No Such Thing as a Lost Cause (20 page)

The place was ultra cool and jam-packed with college students, young professionals,
and artsy types. There was a bar and dance club to the left and a restaurant on the
right.

I followed Nick to the dining area, where, miraculously, a booth opened up. (Well,
maybe not so miraculously. It probably had more to do with the host’s rather obvious
attraction to Nick than an ability to turn water into wine.)

Nick sat across from me, his back to the wall. “I’ve been thinking about what happened
tonight, Angel, and something doesn’t add up.”

I took a look at the menu. Ooh. Truffle fries. I promised myself I’d eat super healthy
in the near future and ordered a giant plateful. “What doesn’t add up?”

“It seemed like everyone I talked to heard the rumor about the hit, but no one had
any specifics. This isn’t how it usually works.”

“Well, maybe they just weren’t into ratting out a fellow gang banger.”

“They will if the price is right. It just doesn’t fit the pattern that nobody would
claim bragging rights.” He shook his head, thinking.

“I got a partial on the license plate, but I should have paid more attention to details.”

“You were a little busy trying to stay alive. Give me what you’ve got on the plate
and I’ll see what I can do.”

After dinner Nick swung by my place to pick up the dogs and Rocky and waited while
I threw some things in a bag. It was getting to be quite the routine. When I was all
packed he drove me over to his apartment.

I followed him into the bedroom and he deposited my bags on the floor. Suddenly, all
the tension I’d felt earlier flooded back.
What if he doesn’t want me there, only he doesn’t know how to tell me?
I sat on his bed, smoothing out the sheets with my hand.

“Nick, I really appreciate you letting me stay here for a while, but I have other
options. So, if you need your space, just let me know.”

He stood over me, the look in his eyes saying it all. “I don’t need my space, Angel.”
And to prove it, he invaded mine.

Afterwards, he rolled over on his side and propped himself up on one arm. I spooned
into him, relaxed by the combination of superb love making and prescription pain killers.
It was sheer bliss—for about a minute. And then my phone rang. It was my mother. Crap.

I had to pick up. She’d left fourteen messages. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?” I could feel
Nick’s breath, hot on my back. He pressed his lips against me, and I felt them form
a smile.

“Doris Gentile called. She said you broke her planter.”

*****

“He kissed you?” Franny stood wide-eyed at the counter of Caperelli’s Guns & Ammo,
a local gun shop located at 10
^th
and Wharton. My goddaughter, Chrissy, snuggled in close to Fran’s chest, asleep in
her baby carrier, while her mother checked out an array of unloaded pistols and revolvers,
“especially designed with ladies in mind.”

“It’s not what you think, Fran. There was nothing romantic about it. It was just a
spontaneous,
Hey-I’m -glad-we’re-alive-let’s-kiss-on-it
kiss.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut-uh-up. We could’ve been killed, for God’s sake.”

“Hey, you and Bobby have a unique way of celebrating life. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

That was not all Fran was saying. And the worst part was she had a point. Something
stirred inside me when DiCarlo kissed me. It didn’t begin to be on the same level
as me and Nick, but there was just enough there to wondering if we’d ever completely
reconcile our past.

“Could we drop this now?”

“Already dropped. Okay, this is the one you want.” Fran handed me a Smith & Wesson
638 Bodyguard, a small, .38 caliber revolver.

“It’s not loaded, right?” I frowned, holding it loosely between my thumb and forefinger.

“Of course it isn’t loaded. And why are you handling it like it’s a flaming bag of
dog poop? Hold it like you mean it.” She wrapped her hand around mine and adjusted
my grip. My hand started to shake so hard I nearly dropped the damn thing.

“Brandy, what is wrong with you? You go to the firing range all the time.”

“I know. But this is different. I was hitting paper targets. If I actually go through
with this, I will forever have crossed a line. The sole purpose for me owning a gun
would be the intent to do bodily harm to someone before they did it to me.”

“Yeah, well, that seems like a good plan, hon.”

“I guess.”

Franny pried the gun out of my hand and laid it on the counter. “Look, if you’re not
absolutely sure, then you shouldn’t be doing this. If you carry a weapon, you need
to know without a shadow of a doubt that you will use it. A moment’s hesitation could
cost you your life.”

I thought about the parade of people that have attempted to kill me over the past
year. An ax murderer, a knife-wielding crack addict, an incestuous obstetrician, and
a freckle-faced pimp that looked like Howdy Doody. Not to mention Mario and his gang
of merry men. It was getting old.

I picked up the Smith & Wesson and turned to the clerk. “How much?”

*****

On the way back from Caperelli’s we stopped off at a children’s store to get some
things for Chrissy. “It’s important that we stimulate her intellectually,” Fran told
me. “I don’t want her to get bored.”

“Fran, she’s a month old. Her idea of a good time is eating her feet. Ooh, look, a
slinky!”

I picked out a stuffed pink hippo for my goddaughter and a pair of booties in the
shape of cupcakes. Then, I wandered over to the older kids’ section. A black and white
hobby horse was stationed at the end of an aisle. A little boy, about two years old
was strapped into the plastic saddle, and he was rocking back and forth. A woman stood
next to him, her cart filled to the brim with toddler toys.

My thoughts wandered back to Sherese’s little boy, riding the back of the filthy couch
that was parked in front of their house. On impulse, I walked over and checked the
price on the hobby horse. It was way too extravagant a purchase for someone recently
unemployed. I picked up the box and tossed it into my cart.

One Easy Bake Oven, one Baby Einstein, three board games and six classic children’s
books later my cart was filled to overflowing as well. I got to the checkout counter
and whipped out my credit card. I’d worry about how I’d pay it off later. It would
give me something to do when I was living out of my car.

“What’s all this?” Fran came up behind me and began unloading her cart.

“I got a few things for Marios’ kids. They have nothing, Fran. And don’t say it. I
know it won’t change their lives. It’s just something I wanted to do, okay?”

“Did I say anything? Here.” She lifted a large box of diapers off a rack behind her
and plunked them down with the rest of her purchases. “You said she had a two-year
old, right? These should fit.”

I cut her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

She shrugged it off, embarrassed. Fran is mush, pure and simple. But if you tried
to acknowledge it in any way, she’d kill you where you stand.

Vince called as we were loading her car up with our packages.

“I checked out your lead on the burn victim,” he told me. “You were right, per usual.
He was a part time guard at the hospital. You ever get tired of being right?”

“I’ll get back to you on that. What was his name?”

“Calvin Doyle.”

It was all falling into place. They must’ve met at the hospital when Donte was working
for the ambulance company. They got to talking, discovered their mutual love of blood
sports and turned to dog fighting for fun and profit. But something must’ve gone horribly
wrong after the last dog fight, and Donte decided to terminate the partnership. Permanently.

I shared my theory with Vince as I shoved the rest of my purchases into the trunk
and slammed it shut.

“Beats me, kiddo. But the sooner we locate Lewis the sooner we can put all this to
rest. Speaking of which, finding the motherfucker that shot at you and DiCarlo is
our number one priority.”

I hoped so. Because I hated to see what would happen if Nick found him first.

*****

Fran dropped me off in front of Nick’s building. “Do you need help carrying everything
up?”

“Nah. My car is parked across the street. I can just transfer it into the trunk.”

“Oh. Okay.” She seemed disappointed.

“Uh, Fran, would you like to come upstairs for a while? I’m sure Nick wouldn’t mind.”
Actually, I had no idea if he’d mind. But she seemed to really want to.

She shot me a wistful look, a rarity for Fran. “Could I? We won’t stay long. It would
just be nice to sit on a couch that doesn’t smell like baby vomit.”

I used the key Nick gave me to unlock his front door. It was cool and dark in the
apartment, with a hint of spice in the air. Nutmeg.

Adrian and the puppy were sacked out near the bay window. Adrian swished his tail
in a half-hearted wag and closed his eyes.

“Wow.” Fran said, taking in the high beam ceilings and wall to wall book shelves.
“This is…nice.”

A door opened down the hall and Nick emerged from his bedroom. He was freshly showered,
his hair hanging in damp clusters around his shoulders. Faded blue jeans clung to
his muscled legs. He was wearing a dark blue work shirt, unbuttoned all the way, exposing
the most recent scar on his chest.

Fran’s mouth formed a perfect, silent O, followed by an equally quiet, but just as
emphatic “My God.”

Nick buttoned his shirt and walked over to me and kissed me hello. I could taste mint
tooth paste on his breath. He turned to Fran and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again,
Franny.” Nick’s eyes settled on my goddaughter. “Hello, Christina Brandy. You are
beautiful.”

Surprise registered on Fran’s face, and I could see Nick’s stock skyrocket. He’d remembered
her baby’s name. And he called her beautiful.

“I took the dogs for a run,” he informed me, “and everyone’s been fed. I’ve got some
business in West Philly, and then I’m meeting Sal at Mic’s House of Billiards. “You’re
both welcome to join us.”

I appreciated the invitation, but I was determined not to cramp his style. And anyway,
I had some plans of my own.

Nick finished getting dressed and walked with Franny to the elevator. He was holding
baby Chrissy in his arms. In that moment, he never looked sexier.

I closed the apartment door and picked up my phone to make a call.

“Hey,” I said. “It’s Brandy. I was hoping you’d keep me company tonight.”

“Depends on what you got in mind, Sweetcakes.”

I could hear the laughter in Alphonso’s voice and thought back to a year ago, when
he was commissioned by Nick to baby sit me. We’d come a long way since that first
meeting. Alphonso is my companion of choice when I need brawn and brains to watch
my back. Plus, he’s got a really cool Hummer. And while I do feel a bit guilty about
the sheer excess of it all, it’s a nice change of pace from the granny mobile I usually
drive around in.

“Relax, Jackson. It’s nothing illegal or life threatening.”

“Man, where’s the fun in that?”

“Okay, it could be a
little
life threatening,” I confessed, remembering the day Mario’s girlfriend introduced
her fist to my face. “Does that sweeten the pot at all?”

“I’m gonna need some details.”

Two hours later, under cover of darkness, Alphonso pulled his Hummer up to the curb
directly in front of Mario Lewis’ house. The scant light of the moon did nothing to
enhance the atmosphere there. I glanced across the street to the Kings’ home. Their
neatly manicured lawn and cheerful painted exterior reminded me that hope was not
completely forsaken in this part of town.

Alphonso cut the engine and hopped out of the car. I hesitated briefly and then followed
suit. Sherese’s old couch still occupied its place on the sidewalk, joined now by
a disgustingly gross looking double mattress. Both were rain soaked victims of the
last big storm. The air reeked of mildew.

“I can handle this,” Alphonso offered. “Why don’t you stay in the car?”

“It’ll be faster if we both go.”

The house was dark. According to Roger, Sherese spent most of her time lying around
in the living room in a drug-induced haze. We’d do what we’d come to do and leave.
What could go wrong?

Alphonso bent over the trunk and began unloading its contents. I could see the top
of his Glock tucked discreetly into the waistband of his pants. It was an abrupt reminder
of exactly what could go wrong.

He grabbed the largest box and set it down on the curb and piled the rest of the toys
on top. Lifting them chest high he started walking up the path. His biceps bulged
under the weight. I took a moment to admire them, and then I grabbed the box of diapers
with my one good arm and dragged it across the lawn.

We arranged the boxes on the front porch, carefully tucking them behind the posts,
so that they wouldn’t be visible from the street. The house remained shrouded in silence.
No crying babies, no television blaring from inside. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
Which made the sound of a shrill female voice, within spitting distance of our heads,
that much more startling.

“You trespassing, mutha fuckers. You move and I’ll bash your fucking heads in.”

Crap. A quick glance told me Sherese had materialized from the side gate. It had been
closed up tight when we’d arrived. Now, it swung open just wide enough for her to
slip on though. She moved unsteadily toward us wielding a metal baseball bat.

I dropped the diapers to the ground and flattened my back against the house, in order
to get out of Alphonso’s way, in case he felt inclined to save me. Apparently, he
didn’t see any urgency in the situation. He just stood back, arms crossed, and let
me take the lead. So I did.

“Hi, Sherese. I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Brandy. We met awhile back.”
My tone was casual, social, even. We could have been two neighborhood acquaintances
who happened to run into each other at the grocery store, having chatted previously
at a party.