Romano and Albright 01 - Catch Me If You Can (MM) (21 page)

She smiled. “I can. He’s a lot like you…but different.”

“That’s the truth. So. Why were you at Brandon’s?”

“I went to bitch Brandon out and get my money, right? ’Cause it’s apparent to me he’s stealing. He was helping with the books—I mean he’s getting sort of old to be hauling stuff around, and his face is nearly always swollen, so I asked him to give me a hand around the office. So this morning, I get to Park Slope, and Shep walks in first. I’m so sick of him, you know?” She flicked her ash over the railing, then stared at the butt of her cigarette with longing. She wanted it, but she wouldn’t let herself bend. She was in her workday clothes—chef’s coat and a pair of black leggings. She had ballet flats on her feet. Her headband was in place. Silver today.

“Tell me about it. Who did he sleep with that mattered to you? Jean?”

“Please. You have to ask?”

“But he did.”

She nodded. “Neither one of them gay, right? I brought Jean to Connecticut as my date three frickin’ months ago—he only went to schmooze Chad and my folks. So he and Shep excused themselves from the table, like crepe suzette and a mimosa, and then the two of them are in the men’s room jacking each other off. Three months later, they’re still at it. Three frickin’ months. That’s why Shep came Friday night—not to see you. I think he’s terrified of getting outted, yeah, because of all that money, but he’s smitten. Really. He’s in love. You should have seen Chad last night when Jean Luc grabbed Shep’s ass at the door. I thought Chad was going to have a seizure.”

“What the hell was Shep doing at Brandon’s apartment this morning?”

“He told me ’bout an hour ago that he thinks Brandon is blackmailing him. He remembered something from the other night—but he was so drunk, he wasn’t sure. Shep was there to talk to Bran. My God, Ce, when did he get this bad? He’s spinning out of control. His mother’s going to kill him.”

“No. We were both wrong, he wasn’t out of control.” I told her about the roofie, the video, and about Brandon’s collapse.

“I didn’t know.” Poppy swallowed and contemplated her cigarette again. “It’s like every place I go, my entire life, there’s Shep. Since kindergarten. And now I’m reduced to working for him. You’re the best thing I ever got from him, Ce.”

“Yeah. It goes both ways. Except the oral. He does that exceptionally well.”

She smiled. “I just want my money. I called Joey last night and he said someone’s ripping me off. Here. At my place. I worked so hard. I was ready to expand, and then…it’s like I trusted the wrong people. My own staff. Joey said there’s a dummy account under my name—and I know it’s Bran. PayPal. I hate PayPal.”

“It’s insane. It’s like someone wants to be caught.”

Kitchen noises carried from the screen door. The crew was cleaning the lunch mess. Poppy leaned her slender back against the brick wall. “I’m so tired. I thought I could do all this on my own, and I’m tired.”

I slid a milk crate over and sat beside her. “Yeah. You need me.”

Poppy started to cry. Big fat tears spilled from her lashes, her blue eyes swimming. Her nose didn’t run and neither did her mascara. “I do. I need you. I can’t do this by myself and…if Joey can figure out where my money went…I want to get back to normal and I want to know…if you’ll help me. I’m good at the cooking, but the rest of it is a nightmare.”

“I quit today, so I’m looking for a new venture. I thought a bankrupt catering company in Manhattan during the economic downturn would be just the ticket.”

She smiled bravely. “Would you? Please?”

“Of course. All you have to do is ask and I will.” We digested my newfound career opportunity. Managing a catering company? This I could do. Do well. And enjoy. I was a Romano, after all.

She said, “I’ll pay you half.”

“Of nothing? Well, it’s twice as much as I’m making now.”

She reached and squeezed my hand. “Brace yourself, because I swear to God, I think I’m pregnant.”

Before I could react to that bombshell, a stack of plates fell behind us, and we both strained to see through the screen. “Fuck! Fuck!” Rachel screamed from the kitchen.

We stumbled over each other trying to get inside. I let my eyes adjust to the fluorescent lighting. Rachel stood at the far sink twisting a towel around her hand. “Sorry. Oh my God. Poppy. What the hell? Are you shitting me? I never thought—I just never suspected that you’d get yourself knocked up.”

The kitchen door burst wide and Shep, looking dapper and tan and more confused than I’d seen him since we took Calculus as freshmen, charged in with his mouth hanging open. His beautiful head swiveled, taking us all in. “You.” He pointed at Rachel.

Rachel blanched and carefully moved back with a crunch. Broken crockery covered the floor between her and Shep. For the first time in my memory, she wasn’t wearing heels.

Shep stared at the towel in Rachel’s hand. “It was you. I remember now. We were in the office and you…” He swallowed sickly.

Poppy’s eyes were round as saucers. She said, “Oh my God. It’s you.”

Everything snapped into place while Rachel, her hair still stuck under the cap, her face devoid of makeup, a tiny wisp of hair above her lip—suddenly became a boy. Right there. In front of my nose. Tits and all. I glanced at the crotch of Rachel’s jeans. I mean, I couldn’t possibly help myself from taking a peek. If she had a package, it wasn’t noteworthy. Clearly
she
wasn’t Italian. “Rachel?”

She gave me a hard-eyed stare as the towel on her hand pinkened with blood. “Ce?” she said sweetly, eyes wide. “So you’re going to be the new boss. Like I work here for two years doing every single thing, making sure Poppy looks good and paying the bills and cleaning the floors and keeping all these boys in line, doing the schedule, and you’re going to be my new boss?”

“Where’s Justin Timberlake?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Catty bitch.

Poppy threw her cigarette butt in the sink. “Fuck the head. Where’s my goddamn money?”

No wonder Shep had no clue what happened. Boy or girl, I’d asked. I was having a hard time processing with Shep gasping for air and getting ill beside me. He wasn’t on the verge of violence. No, the blood on Rachel’s hand was having its usual effect on him. He waved on his feet.

“Shep. Put your head between your knees before you fall down.”

Rachel sneered at him. “You are such a pussy.”

He was, but the poor bastard was reeling. Words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You oughtta know.”

Rachel’s eyes got mean, she stood tall, and I gotta tell you, she was bigger and stronger than both Poppy and I because she’d been hauling the warming oven, with Justin’s head in it, up and down the stairs. She carried crates of glasses and plates in four-inch heels. She slung trays and loaded trucks. She was ripped. Those enormous breasts, the makeup, the trash jewelry, the over-sexualized walk, all that cherry-flavored lip goo—I mean there was no way I’d have thought she was preoperative if Shep hadn’t had sex with her. She was just…such a girl.

“How the hell did you think you were going to get away with this?”

She shrugged and smiled.

“Oh my God. You were just going to leave Brandon holding the bag. You set him up.”

Rachel tied the towel into a knot on her cut with one hand and her teeth. “Bran was trying to pay for all the surgery, and then he got religion or something. Said he was worried about Poppy and was going to tell her the truth. Well, I’m not going to jail.”

“He let you down, so you double-crossed him? That’s pathetic.”

“You whore. You stole my fucking money.” Poppy snatched a plate and threw it at Rachel’s head. She grabbed another and flung it like a Frisbee at Rachel’s neck. Fast, Rachel dodged them both. Crockery smashed under her Converse as she came at Poppy. Poppy. Five foot even and a hundred pounds soaking wet. Shep was too busy gagging into the sink and trying to keep upright to help. Poppy reached for a frying pan, but I grabbed Rachel by her ponytail as she passed and swung her around, smashing her head into the dishwasher. Her bloody hand snaked up to latch onto my wrist, her fist swung to my gut, her foot stomped on my instep, and I kneed that bitch in the nuts with all my strength. I popped her balls—no surgery required.

She doubled over, puking onto the floor.

Poppy cracked her on the head with her pan and like that, Rachel was out.

“Oh my God. Did I kill her?” Poppy was panting and flushed. “Oh my God.” She snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. She snorted again and wiped silver hair from her brow. “That was amazing. Jesus, you took her down.”

I checked Rachel’s pulse. I was proficient at that activity now. “You should call the cops.”

Shep slid to the floor. “Christ, Ce. That was incredible. I think I’m going to be sick.” He leaned into the wall, eyes closed. “I’m pretty sure she tried to kill Brandon.”

“Me too.”

The kitchen door swung and Dan came into the room with a plate of quiche in one hand and a phone pressed to his ear. He glanced down at Rachel and then Shep. “What the hell is going on back here? Romano, every time I turn around you’re one step ahead of me and neck deep in something.”

“Five thousand dollars for breast augmentation,” was all I could think to say. “Shep thought he’d followed a girl upstairs, but he was so drugged, he couldn’t remember.”

Shep said weakly, “The video was the real thing.”

“That’s just gross…I don’t mean to sound like a prude, but…” Poppy gazed between us. “What? You were thinking the same thing.”

Dan turned to Shep. “I bagged the condom. You can press charges—or Brandon will. No one needs to find out anything else.”

I said to Dan, “I bet she owed that Dr. Bronner a load of money, she and Brandon.”

He nodded. “She had us all snowed. I came here to talk to her. She and Jean Luc were the only ones unaccounted for.”

“Brandon. Man. Talk about being led around by your dick.” That idiot.

Poppy tilted her head, staring at Rachel where she lay sprawled on the floor. “You know. I’m tempted to peek in her pants to see what she has under there.”

Dan and I both yelled, “No!
No!
”

We met back at the gallery at five. It seemed like common ground for Jean Luc, Mallory and Peter. Poppy brought her famous raspberry cake with the chocolate ganache and I brewed a pot of Fog Lifter, my last one at the Stuhlmann gallery. Joey arrived with a fistful of white roses and his best shirt. He was freshly shaved, and he’d made free with his discount Bulgari
Aqua Pour Homme
. He kissed Poppy right in front of me and then he drew me aside.

“I love that girl.”

Before he could say another word, I cut him off. “I do too. I could kill you right here with my bare hands. You lying to me, Joey, because I swear to God…” I poked his chest hard with my index finger. “You better do right by her.
Capisce
?”

“
Capisce
. Hey, that was good. Very old school, you know? Sort of butch. You’re like her brother, and I understand. But, uh, where’s Uncle Rocco’s lock pick? Your father’s pissed like nobody’s business.”

“Ain’t that the truth?”

Dan sauntered into the kitchen, his boots scuffing the floor. He had Justin Timberlake’s head in a box. Poor bastard’s ear and nipple were missing. His Swatch eyes were cracked. Peter winced at the ruined bust, twisting a napkin in his manicured hands. “You can’t quit, Caesar. I need you.”

Dan’s eyes met mine from where he stood by the door. He winked encouragingly, his smile letting that dimple make an appearance, and I winked back. There was just something about him that I hadn’t ever known in my past relationships. Honesty maybe? Openness? Pride? He was clear that we were involved—or that he wanted us to be involved. He was pursuing me openly—in front of my family, even. He was loud and proud and in on all my secrets. He seemed to appreciate me more in spite of them. Something fluttered around inside my chest. Something unprecedented. I turned to Peter. “Quit? I can and I did. It’s been a good few years, but I’m ready to move on.”

“It’s so sudden. What am I supposed to do?”

“I guess you’ll have to run the gallery yourself until you can find an assistant,” Poppy chimed in. “I mean, it can’t be that hard if you pay so little. I’m sure some clown will come and take over.”

Peter’s mouth turned down. He said crossly, “That’s not funny.”

Mallory entered dressed in her expected black pencil skirt and tailored jacket. She immediately noticed the painting where it rested forlornly against the neat wall. Her manicured fingers clutched the top button on her silk blouse. “Oh thank God.”

Dan nodded to his aunt, handing her a cup of coffee. “It was here all along, in the alley. Rachel swiped it from Peter’s storage facility, and Brandon gave it to the bums for safekeeping. I don’t think Brandon ever told her where it was. He was hoping for leverage and his plan backfired.”

Mallory glared at Peter. “You are so fortunate. This painting is worth millions to the Albright.”

We all stared at the urine-stained canvas. Dan said, “I hope that pee comes out.”

“We have people for that.” Mallory sniffed. “I can’t thank you enough, Daniel.”

Shep arrived on those words, Jean Luc close by his side. The pair looked suspiciously relaxed—as if they’d had sex in the cab on the way over. Shep seemed a bit too cool which was a dead giveaway to me. If ever there was a man for Shep, I’d say it was Jean Luc. “Hey, Caesar found the painting. He should get the reward.”

“Reward?” There was a reward?

“It’s five thousand dollars.” Mallory reached into her Coach bag and handed me a flyer. “I just had these printed. It was Sheppard’s idea. We were desperate.”

Five thousand dollars? Because of Shep—of all people. Poppy grinned at me and muttered a tiny “Yes!” along with an unrepentant fist pump.

Peter swallowed audibly. “So Rachel stole the painting from upstairs?”

Shep handed Jean a cup of coffee, then he grabbed one for himself. “I remember that she came down the stairs with the painting. I was lying on the floor in Peter’s office. I remember her polka-dot skirt and that’s it. Oh. She dragged me down the hall by my feet. That chick is strong.”