Lucky Flash: A Lucky O'Toole Novella (The Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Series) (7 page)

“I’m not liking myself much either.”
 
Teddie’s eyes held a sadness I felt.
 
“We all make mistakes.”

“Yes, but once trust is broken…”
 
I let the thought hang there.
 
The Harvard boy could fill in the blanks.

I stepped close to him and touched his face.
 
For a moment I let myself remember, then I scooped up my shoes and sailed by him.
 
Comfy clothes were in order.
 
“Don’t be here when I get back.”

My bedroom, my sanctuary, welcomed me.
 
I stood in the large room, still shaken by the encounter with Teddie.
 
Why did he have such an effect on me still?
 
When would the hurt go away?
 
I disrobed, finding my sweats on my bed where I had left them.
 
I half-hoped Teddie would ignore me and stay, and I despised myself for feeling that way.

Sweats donned, socks on swollen feet, I went in search of comfort—first Wild Turkey, then food, if I had any.
 
Teddie leaned on the counter in the kitchen, a tin of cookies open in front of him.
 
He popped one in his mouth and gave me a tentative grin.
 
He hurt, too.

His comfort with his vulnerability made him irresistible…well, except for the whole love me then leave me episode.
 
A broken heart had a definite chilling effect on the libido.
 
Thank God he hadn’t chosen this moment to park himself behind the baby grand and sing my song,
Lucky For Me.
That’d tear my heart in two.
 
And I didn’t think half a heart would be sufficient for either Teddie or Jean-Charles.

Jean-Charles…
 

“I thought I told you to leave.”
 
I peered into the fridge, pretending to be absorbed.
 
What I really wanted was for us to go back to how we were before we’d slept together—best friends.
 
I missed that part so very much.

“If you’re looking for anything edible, you won’t find it in there.
 
Only thing in there are a couple of interesting lab experiments and some seriously wonky vegetables.”

The door eased shut on silent hinges.
 
“That drawer in the bottom is mislabeled.
 
It’s not a crisper, it’s a rotter.”

“Everything dims with time, even hurt.”

That subtext hit me right in the heart.
 
I chose to ignore it.
 
Abandoning my pride, I succumbed to his obvious ploy.
 
A low moment but justifiable: deprived of food, the beast could get ugly.
 
“Are those your mom’s coconut oatmeal?”

“And they’re great.”
 
He spewed a few crumbs, then wiped them into his palm and tossed them in the sink.
 
“Bet you can’t eat just one.”

“I bet you’re right.”

I dove in as Teddie hid his gloat pouring me three fingers of Wild Turkey.
 
The man could read me like a book, putting me at a disadvantage considering I never had a clue exactly what he was up to.
 
I straddled a stool, easing closer to the cookies—culinary crack.
 
“Tell me about Dig Me O’Dell and Smooth Sound Downtown Records.”

The question clearly hit him from left field.
 
In that fraction of a second before he regained his equilibrium, I could tell he was hiding something.
 
“What do you want to know?”
 
He easily modulated his voice, piece of cake for a crooner.

“Anything off about them.
 
Any sour notes?”

“Why?”

Yep, hiding something.
 
“They’re sponsoring a scavenger hunt.
 
Got a bunch of crazies running around town looking for music memorabilia.
 
Seems odd for a player the caliber of Dig Me O’Dell.”

“First I’ve heard of it.
 
Sounds a bit out of character for O’Dell.
 
Are you sure?”

I thought about Johnny Pismo.
 
He reeked of desperation.
 
Desperation made normal men do interesting things, and Pismo was far from normal.
 
“No.
 
And I can’t figure what’s in it for O’Dell and the record label.”
 

Teddie pursed his lips as his eyes slid from mine.
 
“Couldn’t say.”
 

“Couldn’t say or don’t know?”

“It’s a strange time in the music business.
 
Solid ground is shifting like quicksand.
 
Digital threw the old paradigm out the window.
 
Songs are selling for pennies a download.
 
Music producers used to bundle some pretty bad songs with the popular ones on an album and make the listeners buy the whole thing to get the tracks they wanted.
 
Not anymore.
 
Every song has to be a winner, or it doesn’t gain any traction.”

“So why’d you really come back?”

A pained expression rippled across his perfect features.
 
“I told you.
 
I came back for you.
 
You’re not going to believe it, and the timing of all of this certainly undermines my story.
 
But, in the interest of all cards on the table, they cancelled the tour.
 
Bookings weren’t good enough.
 
Sell-through a bit down.
 
And somebody in the middle ran off with the take.”
 

“Interesting.”

He reached a hand across, capturing mine and breaking a perfectly stellar cookie.
 
“That has nothing to do with us.
 
I swear I came back because I love you.”

I could tell he believed what he said.
 
Too bad I couldn’t.
 
“You came back because you needed a job.
 
I’m just a side bet.”
 
I snagged another cookie and popped it into my mouth.
 
Teddie’s mom might not have been able to raise a good man, but, damn, she could bake one hell of a cookie.
 
In the balance of the universe, that pretty much evened things out.
 
“Go home, Teddie.”

“Side bets have the worst odds but the biggest payoffs.”
 
He gathered up the tin, pressing the lid on.

“Leave the cookies.”

He gave me a long stare, then did as I asked.

No matter how much I mistrusted Teddie, no matter how much he’d hurt me, the room always felt smaller, colder when he left.
 
Why did loving the wrong man feel so right sometimes?

God, I was just a bad country song.

I took the cookies and headed for the bathroom.
 
A good long soak was in order.

And maybe a good cry.

Despite my sour mood and sugar hangover, the sun insisted on shining as I made my way to the Babylon.
 
Although I didn’t feel like walking, considering my serious cookie consumption last night, some form of physical penance was in order.
 
My father told me that if you enjoyed it, then it didn’t count as exercise, so sex was out.
 
The thought dawned that perhaps I’d caved a bit too soon on that one.
 
Just because my father wasn’t getting any, or I assumed he wasn’t considering he’d recently become the father of twins, didn’t mean he had to ruin it for the rest of us.

My father was spit-and-polished in grey slacks with a knife-edge crease, pink socks, Gucci loafers, a starched Egyptian cotton shirt in subtle pink, his collar open meaning today was casual day.
 
When I wandered into the kitchen in his apartment on the top floor of the Babylon, he greeted me with a frown.

“We need to do something about your mother,” he said.

This was not news.
 
Nor was it my responsibility.
 
“Good morning to you, too.”
 
I took a stool at the kitchen counter.
 
“What in God’s name is that?”
 

We both peered at a mixture of green goo in a glass in front of him.

“I’ve been told it’s breakfast.”

“For the twins?” Less than a month ago my mother had given birth to twins.
 
She and my father had yet to give them names, which, considering she’d slapped me with Lucky, I was all for a bit of restraint.
 
But Mona seemed determined to carry the whole naming thing to a dramatic crescendo.
 
Drama queen to the last.

“No.
 
She’s decided I need to clean up my diet.
 
I was hoping we could do it in steps.”

“Like two double single-malts instead of three?”

“Yeah, like that.”
 
He actually looked hopeful.
 
Poor man.
 
He didn’t really know his wife; he just thought he did.
 

“Mona has always been an all-or-nothing kind of gal.
 
But I wouldn’t drink that on a bet.
 
I couldn’t get it close enough to my nose to throw it down my gullet.
 
What is it?”

“Wheat grass, cucumber, radish, celery, and I forget what else.”

“That’s enough.”

He poured the gunk down the drain and then flushed it with a healthy stream of water.
 

“Give it a good shot.
 
You want to totally eliminate the evidence.”

“What evidence would that be?”
 
Mona shuffled into the room looking rather un-Mona-like.
 
Her hair disheveled, a crease marring one pale cheek, shadows under her eyes.
 
Her robe looked old; her slippers didn’t match.

My father and I both snapped to.
 
Neither of us wanted to get caught in the middle of a culinary crime; Mona’s bite was far worse than her bark.
 

“Motherhood seems to be agreeing with you,” I lied.

She stuck her tongue out at me but didn’t follow it with her normal verbal barb.
 
Her brain was offline.
 
For a moment I was safe.
 
“First one, then the other.
 
I got no sleep at all last night.”
 
She eyed her husband.
 
“Where were you?”

“Right beside you, dear.
 
When you had one, I had the other.
 
Don’t you remember?”

“No.
 
How can two very small humans cause so much pain?”

I was going to say something about karmic punishment, but I thought better of it.
 

Mona glared at her husband.
 
“I think I’m mad at you.”

He rinsed his glass and put it in the dishwasher.
 
“Whatever for?”
 
When Mona looked the other way, he gave me a wink.

“This is all your fault.”

“Yes, dear.”

Cooing sounds filtered from the baby monitor on the counter.
 
“The babies are asleep.
 
Go back to bed.”
 
He framed her face in his hands and gave her a sweet, lingering kiss.

Theirs was a grand love story spanning decades of separation and longing.
 
I for one didn’t begrudge them their happiness, even though I loved to see just a bit of discomfort visited on my mother.
 
Often I found myself on the receiving end and Mona doing the dishing out.
 
Shallow, I know, and nothing to be proud of, but I could live with it.
 

“The nurse will be here any minute,” my father assured her.
 
“I’ll wait until she arrives.”
 
He glanced at me.
 
“Lucky and I have something to discuss.”

I took the hint.
 
“Yes, we need to go over some contracts.
 
Nothing important but it needs to be done.”

Mona waved weakly.
 
“I’ll leave the boring stuff to you.
 
Night all.”
 
She shuffled out.

I gave my father a sympathetic smile.
 
“You’ve certainly found a way to keep her out of our business.”

“But will we all survive?”

“You’re the first line of defense.”
 
I slapped him on the back.
 
“Don’t weaken.
 
Life as we know it depends on you.”

A retort lingered on his lips when the nurse peeked her head in the door.
 
“The babies, they are asleep, Mr. Rothstein?”

“Yes, thank you.
 
My wife had a rough night.
 
She’s gone to bed.”

“I will see that she is not disturbed.” The nurse disappeared.

“Life is safe for one more day.”
 
My father sighed.
 
“But God help us if that nurse ever leaves.”