Not that I hadn’t dreamed. I’d dreamed plenty.
And had been on my cell phone all morning because of it.
“I didn’t make anything for you,” Mom said, “because I know you’re going to brunch with that nice Karen Sue Hankey.”
“No, I’m not,” I said, opening the fridge and peering inside. It was weird to be home and not have either of my brothers around. For one thing, the orange-juice carton was still full. If either Douglas or Mikey had been home, that thing would have been put back empty.
“Oh, honey,” Mom said. “You have to go with her. I told her you would.”
“Well, you shouldn’t make social engagements for me without checking first,” I said, opening the carton and drinking from it.
“Oh, Jessica, use a glass,” Mom said, looking disgusted. “You aren’t on the army base anymore.”
Didn’t I know it. One good thing about being stationed overseas—if you could call anything about it good—was that no one signed you up to have brunch with Karen Sue Hankey without your permission.
“Tell Karen Sue I’m sorry,” I said, putting the carton back in the fridge. “But I’ve got some errands to run.”
“What kind of errands?” Mom wanted to know.
Dad called from the living room, “Jess. Rob just pulled up out front.”
“That kind,” I said to Mom. And started for the front door.
“Honey.” Mom followed me, ignoring the egg whites sizzling on the stove. “I thought we’d talked about this. That boy is no good for you.”
“Bye, Mom,” I said, yanking open the front door. Rob was outside, in his shiny black pickup. He waved.
“Hey, Mrs. Mastriani,” he called.
“Hello, Robert,” my mom called back weakly. To me, she said in a low voice, “Jessica, you know as well as I do, if he cheated once, he’ll do it again.”
“Toni,” my dad said from the chair he’d sunk into in the living room. “Let the kids work out their problems themselves.”
“Oh, right,” Mom said, whipping around to glare at my father. “I’m just supposed to stand by and let her do whatever she wants, then be here to help pick up the pieces when it all blows up in her face.”
“Exactly,” Dad said, and flipped open the newspaper.
“Joe!” Mom cried, frustrated.
“See ya,” I said to the two of them, and hurried down the porch steps and across the lawn to where the four-door with the tinted windows sat.
After waving at Rob to let him know I’d just be a minute, I tapped on the sedan’s driver’s-side window. When it didn’t roll down right away, I said, “Come on. We all know you’re in there.”
Slowly the window came down. I found myself looking at two gentlemen wearing suits, despite the summer heat, which only promised to get steamier.
“Hi,” I said to them. “You guys from the FBI, or Mr. Whitehead?”
The two men exchanged glances. Then the driver said in a thick Chicago accent, “Mr. Whitehead. He is not pleased with you. He believes you broke into his son’s apartment last night, and took some property belonging to him. Mr. Whitehead would like that property back.”
“Right,” I said. “I figured he would. Well, it just so happens that my friend and I are on the way to Mr. Whitehead’s office. So you two are welcome to follow us. You can even call ahead, if you want, and let him know we’re on the way. Oh, and tell him to make sure Randy Junior is there, as well. And Randy needs to bring Kristin with him.”
The driver and his partner exchanged glances. I said encouragingly, “Go on. Call him. If he wants his son’s property back, he’s going to have to meet with me. It’s either that, or I take the property to the cops.”
The driver hesitated, then reached into his breast pocket. For a minute, I thought he might be going for a gun, and I thought to myself, obscurely, how odd it would be to die on such a bright, sunny summer morning, on my own street, in front of my parents and my would-have-been boyfriend.
But it turned out he was only reaching for a cell phone.
“See you in ten,” I said to the men in the car. Then I turned and started for Rob’s truck…
…just as a white convertible Rabbit pulled up alongside my driveway, and Karen Sue Hankey, behind the wheel, tootled on the horn.
“Hi, Jessica!” she cried. “Are you ready? I hope you don’t mind if it’s just the two of us, but Scott’s playing golf with my dad. I thought it might be just as well. Now it can be just us girls. I made a reservation at that new little gourmet restaurant on the courthouse square. They’ve got the best waffles. Even though, you know, I’m not supposed to be eating refined sugar. But this is a special occasion. Oh, I just love your hair like that. Did you get it done in New York? Hop in, why don’t you?”
Instead of hopping in, I walked right past her car, then climbed into the passenger seat beside Rob.
“Hey,” he said to me. Then glanced out his window. “Isn’t that that girl from last night? The one who stopped you on the street?”
“Just drive,” I said.
Rob obliged, pulling out and heading towards downtown. As we cruised by her, I heard Karen Sue, looking outraged, say, “Well, of all the—” Then I saw my mom rushing out to placate her, probably with an offer of scrambled egg whites.
“How’s Hannah?” I asked, buckling my seat belt.
“She hates me,” Rob said simply. “She’s also not too fond of Chick, whose babysitting her again until her mother gets here to pick her up.”
“She’ll get over it,” I said. “Did you tell her about the videos?”
“Oh, yeah,” Rob said. “She doesn’t believe me. Her precious Randy would never do anything like that. She thinks I’m making it up to make Randy look bad.”
“Of course you are,” I said with a laugh. “Don’t worry. She’ll come around.”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “Too bad by the time she does, she’ll be back home with her mom.” He glanced into his rearview mirror a few seconds later. “Who’s the tail?” he wanted to know. “FBI?”
“Mob,” I said casually. “Turns out Randy Senior’s connected.”
“Boy,” Rob said. “Things just keep getting better with this guy. My sister sure knows how to pick ’em. Should I lose them?”
“No, they’re our escort,” I said.
“Great,” he said even more sarcastically. “May I ask where this little procession is headed?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Courthouse square. The offices of Mr. Randall Whitehead Senior are in the Fountain Building.”
“And that’s where we’re going?” Rob asked. “To see Randy Senior?”
“That’s correct,” I said. “Although Randy Junior is going to be there as well, I believe.”
“Does this mean you’re going to let me beat him senseless after all?” Rob asked hopefully.
“It most certainly does not,” I said, keeping my gaze on the road and not allowing it to stray towards Rob’s hands, which looked tantalizingly strong and competent as they turned the wheel. I tried not to think about how those hands would feel—had felt—on me.
“Did you watch the tapes?” Rob wanted to know. I noticed he was keeping his own gaze on the road, as well.
“I did,” I said.
Rob waited for me to go on. When I didn’t, he said, “Were the ones with Hannah…I mean, was there more than one—”
“There was just one video of her,” I said.
“Good,” Rob said softly.
“Multiple copies of the same video,” I added, even though I didn’t want to. Still, I had to make sure he understood.
Rob swore under his breath. Then, giving a chuckle that was completely devoid of humor, he said, “And you really think I’m not going to kill him when I see him?”
“You’re not,” I said. “Because, for one thing, he’s not worth going to jail for. And for another, those guys back there? They’re armed.”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “Well, they’re not going to be around forever. Randy’s going to have to go somewhere alone sometime, and when he does—”