Over the Line (2 page)

His brow ticks up. “Who says I’m not bringing my Glock?”

Adri elbows him. “I do. And I’m pretty sure Walt Disney might have something to say about it too.”

He scowls at her but doesn’t challenge her on it. I didn’t like what Papa was turning him into. Little by little, Adri’s making him human again.

The more time I spend around normal people, the more I realize there was nothing “normal” about our lives in Chicago, but before Mama was killed, at least we were a family. Our house was never quiet. The kitchen was always full of aromatic food and lively conversation, and there were never less than a dozen people at our dinner table. We stuffed ourselves on pasta and sauces Mama had simmered on the stove all day long as the aunts made matches for all us kids and the uncles talked White Sox. Business was never discussed until after, over cigars and cognac in Papa’s office. There’s no greater sense of belonging than when you’re part of an old Sicilian Mafia family.

But then the Savocas murdered my mother and my father turned into a bloodthirsty animal, hell-bent on revenge. He was taking Rob down that same path, and I couldn’t bear to watch. We’re away from Papa now. Rob is out from under his thumb. I know they spoke when Rob made his ill-conceived trip back to Chicago in March, but he seems more content to leave Papa and that part of his life behind now. I think that’s Adri’s doing. She’s exactly what he needs, and I owe her a huge debt for bringing him back to us.

“I also think you should switch rooms with Lee,” she adds when she sees she’s won. “I can see how much Sherm misses what you two used to have. I think it would help you bond again if you were back in his room.”

When we first arrived here, Rob and Sherm shared the room with the twin beds that I now share with Sherm. Rob and I switched when Sherm kept ending up in my room in the middle of the night. Sherm had watched in horror as Rob, his idol, broke the neck of the hit man sent to murder us. We all believed Sherm was so traumatized by what he saw that he was afraid of Rob. It wasn’t until last week that Sherm finally confessed to Rob that he thought it was his fault Rob killed that man. He thought if he was braver, Rob wouldn’t have had to do it.

“He really is doing better, Rob,” I say. “Maybe we should give it a try.”

Another nod.

Adri hops up from Rob’s side, her sun yellow ponytail swinging behind her. “I’ll help you move.”

“Right now?” Rob says, heaving his solid six-five, two-forty frame out of the loveseat. Adri suddenly looks tiny by comparison.

She shrugs and opens the front door. “You should ask Sherm first, but then, yeah. Why wait?”

Crash tears up the stairs ahead of us and before we even reach the top, he’s in Sherm’s and my door, barking at Burn, draped over Sherm’s lap. My eleven-year-old brother is on the bed, jabbing madly at his iPhone screen with his thumbs as he plays some game.

Rob looks at me and I nod. I wait in the hall as he slips through the door to tell Sherm the news.

“Looking forward to having your own room again?” Adri asks, pressing a hand into Rob’s door, right across the hall from mine.

“It’s not like I have any use for privacy.” The frustration in my tone surprises me.

It doesn’t get past Adri. She doesn’t miss much, which is the only reason she’s stuck it out with Rob. Even though he’s horrible at showing it, he loves her more than anything. She’s always seen it, even before he did.

She cringes a little. “Port St. Mary isn’t exactly a single’s paradise. We should go out one night in Tampa.” Her face beams as she adds, “Girls’ night!”

I huff out a laugh. This is
so
Adri, always trying to fix everyone. “Like Rob’s going to let you out of his sight.”

“He won’t mind.” Also Adri. Ever the optimist.

“Have you
met
my brother?” I ask, shaking my head.

Sherm opens the door before she has time to respond. He’s smiling ear to ear until he sees me. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m the last person he wants to spend more time with. I’ve been grumpy, and I’m afraid I’ve taken it out on all of my siblings.

Rob steps out behind him. “Let’s do this,” he says with a nod at my room.

It takes a few trips to get all Rob’s and my things switched.

“So,” Adri says as we’re hanging my last few things on the rod in Rob’s closet, “I know this isn’t exactly what you’re looking for, but Chuck’s mom runs the diner in town and she was just saying to my dad last night that she’d screwed up the books and she’s afraid she’s going to get audited. I think she’d be really happy for someone who knows what they’re doing to bail her out. If you’d be interested, I could ask her.”

For the first time in months, there’s a tickle of hope deep in my chest. “Are you kidding? I’m totally interested.”

She gives me a tentative squint. “I don’t think she’d be able to pay you much.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I’d do it for free. Any work experience I can put on my résumé can only help. And if she likes me and I could use her as a reference, that would be huge.

Adri pulls her phone out and dials. “Polly?” she says. She smiles at whatever reply she gets. “I have a friend who’s looking for a job. She’s very detail oriented and a wiz with numbers. She’d make a great bookkeeper if you’re interested.”

She didn’t even blink when she called me her friend. I’ve never thought of us that way, but the hard knot that my heart has become softens a little. I guess I never really believed any of us could have friends again. Or lovers. Now my brother has a lover who might turn out to be my friend too.

I’ve known about them since March, but they just came clean with the rest of the family last week. Sherm is still adjusting, but I think he likes having Adri around. He wouldn’t be the first fourth grader to fall in love with his teacher. Rob’s been over-the-top protective of Adri since their escapade in Chicago. He’s hasn’t talked much about what happened, because my brother never talks about much about anything, but I get the distinct sense they ran into some trouble. I’m convinced the only reason he lets Adri go home at night is because her father is the Port St. Mary chief of police.

“Great! Thank you! Love you, Polly,” she says, then disconnects. She smiles at me. “Can you stop by now? She says it’s the lull before the dinner rush and she’d have a second to chat.”

A smile breaks over my face and I realize it’s been a while since I’ve used it. “Definitely.”

Rob steps into the room and takes a look around for any more of his things. “I’m going to leave my ammo on the top shelf of your closet. I don’t want to store it in Sherm’s room.”

“That’s fine. I put mine up there next to it. And my Cheetah’s in the nightstand.” I don’t always carry my gun, like Rob, but I like to have it handy.

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly as he remembers what else is in the nightstand. He pulls open the small drawer and slips the box of Trojans out from next to my gun, shoving it into his pocket. God knows I don’t have a use for them.

“Lee has an interview with Polly,” Adri says, bouncing on her toes.

He looks at her. “Chuck’s mom?”

“She needs someone to straighten out the books at the diner.” She turns to me. “Ready?”

“Already on my way,” I answer, heading out the door.

They follow me down the stairs to the driveway.

“I’ll follow you over and introduce you,” Adri says.

I turn to see my brother’s arm tighten around her. His expression shades even darker, if that’s possible. He leans close and says something low in her ear. Whatever it is makes her blush.

“You’re leaving for work in a half hour, Rob,” she says, pulling out from under his arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We climb in our cars and he leans in her window and kisses her. He really is a whole new person since he found her.

There’s only one eating establishment on this end of the small island of Port St. Mary, and it’s got a large weather-beaten sign that identifies it as POLLY’S DINER, so I don’t need to ask Adri for directions. I pull off the main street in the middle of town into the lot between Chuck Murdock’s auto shop and the white church on the corner. It’s not much to look at, but I’ve eaten here a few times and it’s good comfort food cuisine.

Adri pulls into the lot next to me and we step inside the dimly lit restaurant just as the storm clouds outside finally open up and dump their substantial load. Rain thunders off the roof and windows, drowning out the southern rock background music, as the door closes behind us.

Eight well-used wooden tables that seat four each are crowded into the small space. At the moment, only one of them is occupied, by an elderly couple enjoying the early bird special, no doubt. The room is all dark paneling and shadows. The wooden door in back with a porthole swings open and I see it leads to the kitchen. A middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a hair net steps out with an empty tray.

“Baby!” she calls, setting it on the counter along the back wall and spreading her arms wide.

Adri steps into them. “Hey, Polly. You keeping that boy of yours in line?”

“I leave Chuck to you,” Polly says with a grin. “Heaven knows he’s never listened to me.”

Polly’s son, Chuck, is Adri’s best friend and the guy who hooked Rob up with his job as a Spencer Security bodyguard. Adri told me that before Rob, both hers and Chuck’s parents assumed they’d end up together. He and Adri are extremely tight, which means my brother has major issues with him.

They break their embrace and Adri turns to me. “This is Lee Davidson, the one I was telling you about.”

The woman extends an arm toward me. “Polly Murdock. It’s a pleasure.”

“Thank you for talking the time to talk to me,” I say, shaking her hand.

“I’m getting too old and tired to handle all of this,” she says with a vague wave at the restaurant. “Adri says you’re good with numbers?”

“I have an MBA in accounting.” . . . Or three quarters of one.

“This is small potatoes. I won’t be able to pay much more than minimum wage, and I don’t do enough business to need someone full-time.”

“I don’t need full-time.” I’m not doing this for the money. I’m doing it for my sanity.

Adri backs toward the door. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk.”

“Wait!” Polly says, spinning for the kitchen. She comes out a minute later with a lemon meringue pie. “Made these fresh today. You’re dad’s been on me for a while for one.”

Adri takes it and gives Polly another hug. “Thank you.” She smiles at me. “See you tomorrow.”

Once she’s gone, Polly moves to a table near the kitchen door and gestures that I should sit. “Let me get you something to drink and we can talk. What’s your poison?”

“Diet Coke?”

She nods. “Be right back.”

She checks on the old couple before vanishing through the kitchen door. She comes out shortly after with a basket of rolls that she sets on the table between them, and a can of Diet Coke that she sets in front of me.

“I appreciate you coming to talk to me, but I’m afraid it might be too little too late,” she says, lowering herself into the chair across from mine. “I’ll be lucky if the IRS doesn’t throw me in jail.”

I pop the top on my Coke and take a sip. “Did you file your tax return in April?”

“I did, but then I realized I thought I’d sent a payment in December that I didn’t.”

“So you owe more than you paid?”

She scratches her head through the hairnet. “About four thousand bucks, as best as I can tell.”

I flick at the tab on my can. “If you want, I can take a look and see if I can find you any deductions. Then we can file an amended return and make your additional payment.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Even though it’s June?”

I nod. “It happens all the time. You’ll have to pay interest and penalty, but even so, it shouldn’t be too much.”

A hour later, I have a job.

When I get home, Crash comes charging down the long sandy driveway and chases my Beetle back up, doing his best to become roadkill under my tires and barking his stupid head off.

The Lumina is gone, which means Rob’s already left for work. Crash jumps on me when I climb out of the car, but then he bolts toward the bluff as his brother, Burn, crests the top of the path from the beach. Sherm and Grant are just behind him. They’re both wet and caked with sand. Grant holds Crash’s leash coiled around his fist.

“Why did you let him loose?” I ask. “I almost ran him over.”

Grant shrugs. “You hate him. Didn’t think that would break your heart.”

Of all of us, Grant is the one who’s changed the most since we arrived here—at least in appearance. They gave us all WITSEC makeovers at Safesite, but Grant has taken his to the extreme. The carefully groomed Chicago club rat is gone. In his place is a beach bum who hasn’t cut his wavy mane in months and rarely shaves. His hair has always been the same sandy brown color as mine, but now the sun has bleached it two shades blonder. He looks a little wild, like a lion. When he’s not running or wrestling with Sherm on the beach, he’s off somewhere on his Harley, doing God only knows what with God only knows who.

We’ve stopped asking, because he never answers.

Sherm drops Burn’s leash and lets him run with Crash. They tear back over the bluff toward the beach.

“Sunscreen,” I say to Grant, pressing a finger to Sherm’s pink shoulders. “You’re supposed to be the
big
brother, Grant.” At twenty-two, he’s really not much more mature than his eleven-year-old brother.

“You’re going to blow a blood vessel, Sis,” he says to me, brushing past into the house. “Lighten up.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Sherm says, a little defiantly.

“It’s okay, buddy. Head in and get cleaned up for dinner.”

He scoots past me and as I watch him go, there’s a catch in my chest. He looks exactly how I remember Rob looking at his age. They’re both the spitting image of our father—thick sable hair, golden eyes, and olive skin.

But I don’t want either of them to ever become Papa. I’ve gone through a lot to make sure that never happens.

I follow Sherm through the door into the family room and find Ulie in the kitchen.

Where her twin brother and I ended up with Mom’s lighter coloring, Ulie is Rob and Sherm’s female counterpart. Her waist-length, straight, near-black hair is clipped to the back of her head in a messy bun as she whips up some culinary creation. She took over the cooking when we arrived, mostly because she needed a creative outlet. Most of her meals are classic Sicilian, just like Mama used to make, but lately she’s been branching out. We’ve had sole amandine, roast duck, and chicken Kiev in the last week.