Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman Page 23

  As he’d instructed, I opened the phone, pulled out the SIM card, and cut it into tiny pieces which I then flushed down the toilet.

  “The redhead thinks this date is a bad idea too, doesn’t he?” God called from the bedroom.

  I’d forgotten that the little guy would have eavesdropped on my entire conversation. I don’t know why I was worried about Patrick invading my privacy; the lizard had already obliterated it.

  Ignoring the Paul question I strolled back into the bedroom. “He’s come up with a plan to get rid of Gary the Gun. He’ll be over later to tell me about it.”

  “Good, good. Now tell me again why you’re taking me to Katie tomorrow.”

  I’d really been hoping he wouldn’t ask that question. This was one discussion I didn’t want to have, but he deserved the truth. “I’m worried about what could happen to you if . . . if I don’t survive the hit on Gary. If I end up dead. . . .”

  “You’re not going to end up dead,” God said dismissively, as though he thought that the possibility was itself an impossibility.

  “Armani had another premonition. She said Doomsday is coming.”

  “Yeah? So what? Do you have any idea how many people predict that every single day? Haven’t you ever seen them on the news carrying their signs?”

  “He’s a highly trained, highly motivated killer. I could die. And if I do, I want to make sure that you’re not forgotten here. I need to make provisions for you to be cared for.”

  The lizard pressed up against the glass, as though to get a better look at me. “You’re kidding me, right?” he sounded incredulous.

  That stung. “I thought we’d become . . . friends.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Is it really so hard to believe that I’d care what happens to you?”

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “Fine! Stay here. Rot here for all I care. They’ll probably forget all about you, and you’ll starve!” I stormed out.

  “Come back here, you moron!” He shouted. There was a slight pause, in a tone that sounded pretty close to groveling he added, “Please.”

  I came back inside, switched on the TV for him, and walked out again.

  “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. Please come back and talk to me, Maggie.” His reasonable tone had some sort of hypnotic effect. I did what he said. I turned the TV off again.

  “Sit,” he requested.

  I did on the edge of the bed.

  “You misunderstood me.”

  “You called me an idiot and a moron. You think there are other ways of interpreting those words?”

  “I meant them as terms of endearment.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You can’t leave me when you go to kill Gary.”

  “I told you, I’m going to make sure you’re cared for. That’s why I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “No, you nincompoop. What I mean is, you have to take me with you when you go after Gary.”

  “Why?” I refrained from pointing out he’d done a half-assed job as a lookout when we went hunting Alfonso Cifelli, considering he’d missed Gary the Gun’s presence

  “Because friends don’t let friends kill alone.”

  “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

  “Yeah, well don’t get used to it. Now turn on the tube for me.”

  I switched on the television. “If I live through tomorrow, I’m going to get you some more crickets.”

  “Live crickets.”

  “Yes, live crickets.”

  A sudden banging on my front door startled us both. A glance at the bedside clock told me that either Paul was half an hour early for our date, or I had an unexpected visitor.

  Would Gary the Gun knock? He did seem to enjoy scaring people, and, if he’d been following me, he would know where I lived. He hadn’t hesitated to threaten me in the hospital. There was no reason to think he wouldn’t hurt me here.

  “Arm yourself!” God cried nervously.

  Trembling like a dog during a thunderstorm, I picked up a hairbrush.

  “That’ll scare them for sure,” he said.

  I threw the brush back down. “Maybe I’ll just throw your cage at him.”

  “At who?”

  “Gary.”

  “How do you know it’s Gary?”

  I stared at him. “Who else would it be?”

  “Why don’t you ask?”

  I hate when he makes perfect sense. “Who is it?” I yelled with false bravado.

  “It’s Lamont. I’m sorry to bother you like this, Maggie, but I need your help.”

  Sighing my relief, I ran to my front door to let Alice’s baby-daddy in. “Hey, Lamont.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Come in, come in.” I waved the big guy inside and pointed to my couch.

  “Who’s this one?” God called from the bedroom.

  I ignored him. “You didn’t eat the love muffins, did you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Good, because short of recommending a trip to the emergency room, there’s not much I could do for you if that was your problem. So what can I do for you?”

  “Forgive me for being rude but . . .” He trailed off as though unsure of how to continue.

  “My aunts are driving you crazy?”

  He shook his head.

  That surprised me. I thought my aunts drove everyone crazy.

  Then he nodded.

  Which just served to confuse me. “Where’s Alice?”

  Lamont had the good grace to look uncomfortable. “Visiting your dad.”

  I rolled my eyes. Alice had always had a soft spot for my father.

  “She told me what he did for her.” Lamont cracked his knuckles. “It was a good thing he did.”

  I really didn’t give a shit what the big guy thought of Archie Lee, but I was interested in something else he’d said. “She told you?”

  He nodded.

  I considered that for a long moment. I didn’t think she’d ever told anyone that before. Hell, she didn’t even talk about it with me. The only conclusion I could draw was that Lamont was special, really special.

  The special man wrinkled his nose. “Forgive me, but what is that smell?”

  I ignored God’s chortling from the bedroom. “Lilies. My . . .” Oh crap, what the hell was Paul to me? “They were a gift from my date.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  I cut him off with a raised hand. “I know. I know. It smells like something died in here.”

  Relieved, he nodded.

  “But I’m guessing that you didn’t come here to tell me that my home stinks.”

  “I want to ask Alice to marry me,” he blurted out.

  “Oh.” I’d been so sure he’d been here about the witches. Now he was telling me he wanted to become a permanent fixture in my best friend’s life. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. While I wanted Alice to be happy, I really wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of having to share the most stable person in my life with someone else. Not right now when I was struggling to figure out which way was up.

  “You think it’s a bad idea?” The big man took my long silence to mean I didn’t approve. He looked like he was about to crumple.

  I shook my head, thinking fast. “No, of course not. It’s just that . . . well geez, up until a week ago I didn’t even know you existed, and now you’re telling me you want to become part of the family. It’s a lot to absorb.”

  “I understand.”

  “You really love her that much?”

  “I can’t imagine my life without her.”

  “You do know she’s not perfect, right? I mean I know she’s beautiful and smart and so sweet she puts diabetics into sugar shock, but she does have her faults. For one, she faints at the sight of blood, even her own. Two, if you’re not careful she’ll steal the marshmallow shapes out of your bowl of Lucky Charms.”

  “I don’t eat Lucky Charms.”

  “Three,” I said,
warming to my task. “She’s been obsessed with naming her kid Kaitlin, since we were like ten. What are you gonna do if it’s a boy?”

  Lamont chuckled. “You forgot to mention that she grinds her teeth in her sleep, makes sure her foods don’t touch when they’re on her dinner plate, and she’s tone deaf.”

  Impressed, I nodded. He seemed to know her pretty well. Could it be that after a string of losers, Alice had gone halfway around the world and found a winner?

  “Where are you planning on living?” I asked.

  I guess he heard the challenge in my tone, because he raised an eyebrow. “Wherever she wants. Though between you and me, I’m really hoping that she doesn’t choose the B&B.”

  “Not Chicago?”

  “Have you ever been to Chicago in the winter? It’s cold.”

  “You’ve never spent an August in New Jersey,” I countered. “It’s humid. And muggy. And smoggy. And if you’re not careful, the mosquitos will drain you dry.”

  “I’m a big guy to drain,” he replied easily.

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “The reason I’m here, Maggie, is that I don’t know how to propose to her.”

  “Ring. Question. From what I’ve heard, it seems like a fairly simple process.”

  Lamont rolled his eyes. “C’mon. The woman’s had her unborn kid’s name picked out for decades. Are you really going to try to tell me she doesn’t have some dream proposal she’s always imagined?”

  “And you want me to tell you what that is?”

  He nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”

  He was, of course, absolutely right. Just about the time Alice had picked out the name Kaitlin, she’d decided how she wanted to be proposed to. I was duly impressed that Lamont had figured that out and come to me.

  “You must really want to make her happy.”

  “I do. You’ll help me?”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have to like it. It’s for her.”

  That, of course, was the response I was looking for.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. On one knee. In the middle of Couples Skate. At The Starlight Roller Rink.”

  I gotta give the guy credit. He blinked, but didn’t bitch and moan about it. I’m pretty sure that meant the guy was officially smitten.

  “Thank you, Maggie.”

  “My pleasure. You just make her happy. Just remember, if you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you.” Assuming I was still alive.

  “She means it!” God shouted from the bedroom. “It’s why she doesn’t have a vase!”

  I walked Lamont to my front door.

  “You won’t tell her, will you?” he asked.

  “Of course not. It’ll be our secret.” I opened the door to let him out.

  “Thanks, Maggie. You’re just as Alice describes you.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “Gruff but good.”

  I made a mental note to tell my best friend that she should come up with a nicer way to describe me. Gruff but good sounded like a tire slogan. “Glad I could help.”

  “One more thing I wanted to ask.”

  Behind him, I saw Paul’s car pull into the parking lot. “Sure, shoot.”

  “A ruby, right? Not a diamond ring.”

  I beamed. “You must be a hell of a listener, Lamont. My friend is a lucky girl to have ended up with a catch like you. Welcome to the family!” I moved to hug him and gasped when he lifted me off my feet in a giant bearhug.

  “See you soon, Maggie.” He put me down and walked away waving and smiling.

  As soon as he was gone, I waved at Paul’s car. I held up a single finger indicating I’d be just a minute and dove back inside my apartment.

  I snagged my purse and checked to make sure the lizard had enough water.

  “Don’t forget I think this is a bad idea,” he grumbled.

  “Duly noted.”

  Paul was leaning against his car when I got out to the parking lot. His T-shirt looked as though it might split across his pecs if he crossed his arms any harder. “Who was that?” he asked by way of greeting, making no effort to conceal his jealousy.

  “Just a friend.” I wasn’t really into answering to the overly possessive type.

  “Seemed awfully chummy for just a friend.”

  “He’s just excited. He’s going to ask my best friend to marry him and wanted some advice for the proposal.”

  “Oh.” He walked around the car to open my door for me. “So you were telling him how to pick out the diamond and stuff like that?”

  I pecked him on the cheek. “Stuff like that.”

  “Do you know a lot about that kind of stuff? Jewels? Gems?”

  “I’m a girl, so I should know about that stuff. Is that what you’re saying?” I held up both my bare hands. “In case you didn’t notice, jewelry’s not really my thing.”

  He laughed. “Is steak?”

  “You bet!”

  “Let’s go to dinner.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  IF A CONDEMNED man (or in this case, woman) is entitled to one last meal, Artie’s Steakhouse is the place to get it. A local joint that features autographed headshots of celebrities who are now milking the last of what passes for their fame on a slew of celebrity “reality” shows, Artie’s has a last-century vibe, but they serve the best beef in the county.

  I must admit I was pretty darn excited when Paul announced where we were going. My attitude seemed to cheer him up, and we chatted amiably, mostly about Aunt Loretta and Aunt Leslie, all the way to the restaurant.

  The mood in the car soured the moment we turned into the parking lot. It was empty.

  Artie’s is never empty. It’s always packed. Even with a reservation, there’s usually a wait.

  “What the hell?” Paul threw his car into park, leapt out, and stalked over to the front door.

  I could see there was a sign taped to it. I could see that Paul moved his lips while he read the sign. I could also see he was none-too-pleased about whatever the sign said.

  I, however, was resigned to my fate. I should have known that a decent dinner was not in the cards for me. That’s the way my luck was going.

  “Health inspector shut them down.” Paul slid back into the car. Suddenly the air in the enclosed space took on a negative charge.

  “Some other time. Have you ever been to—”

  “Goddammit!” He punched his dashboard.

  I cringed.

  “Dammit!”

  “It’s okay,” I soothed, thinking that a guy who attacked his car because a restaurant was closed probably wasn’t the one for me. Armani must have been wrong about him.

  “It’s not okay!” He drove his fist into the roof.

  Swiveling in his seat, he glared at me, like it was my fault the health inspector had found something wrong with the place.

  I leaned away from him. Suddenly the seatbelt that held me in my seat didn’t feel so much like a safety device as a trap. Gulping, I reached for the release.

  “I wanted this . . . this was supposed to be . . . this isn’t the way . . .”

  He was so angry he seemed incapable of completing a sentence. I had to calm him down before he totally went ballistic. I had to calm myself down before my heart beat right out of my chest.

  “It’s early. There are plenty of other places we can go.” Crowded places, I thought. Places where there are lots of people. Witnesses.

  “Like where?”

  “Chinese?”

  “I don’t like rice.”

  “Mexican?”

  “I don’t like spicy.”

  “Italian?” He had to like Italian, otherwise we wouldn’t have gone to Angelos.

  “Had it for lunch.”

  I cast about for other options, desperate to find a place to go, if only so I could get out of the car. “How about . . . seafood?” I hate seafood.

  He considered that one thoughtfully. “I guess so . . .”
/>
  “Oooh, I know,” I said feigning excitement. “We could go to Crabby Sam’s. Have you ever been there?”

  He nodded. “You like that place?”

  “Love it!” The lie came easily.

  “Okay.” He put the car into drive, rolled all of about ten feet, and put it back into park.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Turning to face me, he said, “I was just so . . . frustrated.”

  I’m not proud of what I did next, I’m really not. You’ve got to understand that what I did came from a place of sheer desperation.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?” Yes, I fell back on my Insuring the Future spiel!

  “I had a terrible day at work,” he confided. “My boss was on my ass and nothing went right . . .”

  “Mmmm,” I hoped that sounded like an empathetic murmur.

  “And I was looking forward to tonight and then I saw you with that guy . . .”

  “Lamont?”

  “Is that his name? Lamont?”

  I nodded.

  “And I thought . . . I thought maybe the reason you and I haven’t . . . haven’t . . . is that you’re hooking up with him.”

  “I told you, he’s about to become my best friend’s fiancé.”

  He nodded as though that made sense to him, but I got the distinct impression he was still puzzled as to why I hadn’t slept with him.

  I felt kind of bad knowing that it wasn’t going to be happening at the end of this date either. Not with Patrick waiting back at my place.

  “Maybe you should just take me home,” I suggested.

  “Cuz I lost my temper?” he asked sheepishly, hanging his head.

  “Because I’m not sure you and I are going to work. Maybe we’re not compatible.”

  “Oh, we’re compatible.” He leaned toward me, pressing his lips to mine, to prove his point.

  I considered not kissing him, but I was all-too-aware we were in a deserted parking lot. It probably wasn’t the best idea to rebuff his advances. Besides, he is one hell of a kisser.

  So we kissed and groped and kissed some more.

  “Want to go back to my place?” He finally asked.

  I’ll admit part of me did, but I couldn’t get over the fact that both God and Patrick seemed to think this date with Paul was a bad idea.