, and I'd have to hear that before we did anything. So, I suggest she read it to me in the bedroom. I figured once we was in there, I could shut her up by stickin' somethin' in her mouth—if you know what I mean? Heh, heh. "He paused, until I acknowledged I knew what he meant.
"Uhh-huhh."
Joe laughed again, and I punched his arm.
"Anyways, she doesn't want to go to the bedroom yet. She says she wants to read by candlelight, for the mood and all. Then she tells me we gotta bring all the candles into the bedroom before we can do the deed. I ain't got time for all that romance bullshit. What is it with broads and the candles? Most chicks I bang, I gotta have the lights off. Otherwise, I just do 'em from behind, so I ain't gotta look at 'em."
Joe sucked his lips in, so he could bite on them and laugh without making a sound. Meanwhile, I put my fingers to the bridge of my nose.
"I'll bet that's why she wanted to go to the store—to pick up more candles," I said.
"Well, she must have bought the entire supply. I felt like I was at one of them ceremonies where you talk to the dead."
"A séance," I amended.
"Whatever." He waved off my correction. "I just was hoping she had a fire extinguisher. So when she went to look for her goddamn play, I got the hell outta there. She's fucking nuts. Usually, I'm pretty good with a cup of crazy, but this chick's doomed for a life with cats."
I turned around to look at Johnny in disbelief. "You just left?"
"Yeah. She'll figure it out. If I ever run into her, I'll just tell her you called needing my assistance or some bullshit like that."
At this point, I was sure that Joe no longer felt Johnny was a threat. I think he was actually getting a kick out of the guy's honesty.
I wasn't.
His language was vulgar and stories were crass. I needed to set down some ground rules for etiquette at my parents.
"My family goes to church every Sunday," I warned. "Try and maintain some decorum with your vocabulary at the dinner table." I thought about Grandma Mazur's presence, and her intrigue with the erotic world. "And NO sex talk."
"Jeez, give me a little credit," he shot back, sounding hurt. "I'll absolutely be on my best behavior. Wouldn't want your folks to think I'm some kind of creep or somethin'."