“Mom,” I couldn’t believe I had to say it, “please don’t kill Dad.”
“Maybe I won’t have to. There was a welcome brunch, and the food was horrible. Maybe salmonella or E. coli will do the job for me.”
I looked at the front door. It didn’t open, and Phin didn’t walk in. I checked my watch again.
“You need to have a few drinks, relax, and stop plotting murders.”
“It’s too early to drink.”
“It’s never too early to drink. Have a whiskey sour. Or a bloody Mary.”
“Don’t want one.”
“Then a rusty nail. You used to drink those.”
“That’s too strong. I’ll be passed out by dinner.”
“Get a foo-foo drink then. Try a fuzzy navel.”
“What’s in it?”
“Orange juice and peach schnapps.”
“That’s too foo-foo. I’d have to drink ten of them to feel anything. Maybe I’ll have a dirty martini.”
“Good,” I said. “I was running out of drink names.”
“I’m telling you, Jacqueline, I don’t think I can handle ten days of being trapped on a boat with that man.”
“I’m sure it’s a big boat. You probably won’t even see him again.”
“If I do, I’m going to grab a lifeboat oar and knock his teeth down his throat, I swear to God.”
My call waiting beeped.
“I got someone on the other line, Mom. Have a nice cruise. Call me if you get arrested.”
I switched over just as Mom was yelling at some ship employee for vodka.
“Jacqueline? It’s Wilbur. I’m on the ship and I think I saw your mother.”
I sighed again. “You did. It’s her. Imagine the odds.”
“The expression on her face…well, let’s say she didn’t seem pleased.”
“You’re both adults,” I said. “This will give you a chance to work things out.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible. I mean, I’m willing to try, but Mary looked like she was going to come after me with a wooden stake and a mallet.”
Or a lifeboat oar, I thought. I glanced at the door again. Still no Phin.
“You don’t think she’d actually try to hurt me, do you?”
“Stay away from railings,” I suggested.
“This is horrible. I’ll have to spend the whole cruise in my cabin, with a chair wedged against the door. There was a thousand-dollar cash prize for bingo to night too. I hate to miss that.”
“I’m sure it’s a big ship,” I said, wishing I’d taped my earlier conversation so I didn’t have to have it twice. “Maybe you won’t even see her again.”
“Does your mother like bingo?”
What was it with older people and bingo? Maybe it was something in the genes, and once you turned sixty some kind of internal switch was flipped.
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe I’ll go. I could wear a disguise.”
“As long as it’s not a tiny mustache.”
“Think she’d accept a peace offering? Flowers, maybe? There’s a florist on board. She used to love roses.”
I pictured Dad dead in his bingo chair, two dozen roses crammed down his throat.
“Hiding is probably smarter.”
“I need a drink,” Wilbur said.
“I gotta go, Dad.” I didn’t want to play bartender again. “Call me if she kills you.”
I considered calling Mom back, warning her not to play bingo, but stopped myself. I shouldn’t be using my cell-the Feds could trace it. Besides, they’d thank me for it later, after they worked things out. What child didn’t want to see their parents back together again? Of course, they wouldn’t actually be together. But maybe they could resolve their differencs and pick up guys together.
Or maybe Mom would be serving twenty to life.
I decided to call her back, but the motel door opened mid-dial.
“Sorry I took so long. Had to run an errand first.”
Phin had a bag of donuts and a cardboard container holding two coffees. I had an urge to press the issue, and another urge to do him right there in the doorway. I fought both urges and kept cool, waiting to see how he played it.
“I didn’t know if you took cream or sugar.” He shrugged. “I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
He handed me a cup. I took it. There was some awkward staring. What was he thinking? Was he thinking what I was thinking? What was I thinking?
I was thinking I should have put on makeup.
“Black,” I said, breaking the silence. “I take it black.”
“Me too. Why dilute the caffeine with all of that other crap?”
I took a sip. Lukewarm. He’d bought this a while ago. Where had he been all this time?
“Didn’t know what donuts you liked either. Got assorted.”
He sat down on the bed, dug into the bag, his foot tapping. Was he avoiding talking about us, or didn’t feel the need to?
Well, dammit, I felt the need to. We couldn’t work together until we figured out where we stood with each other. One of us needed to act like a grown-up.
I sat next to him, hip to hip. He didn’t look at me. Not a good sign. I reached up a hand to touch his face, and he flinched. An even worse sign.
“You’ve got some powdered sugar on your lip,” I said, rubbing it off with my thumb, automatically putting the thumb in my mouth to taste the sweetness.
It was bitter, and made my tongue tingle.
That wasn’t powdered sugar.
I recalled our earlier conversation, in the bar, when Phin told me he needed to stop back at his apartment to pick up some things.
Drugs? Had he wanted to pick up some coke?
And if that was cocaine on his lip, had he bought it with my money?
Phin seemed oblivious to my reaction, tugging out a cruller, eating a third of it with one bite. His foot kept tapping, and there were sweat beads on his forehead.
Years ago, I worked Vice. I knew narcotics. Phin was high.
I didn’t want to get involved with a drug addict. I didn’t want to get involved with a bank robber either. But I was more than involved-besides sleeping with him, I’d enlisted him to help me find Alex. To back me up. I was entrusting him with my life.
And he was offering to help me. Willing to risk his own life, and asking for nothing in return.
Except, possibly, free sex and money for coke.
I wondered why I couldn’t fall for a normal guy, then remembered I had, and just went to his funeral yesterday.
Jesus, what a mess.
“You like chocolate?” Phin asked.
I managed a nod. He handed me a chocolate frosted. I took a token bite, but my appetite was gone. The right thing to do was tell him I appreciated everything, but I didn’t need him anymore. I wasn’t even sure if that was the truth.
“Phin-”
The phone cut me off. Alex’s phone. But it wasn’t her-no 555 number. It was Harry again.
“Hiya, sis. I’m in Gurnee. When can you meet me?”
I stared at Phin. Was this the time and the place to make a big scene? Phin had the car. Would he drop me off in Gurnee after I told him to take a hike? Should I ask Harry to pick me up here? Could Harry and I handle Alex on our own? And was I willing to lose one of my closest friends just because he had some issues? A close friend who was great in the sack?
“An hour,” I told Harry.
“Call me when you’re close.”
I hung up. Phin was working on his second donut.
“We’re meeting Harry in Gurnee,” I said.
He nodded, stood up, grabbed the backpack, and stopped at the door. The moment stretched.
“You okay?”
A ridiculous thing to ask, considering everything.
“Look, Jack, you’ve probably figured out I’m not good with this intimacy thing. I’m out of practice. Hell, when I was in practice, I wasn’t very good at it.”
He paused. I waited.
“I want to tell you…I don’t think this morning was a mistake. And I’d like to know if you feel the same way.”
He’s giving you an out, Jack. Tell him it was a mistake.