Chapter 32
Katarina
After a bumpy ride on the floorboard of the back seat in Mama Hen’s SUV, she gave me the okay to climb up front with her.
“Good job,” I said as I buckled in, then put Klara’s watch on.
“The boys like to eat so if they think I’m off to get food, they don’t question much. I’m definitely thinking something is up with her. She should have been at the club last night.”
“The strip club, you mean? It was fairly early still. Maybe she’d stopped by on her way there?” I wasn’t trying to defend her by any means, but I knew that dancers stayed well into the morning hours if they worked the night shift. It was plausible, to me, that she could have had time.
Mama Hen shook her head. “The ladies usually get there well before shift change to get ready to hit the floor as soon as they can. They don’t dance all night, you know. They make rounds.”
“Sure. That makes sense. But then if you’re right, she was missing a high demand shift.”
“Exactly. And dancers don’t miss Saturday night unless they can’t move.
I’m talking full on flu. I’ve had to send ‘em home on occasion for trying to work through a nasty cold.” She cracked the window, then said, “They don’t get PTO, so most of them will work through anything if I let ‘em.” She grinned.
“You really miss it, don’t you?” I asked.
“I do. And I can’t help but wonder if I’d have picked up on something if I’d been there lately.”
“Well, we can’t blame ourselves for the actions of others,” I told her.
“You miss the restaurant?” she asked.
Looking over, I cocked my head. “I miss the people. But I like our little operation. Plus, I get to cook whatever I want now.”
“Do you miss home?”
Looking ahead, I tapped my fingers on my thigh. “At first, yes. I missed it very much.”
“And now?”
“This is my home now.” Papa loved me and took care of me, and I did miss the people at the restaurant, but I had something more now.
I finally felt like my purpose was being fulfilled.
I loved Mama’s restaurant, but it was hers.
Even though Mama Hen was still the First Lady, I would be someday, and she was preparing me for that.
And the members and the ladies weren’t employees, they were family.
“You bet your ass it is,” she said, reaching over and squeezing my hand. Something was in hers, so I pulled mine away to reveal a necklace. It wasn’t overly fancy, just a thin piece of leather with a small motorcycle pendant, but there was a black gemstone where the headlight should be.
“Is this for me?” I asked.
“Yep. You put that on and don’t let anything happen to it.”
I put it over my head, then looked down at it, holding the motorcycle between my thumb and fingers. “I’ll treasure it forever.”
She took my hand again, and didn’t let go until we arrived at our destination.
After a lovely ride through the highway riddled with the shades of autumn from the rows and rows of trees, we turned onto a smaller road lined with quaint houses, spaced fairly far apart but still visible to the neighbors.
“She lives here?” I asked. “These homes are quite small compared to where her family lives.
“Well, if we’re right, it’s probably just a front.”
After pulling into a driveway of a cute home with a small porch and planters on either side of the door, we both climbed out.
Looking around, it was calm and peaceful. “Nice little neighborhood,” I said as we walked to the porch.
“Something isn’t right,” Mama Hen said. “It’s too quiet for a weekend morning.”
“Church, maybe?”
“Maybe. But the weather is still nice enough I’d expect some folks to be outside.”
Her suspicions put me on alert. “Well, let’s see if she’s home.”
I took a deep breath, unsure of what I even planned to say. Do I just outright accuse her of being someone else, or ease into it?
I knocked on the door and Mama Hen stood close, looking around the yard.
It wasn’t long before the door cracked open. Jeannie, or Gianna, paused and scanned us both up and down. “Come to apologize?”
My head jerked at her suggestion but Mama Hen grabbed my arm. “Can we chat?”
She rolled her eyes, then opened the door wider. “Come in.”
We stepped inside and walked down the short hall.
“You can have a seat there on the sofa. Can I get you some coffee or a diet soda?”
“We’re good,” Mama Hen said as we stepped into the living room.
“Suit yourself. I’ll be right back,” she said as she walked past a dining table and through a door, probably the kitchen, based on the layout.
It was a very modest but adorable home. Certainly not what you’d expect from a Martinelli.
I stood with Mama Hen as we waited and when Jeannie returned to the living room, she didn’t hesitate to sit in an oversized chair, pulling her legs onto the cushion neatly tucked underneath her as she sipped what looked and smelled like coffee.
Mama Hen nodded to the sofa, so we stepped over and took a seat.
It was quiet for a few beats, then Jeannie reached down into the cushion. My heart sped up and Mama Hen put her arm over me like we were stopping short at a red light.
Jeannie grinned and pulled out a remote, aiming it at the television. “It’s too quiet. So, to what do I owe the honor?”
“Who are you?” I asked bluntly. I didn’t know her well enough to make small talk, and we had limited time before someone figured out I was gone.
She sipped her coffee slowly, then gave a slight nod. “Well, I guess that depends on who’s asking.”
“So it’s true?” Mama Hen asked.
“Is what true?” Jeannie asked, casually sipping again.
“You’re a Martinelli.”
Jeannie shook her head. “No. Well, sort of I guess.”
“So you don’t deny it?” Mama Hen asked, the tension in her body getting palpable.
“Nobody ever asked.”
“That’s not the name you gave me to start working at the club.”
“Oh, well that. Yeah, you got me there.” She shrugged.
It was quiet again. She didn’t deny it. Now what?
“Is that all you came for?” she asked.
“Why hide it?” I asked. “And why were you all over my husband?”
She smirked. “Aww. Is someone feeling a little insecure?”
“Cut the shit, Jeannie. What the fuck are you up to?” Mama Hen asked.
She set her mug down. “I think it’s time we go for a ride.”
Mama Hen gave a humorless laugh. “We’re not going anywhere with you.”
I heard something move behind me. Before I could even turn, my head was covered by a dark sack. It was pulled tight against my throat. My hands went there to pull it away, unable to free it. Not being able to see was disorienting, and I didn’t even know what was happening to Mama Hen.
She struggled next to me, her feet kicking as I fought the floor for purchase.
I struggled to say, “Let her go!” I couldn’t let anything happen to her.
I squirmed, trying to kick but my body was slipping from the cushion as I tried to get the sack loose around my throat. My heart pounded out of control as I struggled.
“You may want to knock them out,” Jeannie said, no hint of the slightly southern accent anymore, just as the lights went out.