Athica Lane: The Carpino Series (38 page)

I can hear Tony trailing behind me and he finally says, “Gabby, stop.”

Barely turning to him, I give him the edge of my tongue saying, “What?  What do you want Tony?”

“Stop and talk to me for a second.  Calm down.”

“Calm down?” I ask, fully turning to him. “Do you think I wanted that to happen to me today?  For heaven’s sake, I was told to stand with my hands against a wall, cuffed, patted down, had to wait for almost an hour because if I didn’t I’d be treated to a different load of shit from you for not calling before answering questions.  Am I right?” Tony sighed, tipped his head back and looks to the sky.  I go on while waving my hand around, “See, I’m right.  I did nothing but deliver a client gift today to be treated to this crazy ass mess.  So, drop the attitude Tony, next time I’ll call your dad or Gino, the only reason I didn’t was because it would get straight to my aunts and I didn’t want to worry them.  They worry about me enough, I don’t need to add fuel to their fire.” 

“I’m sorry Gabby, but you run your mouth like a freight train and always say too much.  I know you’ve never been questioned like that before, but next time, heaven help me there won’t be one, but if there is a next time just answer the questions.  I’m ninety nine percent sure you’re clear here, but you never know. Just leave out the fucking commentary,” he basically pleads.

“You’re in business law, Tone, mergers and acquisitions.  Didn’t know you handled so many interrogations on a daily basis,” I have no trouble being haughty now. 

Tony takes a step closer to me, puts a hand on the side of my neck and leans down to me.  “Look, I’m sorry.  I hated to see you sitting in that shit storm when I walked into the house,” I close my eyes and turn my head to the side.  “Gabba Gabba,” he uses his nickname for me softly and I open my eyes but don’t turn to look at him.  “You good?”

I don’t answer him for a few seconds and his hand gives me a little shake.  I finally look up at him and whisper on a sigh, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Tony goes on softly, “I was serious in there.  You do not see or talk to Megan.  If she tries to call you, you do not answer and let me know if she tries to come see you.  They don’t put together an operation like this for no reason, Trevor’s got himself sucked into some serious shit and I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

“I know, I get it, I get it,” I say, finally giving in. 

“I don’t have any meetings the rest of the day, do you want me to follow you home and hang out for a while?” he asks, proving to me I’m his favorite cousin and just maybe his favorite person ever.

“I’m good, Tone, really.  I’ve ruined enough of your day.  You’ve got a couple hours left.  Go back to work,” I answer.  “But don’t you dare tell your dad.  He’ll tell Aunt Lizzie, she’ll freak and be all up in my business stressing me out.”

Tony looks as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to give me what I want.  I’m really not worried about it, he usually lets me have my way. 

“Okay,” he finally gives in. 

See?  There’s a reason he’s my favorite cousin, too.  I smile and give him a hug as he kisses the top of my head saying to me, “You comin’ to the draft tomorrow night?  Dad’s grilling.”

“I’ll be there, I’m bringing a salad,” I inform him.

“Of course you are,” he says smiling as he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up and go back to work,” I say while giving him a good hard shove which of course doesn’t move him an inch. 

“See you tomorrow, Gabby. Try not to get arrested,” he says, teasingly. 

It’s my turn to roll my eyes as I climb up in my car to crank it on and jack up the A/C.  My hair is going to start frizzing if I stand out in his heat and humidity any longer.

On the drive home I start feeling guilty about leaving Megan, wondering where Trevor is and what in the hell he’s into.  I really don’t know why I’m surprised, he’s a jerk but it’s still a surprising situation to be at your high school friend’s home only to find yourself in the middle of a federal raid.  I understand why Tony doesn’t want me to have anything to do with Megan right now but I have a feeling this guilt is going to eat away at me.

I pull into my neighborhood, curve around and turn down my dead end street.  My chest tightens a bit like it does every time I drive up to my childhood home over the last three years and eight months.  Counting the weeks and days is a different level of depressing that I’ve made myself stop doing.  I smile and wave to my neighbor, Martha, who is weeding her front flower beds. 

My neighborhood is developed with mature trees and landscape.  The homes are somewhere between twenty to twenty-five years old.  My parents built ours when I was three and it was one of the first in the development so I have a prime lot.  I am at the end of a cul-de-sac backing to a lake with a tree line on the other side so I have a lot of privacy in back of my house.  The lots are wide, spacious and well maintained by homeowners.  There has been quite a bit of turnover in the past ten years, empty nesters moving out, younger people making homes for their young families, it’s a popular neighborhood because of the larger homes and good school district. 

I push out a breath as I pull into one of my three garages.  Hopping down from my car, I trudge through my yard sale, estate sale and Craigslist treasures that I’ve not quite found a use for but couldn’t say no to because of their personality.  I’m sure someday I’ll have just the right project for them. 

Opening the door to my mudroom I’m instantly attacked from the knees down, the tightness in my chest quickly releases as Mia whines and yelps, communicating how much she missed me during the last four long hours she had to manage on her own. 

“Hi baby,” I crouch low to give my sweet little Maltese-Shih Tzu mix scratches and kisses.  “Mama’s had a bad day, but I’m home now.” 

Mia, with her paws on my knees, reaches as far as she can for my face, relaying to me how happy she is and that she loves me more than anything.  I stand, she races across the kitchen and great room to the deck door off the back of my house, showing me she knows the ritual we go through every time I come home.  I follow much slower and see her dancing circles in eager anticipation of the outdoors.  She has business to take care of, squirrels to chase and neighbors to greet, so I hurry myself to the door to give her what she wants. 

I turn and see the mess in my kitchen from my morning coffee and breakfast, and if I’m honest with myself, a couple dinner dishes from the night before.  I keep a clean house without a problem, but being tidy on a daily basis is something I’m still trying to mature into.  The arguments my mother and I used to have over my bedroom still play in my head.  My dad would say, “Meredith, just shut her bedroom door so you don’t have to look at it.  I’m sure it’ll be clean again someday when she takes all her shit and moves out and then you’ll be sad, so get over it.”  Such stupid arguments, why I couldn’t just pick up my clothes to make her happy, I will never know.  With these thoughts, I grab the remote, turn on my stereo hitting shuffle on the playlist and start to tidy my kitchen. 

My mom completely gutted and refurbished the kitchen about five years ago.  I lived in an apartment then since I was finishing up graduate school, but she and I had a grand time renovating.  She would say, “I don’t need a decorator, I have my Gabby.”  The cabinets are all cherry wood, dark brown and distressed with just enough black glaze settling into the grooves.  The kitchen, originally U-shaped, was replaced with a long, deep rectangular island the length of the room that houses an extra-large copper apron front sink with five barstools across the front.  Across from the sink is a five burner Jenn-Air stainless steel range.  To the side are matching stainless steel double ovens and an enormous refrigerator.  My mom always said, “Having a big family means you need the right tools to cook.”

I kick off my heels and toss them in the way of my bedroom thinking I’m just going to have to pick them up later.  I hear Lifehouse start to croon out
You & Me
and set about my task.  I do my best to put my day behind me and move on.  I’ve gotten very good at this the past few years but I’ve also never been handcuffed, patted down and questioned by federal agents.  Thinking of being patted down brings my thoughts back to Jude Ortiz.  I haven’t had many second thoughts about men in the past few years.  I’ve been set up occasionally by friends, asked out a few times on the rare occasion I put myself in a social situation, but haven’t dated anyone on a regular basis since James. 

James and I met in the last year of our MBA program.  He was fun, nice and attentive as long as we were doing what he wanted to do.  He always wanted to be with his friends, watch the game he wanted to watch, eat where he wanted to eat and so on.  I thought I loved James, we were together for one year and three months, but my family was not so crazy about James. 

My family is big.  My family is gregarious.  My family is in your face if you are their family.  And since I am their family, they love me, they want to see me, spend time with me and be in my face, they saw James as a roadblock to all of the above.  James thought my family was overbearing.  Period.  I did my best to walk that tightrope for one year and three months because I thought I loved James and he loved me in return.  Then I found out when times got tough and I needed to focus on me, he proved to be the self-centered jack wagon that he is and broke up with me.  This sucked, but other things sucked worse and I got over James-who-I-thought-I-loved way faster than I ever imagined I could.  End of story.   End of James. 

So thinking of Jude Ortiz with his melty eyes, big strong hands, broad shoulders and the list goes on, is a surprise even to me.  He has a great voice and when his lips tipped up at me right before I left it was so appealing that I can’t help but think what a full on smile would do to me.

Finishing my tasks in the kitchen, I go to the back door and whistle for Mia.  She comes bounding like it was her idea and runs straight to her treat jar. 

“This is number two today, Mia, you only get one more.  And don’t try and talk me into a fourth, Lanny said you have to cut back or you’re gonna get chubby.” 

Lanny is my vet and my cousin’s husband.  He loves Mia but thinks I overindulge her with treats, which is true.  I overindulge Mia in about everything. 

I walk to my room with Mia at my feet, picking up my heels on my way and the phone rings.  Rounding my bed to get to the phone I look at the caller ID, sigh and hesitantly answer. 

“Lilly, what’s up?” I ask.

“Yoga is what’s up.  Five o’clock.  I have reservations for both of us, it should be a semi private class, she has two others signed up with us,” she informs me.  “You in?”

“I don’t know,” I say closing my eyes.  “It’s Friday and you would not believe my day if I gave you a thousand guesses.  I’m beat and was going to curl up with wine and a movie.” 

“Gabby, get your ass up and going, you can do your wine and movie afterwards,” she says, planning my night.  “It’s just an hour, you’ll have the rest of the night to veg.”

I guess I could use some stress release and I’ve been so busy I’ve barely hit my treadmill all week.  “Fine, I’ll be there,” I agree.  “I need to swing by the grocery store anyway, I’ll do that on my way home.” 

“Perfect!  See ya there,” she says, way too excited for yoga. 

Hanging up the phone, I head to my closet to change, try to center my head or whatever it is we do in yoga that I can never seem to concentrate on enough to do.  I put all thoughts of Jude Ortiz out of my head, I’ll never see him again anyway.