“Fuck!” I shouted, because it was definitely the time to say the f-word.
Smithie came in from outside, breathing heavy, and bore down on me. “You wanna tel me what in the fuck is goin’
on?” he yel ed.
“I don’t know! I have to find my Dad. He was here and Slick was after him.”
“Forget your Dad. We’re talkin’ about you. That’s twice you had some fuckin’ guy with a knife after you.”
“He isn’t after me,” I told him.
“No, from where I stood, it fuckin’ looked like you were after him,” Smithie shot back.
“He pul ed a knife on my Dad!” I yel ed.
“Someone pul s a knife, you get the fuck outta Dodge.
You don’t jump on his back. Fuck! You’re a crazy woman!” Smithie shouted.
“I’m not crazy!” I shouted back
A plain-clothes police officer walked up and interrupted us with a soft cough. He introduced himself as Detective us with a soft cough. He introduced himself as Detective Jimmy Marker and told me he had to ask a few questions.
Smithie pointed at me, “You’re a pain in my fuckin’ ass.” Then he stomped away.
The detective had the opportunity to ask me two questions before his eyes moved beyond me and his chin lifted in that silent greeting men do so wel .
Then I felt fingers curl into the waistband of my mini-skirt.
I began to turn around when I heard Eddie say, “Give me a minute, Jimmy.”
Uh-oh.
Jimmy looked at Eddie, his eyes knowing and maybe slightly amused, though I didn’t know what in the hell was amusing right now. He nodded and wandered away.
Eddie pul ed me back a few steps and moved in front of me. One look at his face and “uh-oh” didn’t do it justice, it was definitely the kind of look that garnered a “holy shit”.
Eddie was seriously pissed off.
I tel you, I couldn’t buy a break.
Before I could say anything, Eddie turned to Lenny, who had stil not left my side. He communicated something nonverbal y because Lenny said, “I got orders not to leave her.”
Eddie fished in his back jeans pocket and flashed his badge.
Lenny nodded, looked at me and moved away.
“Eddie…” I said before he started but he lifted up his hand, Smithie style, and I shut up.
I was getting “the hand” a lot these days and it was beginning to tick me off.
He waited a beat, hooking his badge onto the belt on his jeans. Then he shook his head.
“You know, I don’t even know what to say,” he said.
“Let me explain.”
“You got an explanation for this? This I have to hear.” I actual y didn’t have an explanation so I fel silent.
“That’s what I thought,” Eddie said.
Al right, enough was enough. I mean, what would he do?
“What could I do? He had a knife and was fighting with Dad. I had to jump on his back and try to help!” I yel ed.
Okay, so before, it actual y was an “uh-oh” moment and this was a “holy shit” moment.
Eddie’s face changed and he looked at me like I just told him I wanted to go to Pluto for Spring Break.
“I hadn’t heard that part,” Eddie said in his scary quiet voice.
“Eddie—“ I started again.
He didn’t let me finish.
“Have you lost your mind? ”
This wasn’t said in a quiet voice, this was shouted and everyone, cops, bouncers, dancers and waitresses turned to stare.
I opened my mouth to defend myself (as if I had to, I mean, real y, it was my Dad) but didn’t get a word out.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” As if things weren’t bad enough with pissed off, shouting Eddie, Smithie showed up at our tête-à-tête.
“It wasn’t like I asked to wrestle in the hal way with a guy with a knife.” I said to the both of them, pissed off myself now, hands on hips and everything.
“You see a knife, you run as fast as you fuckin’ can,” Smithie said.
Now he was repeating himself.
“You run in these shoes,” I told him.
“That’s it. You wear tennis shoes on shift from now on.” My eyes widened and I stared. None of Smithie’s girls wore tennis shoes. The cocktail waitresses were required to have no less than a three-inch heel (I saw Smithie measure once) and the strippers wore sky-high platforms.
“I can’t wear tennis shoes!” I snapped. “Do you know what that’d do to my tips?”
Now both Eddie and Smithie were staring at me like I’d donated my brain to science pre-mortem.
Smithie turned to Eddie. “I’m leavin’ her in your hands.
You fuckin’ deal with her.” And he stalked away. Again.
Eddie dragged a hand through his hair.
“Eddie,” Jimmy Marker was back, “I real y gotta ask her a few questions.”
Eddie flipped his hand out in an annoyed “go ahead” gesture but didn’t leave my side as Detective Marker asked me questions. I told him my story (feeling Eddie get more and more tense as I told it; don’t ask me how I felt this, trust me, I just knew). Detective Marker took notes and asked me if I knew how to get a hold of my Dad— which I didn’t.