Yesterday's Stardust (23 page)

Lifetime. Like her sentence.

She lifted the pen from the paper. The phone rang. Jumping up to answer before the shrill ring woke Franky, she slid across the polished wood floor to the alcove in the hall. She lifted the candlestick phone. “Hello?”

“Francie?”

“Albert.”

“What’s going on?” His voice shook. “A man came into the bank asking about you. Are you involved with him?”

Francie took a tight breath and painted on her smile. “You know you’re the only boy for me.”

“I don’t know that. I don’t know any such thing.”

“I’ll bet it was one of those guys we met bowling last week. I told you all about the boys hanging around us girls after you left, remember? It was all perfectly harmless. I bet they’re just trying to razz you and have a little fun.”

“There was nothing fun about this man. He was over six feet tall and had arms like tree trunks.”

So Tag had sent his brother to check him out. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I don’t know anyone who looks like that.” It suddenly dawned on her that her casual response might actually be making her look more suspicious. “Albert?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry you had to go through this. I can’t imagine who that man was or what he has to do with me, but that had to be frightening.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this.” His tone had softened drastically. “I promise. I’ll talk to the police.”

Her pulse skipped. Somehow she had to stop him from reporting it. “I really can’t talk now. Let’s decide the right course to take when we’re together. I can’t wait to be with you. I’ll feel so much safer when we’re together.” She did her best to act the part of a wilting violet. “Let’s meet at the park on Sunday.”

“I suppose a public place like that is safe.”

She laughed. “I don’t think anyone’s tailing me like they do in detective novels.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I just think you’re overreacting a bit.”

“The man…as he was leaving…I saw a shoulder holster.”

Francie closed her eyes.
Stupid move, Tag.

“Did you hear me, Francie? The man had a
gun.”

A
timer buzzed. Nicky strode toward the oven, keeping Todd and Dani in his peripheral vision. His irritation ping-ponged between the guy who was supposed to be his best friend and the girl who’d vowed, “No cheating, I solemnly swear.”

Too bad it didn’t apply to men.

He smacked the timer button and yanked the handle on the middle door of the pizza oven. Shoving a spatula under the crust, he gave serious thought to catapulting sausage, pepperoni, and mushrooms across the kitchen.

Stay cool, Fiorini. Or at least look it.
He slid the pizza onto a pan. Instead of picking it up by the edge, he balanced it on his fingertips. As he ambled across the room, heat from the crust seeped into the aluminum and transferred to his skin. Pain radiated down his arm. As he reached the counter, his reflexes reacted without permission from his brain. Or his pride. His hand dipped. The pan tipped. Dani jumped off her stool, hands out. She caught the pan by the cool edge at the same moment his other hand figured out what was happening. Eyes locked, they lowered it together.

“That was a close one,” Todd said.

Dani laughed, high and stilted. Like the shoe he’d slipped from her foot.

“Fast work.” She had to know he wasn’t talking about the pizza. “What do you two want to drink?” Had he really put that much emphasis on
two?
He headed for a rack of glasses. He didn’t care what they wanted to drink.

His father walked in carrying a mountain of dirty dishes on a round tray. On one hand, steady as a rock. He set the tray down and bowed to Dani. “Danielle,
sì
?” The man was second-generation American, born and raised in Wisconsin, yet he could conjure the just-off-the-boat routine at the bat of a female eye.

“Call me Dani. Nice to see you again, Mr. Fiorini.” She smiled coyly.

If three made a triangle, what do you call four—when one was as old as dirt?

“I did not have time to talk much on Sunday.”The accent deepened. “My son tells me nothing. My daughter says you work for the paper. So you are the journalist friend asking about our history. Si?”

Dani nodded. “I don’t have any specific questions yet, but I’m doing some research, and I’d love to sit down with you in a week or two if you’d be willing.”

“I would love that.” He pulled a basket of calamari out of the fryer.

Nicky filled two glasses with 7UP. Todd’s slopped over the side when he set it down.

The swinging doors opened again. Rena walked in, head down. “One chicken parm, two gnocchi, one white, one red.” She hung the order on the wheel and turned around. “Hey! Dani, you gotta just move in here, girl.”

“Renata! Show a little respect.”

“Sure, Pops.” She ladled minestrone into three soup cups. “What are you guys up to?”

“Todd invited me to his church tonight. I got to hear him play.”

“Poor you. He and Nicky used to—hang on.” She reached in her apron pocket and pulled out her phone.

“Not while you’re working, Rena.”

“Right.” She answered the phone and walked toward the back door. Her lips parted. Her face blanched. Nicky made out four words: “I can’t” and “Five minutes.” Rena turned around, slipping her phone back in her apron. Without looking at anyone, she filled a basket with bread, set it next to the soup cups, picked up the tray, and walked into the dining room.

Todd looked from the swinging door to Nicky. “What was that all about?”

“She’s seventeen.”

“That explains it then.” He took his first bite and mumbled his approval of the pizza, making Nicky wish he’d added the red pepper he’d talked himself out of.

Rena came back in. “Dani?” She shot a glance at Nicky then turned back to Dani. “I’ve only got a minute, and I wanted to show you something in my room.”

Dani wiped her mouth with a napkin, nodded, and slid off the stool. “Okay.”

Their footsteps flew up the stairs.

“What was that all about?” Todd took a swig of soda.

“They’re female.”

“That explains it then.”

Nicky smacked two empty lasagna pans onto the counter next to the dishwasher. Dean Martin’s voice poured through speakers in the ceiling. His father sang along to “That’s Amore” as he ladled marinara into a plastic container. Not an environment conducive to punching your best friend.

“So what’s eating you?” Todd garbled over a mouthful of pizza.

“Nothing.” Nicky’s gaze wandered to the back door.

“Her?
That’s it? You’re ticked that I asked her out first?” Todd’s laugh echoed off the ceiling.

His father joined in. “All’s fair, my boy.”

Of all the people unqualified to give a lecture on what was fair in love, his father topped the list. Nicky tossed a serving spoon into the sink and sucked a calming breath. He grinned at Todd. “Why should I be ticked? She’s going out with
me
tomorrow.”

Todd’s eyes jarred wide. Nicky laughed. “All’s fair, my boy.”

“Go around back to the building next door.” Rena stood on a stool and reached for something near the ceiling of her closet. “He’ll meet you on the other side. There’s a row of bushes. Just give him this and get back here as fast as you can.” Rena’s icy fingers placed a roll of money in Dani’s hand.

Dani closed her fingers around it. “Who’s out there? Jarod? You don’t want him coming to the door because Todd’s here, right?”

“I’ll cover for you. I’ll say you’re trying on some shirts that don’t fit me anymore. It’ll only take a couple minutes. Here.” Rena grabbed a hooded sweatshirt off a chair. “Put this on.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a pile of shirts. “I’ll leave these on the bottom step. Bring them when you come back in the kitchen.”

The hoodie reeked of cigarette smoke. A moment of claustrophobia speeded Dani’s already thundering pulse. She yanked it over her head and took the hair band Rena held out to her.

She still hadn’t said she’d do it.

Rena lifted the sweatshirt hood over Dani’s hair. “Walk down with me so they don’t hear your footsteps. I’ll keep the door to the kitchen door closed. Be careful when you come back in. Open the door slow so it doesn’t squeak.”

“Rena. This is crazy. What’s going on? I’m not doing anything illegal or im—”

“It’s not illegal. I earned this money.”

“But why are you—”

“Do this and I’ll answer questions. You want a story, so go.”

Shutting out the warnings in her head, she followed Rena down the stairs and stepped out into the hot, still night.

The slap of her sandals reverberated off Bracciano’s brick wall as she ran into the alley. The roll of bills in her hand grew warm and damp. Fighting the effects of adrenaline with every step, she passed the grassy space between the restaurant and the two-story garage.
Lord, what am I doing?
She didn’t wait for an answer she didn’t want to hear.

She slowed her steps as she neared the corner. Behind her, something clanged. A trash can lid. Her breath froze in her throat. She stopped, pressed her shoulder to the wall, and inched toward the corner.

“Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.”
She’d memorized the verse from Ephesians years ago.

She shouldn’t be here.

Do this and I’ll answer questions.
She ordered trembling legs to walk. Sweat trickled down her sides and she shivered.

In the bushes just feet behind her, a twig snapped. A figure stood between her and the street.

Dark eyes blazed in a thin, pale face as the boy neared. “How much?”

“I don’t know.”

“Count it.”

“It’s too dark. I can’t—”

The boy swore and grabbed her left arm. Pain shrieked from the stitched cut. She bit back a scream. A moan escaped.

“Count it.”

Trembling fingers unrolled the bills and held them in a thin finger of light from the street. “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, a hundred…” Where did Rena get it? What was she paying for? “Two hundred eighty-five.”

“Lucky.” He grabbed her good arm and pushed her bad one against the bricks. Points of silver light shot before her eyes like falling stars. A police cruiser drove by at a crawl, tires close to the curb. She tried to pull away.

His fingers formed a vice around her arm. “Rena trusts you. That doesn’t mean I do. Don’t forget that.” He shoved her toward the alley. “Go!” His foot landed on the back of her thigh. She stumbled but caught herself. When she reached the alley, she heard the soft groan of metal on metal. Flattened against the back of the building, she looked around the corner.

White shoes, incongruous with the black, glowed in the thin light. Silhouetted against the light from the street, the boy crouched on what appeared to be a thick metal door. Curved hinges connected it to the brick wall. He raised his shirt, pulled out something she couldn’t make out in the dim light and tossed it into an opening in the wall. He turned. Locking eyes with her.

Holding her breath she ran into the green space, pressed against the wall, and waited. Footsteps pounded the gravel.

Away from her.

Nicky tossed an empty pizza box at Todd. Rena pushed through the double doors and rattled off an order. Her eyes darted to the door leading to the stairs.

Something wasn’t right.

“What’s going on, Rena?”

“Huh?”

“What’s she doing up there?”

“I had a bunch of shirts for her to try on.” She patted her belly. “Your cinnamon rolls are making me fat. Oh yeah, that scampi wanted vermicelli instead of—”

The door opened. Dani came in with a stack of folded shirts balanced in one hand. Her cheeks were flushed. A pale ring surrounded her lips. “Are you sure I can have these? That’s really sweet of you.”

“Hey, they don’t fit me anymore.”

Nicky recognized the gray one on the bottom. It wouldn’t be too small for Rena if she gained forty pounds. “You’re giving her your Twin Shadow shirt?”

“Yeah. I thought they were cool for a while, but I got sick of their stuff.”

Nicky scraped the griddle as he eyed Dani. “And you, coincidentally, got sick of Nora Jones, and now you’re crazy for metal?”