“Oh! Were you hurt? Is that why we couldn’t reach you?” her mother asked, wringing her hands.
Anthony glanced at his watch. He had to get going in order to make it to his lair in Chinatown before the sun came up. It would happen about 5:44 a.m. at this time of year.
“Excuse me for interrupting, but I have to go,” Anthony said.
Claudia smiled gratefully. “Yes, I suppose you must be tired. Thank you for listening to me, uh, talk your ear off.”
Anthony was glad his suit wasn’t rumpled and it looked as if talking was all he’d been doing, but how would Claudia explain her appearance?
“I’m glad we talked. I’m sorry I got you out of bed by arriving so late. I’ll call you soon so we can continue putting together a plan to get the business back up and running.”
She waved away his fake apology. “Oh, don’t worry about getting me up. I’m just glad you’re including me in your plans to rebuild.”
“I couldn’t do it without you.”
Her parents smiled and seemed to buy into their explanation. Whew. Not bad for a cockamamy story on the fly. He shook hands with both of them, waved to Claudia, and left.
He’d have to zoom back to his place. Public transportation wasn’t fast enough. Standing on the sidewalk, he checked for witnesses, and dammit, the garbage truck was rumbling down the street and people were scrambling to get their trash out in time.
Panic gripped him as he noticed the dawn approaching and pictured his bad self bursting into flames in the sun.
Chapter 2
As soon as the door closed, Claudia’s parents both began talking at once.
“Where were you?”
“Is he really your boss or your boyfriend?”
“What happened?”
Claudia held up both hands. “Whoa. Let me make some coffee first.”
“Oh, yes. Coffee would be nice,” her mother said. “I’m glad you haven’t forgotten your manners.”
Manners are all that’s keeping me from throwing you out the door.
While Claudia headed to the kitchen, her father said, “So, tell us why you moved from your other apartment. It was so much nicer.”
He dropped into her chair and a crunching noise surprised him. “What the…?” He popped back up and lifted the cushion.
Oh no. Now she knew where Anthony had stashed the empty beer bottles.
He pointed to the cracked brown glass. “What’s this? Some dangerous version of a whoopee cushion?”
Claudia felt her face heat. “Um, no. Of course not. I had a few friends over before Anthony surprised me with a visit. I just stashed the bottles there because I didn’t have time to clean up.” That sounds reasonable. She hoped they believed her, because it was the best story she had.
Meanwhile, her mother had made it to her kitchen and opened one of the pizza boxes. “It looks like you weren’t worried about impressing your friends. Really, Claudia. Pizza and beer? I thought we raised you to be more refined.”
She smiled. “Sorry, Mom.”
“And look at all these glasses in the sink…” Her mother was about to open the dishwasher, and only God knew where Anthony had stored the hard liquor.
“Mom, please! Get out of my kitchen.”
Her mother gasped. “Excuse me? I’m sure you can rephrase that to sound a little less churlish.”
“Sorry. I just—Please, sit on the couch with Dad and let me make you something to eat. You must be hungry after your long drive.”
“That’s more like it.” Her mother sniffed and turned on her heel, marching back to the living room.
Claudia usually liked apartments with an open floor plan so she could talk to guests while preparing food, but in this case, she’d rather stick them in another room—or another city—and gather her wits.
She opened the refrigerator, knowing there was precious little to offer anyone in there. Butter. Peanut butter. Jam. Cheese. She’d better find a way to make something edible. If not, she was toast. She bolted upright. Toast!
It wouldn’t impress, but it would fill their stomachs. If only I had time to run to the coffee shop. Ah! A brainstorm in her otherwise fuzzy mind formed a solution.
“Why don’t we all go to the coffee shop down the street? They have some lovely pastries…”
Her mother studied her with raised eyebrows. “You aren’t considering going out like that, are you?”
Claudia sighed. As usual, she couldn’t do anything right. “Well, we have a choice. I can get cleaned up and we can go out, or I can make PB and J, and grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Her father smiled. “With the crusts cut off?”
Her mother wrinkled her nose. “That’s hardly a decent breakfast.” She started to return to the kitchen. “Is that all you have?”
Claudia grasped her mother’s shoulders before she could reenter and spun her around. “I’ve been away…on a camping trip. That’s why I have no food and why you couldn’t get in touch with me. There’s no cell reception up in the Maine woods.”
Whew! Two explanations with one lie. She felt brilliant. Now if she could just down a gallon of coffee, she might make it through this inquisition—er, visit.
Anthony woke up in unfamiliar surroundings. Where the hell am I, and what is that stench? Then he remembered. He hadn’t made it back to his lair in time and had to resort to prying open a manhole and hiding in the sewer to accommodate his death sleep.
Now that it was evening again, he considered going back to Claudia’s, but he reeked. Besides, her parents might still be there. A long, steamy shower in his apartment sounded like a much better idea.
He climbed the ladder until he reached the manhole cover. Now to play “guess if anyone is up there or not?” He couldn’t use his sense of smell. That was compromised. Bloody hell, I might not get the disgusting smell out of my nose for days.
He lifted the lid slightly and listened. Noise of the city met his ears. Mostly traffic rumbling along the busy main drive a block away. He didn’t hear any clicking of shoes along the sidewalk, so he pushed the manhole aside and climbed out.
A couple of men who had apparently been leaning against a nearby building spotted him but said nothing. They simply stared as he straightened his lapels, stood tall, then strode off in the direction of his home with his head held high.
He was halfway home when he heard his name being called.
Maybe it’s another Anthony. He hoped so. He was close enough to the Italian North End for the name to refer to dozens of men.
“Hey, Anthony! Wait up.”
There was no mistaking the voice now. Tory Montana had caught sight of him. Even though Tory was quite a way off, he’d know that Anthony, with his vampiric senses, could hear him. I can’t very well pretend I don’t know one of my former best patrons.
Anthony swiveled around. Despite the darkness, he spotted the African American ex-linebacker jogging toward him. As soon as he’d spotted Anthony waiting for him, Tory slowed to a walk.
Almost five years ago, Anthony had been chatting with Claudia in his office when a loud crash came from the bar. Voices shouted and another crash followed.
They charged out of the office, tripping over each other. A bar brawl was in progress, with one gentleman clearly getting the worst end of it. The bouncer, Kurt, jumped between them and pushed. The guys stumbled back a few feet but came at each other with renewed vigor.
Anthony was removing his jacket when Kurt called out, “Stay where you are. I’ve got this.”