Complicity in Heels (11 page)

“Enough,” she said, raising her voice. “I can’t take any more bureaucratic bullshit.”

Harlan made a face but said nothing.

Nikki looked straight at him. “I’m going to ask you again, Harlan. Is there anyone who can help me visit my brother without jeopardizing my cover?”

The door flew open just as she was finishing her sentence. Lacey strolled inside in a denim shirtdress, accompanied by the same nurse who had escorted Nikki in.

Nikki’s mouth fell open.

Lacey looked directly at her. “I trust you’re here to get sprayed and neutered,” she said, just as the nurse left. “I wasn’t sure, so I followed you. Sometimes the queen likes to see what the workers are up to.”

Nikki’s face turned paste white, a shocked expression chiseling its way to the surface. “Lacey…” she stammered.

“Sweetie, formal introductions have already been made. Now what were you saying about a cover?”

The wheels in Nikki’s head frantically spun in an effort to formulate a plausible explanation.

“I was asking Dr. Fisk here how much insurance normally covers for a standard gynecological exam.”

Lacey raised an eyebrow. “Oh.”

“You know my situation,” Nikki reminded her in a stern tone.

“Yes, yes, fresh out the kitty pen with less than two nickels to rub together. Sad.”

“Ms. Frank,” Harlan interrupted, moving between the two women to face her, “to answer your question, standard practice is an eighty-twenty split, with you being responsible for the twenty percent at the conclusion of the appointment.”

Nikki mouthed a thank-you to him for affirming her off-the-cuff answer.

“So,” Harlan continued, “your cost today, with insurance, is sixty dollars. If you don’t have coverage, we have a social worker on staff available to help you file for government assistance.”

“Excuse me,” Lacey cut in.

Harlan spun around. “Who are you again?”

“Lacey Johnson.”

Harlan reached up and adjusted his glasses. “And exactly how did you get back here?”

“I convinced the nurse I was your patient’s sister,” Lacey replied, shooting Nikki a look of disdain. “And that she needed emotional support for anxiety issues surrounding doctor’s visits of this nature.”

Harlan frowned. “That’s a clear violation of Ms. Frank’s right to privacy, ma’am.”

“Like I care about that.”

Nikki shook her head, empathizing with Harlan’s predicament. “Excuse me, Dr. Fisk,” she said, edging back into the conversation before it got more heated, “when you get a chance, could please look into that matter we were discussing earlier?”

Harlan nodded.

“Thanks,” Nikki replied, patting him on the shoulder on her way out of the room. “I’ll be in touch.”

Harlan waved. “See you at your next appointment, Ms. Frank.”

Nikki raced out of the clinic to the parking lot.
Unfreakin’ believable
.
Talk about a close
call.

She jumped into the Buick, fired it up, and drove away. A half mile down Central Avenue, she stopped at a red light and scanned the area around her for a tail. A few of the other waiting drivers gawked in disbelief at her beat-up Regal, but there was no Lacey. Ignoring the fanfare, Nikki glanced at the dashboard. It was 1:00 p.m.; she was late.

Marty’s soccer competition had started thirty minutes ago. When the light changed, she stepped on the gas and exploded up the on-ramp. The needle on the speedometer rose rapidly. Once she hit seventy, she maintained it for several miles then dropped down to fifty. The abrupt change in speed sent all cars within close proximity flying past her. Nikki glanced around at the surrounding traffic to see if she had flushed anyone out who might have been following her. Nothing.

She continued driving at a moderate pace, keeping her eyes fixed on the clock. As one final precaution, Nikki weaved in and out of tractor-trailer traffic, leaving little space for anyone to pursue. She followed the green destination signs until she arrived at the exit ramp for Burke Recreational Park.

She turned off the expressway and onto a remote highway then drove for another seven-mile stretch before taking a right on Ashford. Once she was on the dirt road, she picked up speed, a dust cloud kicking up behind her. She continued on for a quarter mile before braking to slow down. Nikki veered off the dirt road and looked for a place to park near the playing field. The lot was overflowing with a dozen or so team buses and vans. She made two passes before finding a narrow space next to a Durango that was badly parked.

Nikki picked up the wig she had brought along with her. She adjusted the rearview mirror, applied the cap, then slid the hairpiece onto her head. Once she had concealed her hairline, she styled the espresso-colored locks until she was satisfied that no one would recognize her. As a final precaution, she put on a pair of sunglasses.
Well, here goes nothing
, she thought.

The new Nikki Frank stepped out of the car and headed toward the park. The facility’s grounds had been divided into three fifty-by-thirty-yard playing fields. The reduced size of the fields allowed players with disabilities to have more fun by increasing the amount of ball contact during games.

Nikki walked through the crowds, scanning the area. Six teams were currently engaged in play. On the field to the far right, she recognized the colors of one of them and moved in that direction. As an added precaution, she approached the field from the opposing team’s side. If anyone was looking for her, they wouldn’t expect to find her observing the tournament from the opponents’ sideline.

Each team had a total of five players on the field and five players on the bench. The opposing team wore red jerseys, while the home team was clad in mustard yellow with black pinstripes.

Nikki glanced over at the Paris Oaks sideline and spotted Mrs. Ruiz and Emma, who sat next to each other on the bleachers behind the team bench.

A player wearing the number one was standing in line by the Gatorade cooler and caught her attention. Nikki instinctively knew it was Marty, if for no other reason than his jersey number matched the one Cam Newton had on in the picture in her brother’s room.

Marty turned around with his drink in hand. He looked a little different than she remembered. His coarse black hair appeared fuller, and his cedar-brown complexion seemed to have deepened a shade. Marty’s hefty frame had shrunken—not that he’d been very fat before, but now he seemed to have a more gaunt appearance. Nikki’s overall impression was that her brother needed less sun and more home-cooked meals.

The referee blew his whistle. Startled, Nikki jumped a little. The players walked off the field to the sound of thunderous applause.

“What’s going on?” Nikki asked the person next to her.

A paunchy middle-aged man turned to her. “Even match: zero, zero.”

Nikki frowned.

“Don’t worry…Fox Valley isn’t completely out of this yet.”

Surprised, she raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, the game will transition to a shootout to determine the winner.”

Nikki recalled her phone conversation with Emma. She had been reminded that Marty had been designated the team shooter for the event and that he’d be given three chances to kick a soccer ball from the penalty area toward an unattended goal to score points for the team.

The referee blew his whistle once again to resume play. Nikki’s heart jumped when Marty stepped onto the field. She watched closely as he walked toward the top of the goal box to set up for his three kicks. The referee placed the ball in front of him and moved away. Marty took several giant steps backward then looked over at his coach, who stood on the sideline. He gave him a nod to proceed. Marty took off running down the field. Nikki’s stomach churned as she watched. When Marty was within striking distance, he kicked the ball toward the goal. It streaked across the field, hit the near post, and bounced back toward him.

“Damn,” Nikki said under breath.

The ball boy retrieved the ball and placed it back on the ground at the top of the goal box. The referee motioned for Marty to take his second kick. He stepped forward, swung his leg, and made contact with the ball. The checkered sphere soared through the air, seemingly on course for the corner of the far post. At the last second, however, the ball curved wide, missing the goal entirely. Marty buried his face in his hands and walked back to the starting point. Some of the players on the opposing sideline howled with laughter. Nikki clenched her fists.
Insensitive
bastards.

The referee blew his whistle a final time. Nikki held her breath. Marty struck the ball with his right foot. It skittered across the turf in a straight line for what seemed forever before rolling across the goal line and slamming into the back of the net. Nikki cheered, throwing her arms up in the air.
Way to go, Marty!

The middle-aged spectator she had just spoken with moments earlier shot her a dirty look. Nikki composed herself. “Sorry…I root for everyone.”

The man huffed out a loud breath.

“They train so hard year round for this one moment,” she added. “I think we should all share in their success.”

He didn’t respond.

Nikki directed her gaze back to the field. Marty was over by the sidelines, high-fiving his teammates, while Mrs. Ruiz and Emma cheered him on from the stands.

The kicker for the opposing team walked onto the field. Nikki slipped back to her car to watch the rest of the competition from there. The shooter kicked. The ball took flight and landed in the back of the net. The crowd cheered. Tie game. Nikki buried her face in her hand and shook her head.

The ball boy hustled over to retrieve the ball from the orange plastic netting while the mop-haired rival practiced his kicking motion against the air. Nikki glanced up to see the referee place the ball down on the designated field marker. The shooter took three quick steps and shot. The ball arced wide, missing the goal completely. Nikki clapped to herself.
Come on. Do it
again.

The opponent set up for his final kick. The whistle blew. He shot. Goal.

Nikki slammed her fist on the armrest. “Damn it!”

Fox Valley 2, Paris Oaks 1.

Marty’s team stared into the sky in disbelief. Marty clutched his head and paced back and forth in lament. While the other team celebrated on the field, Nikki’s heart sank. She watched closely as the stands cleared.

The Paris Oaks players gathered their equipment and headed toward the team bus. They proceeded through a gauntlet of applause and cheers from Mrs. Ruiz and other staff members.

The bus pulled out of the parking lot thirty minutes later. Nikki tailed the vehicle from the recreational park to Angelo’s Pizzeria, where she assumed they were going for a postgame dinner. When the bus pulled into the eatery, she pretended to be waiting to pick someone up from another establishment along the strip.

The team got off the bus and headed inside. Nikki remained in the parking lot for another fifteen minutes before venturing inside.

Once inside Angelo’s, she was seated by the hostess at a table near the front door. Nikki ordered a mineral water then scanned the room. There were several rows of tables, each covered with a plastic checkered tablecloth; coordinated booths along the perimeter; and a replica brick oven nestled in the back. The place was noisy and warm. Adult contemporary music flooded through the restaurant audio system, and an interwoven smell of garlic, pepperoni, and freshly baked bread drifted from the kitchen. Nikki’s stomach grumbled.

Off to the side, she noticed a semiprivate banquet room full of soccer players. Nikki fumbled with the menu as she kept an eye out for Marty. The waitress had come and gone with her drink and some appetizers when Marty broke away from the group. Nikki got up and followed him to the restroom. She pushed open the door and marched in. Marty jumped back. “This is the men’s room,” he said.

Nikki stared at her brother, thrilled to finally see him after so many years. Tears collected at the corners of her eyes.

“Leave,” Marty insisted, pointing to the door.

She smiled but didn’t move.

“Now!”

Nikki removed the wig from her head, revealing her true identity.

Marty’s eyes grew big.

“It’s me,” she announced.
Say something.

It took a moment for Marty to process what was going on. “Neeka!” he finally exclaimed.

“Yes, Martini.”

“Neeka!”

Tears flowed freely down Nikki’s cheeks. She extended her arms in his direction. Marty rushed toward her, and the two embraced. “Where you been?” he asked softly.

“Work,” Nikki replied, slightly embarrassed to admit she’d prioritized her career over him. It wasn’t that she didn’t care. She did. It was the allure of undercover work and life out on the street that kept her away. It intoxicated her.

The two siblings pulled away from each other and held hands. Nikki couldn’t stop smiling at her brother.

He smiled back. “You look tired, Neeka.”

“Why do you say that?”

Marty let go of her grasp and placed his hands on his hips, akimbo fashion. “Because you always working,” he chastised her. “Never see you anymore.”

Nikki’s smile quickly faded. “I’m sorry, Martini.”

“We’re family,” he insisted.

She lowered her eyes to avoid his. “I know…I’ll do better.”

“Good. Now let’s eat.”

Nikki cringed at the suggestion. “I can’t,” she said, knowing she was already taking a big risk of being discovered by being with her brother in the men’s room.

Marty’s smile drooped. “Why not?”

“Some people don’t want us to be together,” Nikki said.

Marty patted his stomach. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes,” she reassured him. “But we would upset a lot of people if we ate together right now.”

Marty followed up with another automatic “Why?” It pierced Nikki’s heart to see him working to comprehend what she had said. She grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight. “That’s not important. What’s important is that I can fix this.”

Marty nodded, looking a little relieved.