No Such Thing as a Lost Cause (17 page)

“Not much. Listen, I’ll let you get back to your, ah, date.”

“Hah! I should be so lucky. I’m filling in at the diner.”

Janine used to wait tables at the 24 Hour Diner on Broad Street. By her own admission,
she was awful. But whenever they’re desperate they call her to fill in for the graveyard
shift.

“So, what’s up?” she asked.

“Not much. Just felt like saying hi.”

Janine paused. “Hmm.”

“Hmm what?”

“Nothing. Have you eaten dinner?”

“It’s three a.m. Of course I’ve eaten dinner.”

“Standing over the sink eating the skin off a ready-made chicken does not constitute
dinner.”

“I don’t do that!”

“You do so. I’ve seen you…and more than once. Come on down. I could use the company.
Only creeps come out this late at night.”

“
Excuse me?”
That, from the sneezer.

“I’m talkin’ here. This doesn’t concern you. Keep eating.” To me she said, “I’ll see
you when you get here.”

*****

The prevailing feature of the 24 Hour Diner was
old.
Not retro-cool- refurbished old. Just plain old. Ancient tobacco smoke clung to grease
stained walls. Formica tabletops bore the scars of former teens, with “love 4ever”
etched onto their surface. A phone booth, the kind that Clark Kent used to morph into
Super Man, stood vacant in a corner.

Janine sat opposite me in a booth in the back of the diner. She wore a bright pink
uniform which clashed with her auburn hair. The outfit was very snug and made her
breasts look enormous.

“Don’t you have to wait on people or something?” I asked.

Janine’s eyes swept the restaurant. “Nah. They’re good. Anyway, they know where to
find me if they need something. “I’m right here if you need anything,” she called
out. “See? They’re fine.”

I picked up my fork and stared hungrily at the plate in front of me. It was piled
high with turkey, and mashed potatoes, succotash, dressing, and a dollop of jellied
cranberry sauce. It gave me a sense of well-being just looking at it. No wonder they
call it comfort food.

The potatoes were creamy white with the hole in the middle that stored the extra gravy.
I speared some turkey with my fork and dipped it into the potatoes. Sheer heaven.

“So anyway,” I said in between bites. “I was walking out to my car and a police cruiser
stopped in front of the house. Guess who the cop was. Nancy Beringer,” I blurted out
before she could open her mouth.

Janine is terrible at guessing games. She always comes up with answers that can’t
possibly be right. Like, if the question is, “What is America’s most popular ice cream
flavor?” she’ll say pistachio, thinking it’s a trick question or something. You never
want her on your team on game night.

Janine’s eyes narrowed. “How come the cops are keeping tabs on your house? I thought
they arrested the jerk that shot it up.”

“They did. And I really thought that would be the end of it.”

I forked up some succotash, careful to avoid the lima beans, and gestured to Janine
to help herself.

“Y’know, once a little time had gone by and nothing else happened, I figured I was
off the hook. But then somebody started a rumor that I shut down a local dog fighting
ring, and it pissed off the gang all over again.”

“Rumor. Right. So, is that why you’re here instead of home in bed?”

I nodded, embarrassed by the confession. “I don’t know which sucks worse, anymore.
My nightmares or my real life.”

“You know I’m here for you, hon. Just tell me what you need.”

I put down my fork and pushed the plate away, having suddenly lost my appetite. “I
don’t know, Janine. I’ve been screwing up so badly lately.”

Janine leaned in to hear me as my voice sank to a whisper. “Bobby once said he thought
I had a death wish…I don’t…do I?”

Neenie made a face. “You don’t believe that any more than I do…or any more than Bobby
does for that matter. Bran, if you hadn’t helped Dave Wolinski when he got shot he
would have died. I wouldn’t exactly call that screwing up. And what about the puppy
you saved from an abusive owner? Not to mention all the poor dogs that were forced
into fighting. Sweetie, you had to do something. I mean what kind of a person would
you be if you let those assholes get away with it?”

“You’re right. What kind of a person would I be? And that night at Donte Lewis’ house?
That was just a case of unfortunate timing.”

“No, that was just stupid. Look, I get off in a few hours. Why don’t you sack out
here? When I’m done with my shift we can go back to my place.”

The turkey had a relaxing effect on me. Plus, Janine really had helped me to view
my life through a different perspective—one where I didn’t come off feeling like an
impulsive loser, but rather a credit to humanity.

“Okay. I’m just going to stretch out here for a while,” I told her. “But I’m way too
keyed up to fall asleep.” I put my feet up on the booth and laid my head down. And
in the next instant I was out like a proverbial light.

*****

Having slept for three hours in the fetal position on a rock hard booth at the diner,
I was not exactly ready to face the day. It would save me a trip to the D.A.’s office
and the price of a dozen bagels if Roger agreed to talk to Vince.

“
Roger, it’s Brandy Alexander. Is Candice there? Can you talk?”

Roger King’s rich baritone erupted in laughter. “Candice is right here, but it’s okay.
I told her all about that night a few days after I met with you. I figured if she
found out I’d kept something from her, she’d give it to me worse than anything those
gang bangers could come up with. Ow, stop hitting me, woman! So, Brandy, what can
I do for you?”

I filled Roger in on the autopsy results and ended with my conversation with Vince.
“It might really help with the investigation if you’d talk to him, Roger. But the
last thing I want is to put you in danger.”

“Candice has been trying to get me to do the same thing,” he admitted. “I’ll give
your friend in the D.A.’s office a call. Maybe when they find Lewis’ cousin we’ll
be able to put all this behind us.”

I truly hoped it would be that simple.

“I’ll tell you this much,” he continued. “It’s been a hell of a lot quieter around
here since Mario’s been gone.”

“How’s his family doing?” Now that my bruises had healed I felt slightly more kindly
toward his girlfriend. I suspected Sherese might not be the most balanced person in
the world on a good day. But grief over the loss of her significant other, no matter
how much of a worm he was, had to be hell.

“Every so often Candice goes to check on the kids. She brings them casseroles that
the little girl can reheat without too much trouble. Lord knows their mother ain’t
fit for nothin’. Ow. There she goes hitting me again. Candice, you know it’s true.”

“It may be true,” his wife said, taking over the phone, “but it’s not very charitable.
She’s younger than our Kendra. She’s got no education, no family—’cept her children—and
the state keeps threatening to take them away. Maybe they’d be better off, but that’s
not for me to decide.”

Thinking about Sherese’s young children made my stomach hurt. “There has to be something
I can do to help them,” I thought. And the battle between my alter egos was on.

“Do not get involved,”
warned Sensible Me.

“But in a civilized society, that’s what we do. We help each other,”
countered Impulsive (and apparently, more compassionate) Me.

Note to self: Google Multiple Personality Disorder.

Anyway,” Candice announced, “I’ve got some chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven,
and I know how much you like them.” She allowed herself a small chuckle. “If you find
yourself in the neighborhood…”

“Thanks for the offer. I may take you up on it.”

I was saying my goodbyes when someone knocked on my door.

Adrian and the puppy raced me down the stairs. I nudged them out of the way and took
a quick look out the peep hole.

Paul stood on the steps wearing a Classic Rock tee-shirt and a red Phillies cap. I
opened the wooden door and unlatched the screen. Next door, Mrs. Gentile slammed hers
shut.

“What’s with Mrs. Gentile? She called me a hooligan.” Paul took off his cap and stepped
inside.

“Maybe she’s still mad about the time you accidentally broke her window with a Frisbee.”

“Really? It’s been like fifteen years. You’d think she’d be over it by now. Besides,
I told her it was you.”

Paul drifted toward the sofa. I’d put Hello Kitty Band-Aids over the bullet holes,
because I didn’t have the money to get the couch fixed. I thought they added a touch
of whimsy.

“Why do you have Band-Aids all over your couch?” He sat down and inspected them.

“They’re not Band-Aids. They’re art. It’s all the rage. So, how come you’re here?
I mean I’m glad to see you, but you never leave the club. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. I was thinking about going for a jog, and it would be nice to have some
company.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I could use the exercise…but I’m not much of a jogger. Could we
meander instead?”

“Um, Bran, I meant, could I borrow the puppy. You can come along too, if you want.
But I know you’re busy with…” he looked desperately around the room. “…stuff.”

“Paul, I’ve been out of work for weeks. The last thing I am is busy. But if you don’t
want my company—”And then it dawned on me. “Ohhh. You want to take the puppy so you
can pick up girls.” I grinned. “You devil.”

Paul turned a deep shade of pink. “Well, you’re the one who suggested it in the first
place.”

“Because it works. Who can resist a puppy? Paulie, it’s fool-proof. And you’re right,
I can’t tag along. Girls will think you’re unavailable.”

“Okay, could we please change the subject now? It’s embarrassing enough. Oh, hey.
I was down at Lorenzo’s Music on Locust and I ran into John and Garrett. They were
going into a hair salon.”

“Oh, I know the one you mean. It’s supposed to be real cutting edge,” I said, and
waited for my incredibly clever comment to sink in. Paul just groaned. My brother
needs to work on his sense of humor. That was hilarious.

“Anyway, speaking of Garrett, what do you think of him?” I tried to sound light-hearted,
to covey that I thought he was just swell, and that I was asking merely for conversational
purposes.

“He seems like a nice guy.” Paul stood up. “I should probably get going. Where’s the
leash?”

“Hey. Where are you going in such a hurry? We hardly ever spend time together. So,
where were we? Oh, yeah. You were saying that Garrett seems just okay.”

Paul began to sweat. “I said he seems nice. L-look, I don’t want to have this discussion.
Now, if you’ll g-get me the leash—”

“What discussion? I was just asking for your honest opinion. John is one of your oldest
friends. I would think you’d show more of an interest.”

Paul sat down, defeated. “Ok-k-ay. You’re not going to stop pushing, so w-we m-might
as well get this over w-with.” He took a deep, cleansing breath. “You’re my sister,
and I love you, but—for some people, well, l-l-let’s just say you’re an acquired taste.”

“An acquired taste? You make me sound like aged gorgonzola—which Garrett probably
loves, the pretentious twit. God, Paulie. I want to like him. I really do. But it
would really, really help if he liked me back. Hey, I know. John says he’s an opera
buff. Maybe season tickets to the Academy of Music…”

Paul stood again. “I’m sure you’ll think of just the right gift to buy Garrett’s affections.
But in the mean time my throat is beginning to close up from all the dog fur on the
rug. Don’t you ever vacuum?”

“Who has time? I’m too busy trying to buy Garrett’s affections.”

Paul winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did. And the worst part is you’re right. No,” I corrected myself. “The worst
part is it hasn’t worked.”

“Y’know what?” Paul grabbed my arm and yanked me off the couch. “I’ve changed my mind.
I want you to come along. I haven’t had much luck lately. Maybe you can find someone
nice for me.”

“Really? Because I don’t want to intrude. Let me go get my jogging shoes.”

I was half way up the stairs when my conscience kicked in. Stupid conscience.

I turned around and went back downstairs. “Actually, I think I’ll pass on this excursion.
I’m busy with…stuff.” I handed Paul the leash. “Go get ‘em, cowboy.”

*****

The next day started off promising. Nick called.
Yay, yippee, yahoo! Great, great, great!
It’s not that I’m insecure…exactly. But our relationship was still new and completely
undefined. I didn’t know what was reasonable to expect.

Did Nick consider himself my boyfriend? Did I call him too much? Did he call me enough?
Were we exclusive? God, I hoped so. I mean it wasn’t much of a stretch for me, given
my lackluster love life, pre-Santiago. But was I now Nick’s one and only? Would it
be rude to ask? We had a lot to sort out, but for now I was content that he’d called.
It meant he still liked me.

“How was your trip to…” I let the sentence hang in the air in hopes that he’d fill
in the blank. He didn’t.

“It was fine, Angel.” His voice held a smile, and it warmed me.

“I’ve canceled my classes at the studio today. I thought you might want to take a
ride out to Ambler to see Popeye.”

How did he know? The dog had been weighing heavily on my mind, but I didn’t want to
face that heartbreak alone.

“That would be great.”

“I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

Let’s see…walk the dogs, shower, wax, pluck…oy
. “An hour and a half okay?”

“See you then.”

*****

We took Nick’s truck. It was a nice change of pace from the La Sabre, whose senior
moments now included a broken gas gauge and an oil leak. I leaned my head back in
the seat, content to steal glances at the man beside me. Nick drove with one hand
on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh. I shifted in my seat, ever so slightly,
and his hand fell between my legs and stayed there. I wondered if he knew I’d done
it on purpose. By the smile on his face, I’d say he did.