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I nod. “Thank you.”
“That all? Can I offer you some tea?”
I smirk. “Appreciate the offer, but I must be going.”
“Always in a hurry. Hmph. Have a nice night.” She starts to turn. “Kids these days. All those tattoos. Ruin such a nice handsome man,” she thinks she’s muttering, but I hear her just fine while turning back to my car.
Those two could be anywhere, but better check that other girl’s apartment. I have the address in my texts on one of my burners. Opening the center console causes four phones to fall over one another. I have dates taped onto them and have to think back to when Gia was on the run. Some quick detective work gets me what I need, and I’m fuming at this point.
At least it wasn’t the Russians. She’s just out somewhere.
The dark side of my brain makes me think Marco’s been threatening her to stay away. Probably hitting on all fronts – Gia’s mom, cursing my reputation, whatever. The prick.
Sccrrt!
I skid back on the main road, heading straight for Stacey’s apartment. When I get there, I insistently ring the bell. Lights are on everywhere. That’s a good sign.
I take a breath, clenching and unclenching my fists, playing with the scab on my face just to distract myself.
The window slides open upstairs. “Oh shit!”
“Hey!” I see Stacey duck back inside. I’m about to shout at the top of my lungs, but Gia’s beautiful face pops through the window to put me in a spell. Her shoulders are out in a spaghetti-strap blouse, her hair bounces in a ponytail. My heart falls into my stomach as I’m suddenly at a loss for words.
She smiles at me bashfully, almost in a way like she shouldn’t be.
“Gia…”
“I thought you were on business in dirty Jersey.” She folds her arms over the windowsill.
I was hoping she’d run down the stairs to come see me. Jump on me and give me a hug for how much she missed me. Instead she just stays there, with two stories and a lot of plaster and cement between us. “I was. But now I’m back.”
Our eyes hold. And in the midst of my emotions, I can’t tell what hers are trying to say.
“You freaked me out when I couldn’t get in touch with you. Tried Bangos, tried your apartment. That peculiar old lady pointed me here.”
She gasps and looks back. “Oh crap, Castor! I left my phone charging in Stacey’s bedroom. We were watching a movie! I’m sorry.”
I believe her, but the vice around my heart doesn’t loosen. It still doesn’t explain the last week of aloofness. “Can we talk?”
Her lips twist. “Yeah, sure. Be right down.”
I hear whispering before the window shuts. Something is not fucking right.
Her footsteps down the stairs make me nervous. I’m never nervous. It puts me in a deeper mood.
She comes out and closes the door carefully. There’s no excitement about her, not like before. It’s churning me in ways I’ve never experienced, almost like I mean nothing.
I nod for her to walk with me, keeping my hands in my slacks’ pockets. She looks beautiful tonight. Such a normal outfit – shorts, a blouse, and flip-flops. I want to tell her how nice she smells, but the moment isn’t right.
“I feel underdressed.” She folds her arms, glancing at me.
“Could change that in a second. I’ve got a wife-beater tank under here somewhere.” I pretend to start undressing, evoking at least a hoot. It’s something. But then the air cools between us again. “Gia.”
“Hm?”
“What the hell is going on?” She squirms and stares at the ground. Since she says nothing, I continue. “Look. I gave you your space after that night with Marco. I figured that was a lot for you to watch. But the truth is… we were all peaches and cream even after he almost shot me. Something happened when you two were alone. I’ve been replaying it about a thousand times in my head, and now I’m sure of it.”
She scratches at her arms.
