Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
I don't bother looking. The moment she lowers her phone and touches the screen, mine silences.
She was calling me.
"I was wondering where you were," she says.
"I had something to take care of," I say, shutting the door behind me as my eyes scan her. "You look beautiful."
She fidgets with her clothing a bit. "It's your favorite dress."
I raise my eyebrows with surprise. "Is it?"
"Yes." She looks at me incredulously. "You said it was, anyway. It's the one I wore in Vegas."
"Ah, then definitely my favorite." I don't pay attention to what she wears, but that day was certainly one of my favorites. "So are you ready?"
"No." Her voice is firm, the word accompanied by the adamant shake of her head.
"No?"
"No," she says again. "I'm not going."
"You're not going?"
"No, I'm not," she says. "This isn't my thing, anyway. I don't see why I have to go."
"You don't see why you have to go?"
"Yes, so I refuse. Tell him I decline his invitation."
I stare at her for a moment. I can tell she's uneasy. I'm anxious enough at the moment without having to absorb her nerves also. "You want me to tell Raymond Angelo that you're refusing his request to attend?"
"Yes," she says, wavering for a second before continuing, "well, no… you couldn't put it another way?"
"What other way?"
"I don't know." She throws her hands up in exasperation. "Tell him I'm sick. I have the flu or something. I'm puking all over the place."
I wish I could, and I would if I could, but Ray is no fool. Her not showing up would be viewed as a personal snub, and I'm just now getting him to where he'll consider her existence as more than temporary.
I glance at my watch again. The dinner party starts in fifteen minutes.
"We won't stay long," I reassure her. "Let's just make an appearance to humor the man."
She scrunches up her nose but doesn't argue, heading right past me out the door. I follow her, locking up the house, and give a glance toward the trunk as I head for the car. She's already in the passenger seat when I slip inside, and I don't hesitate, starting the car up and pulling away.
I'm distracted during the drive, frequently glancing in the rear view mirror, listening intently for any sounds from the trunk. All is silent and still around me, except for Karissa's mindless chatter.
She's talkative today.
Nerves, I gather, but it does nothing to soothe my own. I drum my gloved fingers against the steering wheel as I wait at red lights, continuing to watch all around me, when her voice grows louder, practically growling. "Ignazio!"
I turn to her, alarmed. "What's wrong?"
"That's what I'm wondering," she says. "I've been talking to you for the past twenty minutes and I don't think you've heard a word I've said."
"That's because I haven't."
Her brow furrows, the frustration melting away to genuine concern. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I say, giving another glance in the rear view mirror just as the light turns green. "I'm listening now. What were you saying?"
"I asked if your hands were cold."
"No. Why?"
The response is from my lips before I give it any thought. My eyes drift to my hands clutching the steering wheel, to the leather gloves I'm still wearing.
She doesn't answer, knowing she doesn't need to.
She sees me look at them.
I have no explanation for her.
I wait until I hit the next red light to pull them off, reaching over to toss them in the center console.
Karissa watches me, shaking her head. "It concerns me when you're like this. Last time you picked me up this distracted, I thought you were mad at me. You didn't look at me the entire drive, cancelled our plans and went straight to your house."
I know exactly what day she's talking about.
I had a body in the trunk then, too.
"I'm not mad at you," I say in place of an actual response.
"Good to know, but something has you on edge."
She doesn't say another word the rest of the drive. When I get to Ray's, we're already fifteen minutes late. Cars pack his driveway and the area around his house. I find a place to park across the street and cut the engine, remaining in my seat for a moment to try to clear my head. Karissa is staring straight ahead out of the windshield, anxiously biting on the inside of her cheek.
"Here," I say, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a peppermint, holding it out to her. "Take it."
She hesitates before snatching it up. "Are you suggesting my breath stinks?"
"Not at all." I pull out a piece for myself and slip it in my mouth. I tuck it along my cheek to suck on it. "It's a little trick I learned. Whenever a situation makes you nervous, suck on a piece of hard candy. It's psychological. Your brain thinks if you were in any real danger, you wouldn't be eating something, so it reasons that you're perfectly fine."
Also, it'll keep her from talking so damn much.
She pops the mint in her mouth. "I've never seen you eat one of these before."
"Very little makes me nervous."
"But you're nervous now."
Not a question.
I hope that doesn't mean my anxiety is obvious.
"Yeah, well, I don't want to be here any more than you do, sweetheart."
I lock up the car once we get out, my eyes skimming along the trunk involuntarily before I turn away. I offer Karissa a smile when I see she's fidgeting, reaching over to take her hand.
Linking our fingers together, I squeeze lightly, running my tongue along the peppermint in my mouth.
She stays in step with me, fingernails digging into the back of my hand when we reach the porch. I ring the doorbell, the front door opening instantly, animated voices streaming out from inside. Kelvin stands in front of us. I wonder how much Ray paid him to go from working the door at Cobalt to watching the door at his house.
"Vitale," he greets me, his gaze dropping right away as he steps aside. "They're waiting for you."