Mi Carino (21 page)

“
You look like shit.”

Her lids sagged. Her eyes, raw and puffy, leaked tears of fatigue. They parted then closed again. She yawned and groaned feeling achy all over. “I feel like shit.”

“
Sorry, girl. It’s really busy downstairs. We need you.”

“
I know, Susan. I’m just… I need a minute. Okay?”

“
You still sick?”

Marcella sneezed, covering her mouth and nose. Plucking a Kleenex, she tended to the messy mucus. “Yeah, sick.”

“
You got in so late last night I didn’t see you, and then you were sleeping so hard I didn’t want to wake you.” Susan walked around the desk, the scent of her perfume possibly left a fragrant trail that Marcella would have recognized as her own pirated signature fragrance if it weren’t for her stuffy nose.

Susan placed her hand to Marcella’s forehead. “Well, you don’t have a fever, so you aren’t contagious.”

“
Good, cause I need to get over this, and soon. I can’t afford to be sick. So much crap to catch up on. Look at my desk.”

“
Anybody deserves a few days off, it’s you, Marcella.”

“
Yeah right,” Marcella mumbled, a blush of guilt stained her cheeks. “How are things down there? Customers buying?” she asked.

“
Sold the Assyrian Mother Goddess statue this morning.” Susan backed away. She gave her a weak smile then moved on.

“
This thing with Bailey is paying off. Now is the time to strike and woo Edward Katchner. I know he’d prefer our gallery than the museum. I should have dealt with this sooner, Susan. I swear I don’t know where my head has been.”

“
That makes two of us,” Susan mumbled.

“
Huh?”

“
Oh nothing, nothing.”

Marcella shuffled around file folders and unopened FedEx envelopes. Sam just piled it all on her desk. She needed to get it together.  

“
Marcella?”

Garrett entered with eyes stretched in alarm. “Sam said you weren’t feeling well but darling you look like death.”

“
She doesn’t have a fever, thank goodness,” Susan said.

“
You need to go home.”

“
No. I can’t.”

“
Yes you will.” Susan huffed.

Garrett nodded in agreement. “We can run this place a few days without you. Go, now. And for God’s sake stay home until you’re better. You can’t get the entire gallery sick. It’s bad for business.” He winked but backed away from her.

Marcella sighed. Going home sounded like the best medicine.

***

“
No me jodas
!”

Lance sat before his boss, eyes following as he paced. Diego in full rage, red nostrils flared, fists clenched so tight they were white knuckled. He cursed under his breath.

“
When is the court date?” Diego demanded.

“
A week. The injunction is just a desperate act to delay matters.”

“
There is no delay! NO DELAY!
Hijo de puta!
” Diego shouted. He slapped his hand into his chest, nearly snarling. “I told you show no mercy. My wants are clear! He is not to fight me. He is to come on his knees. They both are, on their knees!”

“
This is America, Diego. There is due process. What have they done really? It’s nothing more than a stall tactic. You own Market Street. Every store, every shop, you’ve won.”

Diego’s angry eyes cut over to him, his glare steely. “Do you mock me?”

“
I wouldn’t be so foolish. I’m only stating the facts.”

“
Then don’t fail me on this.”

Lance gave him a nod. He rose. “I’ll be in touch. No need for you to make an appearance. This will go away.”

“
Marie? She’s back, no?”

“
Yes. She’s back. She’s home with him. I received a message. She’s anxious to see you. She’s left several in fact. I would say she’s near desperate.”

The news was reason to rejoice. But he felt nothing but rage. Diego stalked away. His silence spoke volumes. Loud enough for Lance to take leave. He needed to decide on things. Should he have the meeting, deliver justice and then leave this city and her behind? As soon as the anxiety and dread over his unexplainable feelings for Marcella overwhelmed him he shut his emotions down. She and he were friends, and there was nothing to fear in a friendship that made him happy. His eyes moved over his furnishings to his wall clock. It was after two. Marcella hadn’t called.  

The morning had come with her sniffling, and weak. He knew she wasn’t well when she insisted on returning home. He nursed her as best he could. The fucking swim in the ocean had done her in. When she took sick, he felt guilty and protective; he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side. He held her and comforted her through her fever, and hacking coughs. Soon recovery came in the forms of her ability to eat and joke with him. The first thing she mentioned had been her cat and her job. He suggested another week. He needed more time with her. She flatly refused. Diego didn’t take well to rejection, especially from a woman. He had been tempted to force his will, which he had done in every case where control was lacking.  Now he wished he had. She calmed him in ways he didn’t understand.

He stormed out onto his deck; the rush of waves breaking across the sloped cove could be heard. He immediately turned his attention to his phone and began dialing.

The phone rang. She thought she had turned the ringer off. Pulling the sheet down from her head she noticed the purple flashing light and willed herself to reach for it, but her bones ached. All she wanted was sleep and more of it.

The ringing stopped.

Marcella closed her eyes again. She’d taken Nighttime Alka-Seltzer, and the fizzing tablets offered a double hit of snooze. It had her in and out of a wakeful state since she came home. Now the fog moved in again clouding her thoughts. She could feel the last embers of strength extinguish as fatigue pushed her back down into a deep sleep.

Then the phone rang again.

Marcella reached for the cellular with a deep groan. Her eyes focused on the lit LCD window, and Diego’s number, then grew heavy again.
He was calling? How sweet.
She felt too tired, too sick, and just too worn out to deal with sweet or bitter at the moment. She turned the phone off and closed her eyes.

Diego stormed back into the bedroom through the patio doors. This time when he dialed he got her voicemail.

Hi, you reached Marcella. Leave a number and I’ll call you soon.

She’d cut him off? Turned her phone off? The last of his restraint snapped. He threw the phone. It hit the wall and shattered.

***

“
Marcella? Marcella? Marcella!” Susan shook her.

Why wouldn’t they let her sleep?
Though she found it hard to wake, she managed. Marcella squinted and groaned. She lifted her head from the pillow. Even in her struggles she had to admit she felt better than before. “Wa-what is it?”

“
You okay?” Susan touched her forehead. “I was worried about you. I called.”

“
I’m fine. I took some medicine.”

Susan breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I called you.” She picked up Marcella’s phone, turning it over in her hand. “Your cell was off.”

“
I’m tired, Susan. Let’s talk later. I’m not in the mood.”

“
Sweetie, you don’t look well. Can I get you something?”

“
No. I’m fine.” Marcella pushed her hands away. She scooted back into her pillows grateful that she could finally breathe again. The medicine had been the final dose of balm over her scratchy throat and runny nose. “More sleep, that’s all I need. Okay?”

Susan hovered over her concerned. “Yes, okay. I’ll be here if you need me.”

The door to the bedroom closed and so did her eyes. Again she gave in to the druggish pull of sleep

***

The cold air stung. Marcella juggled a takeout cup of coffee, her laptop bag, mail and keys to the gallery in both arms and hands. A dewy fog rolled in off the river covering the streets that led from the boardwalk to Market Street. The sun would rise in another hour and it all would evaporate. Mornings such as these were the worst kind. She woke up early, feeling renewed. She decided to be the first one in. She felt well enough to try to do some damage control. She’d lost too much time already.

“
Marcella?”

With her hand to the knob on the door her head turned and he approached. He seemed to materialize from thin air, but her eyes travelled past him to see a sleek sports car parked curbside.

He drove?

Marcella smiled. He was such a sight for her sore eyes. “Hi, Diego. What are you doing here?”

“
Can I help you?” he offered.

“
Yes, sure,” she said as she handed him her things. She held open the door with her back pressed against the cool glass, so he had to pass close by her as he entered. Thankful that her sinuses were clear she inhaled the scents that defined his masculinity. Beautiful. He disappeared into the darkness and she followed.

She stopped to lock the gallery door. The early hour made her cautious of leaving it open in fear of some vagrant surprising her. All the while she could feel his eyes go over her before she turned. Together they entered in the darkness of the gallery, except for the studio lights, which were focused on particular pieces of artwork. Marcella accepted her things hurrying into her office to put them down. “What are you doing here?” She yelled back out to him.

“
I called you and you didn’t answer. I thought you may still be sick. So I came for you.”

“
So you came here?” Marcella returned sans coat and coffee. She put her hands to her hips looking him over.

“
I went to your place first, but I arrived as you were leaving.”

“
So you followed me?” Marcella blinked in surprise.

Diego dropped his hands in his coat pockets and leveled his eyes on her. She paused at the stern look he gave her.
He’s the one following her, why did he look at her as if she was the one that broke some vow?

“
I was sick yesterday, plus there’s all this drama with Katchner I need to deal with.”

“
Drama?” His brow quirked upward.