“Shut up,” I whispered and a lady standing beside me gave me a weird look. I shot her an embarrassed smile, went directly to the produce section and bought enough grapes, oranges and plums to unconstipate the French Foreign Legion.
At Luke’s I had dressed quickly, came out of the bathroom, grabbed my purse and keys and gave him a “Later”. The whole time he sat on a barstool, holding his coffee cup, watching me and not saying a word. I had managed to escape without him giving me keys or his remote which I figured worked in my favor.
I went directly to King Soopers and was saved by Riley.
After I left King Soopers and was heading home, I decided I would call Shirleen at Nightingale Investigations and set up an account. I figured she would take my information and invoice me. It was a business and they had to keep their men in lofts and Porsches. They weren’t going to turn down my trade.
What I didn’t allow myself to think about was anything that had anything to do with Luke; his eyes turning to ink; the scar across his belly; his chest hair; how good a night’s rest I had while lying beside him (even handcuffed); or what he might taste like.
And I definitely didn’t think about getting shot at by AK-47s.
I let myself into my house and to keep my mind busy I cleaned it. Then I took a shower and tamed my hair. I swiped on a hint of makeup (Riley was coming over, after all) and because it was warm I put on a black Foo Fighters baby doll tee, another pair of faded (but not quite as faded as yesterday) Levi’s and a shitload of my silver to buoy my spirits. After I’d done that I had about a half an hour before Riley got there, so I got to work on one of my accounts. A deadline was drawing near and with all the Sissy business, I was procrastinating. I had to get some work done or I’d be fucked.
The office was upstairs in my second bedroom. The walls were painted a soft salmon because I heard that orange sparked energy and creativity and there was a desk and futon in there (for overnight guests). I’d made it into a funky room with cool, light wicker baskets and boxes, colorful toss pillows on the futon and a kickass, state-of-the-art swivel chair so I wouldn’t mind spending time there while I worked.
I barely got my computer booted up when my phone rang.
I answered it with a, “Yo.”
“You didn’t call me,” Sissy said, her voice sounding funny.
“Hey,” I replied. “You okay?”
“The police called me.”
Uh-oh.
“Sissy…” I started.
“Someone shot up my house and Dom is missing.”
I blinked. “Dom is missing?” I asked.
“Yeah. They waited for him at the house all night and they called his cell, no answer. They went to his office and he hasn’t shown up for work for two days, no calls to explain why he wasn’t there. Nothing.”
I knew Dom had an office. He “worked” for his Uncle Vito but I suspected it was a front for something. I didn’t ask because Sissy wouldn’t tell. And anyway, I liked Uncle Vito. I met him at Sissy and Dom’s engagement party and he was a hoot. He thought I was hilarious and always laughed at my jokes. I didn’t like thinking he was a criminal mastermind mafia-type person that would suck.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m freaked. Can you check my house?”
“Sure,” I told her.
“Thank God you weren’t there,” she breathed. “They told me they used a machine gun, totally shot up my living room. Can you imagine if you were there?”
Yep, I could imagine.
“Go to the house during the day,” she said. “Take someone with you.”
“Riley’s coming over for lunch. I’ll ask him if he wants to go.”
Silence then, “Riley’s coming over for lunch?”
“Yeah. He called me this morning and told me he was coming over.”
“What’s that all about?”
I laughed at her saying my thoughts out loud. “Hell if I know.”
“Call me the minute you find out.”
“I will.”
“Do you think I should come home?” she asked.
“Let me check it out, Sis. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay,” there was a pause then, quietly, “I hope Dom is okay.” I didn’t speak. “I know you don’t like him, and I know he’s a jerk but I can’t help how I feel.”
“I know, Sis. I hope he’s okay too.”
There it was again. Liar, liar pants on fire.
We said good-bye and I had barely put the phone down when it rang again.
I picked it up. “Yo.”
“Yo back at ‘cha,” Ally Nightingale said in my ear. “You comin’ to The Hornet?”
“Hey girl. Sure,” I told her.
“Cool, but you gotta give me something early. The girls are goin’ nuts. You know Luke?” she asked.
Shit.
“What girls?” I asked back.
“The Rock Chicks. Indy, Jet, Roxie, Daisy, Jules…”
My breath caught. “Jet, Roxie and Jules?” I asked.
Those were the names of Luke’s friends that he told me about and since not many people were named Jet, Roxie and Jules, they had to be –.
“Yeah. Jet works for Indy and she’s living with Eddie Chavez. Roxie is my brother Hank’s girlfriend, they’re living together too. Jules is with Vance, one of Lee’s boys.”
Holy cramoly.
See, what’d I say about Denver having a small town feel?