Chapter 13
DOUSING
By late afternoon, as I’m stomping around the apartment and cursing the ground Rig walks on, more footsteps scuff on the metal of the stairwell outside my front door.
When I glance out the window for the second time, Marni’s head of blonde curls flashes past. She’s dropped by and not sent me a text first?
I don’t think she’s ever done that. When I open the door, she pushes into the kitchen looking weary and pissed.
“What’s up?” I say.
She shrugs off her coat, toeing off her shoes in the entryway. “Rig, that’s what’s up. I presume he’s holed up here?”
“He was for a few days. He’s gone back to the rigs now.”
“Carl, that fight … A lot of serious people lost a lot of money. I’ve kept my mouth shut.” She blows her curls out of her face. “But it’s costing me. I’m getting a load of hassle.”
“Why are you being hassled?”
“There weren’t many people in the bar the night you left with Rig, but there were some. I asked one or two people to keep quiet, but … now they’re asking for favors in return.”
“What kind of favors? And you can tell them he’s not here, Marn, because he really isn’t.” I sweep my hand around.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, a loud thumping starts up on the door, and when I peer out of the window, two huge guys are standing on my doorstep.
Honest to God, I’ve never been so popular.
No one ever visits this shithole of an apartment, mainly because I never invite anyone.
And who would? As I said, it’s a shithole.
And no amount of Rig’s cleaning and fixing can disguise that.
I open the door. “Can I help you?”
A hand comes out and lands on my collarbone, and I’m shoved backward as they barrel into the kitchen before I can say anything. One of them walks right past Marni, through my living room and into my bedroom.
“Excuse me?” I shout after him.
“Where is he?” the other one growls.
“What are you? The Miami Vice goon squad? You don’t just come in here and march through my apartment.”
He grins at me. “What you going to do about it?”
Fortunately, Marni has just as much attitude as me, because her phone is already pressed to her ear. “I’m calling the cops,” she says, examining a nail.
The guy leans over and takes the phone out of her hand. “Hey!” she says as he presses the button to end the call.
I narrow my eyes on him. “It doesn’t matter if you hang up, I’ve got cameras on this place.”
He laughs. “Girl, you’re hilarious. Cameras on a dump like this.”
“If you think I’m a single woman living on my own in town like this and I wouldn’t have cameras, then you’re the one who’s hilarious.”
“Give me my fucking phone, you big oaf,” Marni says, and a flush climbs up his neck and into his face.
“One day, girl, that mouth of yours is gonna land you in serious trouble.”
“Ha-fucking-ha. I’m always in serious trouble.”
I don’t see his hand come out; he moves so fast. He clips her across the face, and she screams as her face jolts to one side.
“What the fuck was that?” I shout.
And I don’t know what possesses me, but the anger bubbles up like a red mist, and before I’ve thought about what I’m doing, my hand is on the frying pan on the stovetop.
He doesn’t even have time to blink: I swing it into his face, putting my whole body weight behind it.
It smacks into the side of his head with a satisfying crunch, and satisfaction fizzes through my veins.
This is for Charlie, you asshole. No one hits my buddy and gets away with it.
“Arrgghh! You fucking bitch!” he shouts, grabbing the handle and twisting it out of my grasp. His friend appears in the doorway to the living room.
“What the fuck, Dean? You fighting with a couple of women?”
Unfortunately, Dean has now got hold of the pan, and he stands in the middle of the kitchen, breathing heavily, a huge red welt all down the side of his face.
Dean’s buddy in the doorway shakes his head. “He’s not here.”
“Who?” I say.
And the guy in the doorway’s eyes narrow on me as he points a finger. “Don’t play that game, girl.”
“What game?”
“Rig,” Dean says, nursing his jaw with one hand.
I shake my head. “Why would Rig be here?” I hope my acting skills are as sharp as they were in college.
“Heard you hooked up with him, girl.”
“And?”
“I told you,” Marni says. “But would you believe me? No. You’re a couple of stupid heavies with shit for brains. Why would a guy go back to someone he’s hooked up with? It’s always a one-time deal. Come on, that’s like the oldest rule in the book.”
I think she’s overplaying this, but yeah, good call, Marni. And she’s judged these guys better than me, because I can tell right away it’s always a one-time deal with them. I’m surrounded by assholes.
“You see him, I wanna know,” the man in the doorway growls, moving toward my front door. “Come on, Dean, you jackass. Fighting with women.” He heads out the door, shaking his head.
Dean throws the pan at my fridge, denting the door. Fucking hell. That’s a repair I can’t afford.
“My fucking fridge!” I shout.
“You’re lucky you’ve got no broken bones, girl,” he grunts at me, glowers at both of us for several seconds before following his buddy out the door.
Maybe Rig wasn’t far off the mark with his idea of teaching me to fight.
Looks like I might need it. And Rig can pay for that fridge repair next time he’s back in town.
Except now I’m not speaking to him because he’s got an apartment he didn’t tell me about with another woman who may or may not still be his girlfriend.
“Did that just happen?” I say.
“They’re idiots,” Marni says. “Angelo and Marco made a ton of money on that fight, and they want Rig to fight again. They’re going to be very unhappy with a couple of guys waltzing around town threatening him.”
I glance at the red mark on her face. “We need to ice your cheek, Marn.”
“Oh my God!” She races through to my bathroom, and a loud shriek echoes through the walls.
I take a deep breath and study my now-blue kitchen linoleum. There’s no avoiding talking to Rig now, is there? A visit from a couple of heavies is far too important to ignore.