Death Takes a Holiday (9 page)

“Mommy!” Carlos shouts as we walk out.

All eyes find me as I scan my crowd. Most seem pleased, but Steven’s reaction is priceless. His eyes all but bug out of his head. Thank you, Carolina Herrera. He hasn’t changed much at all. His hair is still spiky, and he wears an ugly black and white Hawaiian shirt with brown cargo pants and loafers. I tried for two years to get him out of those shirts. If we’d ever gotten married, I’d bet he and all his best men would wear them at the wedding. Reason number eleven I dumped him.

April has Flora, her two-year-old daughter, over by the picnic table. Flora insists on wearing only dresses, the pinker the better. Tonight is no exception. This one even has butterflies on it. She’s so easy to shop for. Carlos leads me to them, and Flora’s face lights up when she spots me.

“
Tia
Bea!” she says.

“Hello, lovely!” I say as I take the girl from her mother, hugging her tight. “Oh! You’ve all gotten so big I can hardly believe it!”

“I’m a big girl now,” Flora says.

“You really are.”

The little girl releases me and wiggles out of my grip.

“Did Daddy fix you up?” April asks Carlos, her attention diverted.

“He gave me a Spiderman,” Carlos answers.

“A Spiderman!” she says. “Good. Now go take your sister inside with the other kids and you can play with the Wii. Take turns!”

Carlos takes Flora’s hand, and they go back inside. April hands me a beer. “You look fancy.”

I pop the top and chug the beer. “Yeah, I’m a regular debutante,” I say with a smile.

“Steven hasn’t taken his eyes off you,” she says in sing-song.

“That was kind of the point of the dress,” I reply in sing-song.

“How diabolical of you.”

“I’ve been taking lessons.” I take another swig before Kenny saddles up to us, red Solo cup in his hand. Kenny works with April at the salon and is the definition of fabulous, or so he insists. Skinny, tall, nearly black skin, platinum hair. He spent an hour grilling me about Oliver and Will today. The bad thing about gossip is it goes both ways, and I’ve been the topic
du jour
for months. “If it isn’t Cinderella. You look faboo. Is that Chanel?”

“Carolina Herrera.”

“Spin for me, girl!” Kenny says.

I set my beer down on the table and twirl, catching a glimpse of a still-staring Steven. “There. I have performed my monkey trick of the night.”

“Can you believe this is the same girl who used to think Target was high end?” Kenny asks.

“Hey, don’t diss Tar-jay,” I warn.

April peeks over my shoulder. “Oops. Looks like Nana Liz cornered Steven.”

I turn around and sure enough Nana is chatting with my ex like two old friends. They did always like each other. She’d bake him banana bread, and he’d fix her shower. Yet he never fixed my shower, or toilet, or that picture frame he broke. “That’s what landlords are for,” he’d say. Ugh. Steven glances at me, and I turn back around.

“I always thought he was kind of cute,” Kenny says.

“He is,” I say after another swig. “He’s also inconsiderate, boorish, and just plain boring.”

“He was so in love with you,” April says, gazing over at them.

“And yet he never said it or showed it in two years.”

“Oh who cares?” Kenny asks. “She’s got two hot
tamales
fighting over her now.”

“They are not fighting over
me
,” I say. “They’re fighting between themselves. Not about me.”

“Yeah, just keep telling yourself that,” April says.

“Can we please stop talking about this already?” I ask. “I came home specifically so I wouldn’t have to think about this stuff.”

“Right now you’re the interesting one,” Kenny says. “That’s never happened before.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say.

“You’re welcome.”

“She was always interesting,” says April. “Just in a muted sort of way.”

“So why did Steven and Allison break up?” I ask, seriously wanting to steer the conversation away from me.

“He told Javi they ended things because she wanted to get married and he didn’t,” April says. “Looks like you ruined him for other girls.”

“Did not!”

“Well, I heard a different tale,” Kenny says. “I heard from Lola over at Misty Salon where Allison gets her hair done that
she
broke up with him.”

“Really?” April asks.

“Yeah. She thought he was cheating on her.”

“Steven would never do that,” I say.

“He’s a man,” Kenny says.

“He doesn’t have the imagination or initiative to juggle two wo-men,” I say.

“He’s. A. Man,” says Kenny. “No, Allison told Lola that he’d say he was going out with friends, but he wouldn’t invite her or tell her where. She even tried to follow him but lost him.”

“Sounds like a wonderful, trusting girlfriend,” I mutter.

“He wasn’t cheating on her,” April clarifies. “He just joined this bowling team and didn’t want her to tag along. That’s what he told Javi anyway.”

“Told ya,” I say to Kenny. “That man loves his bowling.” I feel his eyes on my back and on instinct my head swivels around. Sure enough those brown eyes are on me. Caught, he shyly smiles and looks away. I do the same. My ears are burning. I sigh. “I’m gonna have to go over there, aren’t I?”

“Eventually,” April says. “Let him stew a little bit more.”

“Wiggle your ass,” suggests Kenny. “Drive him nuts.”

“Shut up,” April says. “She’s not that mean.”

Kenny and I look at each other, smirk, and I shake my booty in time to the music. Kenny does the same, but April rolls her eyes. I’ve gotten in touch with my evil side in the past months. Mind you, torturing my ex doesn’t come close to some of the other stuff I’ve done, but this gives me a sick little thrill those other times didn’t. Oliver would be so proud.

“You’re going to hell,” April says, shaking her head.

“Yes, but she’ll be the belle of the ball there,” Kenny says. “Lucifer himself will ask her to dance.”

I stop dancing. “Enough playing.” I take another sip and sigh. “Time to get this over with.”

“It won’t be that bad,” April says.

“I have no idea what to say to him.”

“ ‘Ha ha, look what you let get away’?” Kenny suggests.

“Go get it over with, and I’ll reward you with a cherry margarita,” April says.

“With a sugar rim?”

“Of course. What are we? Heathens?”

“I want two. And flan.”

“Done. Now get over there. And be nice.”

“But not too nice,” Kenny says.

“Well, duh,” April says.

I roll my tongue over my teeth for any residual lipstick and smooth my dress. “I look okay?”

“Smashing,” Kenny says.

I’ll take it. I spin on my heels, toss my hair back like I’m in a shampoo commercial, and sashay myself across the lawn. When I reach Nana and Steven, Heidi Klum has nothing on me. I watch him watching me as I approach. Steven’s fake surprised smile takes ten years off his already boyish face. With those chipmunk cheeks, they’ll still card him when he’s forty.

“You looked like you were having fun,” Nana says.

“You know me,” I chuckle. “When the music’s right, I gotta dance.” My smile widens like I’m at the orthodontist. “Hello, Steven.”

“Bea,” he says, looking down at his beer. “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you. You too.” He does. He’s either had plastic surgery or he’s been eating his Wheaties. His skin has a glow and the small age lines around his eyes are gone—all in less than a year. Lucky him.

“I hope you don’t, you know, mind I’m here.”

“Of course not. It’s always nice to see you.”

Nana glances at Steven, then me. “I was just telling Steven about your new job.”

“I can see you’re doing well,” Steven says, still not looking at me.

“I think I’m going to find Hilda,” Nana says. “You two talk.”

I shoot her a look. Nana squeezes my arm before walking away. I’ll bet after a beer or two she and Mrs. R will be dancing on tables or passed out on the couch, or in the corner scrapbooking. She is the source of my lack of party genes. Before I had to start working nights, I barely left my house after dark. Heck, I would barely ever leave my apartment if not for April. Now I usually wake up at two and spend my evenings at bars or malls or just sitting outside having a glass of wine with Oliver. Weird how I just realized that.

“You really do look good, you know,” Steven says.

“My building has a gym,” I say, not really lying. “I get bored.”

He sips his beer. “So, Kansas, huh?”

“Kansas.”

“I was surprised to hear you left. I always pegged you for a lifer.”

“Needed a change. Kansas is as good a place as any.”

“How’s your head doing?”

“Hard as always. I’m completely healed. I don’t even get headaches anymore.”

“They ever figure out what happened?” he asks.

And here’s reason number fifteen I broke up with Steven: I knew if he ever found out what I can do, he’d probably arrest me for possession of a deadly weapon. He’s not the most open minded of people. We were together for two years and not
once
did I ever consider telling him about my gift. I took great pains to make sure he never found out. We never spent the whole night together in case I had a nightmare and the bed levitated. If I felt myself get too emotional, I’d walk away. If I ever slipped up and something was banging or floating, I’d distract him, usually with my feminine wiles, which would just lead to more problems. I’m amazed I was able to carry on for as long as I did.

“Blood clot,” I lie. “Gave me some medicine and no problems since.”

“Good. I was really worried,” he says.

“Thank you. The flowers meant a lot. Really.” His cheeks flare up a little from embarrassment. Guess my booty shaking did a number on him. We don’t say anything for an uncomfortable moment. Really, what do you say to the man whose heart you broke, or at least trampled on a little? “I’m sorry. About you and Allison. I thought you two were good together.”

“Yeah,” he says, still looking at his beer. “It hadn’t been working for a while. Nobody’s fault really. What about you? Seeing anyone?”

“Not really,” I say with a small smile. “I mean, it’s sort of
very
complicated.”

“How?”

I shake my head. “There’s this guy I like. A lot. But he’s … it can’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s sort of my boss, for one. He’s a widower. And … it’s just not going to work out.”

“That’s tough. But you’re okay out there besides that? Happy?”

“There are moments, I guess. For the most part I like it. I have friends. The job is very fulfilling when I’m not fending off the crazies.”

“One of those crazies do that to your neck and arms?” he asks, pointing to the scar on my neck (Oliver) and arms (zombies).

“Kids. There’s always a biter in the lot.” Time for a new topic. “What about you? How’s the job? Still on patrol with Artie?”

Artie being Artie Rupp, Steven’s partner of four years and a huge piece of work. Forty-five, divorced thrice, and still a patrolman after twenty years. From what I’m told, he failed the Sergeant’s exam five times before giving up; three for the Detective’s. I’m stunned he’s passed the physical every year with his constant smoking and forty extra pounds. I would not want him responding to an emergency of mine. He pinched my butt twice before I threatened to tell Steven. Never did though. Partly because I was afraid he’d punch Artie and partly because I was afraid he wouldn’t. I put it at fifty/fifty. I’d bet old Artie would flip his lid if he found out I was working for the FBI. It’s like the difference between high school football and the NFL.

“Yeah,” Steven says, “he’s good. Talking about getting married again.”

“Really? Who to?”

“Remember Wanda? The bartender at the bowling alley?”

“The one who looks like she’s been in the sun since the Seven-
ties?”

“That’s her,” he says. “They’ve been dating about two months now.”

“Well, good for them. Fourth time’s the charm, right?”

“I know you two never got along,” Steven says, “but he’s changed. Lost a lot of weight. You wouldn’t recognize him.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, sipping my beer. I have no desire to spend a second with that oaf. Once again Steven and I are locked in an uncomfortable silence. We’ve pretty much covered everything but the weather in polite conversation. Duty done. Cherry margarita time. “So, I’m gonna … ” I point to the house.

“Right. Yeah,” he stammers. “Talk to you … later.”

“Sure. Yeah.” With a gracious smile, I walk away toward the house.