No Such Thing as a Lost Cause (18 page)

“So, what’s new, Darlin’?” he asked, as his fingers made skillful use of their new
location.

“Um, not much.” His touch intensified and I let slip an audible moan. “I’ve missed
this—I mean—
you.
I’ve missed
you.”

Nick’s smile deepened. I knew I should tell him about the autopsy results and the
latest threat on my life, only—when I thought about it, what was the rush?

Just as things started to get really interesting, a SEPTA bus bolted out in front
of us and then slowed to a stop. Nick lifted his hand from between my legs and swung
wide to get out of its way. After that, he left both hands on the wheel. I was really
disappointed. Stupid bus.

Except for the fact that one of us was carrying concealed, and the other was a V.I.P.
on the J.T.G. top ten hit list we were just like any other couple, out enjoying the
Montgomery County country-side on a beautiful summer day.

I wanted to indulge myself for a bit in this idyllic fantasy, but as we drew closer
to Jacob’s Place, I was seized by anxiety. A question that had plagued me since the
night of the dog fight loomed large in my mind. And before I could stop myself, it
just popped out.

“Nick, if I hadn’t been there that night down by the naval yard…would you have—”

Nick pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. He unbuckled his
seat belt and angled himself so that his head rested against the window. He closed
his eyes, briefly, and when he opened them again, he looked into mine. And I knew
that whatever he said to me, it wouldn’t be a lie.

His voice sounded husky, as if he’d just woken up from a deep sleep. “You want to
know if I would’ve killed that guy.”

I nodded.

“I would like to be able to say no, Angel, but the truth is, I just don’t know.”

I sat there in silence, taking it all in. Then, that old, Alexander, look-on-the-bright-side
spirit kicked in. “Eh. It could be worse. Let’s just take that as a no.”

*****

Judy Harrison filled us in on Popeye’s progress (or lack, thereof) as she led the
way to the kennels.

“Popeye began eating on his own, but he’s so distrustful of humans he won’t let any
of the staff members near him. He becomes very agitated when anyone goes inside his
cage, and he actually attacked one of our employees. It’s gotten so bad that no one
wants to work with him.”

His appearance hadn’t changed much since the last time I’d seen him. But the apathy
had been replaced by aggressive agitation. He began pacing back and forth in his kennel
as we approached.

I watched him for a few minutes and then turned away, remembering what Judy had said
the first time I’d met her.
Sometimes the damage runs so deep it’s a lost cause.
The thought filled me with sadness. I’d go back to her office and make a donation
I couldn’t afford and be on my way.

Judy must’ve noticed the look of dejection on my face and she took pity on me. “Hey,
one of our dogs just had puppies. Let’s go take a look.” She linked arms with me and
pulled me toward one of the newer buildings. I glanced back at Nick as he lingered
near Popeye’s cage.

“You coming?” I asked.

“In a minute.”

We were about to enter the building when Mrs. Harrison looked back in utter shock.
Nick had opened Popeye’s locked kennel door and entered the cage.

“Hey,” she protested, and began running back toward the kennels.

Nick cautioned her away with a swift shake of his head. Judy stood and watched, as
if hypnotized.

Without hesitation Nick strode over to a bench and sat down, and turned his back on
the snarling dog. He sat motionless for several minutes, while Popeye, back hairs
bristling up and down his spine, circled him, sniffed the air, and finally, lay down
at Nick’s feet.

They sat that way for about twenty minutes. I was equal parts scared to death that
Nick would be eaten alive, and impressed as hell with what I’d just witnessed.

Careful not to make eye contact, Nick slowly let his arm drop to his side. Popeye
raised his head, his one good eye watching Nick. After a moment, he sniffed his hand
and then licked it. And then, Popeye rolled over on his back in submission.

“No one is going to believe this,” Judy Harrison whispered, trembling. “This is nothing
short of a miracle.”

That was Nick. An enigma wrapped in a miracle.

*****

On our way back from Jacob’s Place, we swung by Nick’s martial arts studio.

It’s not in the swankiest part of town, but, somehow, his storefront has managed to
remain free of the usual signs of urban street life. Nick pulled up to the curb and
hopped out.

“I’ll only be a minute. Do you want to come in or wait for me here?”

I wasn’t totally in love with the idea of waiting in the car, but my phone rang just
as I reached for the door handle. It was Janine.

“Guess I’ll wait in the car.” I watched him as he disappeared into the studio.

“What’s up, Neenie?” Absently, I began rooting through Nick’s c.d.’s. I picked up
one by an artist I’d never heard of, with a name I couldn’t pronounce. The words on
the cover looked Russian.

“I was just thinking. I still owe you a birthday present. What do you want? And don’t
say
nothing
, or
peace on Earth
, or other shit I can’t really give you.”

“Janine, my birthday was three months ago.”

“I know. But I have something to tell you, and I don’t want you to be mad. I thought
if I got you a nice gift, it would soften the blow.”

“Just tell me,” I sighed. “But if it’s about who accidentally threw my ipod down the
garbage disposal, I already know it was you.”

“How did you know? I replaced it that same afternoon.”

“Yeah. With one you bought off that illegal street vendor down at 17
^th
and Market. By the way, he sells ipuds, not ipods.”

“Oh. Well, that wasn’t it anyway, so I may as well tell you. Mike and I are going
out again.”

“That’s great! Why would I be mad?”

“Because Mike thought it might be fun to make it a foursome, this time, and—”

“Wow. Janine. I don’t know about this. I mean, maybe down the line Nick and I could
go out with you guys, but it seems a bit premature right now.”

Janine’s relief was palpable. “Okay, well, just thought I’d ask. Hey! Since we thought
of you first, and you did turn us down, I guess you won’t mind if we ask Bobby and
that cop he’s going out with. Right?” She ended, hopefully.

“You guys are going out with Bobby and Lauren?”

“Just say the word, Bran, and we’ll cancel.”

“Janine, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not one bit upset. Why would I be? I was just surprised
is all. I’ve met her. She’s nice. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later. We’ll
do lunch.”

We’ll do lunch? Why am I talking like a Hollywood agent from like1993?

Nick got back into the car before I had time to process what Janine had told me. Which
meant I blurted out the first thing that came to my head. “Nick, I think we should
arrange a double date.”

Nick pulled his seat belt over his shoulder and started the engine, checked the rear
view mirror and eased into traffic. “A double date? As in dinner and bridge with the
couple down the block?”

Okay, when he put it that way it sounded really lame. “Not exactly. I mean—” What
did I mean? Unhh. I felt left out. Pure and simple.

“I should get to know your friends. And I want you to know mine. We could go to brunch,
or meet for coffee…”

Shut up. Shut up. This is way too soon. I’m scaring him. I can see it in his eyes.
“Y’know what? Ha, ha. I was only kidding. I hate bridge. And my friends are boring.
Let’s just—”

“It’s a good idea, Angel. We’ll do something in your world, and then we’ll do something
in mine.”

What? Is he crazy? This a terrible idea. His friends run the gamut from rich, influential,
society folk, to people you get in touch with on the sly when you want someone whacked.
And I don’t know which group intimidates me more.

“Um, well, we can talk about it later.”
Because right now I have to think about how to get myself out of this.

The thing is I was scared. What if the whole experiment in ‘worlds-mixing’ blew up
in my face? DiCarlo certainly wasn’t a fan of Nick’s. Uncle Frankie had reserved judgment,
but whenever I brought up his name, there was a definite upsurge of tension in the
air. Carla—well, she
was
a fan. But I don’t think that would score any points with Uncle Frankie, seeing as
I’d met Nick through Carla. Carla knew him in her pre-Frankie days, and they may have
been more than passing acquaintances. I really didn’t want to know.

Nick popped in a Tom Waits c.d. and we suspended conversation for the length of Heartattack
and Vine. We rounded the corner of my block just as Tom warbled the last notes of
“Ruby’s Arms.”

DiCarlo’s car was parked out in front of my house. He was leaning against his Mustang,
arms folded, legs crossed. It was anybody’s guess how long he’d been there. All I
knew for sure was he didn’t look happy.

In point of fact he looked downright pissed off.

“Well, this is fortuitous,” Nick said, mildly. “No time like the present to start
the bonding process.” I couldn’t tell if he was just yanking my chain, but I figured
it was best to whether this particular storm alone.

“Maybe not such a good idea, Nick.” I couldn’t imagine what Bobby would possibly be
mad about. I hadn’t done anything, in…what?
Days!
“How about I see what’s up with DiCarlo, and I’ll call you later.”

In response Nick pulled alongside Bobby’s car and popped the gear into neutral. DiCarlo
looked up as Nick pulled me to him. His mouth brushed the nape of my neck, sending
chills down my spine “If you’re sure, Darlin’.”

“I, um…” I caught the tail end of a devilish grin as he closed in on me and kissed
me for all it was worth.

Now, I’m not normally one for PDA, but in this case, I made an exception. Nick was
staking a claim, which I found oddly endearing. Maybe he felt the tiniest bit threatened
by Bobby. Or maybe I’m just so darn irresistible he simply couldn’t help himself.
Okay, that probably wasn’t it. I finally chalked it up to the alpha male tug-of -war
between the two of them that had been going on since they’d first laid eyes on each
other. Still, it was one hell of a kiss.

When Nick finally let me go, he was still smiling. “Tell DiCarlo to brush up on his
bridge game.”

As I opened the door to get out, Nick touched two fingers to his forehead in salute
to Bobby and drove off.

Bobby launched himself off the car and met me at the curb. “Was that display for my
benefit?”

“Yes. Yes, it was. In fact, Nick only kisses me when you’re around, so stick close.”
God, I hate it when he’s right.

I shielded my eyes from the sun and looked up at him. The left side of his cheek was
swollen and bruised, with the beginnings of a spectacular shiner settling just under
his eye. His dark hair curled at the ends and hung limply over his collar. His jeans
were ripped at the knee, and blood oozed from a nasty scrape.

“Bobby, what happened?”

“Had a run-in with a perp. He was all hopped up on meth.” Bobby laughed, but not because
it was funny. “The asshole was still holding the knife. It was covered in the blood
of the woman he’d just stabbed. He swore she accidentally ran into it. Twelve times.”

I dug around in my bag for my first aid kit, but all it held was a fuzzy band aid
and an unwrapped cough drop.

“C’mon in the house and I’ll take care of your knee for you.”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’ve got to get going. I just came by because you weren’t
answering your phone. Jesus, Brandy, people try to get a hold of you, they get worried.
Y’know?”

“Why are you getting so bent out of shape? I must’ve turned if off after talking to
Janine. Has something happened? Is Paulie all right?”

“It’s not about Paul, okay? It’s about you.” Bobby paced the sidewalk for a bit and
then leaned back against his car again. He shoved his hands into his back pockets,
causing the material in front to stretch tight across his crotch. Not that I noticed…much.

“I met Vince for a beer last night, and he told me the rumor about the Junk Town Gang
getting ready to make its move. He also said you knew about it.”

“Well, that Vince is a regular Chatty Cathy, isn’t he?”

“Knock off the jokes, Sweetheart. This is serious.”

“You think I don’t know that? It’s on my mind every minute of every day. But what
am I supposed to do? Stop living just so they don’t have the pleasure of killing me
themselves?”

My voice went all soprano, so I took it down a notch. “Bobby, I’m scared shitless.
Is that what you want me to say? Fine. But I am not going into hiding. I could be
there the rest of my life.”

“Well, where the hell’s Santiago off to? Why aren’t you staying with him?”

“Who says I’m not?”

“Janine. I spoke with her, too.”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me? Who else did you talk to?” I whipped out my phone and
tried to scroll down my contact list. I’d planned to wave it in his face, as I yelled
sarcastically, “Did you miss anyone?” Only, I forgot my phone was turned off.

I shoved it back in my bag.

“So, why aren’t you staying at Nick’s? Not that you’d be much better off,” he grumbled
under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear it.

“Maybe he has faith in my ability to take care of myself,” I shouted.

“Then he’s an idiot.”

Whoa. Dead silence, followed by the sound of Robert Anthony DiCarlo trying to suck
the words back into his mouth. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not my business
anymore.”

A punch in the gut probably would’ve hurt less. I started to walk away, but he latched
onto my arm and spun me around. “Shit, Brandy. You know I didn’t mean that, either.
At least not the way it sounded.”