Part 12 (1/2)
The news seller frowned as he looked at me. ”You got blue stuff on your face now.”
”I know.” The blue substance that had spilled on me in Max's laboratory was on my arm, too, thanks to Lucky shooting up the place.
After looking at the photo again, the news seller said, ”Well, at least your cheekbones look good.”
”My cheekbones always look good,” I said grumpily. ”They're my best feature.” Actors learn to be pragmatic about our looks. We need to know what casting directors see when they look at us.
The news seller studied me for another moment, then concluded, ”Yeah, I'll go along with that. Good cheekbones.” He waved the tabloid at me. ”It's a bad photo, no denying that. But the headline-SINGING SERVER SEES SLAYING!-that's some lovely alliteration, don't you think?”
”Lovely. In fact, I hope it's what they put on my tombstone.” I turned my back on him, eager to go home.
”Hey, don't you want any of these papers?” the news seller called after me. ”This is your fifteen minutes of fame!”
I felt depressed.
As I was walking home, my cell phone rang. I saw that the call was from Lopez, and I flipped open the phone. ”h.e.l.lo?”
”It's me,” he said. ”Where are you? Are you okay?”
”I'm fine.” I was surprised at the urgency in his voice. ”Why?”
There was a pause. ”I guess I got a little . . . I'm outside your apartment-”
”You are?” I was less than a block from there, so I started walking faster.
Lopez said, ”When you didn't answer your buzzer or your home phone . . . Well, I couldn't think of where else you'd be this morning. I got worried.”
”You thought I might be sleeping with the fishes?”
”That's not funny.” He sounded exhausted. ”Where are you?”
I rounded the corner and could see him sitting on the steps of my building. ”Look to your right,” I said.
He did-and I saw his whole body sag with relief when he spotted me. I realized then how seriously he believed that witnessing Charlie's death had put me in danger.
He folded his cell phone and put it in his pocket as he stood up. He had removed his tie, and he held his jacket slung over his shoulder. I dropped my cell phone into my purse and met him in front of my building. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked tense and tired.
His gaze roamed over my face, and he reached up to touch my cheek. I thought it was a gesture of affection until he frowned and asked, ”Why are you all blue and scratched?”
”Oh! That d.a.m.n dog.” I turned my head and brushed self-consciously at my face.
”What dog?” He took my chin and gently lifted it so he could see the scratches Nelli had left on my cheek and forehead.
”Max got a dog. So to speak.” I was longing for my bed by now.
Lopez went very still for a moment, then dropped his hand. I realized belatedly that I should have guarded my words.
”You've been to see Max?” His voice was flat.
”Yes.” I didn't want to argue about it, so I pulled my keys out of my pocket and started up the steps of my building. ”And his dog pummeled me.”
He followed me. As we entered the building, he said, ”Max got a vicious dog?”
”No, just a big one. Nelli is, um, exuberant.”
”Why did you go to see him?” Lopez asked tersely, following me upstairs to the second floor.
”I needed to ask him something.”
”About last night?” He was trudging heavily up the steps behind me.
”Yes.” I got to the door of my apartment and unlocked it.
”Esther.” The exasperation in his voice got on my last nerve. The exasperation in his voice got on my last nerve.
”What?” I snapped. I turned around and confronted him as he followed me inside and closed the door. When he didn't answer, I said, ”Well, what? what?”
He hesitated, evidently realizing I was in no mood to be told how to choose my friends. As I held his gaze, I realized that his eyes were bloodshot.
I took a breath and said in a more mild tone, ”You haven't had any sleep, have you?”
”Not yet,” he grumbled. ”I came straight here from work.”
”That was quite a long s.h.i.+ft,” I said, realizing he must be running on fumes.
”Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
”Does Napoli know where you are?”
”What do you think?” he said irritably.
”I think he grilled you about how we know each other-”
” 'Grilled' is too nice a word for it.”
”-and would handcuff you to your desk if he knew you were here right now.”
”Good guess.” He tossed his jacket on the couch and said to me, ”We have to talk.”
I was sure that would be a big mistake, in more ways than one. I was tired and slow-witted, and he was exhausted and cranky. So I said, ”No. Not now.”
”Yes, now now.”
”Later,” I said, reaching for his hand.
He frowned. ”This can't wait, Esther.” But he followed me as I tugged him across the floor and out of the living room.
When we got to the door of my bedroom, though, he balked. ”What are you doing?”