Part 28 (2/2)

A few minutes later, she heard noises in her outer office, and then Gina buzzed her.

”Rosalie, you have a visitor.”

She didn't have time to deal with one more problem today. All she wanted to do was. .h.i.t the sale at Macy's. As it was, she'd have to head uptown during rush hour, which was not fun. The subways started to resemble sardine cans by four-thirty, and cabs were scarcer than straight men on Fire Island.

She checked her schedule and saw no appointment. Of course, when she wondered who it could be, the first person who entered her mind was Nick. The thought of him hadn't stopped throwing her for a loop. She wondered how long it took for a broken heart to heal. Since she'd never had one before, she hadn't a clue. It wasn't as if she could ask someone, either. It was too embarra.s.sing for words. She'd waited and waited for the pain to go away. She'd waited to be able to sleep without waking up because she'd reached for Nick and he wasn't there. She'd waited to be able to eat more than a little pastina with b.u.t.ter, or half a slice of toast, or a pint of Ben and Jerry's. She knew it wasn't exactly a low-cal diet, but she was losing weight. Go figure.

Rosalie slipped her shoes on and b.u.t.toned her suit jacket as she rose. The jacket covered the slightly-okay, maybe a little more than slightly-large skirt.

There was a knock on the door and then Gina stuck her head in, with a huge smile on her face and no lipstick. Odd, that. Gina always wore lipstick-bright, red, and glossy. A large hand pushed the door open from above her head. Way above. A large male hand. Rosalie's breath caught, and she held onto her desk. Nick?

Gina flew through the door, followed closely by Rich. ”Hi, Ro. Still looking like s.h.i.+t, I see.”

”Richie? What are you doing here?”

Gina sidestepped him and tried to back out. Rich caught her around the waist. How he did that, with him being so tall and Gina so short, was interesting to watch. Rosalie guessed that being a knuckle-dragger was good for something.

She swallowed her disappointment and wished for another swig of Mylanta. Then she remembered, too late, to check for a Mylanta mustache. d.a.m.n.

Gina pointed at her. ”See, I told you. She walks around half the time with white stuff around her mouth from drinking bottles of stomach medicine.”

”I do not.”

Gina teetered to the desk and picked up the wastepa-per basket. She pulled out two empty bottles. The cleaning people obviously hadn't come for a few days.

”You see why I called you?” Gina told Rich. ”She's turning into a Mylanta-holic, and she's so thin. It's unnatural.”

Rosalie was irate. ”You called my brother and told him about me?”

”Well, what else was I to do? It was either Rich or your mother, and I thought you would be less likely to kill me if I called Rich. You don' eat, you don' sleep, you don' do anything but mope. This is an intervention. I saw it on Montel Montel one time when I was home sick. It's like they bring together all the people that are important to-” one time when I was home sick. It's like they bring together all the people that are important to-”

Rosalie shook her head in disbelief. Gina's accent was stronger than Rickie Ricardo's owl Love Lucy. owl Love Lucy. She even had the hand gestures going. She even had the hand gestures going.

”Gina, I know what an intervention is. Thank you. But I'm not an alcoholic, drug addict, or compulsive shopper. I don't need an intervention.”

”Oh, yes, you do,” Rich piped up, throwing an arm around Gina and pulling her to his side. ”Don't blame Gina for caring about you, little sister.”

”Rich, look, I'm sorry you were dragged all the way down here for nothing. I'm fine.”

”Yeah, you look fine-if you're into cadavers.”

”I don't need to defend myself to you. I tried to be polite, but now I'm out of here. Have a nice time in the city, Rich. Call me when you learn to mind your own business. And Gina, I'll talk to you about the meaning of the word 'privacy' tomorrow.” Gina shot her a look.

Rosalie smiled, happy to have the opportunity to get back at her nosy a.s.sistant. ”Yes, I know you don't like working late on Fridays, but it was the only time I could set up an appointment with La.s.siter's secretary without anyone else finding out about it. Besides, you owe me. Good-bye.”

Gina chased after Rosalie until she was out of the department. It sounded as if Rich had stopped her. It was a good thing, too. Rosalie didn't know what she would have done if Gina had caught up to her. She was holding her temper by a thread that was unraveling real fast.

The next day, Rosalie and Gina discussed their game plan.

Gina sat across from Rosalie's desk taking notes. ”Okay, we're supposed to meet Randi, Jack's secretary, in an hour and a half. We've got a lot of ground to cover.”

Rosalie nodded. ”If all goes well with Randi, we should be able to take this to the Board on Monday. They can decide if they want to get the police involved. We have evidence of Jack's embezzlement for the last fiscal year. Depending on what gems Randi sees fit to share, since she's the one who overheard Jack proposition you. Oh, nice job with that.”

”You know what I always say-”

”Men are pigs?”

”No, never marry the man you fool around with. He cheats on his wife.”

Nick had the TV on with the hockey game playing in the background. It was a Friday night home game, but he didn't have the energy to go, and he always went to home games. Before Rosalie, he'd loved the game; now, it had turned into a sick form of self-inflicted torture. He couldn't watch without thinking of Rosalie, imagining what she'd say about a call, the names she'd call the refs, or the way she'd bounce on the bed when the Islanders penetrated the blue line or rushed the goal. Watching her through a power play was a thing of beauty. Her cheeks would pink with excitement, and she'd look the exact same way she did when she was turned on.

s.h.i.+t, he did this to himself every time. He'd watch hockey, thinking of her the whole time, and all he'd have to show for it was a broken and bleeding heart and a hard-on-one that seemed to become nonexistent around every other women.

He'd tried jumping back into the dating scene. He'd had tickets to a fundraiser at the New York Philharmonic and had asked a gorgeous woman he'd met while she was doing a commercial for Romeo's. She was nothing like Rosalie, so he figured he'd be fine. He'd go out, have a good time, and sleep with Bridget. Or was it Barbara? Hmm... maybe Brenda. No, it was Brooke. That was her name, Brooke. He'd sleep with Brooke and get Rosalie out of his system. He'd taken her out and made small talk-very small talk. It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with her. She was nice, intelligent, and beautiful, but she wasn't Rosalie. He went as far as her front door.

The whole time he was out with Brooke, he'd felt as if he were cheating. Stupid, he knew, since Rosalie was the one who'd stepped out on him.

G.o.d, every time he thought about the last time he saw Rosalie, the pain knocked the wind right out of him.

The doorbell rang, and Nick grabbed his wallet to pay for the pizza he'd ordered. He'd only wanted the pizza to go with the beer he'd bought. He'd given up Jack Daniels since that week in the Hamptons. He'd begun to worry about his drinking.

G.o.d, he was a mess-a fact that Lois reminded him of on a daily basis. He hadn't been this miserable since his first week in Juvie. He never thought he'd survive that, but at least in there, he knew his release date. He had no idea how long this pain would last.

Nick opened the door and pulled a fifty out of his wallet. He looked up just as a fist crashed into his face.

Chapter Seventeen.

When Nick answered the door, he expected to see the pizza boy, not Rich Ronaldi. And he never expected to be cold-c.o.c.ked. Before he recovered, Rich followed through with a punch to the stomach, slammed the door shut, and was all over Nick.

”You lying, filthy son of a b.i.t.c.h.”

Rich was a good fighter, Nick remembered. They danced around the foyer, catching punches and each landing their fair share.

They were evenly matched-two guys of approximately the same age, height, and weight who hadn't been in a fight since their teens.

It felt good to punch someone after years of just wanting to. Even the pain felt good-okay, maybe not good, but deserved. Rich had every right to beat the s.h.i.+t out of Nick. h.e.l.l, he'd had a right fifteen years ago, but they'd been arrested before Rich could break Nick's neck for sleeping with his girlfriend.

Still, the fact that he had it coming didn't mean Nick had to be a punching bag. Nick gave Rich a kidney shot.

The doorbell rang and worked like the bell in a boxing match. Nick and Rich stopped fighting, and both went to neutral corners.

Nick answered the door, picked up his wallet lying open on the floor, and paid for the pizza. If the delivery boy noticed anything strange, he never let on. Nick handed him a fifty and told him to keep the change, grabbed the pizza, and closed the door, wondering if he'd have time to put the pizza down before Rich went after him again.

Nick cleared his throat. ”Do you want to call it a draw and eat?”

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