In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) (31 page)

“I
do believe I am your only brother-in-law?” Diego answered, his shoulders held rigid with tenseness, but smiling slightly.

I
put up both hands and protested lightly, “Well sure, if you want to get technical, but don’t you agree Kenna’s bound to remarry again by next week and you’ll soon have some stiff competition?”

Diego’s eyebrows rose
, and then seeing my big grin, he chuckled and agreed while I giggled.

M
ia had been closely observing me, but now politely excused herself saying she had work to do. There was barely concealed disdain in her voice before she hurried off. As she dashed away from us down the hallway, I noted Diego didn’t follow her swaying hips with his eyes, but continued to chat with me about trivial topics.

I pointed to the emergency exit door and stated the obvious. “Do you know that door is open?”

Diego glanced over at the door and replied, “Yes, we can’t get the temperature regulated in here today and it’s been uncomfortably hot on this side of the building.” He added with a small grimace of irritation, “The alarm on that door is broken anyway.”

I comm
iserated over the endless problems of owning an older building and the required continuous maintenance while I observed Diego for any distinctively overt signs of guilt or shame.

Luke may act like a Spanish Conquistador, but Diego Esteban Tomas Dos Santos look
ed like one. His noble features gradually lose more of their tenseness as we talk. He took my arm while flashing a naturally sensuous smile that I find so attractively prevalent in many Latino men.

Dressed casually in dark slacks and a navy polo shirt with the Dos Santos logo,
Diego has movie-star good looks that belong on the cover of Playgirl magazine. I resolutely didn’t speculate what the rest of him would look like inside a Playgirl because the dude was married to my sister, but I’ve been told he was totally centerfold-worthy.

We sauntered down the hallway while
chit-chatting easily about our families and upcoming events. Diego was polished and has the salesman’s gift of making pleasant conversation. After his first start of surprise, if he thought it was odd to see me at his store, his friendly demeanor gave no hint.

He ha
d no lipstick on his collar, only an I.D. swipe card attached to his pocket by a little silver clip, and I’d detected no red love rash on Mia Besosa’s face from getting scraped by Diego’s whiskers.

If I had my way, I’d skip the investigating
Mac has requested entirely. I’d rather chain Diego up in my basement at Bel’s, right alongside Pam, and make him talk the old-fashioned way; by brute force. And only talk, because while I’d agree Diego was drop dead handsome and passionately macho, those traits were trying to me when not matched with a keen sense of humor and an acute perception of human nature.

‘Holy Moly,
have I been spoiled by the human trifecta that is Luke Drake or what!’

‘Wait
! When did ‘an acute perception of human nature’ get added to the list of requirements in a man?’
asked the accountant voice, worriedly
.

That
was a good point and I realized Luke was no mere trifecta, but a superfecta boyfriend. He’s not only intelligent, humorous, and endowed with manly muscles, but I loved his perceptive cleverness. Anna was right; he does keep me on my toes.

‘
Not that I forgive him for being a Fibster,’
I added darkly, dwelling a moment once again on Luke’s secrets. There was a wisp of a thought tantalizing my memory, but like smoke, it was impossible to tangibly grasp.

I lost even the wisp when
Diego brought me back to the present by asking why I was dressed so pretty and in Faribault today, instead of working at Bel’s. He frowned when I explained that I’m spending the weekend with Luke, but met a friend for lunch. When he started to give me a hard time about “living in sin” before marriage, I gently reminded him that I was a big girl, and even more to the point, I was a heathen.

“I am always the big brother and will never give up trying to get you to
listen to reason, Anabel,” Diego stated and I peeked up at him surreptitiously to be sure he’s not kidding, but no such luck.

I
only sighed, and heroically held back my flippant retort of, “Well then, start speaking reasonably and I will listen!” I wouldn’t hesitate to verbally cross swords with Luke, but Diego takes himself and his position very seriously, albeit in a nice way. However, it was no fun bandying words with him, since I suspected his feelings got bruised easily, so I was gentle.

Diego’s saving grace
was that he’s good-natured in his determination. I understand Diego was raised in the Catholic Church and our family must be a sad trial to him. This was another reason why I don’t believe he’d cheat on his marriage vows to my sister. Of course, many an altar boy would laugh despairingly at those words.

I can’t think of a
downside to an individual believing in God, but organized religion has much to answer for come Judgment Day. I am decidedly not a fan.

Entering
back into the store, Diego walked with me to the express checkout lane and then insisted on paying for my food, claiming his big brother rights again. I only had the two items, so I smiled and didn’t put up much of a fight.

Watching
the women customers we encountered doing double and triple takes at the sight of Diego, and his female employees smile and simper in his commanding presence when he introduced me around as his sister, I felt amused pity for Mac. She’s chosen a seriously pretty man to marry who was prime Beefcake. I predicted a lifetime of women salivating relentlessly over his beef stick.

Back at the
truck, I touched up my lip gloss, got out my keys, and started to put my phone away when I noticed it was ten after three.

“Crap!” I muttered and quickly
texted Luke:
E

He texted
back immediately:
K. Your ten minutes late.

T
his every hour, on the hour stuff was getting old fast, but I knew it was for my own safety and I felt bad I’d made Luke worry. This was the only reason I didn’t give the finger to the phone in response to the Deceiver’s addendum dripping in disappointment.

I
texted back:
So sorry, baby, won’t happen again. Time flies, etc.

Setting a reminder alarm on the phone, I
went back to thinking about the results of my recon. I have no idea if Diego was having an affair or not. God knows, there’s no lack of volunteers, so if he’s bent that way, my sister’s marriage was doomed. Mia was young and beautiful, and they were arguing furiously in Diego’s office. I couldn’t imagine that kind of passion igniting over a customer service issue. Something sneaky did seem to be going on, yet Mia appeared totally pissed off. The air was definitely crackling, but not with the sexually charged atmosphere of a sizzling affair.

I d
idn’t have a translation app on my phone, so the sooner I got the English version of whatever was being said between Mia and Diego on the voice memo recording, the closer I’d be to an answer for Mac.

I knew
investigating Diego was going to suck, but not this much. For all my surface cynicism, deep down I have an idealistic streak a mile wide. I have come to rather like Diego, even if he’s a tad stuffy for me. Maybe I couldn’t see the big picture clearly yet because I didn’t want to believe Diego was an untrustworthy, scum bucket of an asswipe using my sister for her money while feeding beef stick to ravenously unhappy housewives behind his Produce department. However, my idealism won’t get in the way of discovering the truth.

Trust
was a word that I’ve come to associate with an image of the sword of Damocles hanging overhead. There was the joyous edge a relationship has when trust was present, and the destructive edge when that trust was violated.

Wouldn’t it be better to erase this word entirely from
the lexicon of romantic relationships and take away the guess work?

That’s what I think, too!

A Penile Cheater Chip app would solve everything. Upon agreement to commit to a monogamous relationship, the man would get a simple surgical implant. Every time that man shot his jizz thereafter, the corresponding party’s phone would light up in a burst of fireworks or sound off to the ringtone of their choice. Then it was up to the corresponding party to decide if their man was just handy with his fives or a cheating prick.

Before leaving the grocery store, I drove around
and noted where Diego’s car was parked. I then cruised through the back alley area where the delivery trucks and vendors unload their products. For tonight’s ninja action, I wanted to be sure where all the exits of the building are located. I saw the emergency exit door. From this view, I noticed there was a window on either side of the door, as well. One would be in Diego’s office and I assumed the other opens into that locked room I didn’t get to glimpse. It didn’t matter because the windows were too high and too small to be of any use, anyway, even if they weren’t covered in black metal screening.

Leaving Faribault, I
drove east. Fifteen minutes later, I was parking on Division a block down from Bel’s. During the drive to Northfield, I didn’t notice any vehicles following me, especially not a light blue Honda Civic. I rushed up the street, smiling at several people, but not stopping to talk.

Timing my entrance
into the main lobby of my building, I unlocked and enter my apartment door unobserved. Sniggering softly at having to sneak into my own building, I ran up the stairs.

I
took off my boots and reflexively threw my purse on the white bench in the foyer. Then I picked it right back up again and pulled the strap over my head. Putting one arm through to wear the purse across my chest, I muttered, “Threat focus, situational awareness. Must keep gun on me at all times.”

Detouring to grab a
bottle of bubble water from the fridge, I slowed down my pace to appreciate this moment of perfect quiet.

The
apartment smelled faintly of orange citrus. This was from the list of acceptable nontoxic cleaning products Stella’s supplied my weekly cleaning service to choose from, and I think I preferred it over the coconut lemon fragrance from last Friday.

The
white shutters are opened on all the windows, since I wasn’t home last night to close them. Mellow afternoon sunshine flooded the living and dining rooms and brought to life the rich, jeweled tones of the Persian carpets on the gleaming dark hardwood floors. In fact, every surface was dusted and gleaming. All my treasures were tidied on the bookshelves.

V
elvet toss pillows were plumped up on my comfy leather sofa and club chairs. A twelve-foot tall, white tinsel Christmas tree from the seventies reigned in one corner of the living room. Red and turquoise glass balls dangled from the branches and glistened in the reflected sunlight. Underneath the tree was a really ugly tree skirt that my siblings and I made as kids. The brown felt cut outs were supposed to be reindeers, but looked more like mutant potatoes. Arranged on top of the skirt was a dozen, fancily wrapped presents all intricately tied up with curly ribbon and plastered with ‘Open Early and You Die’ festive stickers.

I
was playing with fire, but was there anything sadder in a home than a Christmas tree with no presents?

I agree, and that’s why I turn
ed my home office into Wrapping Headquarters right after Thanksgiving and try to wrap the presents I buy, as I shopped.

Every year I surprise
d myself by how much I loved the holidays and all the hoopla. I am always positive that next year will be the year I grow up and no longer feel the magic. But come next December, I’m whipping out the cute little Christmas apron and baking cookies. I drive everyone crazy playing my favorite Christmas CD at top volume. It has twenty different versions, by twenty different artists, all singing my one favorite Christmas song, “O Holy Night”. Every hair on my body stands on end when listening to that song over and over, and I don’t care how much shit I get, it brings tears to my eyes. That’s my version of church.

Blowing a kiss to my second floor haven, I
went into the home office because I have finally grasped that thought that had been eluding me. Maneuvering around a banquet table set up with gift wrapping supplies and a shopping bag of presents, I booted up my desktop. I found the folder of papers James Byrd handed me last week on Luke’s financials. I’ve put off looking at them closer, but something Pam said struck a nerve. Skimming through them, I found what I was looking for and entered the name in a Google search.

Thirty minutes later
, I came up for air due to the ringtone of my phone alarm. I sent Luke the E text. It was four o’clock on the dot and Luke took a full two minutes to text the terse K in response. I didn’t know why his K text felt terse, since it was what we agreed to do, yet I shivered at seeing only that ominous K. I started whistling soundlessly and dove back into my internet research.

M
echanic Pete called twenty minutes later to deliver the good news my jeep would be delivered back to Bel’s by five. I praised him and promised him my undying gratitude for going above and beyond, but like with most men, that wasn’t enough. So I listened with half an ear and said an extolling “Uh Huh” at appropriate times. Pete explained in minute detail everything he fixed, and gave advice on everything I should think about fixing in the future.

Geesh, i
f I gave Peter my whole attention, I’d be able to fix my own blasted jeep next time. I loved cars, but grease under these fingernails wasn’t going to happen.

So I kept
scrolling and reading through websites, until excuse the pun, I realized he’d petered out talking. Into the awkward silence, I absently thanked him warmly again before pressing end. I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings, but I’ve got bigger things to worry about.

‘Holy Shit! The two Owatonna businesses
, the used car lot and the travel agency, where Luke had invested his cash were owned by Carter Ogelbachen’s little moron brothers under their wives’ names!’

“
Jump Jive An’ Wail” by The Brian Setzer Orchestra

Friday, 12/07/2012

5
:00 PM

My
phone alarm caused me to practically fall out of the office chair. Twirling back and forth with my head back and eyes closed, I was in a fugue state. I’d been thinking over all that I had learned and letting my mind free fall where it would. This was a very handy trick that often allowed me to make leaps in logic making no sense whatsoever, but somehow turned out accurate.