No Such Thing as a Free Ride (20 page)

Alphonso dropped me off back at my car. Thankfully, it was still there, just minus the hubcaps, which (actually helped to modernize the look of it a little.)

“You gonna be okay?” he asked as I dug the car keys out of my bag.

“Me? Pfft. I’m fine. Listen, thanks for coming with me today. Except for the almost getting killed part, I had a really nice time.”

Alphonso let out a belly laugh. “You always look on the bright side, don’t ya, Sweetcakes?”

“I try.” I climbed into the Le Sabre and locked the doors, giving Alphonso two thumbs up as I drove away. I made it a block and a half away before I pulled over to the curb and tossed my cookies. Then I drove the rest of the way home.

*****

“Come on, Franny, push!”

“Yeah,” Janine chimed in. “Don’t be lazy. Pop that sucker out of there. Ive got a date in an hour.”

“You go, girl,” Carla added, only half paying attention. She was painting her toenails.

“Screw all of you’s,” Fran yelled, but she was laughing.

We were all stretched out on the rug in Fran’s living room practicing for the “blessed event.” We dimmed the lights and turned on a soothing c.d. that simulated the sound of rushing waters, but then we had to turn it off because everyone kept getting up to pee.

I’d arrived at Fran’s house a little after six to take her to La Maze class, only she wouldn’t get in the car.

“They’re showing
The Miracle of Birth
tonight,” she said by way of explanation.

“Isn’t that the film they made us watch in 11th grade, where the woman is screaming in agony while her husband stands off to the side holding a bucket of ice chips?”
I had nightmares for weeks and refused to let Bobby touch me for at least a month after suffering through that movie.

“Yeah, I’m hating Eddie enough as it is, right now.”

“Why’s that?”

Fran looked down at her mountainous baby-belly.

“He did this to me.”

“The bastard.”

We took a pass on the film and called Janine and Carla to come over, instead.

“Okay, Fran,” I told her. I was taking my role as coach very seriously. “One more push should do it. Janine, man the camera. Carla, get ready to catch the baby. Little DiAngelo hyphen Bonaduce is on her way!”

Franny wiggled her hips and something black and shiny rolled out from between her legs. Carla held it high in the air, Lion king style.

“Congratulations, Mom, you’ve just given birth to a healthy, nine pound bowling ball.”

“She looks just like her father,” Carla cooed.

“Wow. Giving birth really works up an appetite,” Janine said. “Let’s order in some pizza.”

“Can’t,” Fran said, frowning. “The grease gives me heartburn.”

“Mexican?” I suggested.

She shook her head. “Gas.”

“Sushi?” asked Carla. Franny made a face.

“What’s wrong with sushi?”

“Too salty. Makes me retain water.”

This baby couldn’t come soon enough. It was really putting a crimp in our style.

*****

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Fran said, later, as we chowed down on frozen yogurt bars. (Nutritious
and
delicious—at least that’s what it said on the package. They lied.) “DiCarlo called here earlier looking for you. He said he’d tried your cell phone but you didn’t pick up.”

I’d turned off my phone when Alphonso and I were at Little Red’s. (Through trial and error I have found that when engaged in covert activity, if you want it to remain covert it is best not to inadvertently announce your presence through a phone call from your mother.)

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“No, but he sounded really uptight.”

“Uptight
worried
or uptight
mad
?”

“I’d say a little of both.”

Uh oh. Bobby must’ve found out about me breaking into Little Red’s apartment. What if Red filed a police report and Bobby’s calling to warn me that I’m about to be arrested!

Okay, so the likelihood of a pimp voluntarily inviting the cops into his drug infested home with a teenage prostitute lying half dead in the back room to report that someone had been—what?—mean to him?—was slim to none. But I got a knot in my stomach anyway. I decided I’d call him back when I got home.

Turns out it wasn’t necessary. He was sitting on my porch waiting for me when I pulled up in front of my house two hours later. I’ve known DiCarlo practically my whole life, and his moods generally fell into three categories; happy, pissed off or horny.

I tried to read the look on his face, but it was a new one on me.

I started up the path and caught Mrs. Gentile peering through her curtains from an upstairs window.
Jeez, does that old biddy ever sleep?
I gave her a little finger wave and she poked her head back inside.

Bobby stood as I approached.

“Yo,” I said. “What’s up?”

His face was tense in the moonlight. “I need to talk to you.”

“Who’s watching Sophia?” I unlocked the door and turned off the alarm.

“I had to work late so Eddie’s mom stayed over,” he said, following me into the living room.

Adrian ran downstairs to greet me, leaving a trail of torn up fluff in his wake. He was carrying the remains of my favorite stuffed bear, now minus one eye and most of his insides. It looked like he’d had liposuction.

“Bad dog,” I shouted.

“Jesus, Brandy, it’s not the dog’s fault. You probably left it around where you knew he could get it.”

“Whoa, back up there, cowboy. First of all, I did not!
(Okay, I probably did, but that was between me and my dog.)
“And secondly, I may have made a tactical error today, but Alphonso and I handled it just fine and nobody got hurt—well, except for the pimp, but he deserved it, so you don’t need to lecture me about being responsible!” I was yelling really loud, figuring a strong offense was the best defense.

Bobby stared at me like I’d grown another head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You mean you don’t—oh, um,
nothing.
Bobby, what’s goin’ on? You’re pacing around like a girl waiting for her prom date to arrive. If you’ve got something to tell me, just say it.”

Bobby sat down on the couch, pulling me down next to him. He studied my face as if it held the secrets to the universe. Frankly, he was scaring the crap out of me.

“Bran,” he said, quietly, “I heard something today and I just need you to tell me the truth. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out together.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake Bobby, will you just spill it?”

“Are you pregnant with my baby?”

“What?”
If I’d had water in my mouth it would have provided a
hilarious
sitcom moment. “Bobby,
no!
Don’t you think if I was pregnant with your kid, you’d be the first to know about it… well, the
second
, anyway. I tell Fran everything first. But, no!” I repeated. “I’m
not
pregnant!”

He leaned back on the couch, his shoulders sagging with relief, and, I’d like to think, a smidgeon of disappointment. “Oh. Okay. Well, I’d heard you were, and what with the timing and all, I thought it might be mine.”

“Man, I’ve got to put a stop to this crazy rumor… if I deck Mindy Rebowitz, how much “time” would I be looking at?” Whatever, it’d be like totally worth it.

“Listen,” I said, changing the subject, “now that we’ve got the whole “rumor thing” straightened out, were you able to check with your friend at the airline?”

“Oh, yeah. The guy was on the flight. He flew out on the evening of the 15th and returned a week later. I even cross referenced to make sure he didn’t sneak back into town on another airline. So, is that good news or bad?”

“It’s frustrating news. If Garner checks out, I’m back to square one. I'm just not sure I believe it. Listen, as long as you’re here, would you mind going through the house with me? I’ve been remembering to turn on the alarm and all, but knowing Bunny is still out there—well, better safe than sorry,” I shrugged. God, I hated sounding like such a wimp.

I followed him through the kitchen to the back door, then up the stairs to check the bedroom windows. Everything was secure. Now I felt silly for asking.

“Thanks a lot,” I told him, heading downstairs again and over to the door.

I opened it, only Bobby put his hand on the knob and closed it again. Leaning up against the door, he folded his arms across his chest and cut me a smile. “Did you really think you were going to get off that easy? Let’s start with who’s Alphonso?”

“An old friend of Frankie’s,” I said, automatically.
Maybe a little misleading, but definitely not a lie.

“Right,” he said, in a tone that let me know he wasn’t buying what I was trying to sell. “So what were you and your uncle’s old buddy, Alphonso, doing hanging out with a pimp?”

“Y’know,” I said, and reached behind him to grab a hold of the door knob, “some day I’m going to write my memoirs. If I tell you everything now you won’t spring for the book.” I gave the knob a good tug, knocking him slightly off-balance. I took the opportunity to open the door wide and push him over the threshold.

“This conversation isn’t over, just postponed,” he said, letting me win this round.

“Go home, Bobby. Wake up your little girl and tell her that you love her, and hold her and kiss her like there’s no tomorrow.”

He settled his smoky blue eyes on me as if seeing me for the first time tonight.

“Sometimes you blow me away,” he said, hugging me to him. “G’night, Sweetheart.”

Bobby walked a few paces, slowed and turned to me. “Just for the record, if you
had
been pregnant with my kid, I wouldn’t have been disappointed.”

I waited until he got in the car before I started bawling my eyes out.

*****

“How’s the story on the missing kid coming along, Alexander?”

I looked up from my cubby hole of an office to find Eric standing over me eating a Chinese Chicken salad. “Want some?” he offered.

“No, thanks. I just ate.”…
A king sized Hershey bar, which wouldn’t have been so bad had I not
had half a cup of Ben and Jerry's chocolate fudge brownie to go with it… oh well, anything that tastes that good cannot possibly be bad for you.

“I’ve got some stuff to check out,” I murmured, vaguely. I didn’t want to admit to Eric that my investigation was going nowhere, lest he reassign me to the Strawberry Festival. The last thing I wanted was to parade around in 108 degree weather dressed as a giant fruit tart.

I’d started the day by perusing Little Red’s phone bill. Most of the numbers were local, lots of fast-food joints and an abortion clinic. One number had a 405 area code.
Gracemont, Oklahoma
. It looked from his outgoing calls that he dialed it every day, although there were none coming in.

I Googled Gracemont. The town was so small they’d be hard pressed to find enough residents to play a regulation softball game. Impulsively, I picked up the phone and dialed.

It took eight rings before someone answered. “Hell-oow?” I imagined that was how dead people sounded. Dead people who’d died when they were really, really old.

“Oh, uh, hi. May I please speak to Henry?”

“Henry? Why, no, honey. He’s been gone since 1970.”

Huh? Little Red couldn’t have even been born then.
“I mean Henry Michael Lyons?”

The old lady chuckled. It was a scary sound. “Oh,
Henry Michael.
I thought you was talking about my late husband, Henry
David
. I’m Henry Michael’s great grandmaw. He don’t live here, honey. He lives in Philadelphia. He’s a lawyer. He calls me every day.”

“Wow. That’s really nice. Well, good talking to you.”

“When he calls me, I’ll tell him you called. What’s your name?”

“Mary,” I told her and hung up.

The phone call depressed me. All I learned was that Little Red has a very nice widowed great grandma who loves him and thinks he’s a lawyer. I suck at investigating.

I had a little better luck on the next phone call. I caught Nurse Morrison just coming off her lunch break.

“Linda, it’s Brandy Alexander,” I said, when she picked up. “I’m sorry to bother you at work.”

“It’s alright, I’ve still got a few minutes. What can I do for you.?”

“Well, when we last talked, you had mentioned that you have a friend that works for the city coroner’s office in Camden.”

“That’s right. My friend, Stacey.”

“I was wondering if you think she’d be willing to talk to me. I’m doing a story on runaway and homeless youth and I was intrigued by her story about the girl who had given birth and then died of a drug overdose.”

“Stacey took that really hard. Here. Let me get your number again. I’m sure she’d be willing to talk to you, but I’m not comfortable giving out her personal information without permission.”

I gave her my contact info and she promised to get back to me.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes in an attempt to ward off a headache.
Maybe a little protein would help.
I opened a drawer and took out a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, thought better of it and put it back in the drawer. After the lunch I’d had, that would be excessive even by my standards.

As I contemplated eating an actual meal the phone rang.

“Hey, sis.”

“Yo, Paulie. What’s up?” I could tell by the tinkling of glasses in the background that he was at the club.

“Would you be interested in earning a little extra cash?” he asked.

“Always,” I told him, thinking about the broken air conditioner and my non-existant household expense fund. “What do you have in mind? Ooh,” I said, not waiting for an answer. “Do you need me to fill in for one of the servers? Because I’ve been practicing at home carrying plates on my arm and I’m getting really good at it, and besides, you don’t have to worry about me spilling soup on anyone like that one unfortunate time, because first of all that was just a fluke—I mean what are the odds of it happening again and besides it’s July. Who would order soup in July? Nobody. It’s too damn hot!”

Paul gave a low whistle. “So, like how much sugar have you had today?”