Strange Neighbors (15 page)

   "Oh, no. There's more?"

   "Just about the name."

   "Yeah, what's with that? She must have made one up."

   Her father cleared his throat. "Or been very psychic. Allison Flores was your birth name."

   Merry dropped back onto her pillow with a thump. Shock waves rendered her temporarily speechless.

"Honey? Are you there?"

   "Yes," she said in a small voice. "How on earth could some reporter know that? I didn't even know that!"

   "Well, it's true. We liked the name Allison, but not with MacKenzie. Allison MacKenzie sounded kind of long and clunky. We looked at your tiny smiling face and the name Merry popped into your mother's mind. Merry MacKenzie felt right. So when we changed your last name, we changed your first name too."

   "Oh." Allison. She had always liked that name. And Flores would explain her Latin features. She had never thought about having had another name since she was adopted as an infant. But how the hell did someone learn about her other name?

   "Dad, do you think the records have been unsealed and someone has been trying to find me?" It might be a long shot, but what else could explain it?

   "Or maybe they have found you but aren't ready to introduce themselves yet. Either way, I'd like you to keep me informed."

   "Sure. I'll let you know if anything comes of it." Merry let that roll around in her mind for a minute. Should it feel creepy that someone might know who she really was but wasn't willing to reveal himself to her? Regardless of whether it should freak her out or not, it did.

   "You know I love you, Pumpkin. If you need me, I'm right here for you."

   Uh-oh. She was regressing into little girl mode and he sensed it. Time to put on her big-girl panties and deal. "I know that, Dad. Listen, I'm going to talk to Roz. She might know how to approach this."

   "Rosalyn Wells? That's right, she's a lawyer, isn't she?" "Yeah, she does both criminal and civil law. I think adoptions are done in civil court."

   "Talk to her. And let me know if she needs my help to figure this out."

Jason hadn't expected a P.I. to have a nice office in a high rise downtown. He had thought a shabby store front in the seediest part of town was likely where he'd find his sleuth. What was probably true, though, was that he'd watched too many detective shows on TV.

   He rode the escalator to the second floor. Not much of a view from there. Preoccupied with what he would say to the P.I., he almost missed seeing Merry on the opposite escalator, going down.

   "Merry!"

   She looked his way, frowned, and faced forward.

   Huh? What's her problem? "Merry!" he yelled as she moved further away.

   At last she swiveled and yelled back over her shoulder, "Blow it out your ass, Falco."

   What the hell? She had seemed fine yesterday. More than fine. Warm, cuddly, and responsive. He sighed.

   Women. I wonder what I've done now.

   He thought about turning around and catching up with her. Would she tell him what was on her mind or would she give him one of those "If you don't know what you did wrong, I'm certainly not going to tell you" responses?

   Maybe he should let her cool down. After all, she had admitted to PMSing recently. Whatever minor infraction he had committed, she'd probably feel foolish about it as soon as her hormones returned to normal.

   Deciding to continue on, he arrived at a long hallway with floor to ceiling glass offices on either side. That's ballsy for a private dick. I guess he's not afraid of retribution via gunfire.

   Finally, he located the office with Joseph Murphy LLC. inscribed on the door. Heading inside toward the receptionist, he took in the trappings of the small but neat office. It offered comfortable contemporary furniture in the waiting area, tables, magazines, and a newspaper. Great, if he had to wait, at least he'd have something to read.

   "I'm Jason Falco. I have an appointment with Mr. Murphy," he told the receptionist.

   She stopped filing her nails and lifted her bleached blonde head. "Joe will be right with you, Mr. Falco." Then she scowled at him and went back to her manicure.

   Hmmm… Not even a smile. Not very friendly, although she calls her boss 'Joe.'

   Jason found a seat on the white leather couch and reached for the paper. It was folded open to one of the inside pages. And there he discovered his picture! Actually, three pictures of him. One with Merry, kissing in the parking lot at the bachelor auction; one with his "date" on her doorstep the following night. And one with a fan who stopped him on the street for his autograph. To his horror, the headline read—Three-timing Falco!

   Oh my God! No wonder Merry gave him the cold shoulder! He glanced up and saw the receptionist glaring at him. Oh, crap.

   Anxiously he scanned the article to see what kind of details they may have divulged. Please don't have my address in there.

   Under the picture of Merry, the story read, "Live-in girlfriend, Allison Flores, no longer lovey-dovey."

   He held up the newspaper to show the receptionist. "This whole article was completely fabricated."

   "Sure it was…" she said with a sarcastic smirk.

   "It was! First of all, I'm living alone and I don't know anyone named Allison Flores. This is my girlfriend, Merry. Then, I had to take out the second woman as an obligation because she paid for me in a bachelor auction. And this third one—"

   "Yeah, yeah. Save it for someone who cares. I'll see if Joe's ready to see you." She buzzed her boss and announced Jason's presence.

   "You know what? Maybe I will talk to him about it. I want the hide of the reporter who wrote this."

   "He'll find her, but he won't skin her for you. You'll have to do that yourself."

   Jason's lips thinned into a hard line and his nostrils flared. "I just might."

Merry's best friend Roz sat across the kitchen table from her and handed her a tissue.

   "Merry, open this door!" Jason pounded again. "I know you're in there."

   Merry blew her nose and yelled, "Go away!"

   Roz gave her that pathetic smile. The one that says, "I know what you're going through, and thank God it's not happening to me."

   "Please! I need to talk to you," Jason yelled.

   "Give him a chance, Merry. You said yourself he didn't seem like the two-timing type. And what about the woman using a made up name for you? Chances are the whole story was made up."

   Merry thought about it for another minute. It was very possible that a good explanation existed, so why didn't she want to hear it?

   Maybe he'd lie and just break her heart again later. Maybe she wanted to show him what would happen if he did cheat on her… if she let him live.

   Roz grasped her hand and squeezed. "Merry, just open the door and talk to him. I'm right here if you need me."

   It was harder to say no to two people than one, so she heaved a sigh and shuffled to the door. For some reason, she decided to look through the peephole, even though she knew full well who stood on the opposite side.

   Jason's posture slumped and he stuck his hands in his pockets. He turned toward the elevator and started to leave.

   She opened the door quickly and said, "Wait. I'll talk to you."

   Jason spun and strode back to her. "Merry, the newspaper article is a lie." He stood before her, but thankfully didn't reach for her. She would have backed away. She wasn't ready to forgive him—or the reporter. Not yet.

   "Someone set me up, Merry."

   She tilted her head. "And why would anyone want to do that?"

   He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe to sell newspapers? Because people like to see celebrities stumble and fall to prove they're human and no better than they are? I have no idea. All I know is that I'm not threetiming you or even two-timing you."

   "I know about the woman who won you in the auction, but who's the other one?"

   "No idea. She said she was a fan. She grabbed and hugged me before I had a chance to react. I practically had to peel her off, but that wasn't my fault. For all I know, the reporter paid her to do it."

   "Either that or she was in the right place at the wrong time."

   "Merry, I swear…!"

   "So did I—when my father told me about the article."

   "Your father saw it?"

   "Yeah. So did the neighbors back home."

   "Shit. But it's all a lie!"

   Roz poked her head around the corner and said, "Is everything okay?"

   Merry shrugged.

   Jason looked surprised. "Oh, I didn't know you had a friend here."

   "Yeah, imagine that. I have someone who cares about me."

   "You know that's not what I meant. Besides, I care about you too—a lot, and you know it."

   She heaved a sigh. Then she looked into his sincere face and said, "I know. I care about you too."

   "Then could you please stop torturing me for something I didn't do? I swear you're the only woman I'm dating and that's how I want to keep it. I can't leave with you feeling this way."

   She stepped forward into his grasp, and they held each other tight.

"Now that's more like it," Roz said.

   Merry had almost forgotten she was watching them. "Oh." She let go, but kept her arm around his waist. "Jason Falco, this is Rosalyn Wells. My best friend from home."

   He extended his hand but kept one arm around Merry's waist as if she might try to escape. "Nice to meet you, Rosalyn. Did you drive up here from Rhode Island?"

   "No, I live near the Allston line, and feel free to call me Roz."

   "Part of the reason I moved to Boston was to be closer to Roz," Merry said. "We've been best friends since grade school."

   "I'm glad you live in Boston, then. I might not have met Merry otherwise."

   "Unless you believe in fate," Roz said.

   Merry tipped her head up to look in Jason's eyes. He smiled. "Maybe I do. I can't imagine my life without Merry in it anymore. You scared me, babe."

   She wrapped her other arm around him again and squeezed. "You scared me too."

   "I told you things like this might happen. Please talk to me before believing any crap like that. I'll always tell you the truth, I promise."

   They exchanged warm smiles and a short but very sweet, tender kiss. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

   Roz cleared her throat, "Well, I should be going…"

   "No, you don't have to," they both responded at once. Then they chuckled.

   "I didn't mean to interrupt your visit," Jason said. "Merry knows where I am when she's free."

   "No, I really have things to do," Roz said. "But if you want to find this bitch reporter and threaten her with libel, I can hook you up with a colleague of mine."

   "Why wouldn't you handle it yourself?" Merry asked.

   Jason showed a spark of recognition. "Oh, you must be the lawyer Merry gave as a reference."

   "Yes. I graduated from Suffolk Law a couple of years ago. I'm still low woman on the totem pole at Payne, Richards, and Stewart. In the same building where Merry saw you earlier."

   "What kind of law do you practice?"

   She and Merry exchanged glances. Merry nodded.

   "I used to do civil work, mostly divorces, but now I'm a public defender, and for some reason I get the weird cases."

   "Weird?" he asked. "What kind of weird?"

   "Weeeeiiiird. The kind of cases most people find hard to believe. I'd give you an example or two, but… well, never mind. That's not important. I have a colleague who's very good at intimidation. I could recommend you to him."

   Jason smiled. "That won't be necessary, but thanks."

   "I don't know," Merry said. "I'd like to see you do it. People shouldn't get away with that kind of thing. It's rotten, destructive, and just plain wrong."

   "You know how I feel about rocking the boat, Merry. I'd rather not."

   "Then I will," she said.

LILA SAT AT HER FAVORITE BAR STOOL AND TOASTED herself—in more ways than one. Kevin polished glasses and occasionally glanced her way.

   "So you saved your career?"

   She smiled proudly. "Yep, I shertainly did."

   "I hope it was worth saving."

   She narrowed her eyes. "Wha's dat shupposed to mean?"

   Kevin draped the dishcloth over his shoulder and leaned on the bar. "I mean, it doesn't seem to be making you happy."

   Shocked, Lila lightly rocked back on her stool. "Not happy? What are you, nuts? Here I am shelebrating, and you think I'm unhappy? Maybe you need glashes."

   "Look, Lila, I've known you for about two years, right?"

   "Uh huh… and?"

   "And I worry about you. In that time I've seen you go from bad to worse with only brief moments of what some people call happiness. I call it oblivion."

   I'm feeling positively giddy. What's his problem? Lila tried to stand to make an angry point, but her ankles wobbled and she wound up on her ass. "Owww… Hey, where'd the floor come from?"

   Kevin must have jogged around the bar, because the next thing she saw was his extended hand. "Come on, Lila. Get up. Customers are gawking."

   "Let 'em look. I don't need your help. I can shtand by myshelf." She shuffled to a sitting position between two bar stools and leaned against the bar. Using the rails for leverage, she took a deep breath and pushed. When she tried to lift herself, her feet slipped out from beneath her and she sat down hard, legs splayed. "Owww… I need a whoopee cushion." After a short delay to process it, she realized what she had said and began to laugh. Her laughter escalated to hysteria. Soon she was weeping with laughter and her sides hurt as much as her tailbone.