Part 4 (2/2)
”Take these and drink all the water. It'll help. You'll survive, though you might not want to.”
Yup, there was that pushy att.i.tude. She would have said so, if she hadn't needed something to stop the pounding in her head.
”Thanks.” Rosalie backed down the short hallway toward her room. ”I... I'll get dressed.”
”Lee? Do you remember anything from last night?”
Oh, G.o.d, what had she done? ”Um, yeah, I remember dinner, that last shot of sambuca, dancing, and um...”
”Coming home?”
She shook her head. Mistake, big mistake. She groaned, ducked into her room, and closed the door. Nope, she didn't remember a thing.
Rosalie walked past her dresser on the way to the bathroom. She needed a shower, oh, and about a gallon of coffee to clear her head. As she pa.s.sed the mirror, her reflection caught her eye, and she stifled a scream. As a rule, she wasn't a vain person. She always tried to look her best, but once she had the prerequisite makeup on, she didn't powder her nose every five minutes. She couldn't believe Nick had seen her looking like this and hadn't run screaming from the apartment.
She groaned. ”Note to self: never go to bed without removing makeup.”
Rosalie took the world's fastest shower and brushed her teeth for five minutes while obsessing over how one should act when she doesn't know what happened the night before-a first for her. By the time she realized she couldn't hide the fact that she was clueless as to what had happened, she'd dressed in the only clean suit she'd found in her closet and made a mental note to hit the dry cleaners on the way home. Before facing Nick again, she took a deep breath to prepare herself. She had no idea what she'd done, but she prepared to be embarra.s.sed to no end. She remembered she'd left her shoes in the dining area. She pictured them under the table... the table covered with mail, newspapers, and the stuff she needed to take to the post office but never got around to. s.h.i.+t! Her place was a wreck. How long had it been since she'd cleaned? Rosalie couldn't remember, and she had a very good memory, which meant it had been a long, long, long, long time.
Sign her up at the local community college. She now qualified to give lessons on how to impress a man. On your first date, fight with him, make out in a public place, get caught by a member of his family while you're humping his leg... oh, yeah, and let's not forget the all-important get drunk so he has to drive you home. But don't let it end at the door... somehow, make sure he comes inside your pigsty, um, place. That's the ticket. Works every time.
Both Nick and Dave were gone. Rosalie thanked G.o.d for the temporary reprieve, though she felt even worse. Poor Nick not only had to take her home, but he also walked her dog.
After stepping into her purple pumps, she started straightening the apartment when a thought hit her. Nick had already seen the disaster she lived in, and there was no way, in the time it took to walk Dave, she could make a noticeable improvement without the use of a front-end loader. She'd be better off spending the time hiding the ravages of too much alcohol, too little sleep, and abject embarra.s.sment. She needed all the help she could get.
Ten minutes later, Dave ran into the bathroom as she finished applying mascara. She tried not to wince or poke herself with the wand, a difficult feat on her best day. The throbbing of her head kept time with Dave's tail banging against the built-in metal clothes hamper, sounding like a big bra.s.s drum.
She kissed Dave's head, fluffed her hair, and followed him to the kitchen. Nick had bought coffee and pastry from the bakery down the street, Fiorentino's.
Rosalie looked at the box of pastry and couldn't help but wonder what she'd done last night to deserve breakfast... oh, and coffee. Yes, Nick had great taste in baked goods, as well as being the picture of male perfection. And let's face it, a man who gave her coffee scored big points. Coffee and chocolate were her weaknesses, and he'd brought both.
Any man worth his salt knew the fastest way into a woman's pants was the combination of chocolate and a legal addictive stimulant-caffeine. Hmm, maybe she hadn't done anything after all, well, at least, nothing s.e.xual. If she had, he wouldn't be trying so hard. All's fair in l.u.s.t and war, but why, of all the bakeries in Brooklyn, did he have to pick Fiorentino's?
Mrs. F. and Rosalie's mother had gone to Erasmus High School together. Erasmus High School not only produced musical legends the likes of Paul Simon, Barbra Streisand, and Neil Diamond, but also gossip legends the caliber of which were unparalleled outside the borough of Brooklyn.
The phone rang.
Rosalie didn't have to look at her caller ID to know it was her mother. She knew it instinctively. Just as she knew Mrs. Fiorentino had waited on Nick and called Mama the second he'd left.
She'd have rather eaten gla.s.s than speak with her mother, but listening to the phone ringing was worse. Plus she wanted to make sure Nick didn't hear the message her mother was bound to leave.
”Morning, Ma.”
Nick turned and raised an eyebrow.
”Rosalie Angelina Ronaldi, you should be ashamed of yourself! You spit on the good name of your family. One day after breaking the heart of a fine man, you're sleeping with a b.u.m.”
”Ma, this isn't a good time.” Nick handed her coffee and smiled. She took a fortifying sip as Mama continued her spiel.
”... ungrateful, puttana puttana of a daughter. I thank G.o.d my sainted mother is dead, G.o.d rest her soul, because if she saw what you've become, it would have killed her. As it is, she's rolling over in her grave.” of a daughter. I thank G.o.d my sainted mother is dead, G.o.d rest her soul, because if she saw what you've become, it would have killed her. As it is, she's rolling over in her grave.”
”Ma, I can't talk now. I gotta go to work.”
”You'll come to dinner so I can talk sense to you. Maybe Joey Manetti will forgive you and take you back.”
”Sorry, Ma, I can't. I've got a date.”
”A date with who? The b.u.m who walked that big horse of yours? The b.u.m who bought you breakfast and coffee at Fiorentino's bakery? The b.u.m who doesn't shave? That cafone? cafone? He's more important than making peace with the family?” He's more important than making peace with the family?”
”Mama, I refused Joey's proposal. If you'd heard it, you'd have refused, too. It has nothing to do with the family, and you know it. I have no need to make peace with anyone, and I would sooner die an old maid than marry Joey Manetti.”
Rosalie sipped her coffee while Mama said a prayer to the Virgin Mother and sighed. ”Is this cafone cafone gonna give you a home, children? You're so smart with your college degree and big office. Think about what you do, Rosalie. Think hard. And for G.o.d's sake, go to confession.” gonna give you a home, children? You're so smart with your college degree and big office. Think about what you do, Rosalie. Think hard. And for G.o.d's sake, go to confession.”
”I will. 'Bye, Ma.”
Nick had somehow unearthed the dining table. A plate of pastry and bagels sat in the center. He'd even poured orange juice. Rosalie had never had a man serve her. Now she was sure she hadn't done anything involving Tab A and Slot B... or Slot A for that matter-well, kinda sure, anyway, since Nick wasn't just any man. No, typical he was not.
Nick pulled out a chair and took the box of tampons off the seat. d.a.m.n, she'd wondered where those went. He nudged her into the chair and put the tampons on top of the pile of stuff he'd taken off the table. Could a person die of embarra.s.sment?
”Mangia tutto. Eat, it'll make you feel better.” Eat, it'll make you feel better.”
Sitting at her table with Nick across from her was strange, intimate. This was as strange to Dave as it was to her. She'd never had guys stay over. If for some reason they ended up at her place, they took off after the obligatory five minutes of cuddling. Not that she minded. Who wanted to sleep with a guy who snored and hogged all the covers and most of the bed? And don't even mention the nightmare of sharing a bathroom. If she and Nick had s.e.x, why had he slept on the couch? No guy she'd ever known would leave a comfortable bed and move to a couch unless he was forced. But if they hadn't had s.e.x, why had he stayed? Rosalie took a sip of juice. ”Thanks for breakfast.”
”It was the least I could do.”
That second sip of juice went down the wrong pipe. She turned red, but it wasn't only due to the coughing fit, and Nick, the smug b.a.s.t.a.r.d, knew it. There was a reason she never had men spend the night. She caught her breath and started to recover.
”So, where are we going?”
Rosalie took a slow sip of her coffee and wiped tears from her eyes. Great, her eye makeup was now all over the napkin. ”Excuse me?”
Nick licked cream cheese off his finger, which invoked indecent memories. Indecent memories were the only memories she had of last night. d.a.m.n him.
”Where are we going on the date you told your mother about? You know, the one with the cafone cafone you're sleeping with. The b.u.m who doesn't shave and walks that big horse of yours.” you're sleeping with. The b.u.m who doesn't shave and walks that big horse of yours.”
Nick's eyes twinkled like the devil. Oh, yeah, he was enjoying the h.e.l.l out of that.
”Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to eavesdrop?” Rosalie had intended to sound sarcastic, something she hadn't had a problem with until now, but even to her own ears, she sounded cranky, petulant, and, perhaps, the slightest bit whiny.
Rosalie went for the dark chocolate-covered doughnut, and when she bit into it, she was pleasantly surprised to find it filled with Bavarian cream.
”No. I don't think so. But don't worry about it, Lee, I've been called worse. Besides, she didn't say anything that wasn't true at one time or another.”
”She didn't?”
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