“Awww, nice to meet you, Miss Frankie.” Phil leaned through my door and offered his hand, and Frankie, ever the well-mannered child trained by a strict Italian grandmother, smiled politely.
“I don’t think Ms. Simmons has been out today. Last time I saw her was yesterday afternoon, when she came in from class. Come to think of it, she was dragging a little even then. I hope she’s okay.”
“Yeah.” I opened the door to the backseat to help Frankie climb out and to retrieve a couple of paper grocery bags. “I’m sure she will be.”
“Hey, listen, you need anything—medicine or whatever—you just call down, and we’ll take care of you, okay? I can run to the drugstore, no problem at all.”
I smiled. For a long time, I’d looked on the people who worked in Amanda’s building as shameless suck-ups, and privately, I’d scoffed at the idea of having hired help. But the longer I knew all of them and the more often I visited, I realized that Phil and Rocky genuinely liked Amanda. Along with the rest of the men and women who worked at her building, they were almost like a family. I had to respect that.
Rocky greeted us, and when I explained why we’d come, he expressed the same concern Phil had.
“You know, when she came in yesterday, I thought maybe she looked a little peaked. But then again, on Fridays, she usually tends to be more tired.” He shook his head. “She works too hard, that one.”
“We’ll take care of her.” I gave Rocky a little wave and pointed to the elevator. “Want to hit the button, sport? We need to go up pretty high in this building to check on Amanda.”
The doors slid shut behind us, and I showed Frankie where to push the button for Amanda’s floor. Her eyes went wide as the car whooshed upwards.
“It goes so fast!” She clutched at the polished wooden rail. “It’s much faster than the one at the mall.”
I chuckled. “The elevator at Macy’s only goes up two floors, sport. Amanda lives up on the thirty-fifth level.”
“That’s really, really high up.”
“Yeah, wait’ll you see the view.”
The doors opened, and we stepped out onto the plush carpet of the wide hall. I led Frankie to Amanda’s apartment door.
“Do we knock? Or does she have a doorbell?” Frankie looked around the doorjamb, and I grinned, realizing my niece had never been in this kind of apartment building. She was strictly a small-town kid.
“We don’t have to do either. I have a key.” I dug in my pocket and pulled out my keyring, shaking it until I found the right one.
“Uncle Vince?” Frankie glanced up at me. “Is Amanda—your friend—is she your girlfriend, too?”
“Uh ... why’re you asking me that?” I unlocked the deadbolt and then slid the key into the knob.
“Because you looked really upset when you were talking to her on the phone, and you have a key to her apartment.” She took on a canny expression, and she looked so much like my mom that I almost shivered.
“You know what, sport? That’s really not your business.” I flicked her on the nose. “Now, be quiet when we go inside. If Amanda’s asleep, we don’t want to wake her up.”
The living room was empty and silent, though I spied a pair of Amanda’s shoes under the coffee table. Seeing the heels there made me smile a little; she was always barefoot inside, and the first thing she did when she got home was to kick off whatever footwear she had on.
“Stay right here, and don’t touch anything.” I pointed to the sofa. “Sit down. I’m going to check on Amanda, and then ... we’ll see what happens next.”
Frankie nodded, and I saw her gaze sweep around the room, taking it all in. Frankie wasn’t exactly a sheltered kid; she’d been hanging out at Cucina Felice since she was an infant, so she’d heard it all. But her experience was solely within the confines of our small hometown and our extended family. She could chatter in the familiar half-Italian, half-English that we all spoke, but I wasn’t sure she’d ever been to Philadelphia.
Leaving her in the living room, I made my way down the hall toward Amanda’s bedroom, smiling wryly as I remembered the first time I’d been here with her, carrying her to her bed, both of us naked. That was a particularly sweet memory, even notwithstanding the part where I’d tripped over her shoes and almost broken her neck and my dick.
Her bedroom door was partially open, and the room beyond was dark. Having learned my lesson, I picked my way in cautiously. She’d actually gotten a little better about putting things away lately, at least when I came over. I wasn’t sure if that was because she wanted to impress me or I was actually a good influence. I also wasn’t certain which possibility made me more comfortable.
My eyes adjusted to the lack of light slowly. The covers on Amanda’s bed were rumpled, but she wasn’t in them. I pulled them back and smoothed one hand over the pillow, frowning as I looked around the room.
The bathroom door was ajar, and there was a dim light on in there. As I wandered in that direction, I spied one bare foot on the floor, and my heart began to pound.
Amanda was sprawled on the bathroom floor, her eyes closed, one hand extended over her head. For an agonizing, soul-rending moment, I thought she wasn’t breathing ... and then I saw the slight rise of her chest, and my blood began to flow again.
Thank God. It was all I could think as I dropped to my knees next to her and pressed a hand to her forehead.
She was hot to the touch, her face radiating heat that told me her temperature had to be pretty high. As I stroked her cheek, her eyes fluttered open and tried to focus on me.
