Darlene Read online

  "Good night?" I mean it as reciprocation, but it ends up more like a question. Yes, that's what he means. My mouth is slightly open as Kevin turns and walks out of the elevator. Resting my hand on one of its doors, I peek my head out.

  He looks back. "Come on," he says, laughing. "Wasn't that the awfully damned good time you wanted?"

  All I can do is smirk and let the doors kiss just before I'm whisked above a few floors. I'm used to getting what I want and this is not going according to plan. Perhaps I've underestimated the nice guy that I think is Kevin MacInness who still has my wet panties in his left hand.

  Chapter 6

  As usual, the weather's nice today. I finish my cheese and egg white omelet, fresh berries and almond latte on the patio overlooking the pool. People are milling about already, the sun worshippers on duty at their respective stations next to the pool. For a minute, I'm slightly jealous, but I remember that I'm here to do a job and that's it. I'll vacation later in a far more fabulous place. I've only got another day to prepare for my heist and slip the hell out of town before I'm noticed.

  And I'm thinking about Mister Kevin MacInness too. Bastard, I think to myself as I sip my coffee. A mischievous smile plasters my face. Get me all riled up sucking the hell out of me on an elevator and then slips off like nothing happened. I'll be prepared for him next time.

  I'd printed the flyer for the gem show from the Internet and I study it intensely. I see an impressive list of dealers from all over the country. I get excited just thinking about all the sparkly diamonds and colored gems I'll hold after I steal them. Maybe I'll cover myself with them and lay in the bed naked afterward. A slight smile crosses my face. I'm soon jolted from my little fantasy, however.

  "All set, ma’am?" My friendly redhead—definitely not natural—waitress is collecting my plate and hovering over me again.

  I growl inside. She called me ma’am. "Yes, that'll be it." I'm curt with the young waitress as she hands me a receipt showing my meal to be billed to my room. I push my chair back haphazardly and toss my napkin on the table.

  I'm low key today with a pair of black Dickies, a matching black tee shirt and sneakers. My hair is pulled back into a pony tail so that I can pull my ball cap on with ease. It's in my bag, a natural-colored canvass number made for the beach but it'll hold all of my tools just fine. The sun beats down on me in front of the hotel as I start to walk south toward the convention center. No cab today. I don't want anyone remembering that they saw me.

  When I get to the massive, gray-brown stone building that is the Pricewater, I slip around the side to a loading dock door. I look up in several directions trying not to look too suspicious. I already know that there are two cameras: one on the loading dock door and another attached to a telephone pole that looks like the scanning variety. That means it can get video from the building side entrances as well as the street. I make a mental note about the scan as I slide my fake name tag onto the tee shirt. I move quickly, my head slightly down. As I suspected, there are deliveries coming in this time of morning. The produce truck and its driver provide a needed distraction.

  "How you doin'?" the driver asks me as I walk by.

  "Good, thanks." I slip in the door without taking a breath until I see the shadow from the sunlight outside fade. I'm in. I meet two hallways moving in opposite directions and pause for a minute.

  "This your first day?"

  The pace of my heart quickens sharply.

  "What?" I look at the gray-haired, slightly disheveled looking man trying to hide my surprise. Of course, he's dressed in a black tee and black pants like me. Or, I'm dressed like him, seeing as I'm supposed to pass for maintenance.

  "Didn't mean to scare ya."

  It didn't work, apparently.

  "You looking for the office?"

  "Oh. Yeah," I finally sputter. I avoid eye contact and push my cap down a little more over my eyebrows. "I'm looking for Rita." She would be the woman I hung up on this morning when I called to ask for the maintenance supervisor. Never would have suspected a Rita at all. Maybe a John. Or, a Joe … even a Mike, but not a damned Rita.

  "Rita's office is down that way," the man said, pointing to the hallway to my right. "Just make a left when you get to the double doors."

  "Cool. Thanks." I smile, pretending to be friendly. I start to walk in the other direction, listening for his footsteps.

  "Yeah, no problem." He walks off, keys jingling on his waist.

  I slide along the wall with my head down trying not to be noticed when I hear voices.

  "Haaaahhhhh, girrrrrl, we kicked it last night!"

  The banter interrupts my thoughts. I linger around the corner from Rita's office, sneaking a peak with one eye around the painted cement block wall.

  "We sho' did. I was wasted off that Hpnotiq!"

  I roll my eyes. I see a large black woman with tits as big as her belly and an ill-fitting lace front wig. She's hovering over some other worker bees: a skinny black chick with braids and a thick white girl with chunky highlights and too much eye makeup. Guessing from the look of their uniforms, they're part of the cleaning crew.

  "For real! The show was hot too. Lisa, you need to tell yo' man quit trippin' and hang out wit' us tomorrow," the white girl tells the skinny chick.

  "I'll try to get a babysitter. I don't know."

  "Hoooney, the fellas was all up on me." The extra large one's talking now. I frown in disbelief.

  "Puh-lease, Rita!" the white girl waves her off. "You're a trip."

  So that's Rita. Damn, she sounded much more professional by phone.

  "You better hear me! I got a couple of numbers and this sexy ass Mexican was all up in it last night."

  Eww, I think. I shake my head. These bitches need to go clean somewhere, quickly. I need to get in that office.

  "Girrrrl, I rode them two inches like a champ!"

  They laugh, their rambunctious chatter louder now.

  "She is a mess, for real," the skinny black girl chides.

  "Don't hate me for it. A sista gotta get it in." Rita's tone turns more serious. "Speaking of getting it in, I'mma need y'all to get back to work. Ballroom 115 needs cleaned up, and it's time for the restroom check. And tell Remy to replace the projector lamp in Meeting Room D. Hook it up."

  "All right."

  "Got it."

  The girls move the opposite direction as Rita walks her fat ass in my mine. "Shit," I hiss before slipping behind the corner again. Thankfully, she pushes the button to call the service elevator and keeps her back toward me. My chest is pounding, second-guessing my decision to just walk my overconfident self in here looking for a set of keys. I must need a vacation. The elevator dings and she waddles on. When the doors close, I make my move.

  I open the office door slowly, eyeing the wall of keys just inside the doorway. It stinks in here, a combination of sweat, cleaning chemicals, old food and farts. I wave my hand in front of my nose for a minute, taking inventory. My eyes search the keys quickly. I only need a key to that delivery door. I spot them, hanging almost in a row of their own, two of them. I pull out my clay, ready to make a mold. I smile, holding my new prize tightly in my palm, but careful not to press too hard. Of course I couldn't take the key—they'd change the locks in a New York minute. I saw this on TV once, though. I just hope this shit works.

  Mission accomplished. Well, almost. I slowly open the office door and look up and down the hall as I ease out, swiftly making my way back toward the loading dock doors. I feel the urge to run, but I know it's not wise. I stay cool. Finally, I reach the heavy loading dock doors. I exhale as my hand presses the door handle and I can see the sliver of daylight that sends my mood soaring.

  "Hey!"

  I freeze—literally. I can't move. In what seems like minutes, my head swivels to look behind me. It's the white girl with the chunky highlights. She's staring me down, probably asking herself if she knows me. She moves quickly in my direction and I resist the urge to run.

  "You must re
ally be in a hurry to end your shift." She pulls something out of her pocket. "You dropped this."

  "Thanks," I reply, my mouth unusually dry. It's a twenty dollar bill. I laugh inside, because it's not mine at all. I pull the bill of my cap down again. "You don't know how much I appreciate that. I need my bus fare."

  "No problem," she says nonchalantly. "Have a good one." Just like that, she brushes past me, eager to get to her smoke break, distracted by the buzzing of her cell phone.

  She's completely zoned out now, and I can get the hell out of here. A few blocks away, closer to my hotel, I duck into an alley and toss the hat and tee shirt into a dumpster. The tank I'd been wearing underneath is soaked with sweat. I put on a pair of oversized sunglasses and walk the rest of the way to my hotel, running my plans through my mind. I promise myself that after this, I'm taking a serious vacation.

  Chapter 7

  Back at the hotel, I pass the lobby bar and rush to the elevator. I don't want to run into Adam, for sure. He'd already left a note on my door, which I ignored. I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have told him I was there for the gem show. I guess the dick made me heady.

  As soon as I push the door to my room open, I smell them. A beautiful arrangement of tropical flowers in an exquisite crystal vase awaits me. I sniff them. "Gorgeous," I say aloud, twisting open a bottle of San Pellegrino from the mini bar. I snatch the card up as I notice the box of truffles. I'll eat those after dinner for sure. Sex and chocolate: my albatrosses. I unfold the card, and my suspicion is confirmed: Last night was great. Meet me in the lobby at six for an even better night. - Kevin

  I snicker. Clearly, he likes to be in control. I'll allow him this one indulgence before I rip him off. I start thinking about everything I'm going to do to him as I check my closet for the sexiest thing I brought. I push several outfits out of the way and settle on a pair of leather pants with a see-through flowing tank and stilettos boasting Swarovski crystals. I lay out a lacy strapless bra too—screw the panties.

  I grab my throw-away cell phone from my bag. My fingers press the numbers I know all too well and listen for the ring.

  "Hello?" The voice, perky and sweet, answers from the other end, even though she doesn't know it's me.

  "Nelly."

  "Hey," she responds, sounding more cautious. "You okay?"

  "I'm good. How's my little guy?" I'm talking about my godson, Nelly's son Kyle.

  "Just as exhausting as ever," Nelly says, her tone somewhat upbeat again.

  "I need a favor." Nelly doesn't respond. She knows I only call from the road when I need cover. "Does your uncle still own that locksmith franchise out in Chula Vista?"

  "Yeah, my uncle Kip," Nelly replies in the midst of a yawn. "Sorry—long day. You need some keys I gather?"

  "Just one," I reply. "Can you call ahead for me?"

  "What am I supposed to say, Darlene? I'm not used to lying to my family. Just yours."

  Ouch. I inhale before I give a half-assed apology. "I know. I'm sorry. Just tell him I need a key to a storage unit, and I don't want to pay the lost key fee."

  "That's lame."

  "Okay, well, I'm a landlord and I need an extra key for an apartment I own."

  "You're great at stealing, clearly. You need to work on your stories," Nelly snorts. "I'll call him. The storage locker lie sounds better."

  "Thanks, babe." I smile. "I'll be out there first thing in the morning."

  "Okay." She pauses. "When are you coming home?"

  "I'll need to vacation for a bit after this. Probably about three or four weeks or so."

  "Great, so you'll be home just before Christmas."

  "Wouldn't miss it."

  "You know I'm going to get a call from your mother if you don't call her and let her know you're not showing up for Thanksgiving."

  "I'll handle that, don't worry."

  I hear Kyle in the background, fussing about something or other. "I've gotta start making some dinner here. Darlene, you be careful, okay?"

  "Always. Bye, Nelly." I blow a kiss into the phone and end the call. Now keenly aware of my body sweat, I'm looking forward to a long, hot shower.

  After my shower, I throw on a stringy thong bikini and a sarong, then head down for some sunbathing. I grab my room key, the remaining Pellegrino and my canvass bag now filled with magazines and head out to relax.

  "Damn!" I snap, as I take a step backward into my room. As soon as I'd opened the door, Adam was standing in the hall and scared the hell out of me.

  "I'm sorry," he replied slyly, showing all his teeth. "Can you come out to play? Or, rather, stay in to play?" He eyes me up and down. The look on his face changes when he realizes the look on mine doesn't. Then I remember that I'd forgotten about our loose afternoon date.

  "Sorry. Was just heading out, Adam." I say his name on purpose. It works, because his jaws go slack with disappointment.

  "Oh. My bad. Didn't know you had plans."

  "It's okay," I say. "Maybe we can have a drink later on."

  "Yeah." Awkward pause. "Okay, have fun … wherever you're going."

  "I will," I purr, smiling at him as he heads toward the stair well.

  ***

  The smile I'd given Adam earlier was just as genuine as the one that now lights up my face for Kevin. They just had different meanings, you see. This smile is one of sheer excitement, because not only do I hope to get a little closer to Kevin tonight to get more goods on this damned gem show, the probability is high that I'll get to ride some good dick in the process.

  "Someone's happy to see me." Kevin beams as well.

  Right now, I feel like an old vinyl is scratching somewhere in the universe. We're not in love. I've got to quit this shit. My cheeks rest a bit, drawing my grin into more of a pleasant smile. "I'm looking forward to this authentic Italian meal you've promised."

  Kevin's smile relaxes as well, albeit for a different reason. "Hopefully you won't be disappointed."

  After a very short cab ride, he takes my arm and we walk into an indistinct, dimly lit Italian restaurant a few blocks away from the hotel. Dinner service is just starting, but there are already a number of tables filled. A good sign. Of course, Kevin asks for a quiet booth in the back and the teenaged hostess leads us there with decorum and grace.

  "Sasha will be your server this evening. Enjoy."

  "Thanks," Kevin and I both reply in chorus.

  I'm quiet, waiting for him to say something interesting. I don't want to sound too eager to talk about the gem show, so I'm happy when he suggests that we start with a wine.

  "So, white or red?"

  "I love both," I say, just as our waitress Sasha approaches, with rosy cheeks and pleasant eyes as if she were fashioned just to wait tables.

  "Hello! I'm Sasha, and I'll be taking care of you. Can I get you started with some drinks?" She smiles and nods, as if we need to be coaxed to eat.

  "I think we'll order all at once and perhaps you can check back before dessert?" Kevin gives her a fatherly smile.

  I like Kevin MacInness a little more after this assertive move. We'll be able to talk uninterrupted, which I like.

  "Sure," Sasha nods again, still smiling.

  Kevin looks at me. "You don’t mind if I order for the both of us do you?"

  "Not at all," I say, my voice husky. The biggest hurdle I'll have for tonight is remembering that for now, we're on a date. Kevin wants to give me an incredible dining experience. I'll get to the diamonds and dick later.

  "Great." He turns to Sasha. "For the antipasti, we'll both have chopped salad and arancini. For the primo, we'll take the baked cod and steamed mixed vegetables with the three cheese tortellini. And please bring us a bottle of Pinot Grigio."

  "My pleasure," Sasha responds, sauntering off toward the kitchen. She knows we'll be here for a while, I suppose.

  I seize my chance. "So, why a gem dealer? I mean, how does one get into that business?"

  "You're an inquisitive one," Kevin replies, smiling. He l
eans across the table and takes my hand. "I got into the business two fathers-in law ago and haven't looked back."

  My eyebrows go up. "Two?"

  "Yes," Kevin sighs as he drums his fingers nervously on the table. He shrugs. "Unfortunately, both of my marriages have been incredible failures."

  "I'm sorry." I feel genuinely sad for him. It's obvious that I've struck a nerve without meaning to. "We don’t have to talk about that."

  "Oh, no. Please … I don't mean to be morose."

  I sip the water that Sasha has put on our tables for the time being, nearly spitting out a laugh.

  "What?"

  "Morose? So, not only are you a gem dealer, twice-divorced New England boy who can only make girls, you're a fucking poet too?"

  Kevin chuckles as well. "Only make girls? Talk about an uppercut."

  "Of course you know I'm joking," I say, purposely taking longer than necessary to corral my straw with my tongue.

  "Yes, yes." Kevin waves at me. "I know."

  "Do you think you'll get married again?" I'm more serious now.

  "Who knows? I haven't ruled out the possibility."

  His eyes bore into mine, into my clothes, the skin beneath. For the first time, I'm uncomfortable, but not because of Kevin's glare. It's the threat of normalcy in my life. Things regular people do like fall in love, make babies, and raise them in surburbia in cookie cutter houses with two-car garages and good schools nearby. I'm glad for Sasha, who breaks silence with our salads. Kevin will tip her well, I'm sure, because she sets our food on the table so stealthily I almost forget she's there until she asks, "Would you like any parmesan?" Kevin and I both request healthy shavings of the creamy cheese and dig in.

  "This is delicious," I say between bites of the small, fried balls he's ordered. "What are these?"

  "Heaven," he says. "They're fried balls with rice and cheese." He pauses to wipe his mouth. "Your turn."

  I take a gulp of the Pinot, buying myself some time. I fold my arms in my lap, trying to look nonchalant. "What do you want to know?" I'm going to make it up anyway.

  "Okay," Kevin grins, leaning back in his chair. "I'm going to ask this question at the risk that you'll never talk to me again, or that you'll think I'm the biggest moron on planet."