Boyfriend from Hell (Saturn's Daughters) Page 15

  I turned around and hunted for Milo. He was watching me with interest but not making any noises like he’d seen anything suspicious. I hastily checked my bags and found nothing disturbed, not even my netbook. Weird. Maybe I’d been dreaming.

  Well, so much for leaving open windows to pleasant breezes if they invited nightmares.

  Still marveling that my hip was giving me no grief even after sleeping on a floor, I dragged toiletries and a change of clothes out of my shopping bag and took my first shower in my new apartment. I probably should have cleaned the tub and tile first, but given what I’d been living with lately, mold and mildew weren’t of terrible concern.

  The bathroom mirror was old and gray and the light over it was dead. I hung a shirt from the light to cover the mirror. I didn’t know if my Max fixation would show up here, and I wasn’t ready to find out.

  I hadn’t gone shopping for new shoes yet, so I wore the wedge-heeled walking sandals again. Because of my uneven legs, I’d never really been able to walk far in them. Now I could roll up the elastic waistband of my skirt and see unblemished calves and ankles. I could wear miniskirts, if I wanted. That was some kind of scary.

  The apartment was less than half a mile to the businesses on Edgewater, so I jogged down to see if anything was open. The minimart on the corner had coffee and donuts. The guy behind the counter had green teeth and directed me to a market three blocks north of the Zone.

  Dragging my fascinated stare away from his chompers, I sipped my coffee and wandered outside and up the street to see what kind of market dared to nestle so close to the Zone.

  I was pleasantly surprised to discover one with fresh produce on stands outside, just like in New York City. We’d lived in Jersey my junior year in high school, and walking all over the city had been my escape. I had a fondness for the Big Apple. I gathered up some fruit and lettuce, found a basket inside, and loaded up with cereal and milk and the basics of life. The guy behind the counter looked perfectly normal, balding, and probably of Indian or Pakistani descent. He even scratched Milo under his jaw when my nosy cat peered out to see what was happening. Milo purred, and I took that as a token of acceptance from my perceptive kitty.

  I could easily get into urban living.

  A dark-haired teenager hobbled from the back on crutches, and I recognized her from the limo mishap. Despite my part-time attempts to bring her some real-time justice, part of me wanted to duck and run, but I took a deep breath and stood my ground. This was my new neighborhood. If I was settling down here, I wanted to learn to do it right.

  “Glad to see you up and about,” I said. My arms were full of bags or I’d have held out my hand. “My name is Tina Clancy. I was there the day the limo hit you.”

  She nodded. “I remember you. You looked like you could call down lightning, you were so mad. I’m Jennifer Barr.”

  “Nice to see you again, Jennifer. And, so you know, I’m still mad. I’m looking for that limo, but with so little information, it will take time.”

  The man behind the counter looked worried. “We shouldn’t make trouble with men like that. My daughter is all right now. I don’t want people asking questions.”

  I understood his attitude better than I should have. I was starting not to like it. I merely smiled. “If I get my hands on him, he won’t have any teeth left to ask questions through. But I’ll not drag you into it, okay?”

  The man didn’t look happy, but Jennifer gave me a thumbs-up.

  Except for the dying-young part, I really wanted to be Saturn’s daughter, dispenser of justice. On my way back to the house, I designed a Supergirl suit and Batmobile in my head.

  Now if only I could figure out how to scare away suits in Escalades, I could almost convince myself that I had superabilities.

  I could have sworn an abandoned department store dummy winked at me as I traversed an alley shortcut through the Zone. I put my head back on straight and practically ran the rest of the way home.

  17

  I left Milo to guard my new place while I traveled with Jane back to the old one, slipping inside from the rear. I stayed inside packing up clothes and dishes while the truck guys hauled out my bed and couch. They reported looky-loos in the parking lot, but that happens with any moving activity. I still had to assume my spies were suspicious and keeping an eye on the movers.

  Before Jane’s friends finished packing up the trucks, I merrily went out the front, faking a limp, waved at the Escalade, and climbed into my Miata, praying no one had had time to tamper with it overnight. Since the SUV seemed to stay in the lot, I didn’t know who they had tailing me. Whoever it was, I intended to keep them very occupied while the guys moved my stuff to the new apartment. Anything Jane might have thought she owed me was completely wiped out by the convenience of having friends with trucks.

  I stopped at Goodwill and happily picked up some new ankle-breaking shoes and a few other necessities at a penny-per-pound price, then moseyed on to the library to do some research for one of my finals and to poke around a little more on Senator Vanderventer. Not unexpectedly, his name and that of Max’s wealthy family, the MacNeills, turned up regularly together. I didn’t run a genealogy, but from the stories it looked like there might even be a family connection.

  It seemed beyond odd that a rich senator would be driving himself, much less banking near the Zone. So I could have been looking for someone who had permission to use his vehicle. Damn. I didn’t want a chauffeur to be guilty. My trailer trash prejudices were definitely showing.

  I drove to Chesty’s and put in a few hours cleaning up during the lunch hour, though on Saturday the big business came later and Ernesto wouldn’t need me again until the dinner crowd.

  Jane called to say the truck with my stuff was on the way. Leaving the Miata parked at the restaurant, I slipped down back alleys toward my new place. Now that I could walk without pain, I was kind of liking the proximity to my jobs, although I didn’t like leaving my new car in the Zone, even if it distracted spies.

  I could have sworn the Zone had added two new Dumpsters and a new angle in the alley since I’d been out here last. I skirted as far around the tin bins as I could and jogged faster, glad that it was broad daylight. Dipping statues had been amusing. Moving behemoths were not, especially if evil lurked inside them.

  I had no way of sneaking inside the apartment without being seen, but I’d worked out that problem. In the alley behind the Victorian, I pulled on a bright yellow Indian tunic spangled in funky little mirrors that I’d bought in my bargain bag. I knew I couldn’t hope to fool the spies forever, but pretending to be someone else just for a while would be fun. I pinned up my hair, wrapped it in a hijab, and sauntered back to the street. With my swarthy complexion and prominent nose, the Middle Eastern look worked, even though I was pretty certain my mother was born in this country. My bet was that spies wouldn’t connect button-down me with someone in Muslim disguise.

  I grabbed a box from the truck and followed the guys up to my place. I’d hoped to get more cleaning done before everyone arrived, but dodging spies sucks up time.

  My silly message was still stuck to the door. I didn’t see any sign of my landlady or the other tenants as the guys efficiently arranged my meager furniture in the big rooms. I bought pizzas for everyone. While the men ate, I hung my clothes in the closet so they could take the boxes back to Jane. When the truck was empty, I gave them passes for free drinks at Chesty’s and Bill’s bar so they could wet their whistles. Jane wouldn’t be moving until tomorrow, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt if they got a buzz on tonight. They’d earned it.

  • • •

  Milo prowled around the boxes of dishes and examined his favorite couch. I gave him fish for supper and debated leaving him to guard my stuff while I returned to work. I couldn’t change the locks until Monday.

  “Want to stay here or go with me?” I asked him, as if he could answer.

  He tilted his head as if considering, then climbed to a stack of clothes on my dresser
that I hadn’t put away yet and kneaded a nest. Guess that answered that. I set up his litter box in the mostly empty pantry.

  Feeling just a little lonely in my spiffy new apartment, I finally braved the newly moved cracked dresser mirror. I’d long since removed the shiny tunic and hijab. I was back to my preppy button-down shirts, even though I’d worn jeans for mop-slopping. I might not have been a lawyer yet, but I did my best to dress like one on my limited budget. On Monday, I’d be able to wear my kicky new sling-backs, which I was strangely looking forward to.

  Max appeared almost instantly, his long, dark curls looking as if he’d run his nonexistent hands through them. “Babe,” he said warily.

  “You make me think I’m losing my mind,” I warned, speaking hastily before he disappeared again. “But it’s not guilt worrying me anymore. Someone cut our brakes.”

  His eyes widened in shock. How could I possibly be imagining this?

  “I don’t know precisely where I am, but I’m learning to navigate,” he said with surprising clearness. He looked startled that he’d managed to say that much. I doubted that I was looking stoic in return. “Your mirrors are like windows in the darkness. I thought I was attached to your place, but maybe it’s just you and your mirrors and not the place. Weird. Your grandmother found me.”

  “My grandmother, Max? You really want me to believe an elaborate hoax like Themis? You ought to remember I don’t have one.” I was almost disappointed—I’d told Max I had no family. This couldn’t really be Max. Or even my imagination, now that I thought about it. A grandmother had never been one of my fantasies.

  “Themis says your mother didn’t grow up under a cabbage leaf.”

  I dropped down on my bed and stared. That was what my mother had always claimed when I’d asked. I was in too much shock to know how I felt.

  “Themis is my grandmother?” Did I want to believe that? Why would Max lie? If this was Max—and I realized I truly wanted it to be him—I had to try to accept what he was telling me. “You can talk to her? Is she with you and where in heck are you?”

  “Feels like purgatory, but don’t worry, she’s not here. She’s living on a different plane than reality, I suspect.” He looked pleased that he was able to carry on a conversation. “Her messages are bizarre.”

  “Being Saturn’s daughter isn’t precisely explanatory, if that’s what she’s telling you,” I said dryly. This had to be the most bizarre conversation I’d ever carried on. “She seems displeased about my dispensing justice by bopping a few heads.”

  He looked vaguely alarmed. “Don’t go killing anyone else!” he shouted. “I’m pretty sure it’s bad as well as dangerous. You don’t want to end up here with me. You just finish your exams and stay as far from the Zone as you can.”

  “Not happening, babe,” I said. “Not until I find out who hit those kids and what happened to you. And I like this place.”

  I could have sworn fire flared up around him before he disappeared. Max was usually pretty laid-back, but I had a habit of arousing his temper, among other things. My mother liked to rely on men. I’d never found them reliable. So I didn’t waste much time trying to feed their egos—even when they were in hell, or purgatory. Same difference, as far as I could see.

  I left through the sliding glass door to the porch. I wanted to see if my new superlegs would let me be the tomboy I used to be when I was little. I triumphantly shimmied down the post without breaking anything, and took the back alleys to Chesty’s. On the way, I kicked a Dumpster that seemed to purposefully block my path. It thudded hollowly, just like it should have.

  When I arrived, Ernesto took a good gander at the new swing in my hips and remarked that I could fill in for Diane. I considered smacking him for sexism, but I wasn’t particularly surprised or displeased. Waitressing was part of my résumé, and I needed the money.

  Tiny costumes that screamed for male attention were the real problem. I’d come prepared for mopping, wearing jeans and athletic shoes. The other girls helped me to find a skirt that covered my ass and a leather halter top that actually fit, if exposing half my breasts counted as coverage. With the judicious use of a few pins and a pair of borrowed heels, I was in business.

  Finally, I might make enough money to pay Geek Boris. I hoped he’d found a way into the bank’s computers or cameras. Those kids deserved a little justice.

  I passed Schwartz in the hall, and he literally spun around and stared as I sashayed past. I was out of practice wearing heels, but I managed a hip sway for his benefit. Sue me: I was horny, and I’d never looked sexier in my life.

  I served drinks and pasta and dodged pinches while hiding my crooked pearly whites, flaunting my long legs, and keeping an eye out for suits. The Saturday night crowd was rowdier than the weekday patrons, and I had to memorize orders because my eyes weren’t good enough to see to write them down. Wearing reading glasses didn’t inspire tips.

  I noticed a guy in black sipping a martini in the booth Andre and I had occupied the other night. He’d even doused the light as I had. I didn’t know if his choice of seat was supposed to send a message or if he was practicing back-to-the-wall defense. I just knew he looked as out of place as the pope in a roomful of drunken sailors.

  Briefly wishing Andre were here to lean on the stranger, I quickly dismissed that idiocy. I didn’t need a man to do my work. After a hasty conference with the waitress assigned to that booth, I exchanged it for one of my livelier tables.

  Swinging my hips in time to the music the dancers were writhing to, I approached the back table when the man in black’s drink got low. He had a bad view of the stage and he was all alone—sure signs of a stakeout if I’d ever seen one . . . from my knowledge of them on TV.

  “Another martini?” I inquired, leaning over to give him a good view and a fresh napkin.

  “Just tonic.” He did a fine job of pulling back into the shadows so I couldn’t look at him.

  “Here on business?” I made a show of mopping up the moisture from the old napkin. “Waiting for someone? We have a great ravioli tonight.”

  “Just tonic,” he repeated.

  Man, I was really lousy at this spy business. “Got any special requests for the girls? They owe me a few favors.”

  I noted that with that offer, he drained his glass. Customers who occupy space and don’t spend money are a profit-killer. I knew how to make them nervous enough to either order or get off my turf. I was getting under his skin.

  “No requests.”

  “This is how the dancers put food on their kids’ table,” I said with a hint of disapproval, adding his glass to my tray. “I hope you’re not one of those hypocrites who think hardworking mothers are better off starving in the street.”

  He glared at me. I flashed him another smile and wiggled off.

  I’d rather have hit him upside the head with a law book, but he wasn’t doing anything except looking out of place. I just had this yucky feeling that he was waiting for me to do something weird—like blow off the roof or cut someone in two. Hey, maybe whoever was spying on me knew I could talk to Max!

  That hit close to home, too. With my apartment bugged, they could have heard me talking to him. Maybe they thought he wasn’t really dead, and that I was hiding him. Since someone had already killed him once, that gave me a shivery feeling. Were murderers watching me?

  The Man in Black stayed there all evening while I tucked cash into my bra. I couldn’t figure out a good way to pin my usual safety pocket inside a skirt that barely clung to my hips, so I figured my exposed cleavage ought to have a better purpose than titillation.

  At midnight, I decided to turn into a pumpkin. No one was eating. The kitchen had gone home. The rest of the staff could handle drunks. I needed study time. And I wanted to see what the suit would do when I left. I changed back to my jeans, secured my wad of cash in my safety pocket, and ran into Schwartz at the back door.

  “Andre says I’m to see you home,” he said blandly.

  I snorted.
“Tina says Andre can stuff it up his nose. I have a better plan. Let’s see where the suit in the back corner goes once he realizes I’ve left.”

  “I need this job,” Schwartz warned.

  “Yeah, and you’ve got an old mother in a nursing home you don’t want turned into the street?” I asked sarcastically, repeating Cora’s plaint as we stepped into the bright glow of the security lamps. I couldn’t see anyone watching the door. That didn’t mean they weren’t there. I stuck close to the wall, totally grateful that I was still walking straight after being on my feet for hours.

  “My mother is fine and living in Florida,” Schwartz said with an air of bewilderment. “But thanks for asking.”

  “Okay, I apologize. I’ve been hanging around so many bad guys I forgot there were still honest ones. Are you with me on the suit?”

  “I don’t mind spying on the suit, but I’m still seeing you home,” he said stubbornly, edging along the wall where the security light wasn’t as bright. He was too big to hide, but he didn’t look out of place patrolling.

  “I have a new home now, and I’m not inviting anyone in,” I told him. “So let’s just play turn-the-tables-on-the-spy and pretend I levitate home, okay?” I clung to the wall behind him.

  He didn’t argue but led the way around to the parking lot. “I traced the plate on the Escalade at the apartment,” he said conversationally as we took an alley toward the street. “It belongs to the agency Frank already told you about.”

  I’d kind of figured that. So now I needed to hack a corporate spy company to see who had hired them. Piece of cake. I’d earn enough with tips in maybe a year, if I wiggled and jiggled enough.

  It would have been cheaper to move to Seattle.

  I peered around the corner to the parking lot. As I said, not too many people liked to drive their cars down here if they could avoid it—for many good reasons. Emerging from the alley, we scared off a bum stripping tires from an old Chevy, and Schwartz swiped the keys from a customer too drunk to unlock his door. While he called a taxi and babysat the drunk, making a very public spectacle of himself, I found a nice hiding place between buildings where I could watch the street. A shiny black Lincoln on the corner looked like my best bet. I was wagering corporate spies fit in better in D.C. than they did the Zone. The taxi drove off with the drunk just as the suit emerged from the club, catching Schwartz in the middle of the parking lot. Schwartz coolly nodded and strolled on as if he’d been patrolling. The suit didn’t even acknowledge him as he spoke into his phone and headed for the street.