Chapter 27
Wednesday, Lucas’s bedtime, Greene household
W hat do you want to read tonight?” Gabby asked Lucas. “We’ve got Diary of a Worm , Benjamin Bunny , some Walter the Farting Dog…” She scanned the titles on his bookshelf.
Lucas’s eyes were at half-mast, and a teddy bear was tucked in his arm. “I’m not tired,” he said, yawning.
Gabby smiled. “Which book, though?”
“ Megalodon Versus Great White !” He broadcast the title like a sports announcer.
So much for a peaceful fifteen minutes with a bunny.
She tucked in under the quilt next to Lucas. Now that Granny and Burt had taken over the master suite, Lucas had a better setup than her, starting with an actual mattress.
“Which one do you think is going to win?” she asked.
“Megalodons. They’re bigger.”
“The bigger things don’t always win,” she said, more to herself than Lucas.
“The things with more teeth maybe then,” he added with another big yawn.
“It’s also about intelligence, commitment, preparation.”
“Preparation, Granny said that today. Preparation H. Is that for fighting?”
Her brain screeched to a halt. “What?”
“Granny stopped and got some for Burt. He said it was because his—can I say a bad word?”
She shook her head and held up her hand for him to stop. “I think I know why she bought it.”
At the sound of muffled giggling, Gabby looked up to see Kyle in the door frame. Present, accounted for, and wearing a pair of previously unworn unicorn pajamas that Gabby bought for her as a present. Gabby didn’t say anything. Don’t scare away the teenager.
“Mom, Mom.” Lucas bid for her attention. “It was for his—” And he pointed dramatically to his butt.
Gabby shook her head, and a look of understanding passed between her and Kyle, a “how are we gonna make it?” look. Everything wasn’t perfect, but at least they were in it together, on the same side. Victims of Burt.
“Megalodons can fit a car in their mouths,” Lucas said, thankfully onto another topic.
“Nice science brain, kid.” She laughed and rumpled his hair. “Cool.”
“Mom,” Kyle said in a judgy voice, “that’s not science. You are participating in the ‘everyone gets a trophy’ culture. Give us something to aim for.”
Gabby gave her daughter a nod. Maybe she should raise her standards.
Kyle sat down on the other side of her, and Gabby’s heart filled to the brim. She read Megalodon Versus Great White to both her babies. After they officially found out that megalodons would beat great whites in a fight, Gabby said, “I miss picking you guys up and seeing you after school.”
Kyle didn’t say anything, but she dropped her head to Gabby’s shoulder. Gabby practically held her breath. “Did you have fun with Granny and Burt?”
“Um…” Kyle looked like she was processing something.
“I liked bingo,” said Lucas enthusiastically. “Granny got me a 7Up.”
“Bingo?”
Kyle caught her mom’s eye and clarified. “They took us out for bingo and chicken wings after school.”
“What?” Gabby’s brain flashed an error message. “What about horseback riding, and did you get that essay done for English?”
Kyle shook her head. “No, but I won fifty bucks.”
Gabby’s jaw dropped. She was going to kick those old farts out on their asses. Her kids needed to participate in extracurriculars, things they could put on scholarship applications, not bingo.
Oblivious, Kyle went on. “The bingo person said I had to be twenty-one to gamble, so they wouldn’t give me the money at first, but Granny lied and said she had been playing two cards.” She fiddled with the ties on her pajamas. “Until I’m old enough, Granny is going to play for me, but take a cut. Can I go to the mall this weekend?”
Gabby blinked back dumbly at her daughter for a second. Granny sounded like she was in the Mafia. A Russian immigrant who played by her own rules. She and Grandpa had run a butcher shop for years. For all she knew, they could have been tied to the mob. Finally, she managed, “Who else was at bingo?”
“Just a bunch of old people. It was pretty gross, but… I don’t know, kind of fun.”
Gabby didn’t respond. On the one hand, they didn’t go to their after-school activities. On the other, they were spending time with family.
“So anyways, will you take me to the mall?”
With a sigh, Gabby relented. “Sure. Want some more purple in your hair?”
“Actually, I kind of want a tattoo.”
Gabby stared in shock.
“Just kidding.”
“Thank god.”
“Plus Granny would help me with the tattoo anyway.” Kyle laughed at her joke, but it was real. Granny was not the responsible caregiver she needed.
Downstairs, Family Feud was playing at top volume in the living room. The sound of dishes clanking and running water carried up the stairs from the kitchen. Was this her new normal?
From the sink, Granny yelled, “Gabby, where’s that cocktail shaker?”
Gabby ignored the request and poured herself a glass of wine. “You took my kids to a bingo hall?” she said in an accusatory voice.
“What’s the matter with that? How much do horse lessons cost? Kyle can make some money instead. She’s good.”
“How can you be good at bingo?”
“For one, she can hear all the numbers.”
Gabby almost spit her wine out.
“But it’s also an energy thing. The winning cards choose you sometimes. She’s just a lucky kid. So is Lucas.”
Gabby added more wine to her glass.
“Pour me one, Gabs.”
“What about your blood pressure medication?” Gabby asked. “Isn’t that supposed to be bad?”
“Gabby.” Her granny sat up straight and looked over her gold-rimmed glasses. “I am an eighty-year-old woman, not a child, and I can manage my own risks. You can’t mother me. It’ll drive me insane.”
“But—” Someone had to worry about Granny’s blood pressure.
They were interrupted by a knock, followed by the noise of the door opening and footsteps through the living room. Instead of Justin with a martini shaker and a bag of limes, it was the only drop-by that shouldn’t surprise Gabby. Phil meandered in with a CVS bag and a lukewarm smile.
“Phil.” His name came out like an accusation. “You can’t just wander in unannounced. You don’t live here anymore.” He was the one who left.
“You need me, Gabby,” he announced as if saying it out loud made it true. “I brought some necessary items.” Like he was Santa Claus, he reached into the bag and held a spray bottle up high.
Gabby squinted at the orange and black bottle. Why was he bringing cleaning spray over at ten at night?
“It’s roach spray. I can’t have my family living with cockroaches.”
“Oh…” Her lie about needing his help because of an infestation of “roaches.” She sighed. Roach spray probably wasn’t going to work on Smirnov or his goons. If only.
A little too loud, Granny said, “You didn’t mention any cockroaches.”
Gabby sighed. “It’s okay. I haven’t seen any roaches today.” That was true.
Granny scanned the countertops. “Well, that doesn’t mean they’re not here.”
Also true. Smirnov could be anywhere. One of his goons had been taking pictures only two nights ago.
Phil set the can on the counter looking pleased with himself. “Well, at least you have something to defend yourself with now.”
And a dart gun. That would only work on the larger-sized roaches, though.
“Thanks, Phil.” She cut herself off before saying anything else nice. Phil reeked of regret and second-guessing. The roach killer was basically a text message at 3:00 a.m., Phil’s version of “Hey, u up?”
But she would not let this man, who saw her as no more than his personal support staff and not a valuable partner, weasel his way back into her life with one bottle of roach spray. Not that second-guessing wasn’t happening for her. She might not have had red hair and potential last week, but she also wasn’t scared for her life. She and the kids used to be safe.
Scratch that, Gabby had always been scared to death about everything, but the threats needed WebMD research before. Nothing like an actual threat to put a suspicious rash into perspective.
“When I was over the other night, I noticed a few bulbs were out.” He pulled a pack of bulbs out of the bag and flashed a high-wattage smile. “I know you’re not tall enough for the bulbs in the hallway.” He swaggered in that direction and started unscrewing the glass dome.
Dear god. She was never going to be rid of him. “Phil, we were just about to go to bed.”
“I know you need help, Gabs.” He smiled over his shoulder.
That light had been out for approximately three years. This was the definition of too little, too late.
Before she could usher him out the front, someone knocked on the back door. Mr. Bubbles sounded the alarm and ran, ready to eviscerate whoever dared to knock. For once, that seemed like a good idea. Gabby’s dart gun was under her bed, and the only person who had threatened to stop by was Smirnov. Not that the Mafia knocked.
“Wow, I didn’t know you had a social life, Gabby.” Granny was sitting back and, from the look on her face, enjoying the show.
Phil paused unscrewing the dome and stared at the door like the visitor was interrupting his evening. “What kind of asshole is dropping by this time of night?” Phil, of all people, asked.
“Probably Justin.” She prayed.
“It’s late. Let me answer it.” On the way to the door, he said, “We should talk. I mean, how much are you relying on your grandmother?”
“Later, Phil.” Sure, she could question her Granny, but Phil had lost that privilege.
For a second, he dropped the annoying shtick. “I’m serious, Gabs. I know I’ve screwed up in the past, a lot. But we have kids. I’m here. I still… well…”
Gabby sighed. Phil was lonely. He missed them, but this was too much. “Okay, I hear you. I could use some more help. Can we talk about it next week, though?”
She answered the door, and all six feet plus of Markus’s lanky self stepped from the shadows. Dressed in a low-slung pair of sweats and a tank that showcased a pair of arms any girl, no, anyone would dream of—Markus didn’t look like he belonged in her mushy suburban life.
Phil bristled. “Who the hell are you?”
“Phil, this is Mar—” As soon as she started saying his real name, it hit her that she should hide his identity. “This is… Mar-shall.”
Markus held out his hand, unfazed by his dumb, new name.
“This is Phil, my ex-husband.” She gave Phil a meaningful glance. “Phil was just leaving.”
Suddenly resolved to finish changing the bulb, Phil said, “Don’t mind me.”
He had to be kidding.
Markus rolled with it. “You want me to hand you that Phillips head?”
Phil shrugged and took the screwdriver, looking way too intent on his job.
Granny, clearly amused, called, “Do you boys want beer?”
“Would love one, Granny,” Phil said, because of course he did. Gabby could kill him.
“So what is this?” Phil asked. “A Tinder date?”
“Phil.” She said his name sharply. “It doesn’t matter. Not to mention, aren’t you on Tinder?” She recalled the profile photo of him swinging a golf club and staring off into the distance, the kind of picture that falsely advertised a lot of deep thoughts.
When Granny returned from the kitchen with a beer, Gabby grabbed it and flashed a warning look. Granny was no help. The woman was taking way too much pleasure in this.
“Phil, it’s late. I need to talk to… Marshall and get to bed. I have work in the morning.”
Phil looked like he wanted to smack “Marshall” in the face. Instead, he stood and just stared him down for a minute, like all he wanted to do was kick this guy out of the house that used to be his.
“Phil.” Gabby said his name in a cautioning tone.
“What? I’m just changing a lightbulb.” He passed Markus the dome and screwed in the bulb. “It’s important to have a well-lit entryway, for security.”
Markus said, “If you’re busy, I can take off. I just wanted to go over a few things, and, well, apologize for earlier.”
Gabby couldn’t help but smile at him. He was even being nice to Phil.
After another five minutes of screwing the dome back to the ceiling, Phil was finally done. Gabby took his beer and started walking to the door.
“Who the fuck is that guy?” Phil asked.
“None of your business, Phil. You left.”
“Are the kids safe with him? Have you run a background check?” He shook his head. “If he’s really just some guy you met on Tinder, you can’t have him over to the house with the kids and your grandma. That’s messed up, Gabs.”
Gabby started to laugh because Phil was so off the mark. Funny he should ask about the kids’ safety, though. It’s not like she’d forgotten her suspicion, but she couldn’t bring that up with her doofy ex-husband hanging around making a spectacle of himself over a lightbulb.
Phil must have felt his own anger outpacing reason, because he took a breath and said, “Well, I don’t like it.”
“That’s fine.” She shut the door on him and hurried back to Markus, stopping to smooth her hair and put on lip gloss. At the last minute, she undid one of the buttons on her blouse and repositioned the girls. Just in case he wasn’t the mole. God, she hoped he wasn’t.
“Markus,” she said with a big smile that belied the fact that she’d just kicked her ex out the front door, “what are you doing here?”
He glanced toward the front door where Phil had just left. “He seems… nice.”
“I know, right?”
“Does he stop by all the time?”
“I asked for his help because of work this week, and he’s taken it as an invitation to come back whenever. Working outside the house has added some… complications I didn’t foresee.”
“Gabby!” Granny came around the corner, her eyes only for Markus. “You didn’t tell me you were having a man over.”
Markus held out his hand. “I’m Markus,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt your evening.” When Gabby gasped, he said. “My real name is fine, especially with your granny.”
“Oh, I was just about to tuck in for the night.” Granny smiled and yelled, “BURT!” at top volume. “It’s time for bed.”
Burt startled and let out a loud snort. “What?”
“We’re going to bed.”
Markus hid a laugh.
After Burt managed to haul himself out of the La-Z-Boy—it took a couple of tries—he headed to the kitchen despite Granny’s efforts to steer him to the bedroom. He gave Markus a man-to-man look. “You here for Gabby?”
Markus nodded.
Burt took a pill and said, “Take your vitamins. These girls are redheads, if you know what I mean.”
Granny fluffed her glossy head of freshly dyed curls. On closer inspection, it might even be a wig. But being a redhead was more about identity than genetics. What wasn’t these days?
“Markus and I work together,” Gabby said, stressing the word “work.”
Granny nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m so proud of you, Gabs. A new job.” She stage-whispered, “And two men!” Just in case Gabby hadn’t heard her, she held up two fingers.
Markus cleared his throat. “Um. She’s doing a great job at work,” he said in a diplomatic tone of voice.
“She got it from her grandma.”
Gabby topped off her wine and slid a glass across the counter toward Markus.
“Burt, get to the bedroom. Let’s leave these two to…” She winked dramatically. “Have fun, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Gabby covered her face and groaned. It was all too much.
As Granny tottered off, she said, “I need to catch up on Novaya Bitva Ekstrasensov .”
Markus came to attention at the sound of Russian. “I watch that too!” Markus said, “What do you think of Natalya?”
Granny gave him a sly look. “Ty govorish’ po-russki?”
“Ne ochen’ khorosho,” he answered smoothly.
Granny harrumphed and looked between the two of them.
“What did you two say?” Gabby asked.
“Not much. She just asked if I could speak Russian.” He looked at her more closely. “You didn’t tell me your grandmother was Russian. Do you speak?”
Gabby shrugged. “I wish I had learned something. This is probably the most time I’ve ever spent with her.”
“Why now?”
“That’s sort of your fault. She’s here to ‘help out.’ Also, she was evicted from her nursing home.”
Overhearing, Granny corrected, “I defected from that old folks’ home, just like I defected from the USSR.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I’m going to bed,” she announced. “Good night.”
Markus watched her walk toward the bedroom and asked, “Is she helping?”
“Uh… she did pick the kids up from school, but she brought them to bingo. I mean, is that gambling?”
Markus threw back his head and laughed. “Um, I think it depends on how much money exchanges hands. And it’s racketeering if it’s run by a criminal enterprise.”
“Well, if Orlov happens to run a bingo hall, my grandma can be part of the sting operation.” Granny would love that.
“Are you sure she’s not involved already?” he commented. He took a sip of his wine. “So I was actually dropping by to go over tomorrow’s operation.”
Gabby took a deep breath. In the chaos, she had briefly forgotten about tomorrow. Maybe all she needed to successfully compartmentalize was too much to do. If your life is a three-ring circus, you can only worry about one ring at a time.
“I have a few tips.”
She plopped on one of the high stools and grabbed a slice of American cheese from the fridge. Justin would be horrified. Last time she put out American cheese, he looked at her like she was dead to him. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”
Markus reached for a slice. “You have any crackers?”
“If you’re hungry, we had meat loaf for dinner.”
“Actually, I’m starving. I went straight from work to the gym. I’ve only had a protein smoothie.”
Her gaze flicked to his biceps as she plated him up a hefty slice of meat loaf.
He shut his eyes and savored. “Mmm. Gabby Greene…” She could tell when the taste, and—if she was honest with herself—the texture hit him, because he opened his eyes and struggled to swallow. “You can’t cook for shit, can you?”
She started laughing. She couldn’t.
“It was nothing but God that we recruited you. Someone had to save your family from this.”
“You are so right. I hate cooking.” She plopped a bottle of ketchup down for him. “This should help.”
He slathered the slice in ketchup. “So my advice for tomorrow…” He swallowed a gulp of wine to wash down the meat loaf. “Number one, no heels. I want you mobile. All of your clothes should be tactical, nothing that restricts your movement.”
She flashed back to falling on the donut earlier.
“Like those black pants you were wearing on Monday.” He gave a nod of approval. “Those would be perfect.”
Maybe he just thought they looked like track pants, but she blushed anyway.
“Second, you want to keep other people out of the way as much as possible. Fran is gonna be all over you, getting in the way and messing things up. Distract her.”
Good advice.
“But mostly, relax. Let your crazy grandma take care of the kids in the morning so that you aren’t too stressed when you get to the office. You’ve got this.”
“Thanks, Markus.” She didn’t know what to say to him. So many thoughts and feelings were bubbling to the surface where he was concerned. She didn’t know whether to trust him or if she could trust herself. Mostly she needed some sleep.
“Do you want to take some home?” She gestured to the meat loaf. “I made it for everyone to eat for dinner, but Granny fed them chicken wings at the bingo hall.”
“Actually, yes.”
“Man, how hard up are you?” she teased, depositing a heaping portion into a Tupperware, locking in the freshness as her own anxiety spiraled.
“You have no idea,” he said, making it sound like it had been a really long time since he’d gotten some.
“Oh, I bet I do.” If anyone knew about being hard up for some loving, it was her. The algorithm wasn’t wrong with all those vibrator ads.
He raised his eyebrows, and he looked almost about to say something.
At the door, she handed him his leftovers.
“Don’t worry, Gabby. You are doing so good. I’ve got you.”
All of her insecurities must have played across her face, because Markus said, “Do you need a hug?”
She nodded yes, and he wrapped her in the most comforting, warm, manly hug she’d ever had. All of her suspicions dissolved with his arms wrapped around her. She leaned in and shut her eyes. When she looked up, her lips brushed the skin on his neck. They stood like that for a few seconds too long, both probably considering what to do next. Markus looked at her, his eyes heavy-lidded. He leaned down as if to kiss her. After letting his lips just lightly brush hers, he backed away.
“I’m sorry, Gabby. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Shyly, she admitted, “I wanted it.”
A smile like he’d won the lottery lit up his face. He let his hand trail down her arm. As he was squeezing her hand, he slipped a flash drive into her palm. “Copy the files onto this.” A little huskier, he said, “Maybe we can revisit this after the mission is done?”
“Yes, please.”
Finally alone, Gabby collapsed on the couch with Mr. Bubbles. Family Feud was still playing, muted with the closed captioning on. She didn’t even have the energy to change the channel. Exhausted, Gabby wolfed down emotional chocolate and finished Granny’s wine.