Baby V (Chianti Kisses #1) (9 page)

He knows h
e’
s already won. But, h
e’
s gentleman enough to let me pretend i
t’
s my decision.

“
Fair enough, V. You can let me know by Monday. Tha
t’
s a week, enough time, I think.
I’
m flying out tomorrow afternoon to handle something in Miami.
I’
ll be back Sunday night. Yo
u’
ll have no pressure from me or anyone else
.
”

We both know who
anyone
else is.

“
Do you have to head back now? I have something to do and I really want you to come with me
,
” he asks.

Cautiously, I weigh my options. I can go home and hang around with three older ladies for the night, I could go see Tony, or I can go with Dom on his mystery errand and suffer the flames of my burning lips in agony while he tortures me some more. I check my phone. I
t’
s four-twenty. Surely Tony will be leaving soon to go tend to his very pregnant wife. Dom can see me mentally weighing my options.

“
Fine,
I’
ve got nothing better to do tonight
.
”

He dramatically pretends h
e’
s been shot in the heart, clutching at his chest.
“
Ouch! Tha
t’
s brutal!
,
”
 
He laughs as he walks over to me and holds out his hand
.
“
Come on, Baby V.
I’
ll make it worth you while and buy you dinner
.
”

I grasp his hand as he pulls me up. I do
n’
t give him the satisfaction of looking into my eyes. Or, maybe
I’
m afraid to look into his. I slip past him as he stands in front of me.

“
Damn right, you will!
,
”
 
I call behind to him as I leave his office, waiting for him to catch up.

Ellen bids me farewell as we make our way past her desk. I stop to give her a kiss on her cheek and notice that she has taken out one of her earrings. Ha! Nothing wrong with a little corroborating evidence.

Dom pauses at least half a dozen times on our exit path, checking over documents from passing employees, wishing good night to almost every worker in earshot and reminds someone named Matt to remember to watch the Mets ge
t“
beat ba
d”
tonight.

When we finally make it out of the building and into the waiting car, the driver has barely finished shutting the door behind us when Do
m’
s phone buzzes. He looks mildly apologetic as he reaches for the call.

“
Dom here. Hey, yeah, we just left.
I’
m bringing her with me to the hospital to check on Stanson. Four-thirty out of JFK. Yeah, how was the doctors appointment? You gonna be a dad anytime soon, or what, man? I
t’
s been like a year already. Yeah, send my love
.
”

He laughs as he hides the phone back in his inner jacket pocket.

“
Tony wants to know why you hate him
,
” he explains sarcastically.
 “
He saw us leave and you did
n’
t even stop by to say hi to him. Keep it up and they might reconsider making you the Godmother
.
”

I have
n’
t officially been asked to bee the Godmother to Tony and Cecil
y’
s baby, but
I’
ve heard from multiple sources that i
t’
s inevitable.

“
Where are we going, Dom?
,
”
 
I want to know.
 “
Wh
o’
s in the hospital
?
”

Dom suddenly loses all trace of humor and takes off his jacket, tilting to turn to me with an all-too-serious expression suddenly crossing his face.

“
Last Wednesday night, one of our trucks was hijacked after it left the loading docks. The driver was beaten after he would
n’
t willingly unlock the cargo doors for the thugs. So, they put him in a coma and left him on the side of the road while they drove off with the truck. He was unconscious for three days. Couple of broken ribs, a cracked skull. Not pretty, V. H
e’
s barely twenty-five and has a wife and a daughter. H
e’
s been with us for four years and has an exemplary record. When he woke up, he asked about his wife, daughter and then cried because he thought he would loose his house if fired for letting them take the truck. NYPD found it the next day in a parking lot picked clean
.
”

I’
m sure the horror on my face is clear, but Dom looks to finish quickly as if to purge himself of the gruesome details.

“
I mean, the man was almost killed. KILLED, for Chris
t’
s sake. And h
e’
s worried about some cargo? Tha
t’
s what insurance is for. The least I can do is go apologize to him for everything tha
t’
s happened. I want you to come with me so you can see the kind of thing that I was talking about in my office. He nearly sacrificed everything, and he was worried he would
n’
t have a job...
.
”

So
that
  was the story behind the phone calls I overheard. Ugh. My stomach turns while mentally reviewing the list of injuries the man had sustained. I think
I’
m going to be sick. Dom must see what
I’
m feeling, as he opens the window to let some fresh air in.

“
V... i
t’
s OK. H
e’
s alright now. His doctors are optimistic h
e’
ll make a full recovery... it will just take some time
,
” he reaches out and holds my hand in his.

I start to feel better and nod over to him.
I’
m not out of the woods yet, and if I open my mouth to speak
I’
m afraid I might be sick. Two or three minutes later, I feel almost back to normal as Dom keeps an eye out, looking for any changes.

“I’
m OK, Dom. Do... do things like this happen very often?
,
”
 
I wondered.

I remember some of his phone call through the door from last night and I get the distinct impression that this was
n’
t an isolated incident. He squeezes my hand.

“
V. Things happen. Le
t’
s not give this more thought, OK
?
”

I nod again and look out the window. We sit the rest of the ride in silence.

~*~

Stanson is on the third floor, in the ICU. We are allowed to go up and visit, but the large woman behind the information station informs us that only one person can be at his side at a time. We are given visitor badges and make our way to the third floor. A young woman with red, tired eyes, sits in the waiting area staring at a little girl playing on the floor.

Barbie dolls are spread around the girl who looks to be around six years old. As we make our way to their portion of the room, the woman looks up suddenly, frightened. Dom lets go of my hand and extends it out toward the seated woman.

“
Mrs. Stanson?
I’
m Dominic DiBenedetto. This is Vincenza Lombardi
,
” he nods over to me.
 “
W
e’
ve come to see your husband if tha
t’
s alright, and to see if there is anything else we can do for you
.
”

The woman gets to her feet after Dom makes our introduction and takes his hand between both of hers. Tears begin to well in her eyes.

“
Mr. DiBenedetto. I am so thankful for all yo
u’
ve done for my husband, and for us
,
”
 
she turns to the child still playing on the floor by her feet
.
“
Tricia... come meet Dadd
y’
s boss. This is the man who helped Daddy get better
.
”

She leans down to Trici
a’
s height as the child stands to face us. Now that sh
e’
s standing and I can see her better, I think she might be around seven. She has big brown eyes and light brown hair tied back in a braid with a ribbon on the end.

Her jeans and t-shirt are slightly wrinkled as if sh
e’
s been wearing them for quite some time. Mrs. Stanson speaks softly into Trici
a’
s ear before the child herself speaks up to Dom.

“
Thank you for helping my Daddy. He says his head does
n’
t hurt him that much anymore
.
”

Oh my god! Such a raw innocent comment from such a small little girl having to cope with something far too intense for someone her age to ever have to endure. Mrs. Stanson starts to break down a bit after hearing Trici
a’
s remark. The young girl looks up at her mother as if sh
e’
s done something wrong to make her mother upset.

I step in and take Trici
a’
s small hand.
“
Hi Tricia. My nam
e’
s V.
I’
m a friend of your dadd
y’
s boss.
I’
m glad h
e’
s feeling better. You know what?
I’
m hungry. Would you keep me company while I go to the cafeteria and get something for everyone to eat. I
t’
s almost dinner time. Mommy can stay here with my friend Dom, until we get back. You would be a big help
.
”

Tricia looks up at he mother for permission. Mrs. Stanson nods, silently giving that permission while trying to control her suppressed sobs.
I’
m able to get Tricia to the elevator before her mother breaks down into Do
m’
s arms.

Hospital cafeterias are all the same. They have the same smells, the same food. Even the same person working behind the register- an older person in a neatly pressed uniform looking to make small talk, to take their customers minds off the burden of why the
y’
re here in the first place.

“
Oooh, V! Look! Ice cream! Can I have some, please
?
”

Tricia skips over to the ice cream machine to inspect the pictures of the choices the machine has to offer.
I’
m not sure how her mom will feel about me loading her kid up with sugar. But,
I’
ll take the risk rather than disappoint Tricia.

“
OK. But, you have to eat some dinner first. What should we get? Sandwiches, salad, chili? What does you mom like to eat
?
”

Tricia is still staring at the ice cream machine as I speak to her.
“
Ummm. My mom like ice cream...
,
”

She makes me laugh. This little lady has a one track mind.
“
OK. W
e’
ll get a little of everything. W
e’
ll have a picnic upstairs. Help me put things in our basket
.
”

We pick a wide variety of foods, unsure of what Mrs. Stanson will be able to eat, if anything. Tricia wo
n’
t let me forget to stop by the ice cream machine on our way out. By the time we make it back to the waiting area, Mrs. Stanson looks calmer, but worn. We set our bags on the table and begin to unpack, when she breaks the silence.

“
Your boyfriend is very kind, Miss Lombardi. H
e’
s done so much for us since this nightmare began. More than he needed to...
,
” she trails off, loosing he train of thought and stares out into nothing.

I hold her hand, bringing her back to reality.
“
Oh, tha
t’
s how Dom is. Where did he go?
,
” I try to keep her attention. I did
n’
t think it was necessary to tell her than Dom was
n’
t my boyfriend. There are many more important things on the woma
n’
s mind than my social life, right now.