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“Maybe forty five minutes.”
“Did they…” I felt my face getting warm. “Did they hear anything this morning?”
“Like what? You and their brother having wild monkey sex?” Jess asked with a big grin.
“Oh God.”
“I’m teasing. No one heard anything. Well, except for Catherine last night. Apparently there was some screaming involved.” Her grin graduated to a full-blown smile.
I sunk down in my chair as Catherine reappeared in the living room. She’d added a pair of five inch silver stilettos to the pink mini skirt and sleeveless top, and had put on some pink lipstick and fluffed her long blonde hair. She looked like Hooker Barbie, not that I was going to tell her that.
She smirked at me as she pulled her silver purse over her shoulder. “Yeah, I know: Hooker Barbie. That’s actually the look I was going for.”
My eyebrows shot toward my hairline. “How did you know I was thinking that?”
“You blushed when you saw me, doll. You’re charmingly innocent, you know that?” Then she turned to Jess and said, “I called a cab, my treat. Hooker Barbie doesn’t do public transit. Come on, it’ll be here any minute.”
Jess crossed the room to me and kissed my cheek. “Bye, Jamie. Text me later.”
“Thanks for coming. I’m sorry we didn’t really get to talk.”
“So we’ll talk later.” And she was out the door with a cheery wave.
And abruptly, I was left alone in the sudden stillness of Dmitri’s house. I went to the kitchen and ate a bagel as I cleaned up after his family, putting the food away, loading the dishwasher and turning it on, washing out the coffee pot and wiping down the granite counters. Ok, so he probably had a housekeeper that came in to take care of all of that, but I was used to doing things myself.
And something occurred to me then. Turning on his uncle would probably mean turning his back on this whole lifestyle. His uncle had paid for all of it, after all – the house, the car, the club. Surely Dmitri wouldn’t keep all of that after getting free of his uncle. Would he?
I tried to imagine Dmitri moving in to my shabby little apartment with me after walking away from all of this. Getting a run-of-the-mill job somewhere after he let the club go. Going to my fifteen dollar barber for a haircut. Going to the Laundromat.
It was all pretty freaking hard to imagine.
But the alternative was what? Me moving into this big house paid for with mob money? Us continuing to reap the benefits of his uncle’s criminal activity? I couldn’t see that either.
Ok, so all these questions about our future were something Dmitri and I would have to hash out at some point. I wasn’t going to solve this right now.
I went upstairs and put on my flip flops, then gathered up my clothes and stuffed them in my overnight bag. I took it downstairs with me, set the alarm and locked up Dmitri’s house, then drove Lucy to my apartment and double-parked her in the street.
A few minutes later, I had stuffed a huge Santa sack of laundry into the van and driven a few blocks to my favorite Laundromat. It was my favorite because they sold good coffee and excellent pastries from a little counter at the back of the building.
I took up six machines, between my clothes and towels and sheets (smiling as I remembered how they’d gotten so dirty), and blanket and quilt. Good thing the Laundromat was empty mid-week. I then got comfortable on a bench in the corner with a latte and a big Danish and the newspaper.
I was licking glaze off my fingers when someone said, “Hi Jamie.”
Charlie was sitting on the bench directly across from me, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. I hadn’t heard him come in. I raised an eyebrow and said, “Are you stalking me now?”
“Yup.” His green eyes studied me carefully. “Can we talk?”
Instead of answering that question, I asked, “How’d you find me?”
I drove by your apartment and saw you loading Lucy. I knew you’d come here to do your laundry. You love the Danishes.”
“It’s annoying that you know so much about me,” I said, leaning back against the wall and turning a page of the newspaper, scanning the headlines.
“Please, Jamie, don’t ignore me. Even if I righteously deserve it.”
I glanced up at him. He was wearing Levi’s and a form-fitting jade green polo shirt – that I’d given him, actually. He looked great in that shirt, he always had. It really brought out his eyes, which had been the whole point of getting it in that color. “Was the wardrobe choice intentional?” I asked him.
He seemed a bit thrown off by the question. “I just…you know….” And then he admitted, “Yeah. You always liked me in this shirt.”
