False Start (26 page)

Just as she was about to dash down the hall and grab her Louisville Slugger from under her bed, the man on the couch called out to her.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Her heart pounding, Mattie turned and faced him, making sure she spoke loud enough to be heard on the other end of the line, but not so loud as to raise his suspicions. "Eddie DeRosa. I can't believe my eyes."

It wasn't hard for her to sound genuinely happy to see him. He had greeted her like that so many times before, pretending she was a sight for sore eyes when all he really wanted was a free meal, someone to do his homework while he went out on a date, or somewhere to hide when he was in trouble.

Old habits die hard.

He sat up. The megawatt smile he shot at her fell more than a few amps short, and its affect was far less dazzling than it used to be.

"God, you're a sight for sore eyes."

Bingo.

"It's so good to see you," he blathered. "I've missed you more than you can imagine."

If he had shown up a year earlier, this would've been, hands down, the best day of her life. As it was, all she wanted to do was flatten his head with her cast-iron skillet.

"Uh, how did you get into my apartment?" she asked as if she was just realizing the enormity of his infraction.

He dug into his pocket and held up a key.

She had completely forgotten that she had given it to him. Maybe because he had never used it.

Remembering the detective's instructions, she forced herself to calm down and do whatever she could to stall him. "Oh, right," she chuckled. "My bad. So, how've you been?"

He ran his hands across his face, took a deep breath, and smiled. "I've been better."

Wanting to stay close to the phone, she asked, "Can I get you anything?" She opened her fridge. "Water? Or, um, well, I really don't have anything besides that."

"How 'bout you come over here?" Eddie patted the couch cushion next to him.

Mattie looked at the spot and folded her arms. She had no intention of getting anywhere near him if she could help it.

"How about something to eat? You must be hungry."

He stood up.

Maybe it was because her apartment was so small, but he seemed taller than she remembered. And, given his homeless-guy-wearing-Armani look, he was seriously creeping her out.

 "Yeah, I wouldn't blame you for being upset," he said. "I hope you can forgive me."

Mattie lifted her chin and did her best to sound perky. "It's been three years, Eddie. Water under the bridge."

Her eyes darted to her phone. She was beginning to wonder if she hit the Talk button. As he edged toward her, she struggled to remember what had attracted her to him in the first place.

"So, what are you doing back in Chicago? Miss the deep dish?"

Eddie looked around her unit. She noticed his gaze hone in on her phone. "I'm meeting up with some old business partners and need a place to stay. You were always after me to spend the night." He held out his hands in front of him and said, "Here's your chance."

Scum. Bag.

She didn't even try to hide the grimace she felt spreading across her face.

In a pathetic attempt to sound coy, he added, "And I'm a little strapped for cash."

She backed up against her kitchen counter.

"You're welcome to stay her for a couple of days, but I'm still paying off the wedding, Eddie. I don't have any money."

Desperate to get her baseball bat, she forced a laugh and said, "I'll go get some sheets."

When she reached over to grab her phone, he caught her arm and pulled her against him.

Putting a hand on either side of her head, he worked his fingers into her hair and breathed, "That's a lie. I happen to know you came into some cash recently. Your Aunt Vivienne, right? I could never stand that old bag. Who knew she was loaded?"

His eyes bore into her as he shoved her back against the counter. He lowered his hands, running them down the length of her neck. "You look so different. Let's say we go into the bedroom and get reacquainted. It's been so long."

Feeling his hot breath on her skin, she shut her eyes. How long had she yearned for this kind of contact with Eddie? How long had she fantasized about him wanting her as much as she wanted him? Now that he was here, all she could think about was Nick.

"Not yet," she urged. "You just got here."

Ignoring her plea, he groped her breasts.

As Mattie tried pushing his hands away, she heard the faint swoosh of the side entrance door opening.

So did Eddie. He froze and asked, "What was that?"

Taking advantage of the distraction, she pushed him off her. He staggered back and leered like a horny frat boy at his first kegger party.

"What's the matter? You don't like my new look?"

Sneering, she replied, "I didn't know snakes could grow beards."

At that, he lunged for her. Lifting her up on her kitchen counter, he started kissing her neck while reaching under her dress.

She tried fending him off with her right hand while she stretched her left hand behind her, grabbing at anything she could use to inflict pain.

Just as he released her to undo his own pants, her fingertips found the perfect deterrent—her two-carat, pear-shaped wedding ring, lying forgotten between her rarely-used toaster and coffee pot.

Slipping it on her finger behind her back, she gave him another hard shove.

Guess all those pushups paid off.

Before he realized what was happening, she slid off of the counter and said, "This is for what you did to me," and kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.

Contorted in pain, he started to crumple in slow motion. When his face was in striking range, she said, "And this is for what you did to Nick."

She cocked her left arm back and slammed her fist against his jaw with everything she had in her.

Eddie toppled back, tripped over her armchair, and landed on her living room carpet.

Better not bleed on it,
was her last thought before she felt herself sink to the floor, trembling, and cradling her left hand.

Two police officers had burst through the door, guns drawn, just as she knocked out her former fiancé. Detective Rohmer followed. After checking to see that Eddie was no longer a threat, he knelt before Mattie.

Grabbing a sweater she had draped over the back of her kitchen chair, he wrapped it around her shoulders. "That took a lot of guts, young lady. You OK? Let's take a look at that hand."

When Eddie let out a pathetic moan, Mattie heard the detective call over his shoulder, "Cuff him. And get an ambulance over here."

*  *  *

By late September, the faces of the residents in Chicago's Wrigleyville neighborhood were already bearing the all-too-familiar "maybe next year" wistfulness of seasons past.

Sitting at a sports bar near Clark and Addison, Nick's friend and former classmate Scott Murphy hypothesized, "Rooting for the underdog, it's who we are. It's what we do."

He held up his bottle. "To the underdogs."

"Underdogs." Nick held up his beer and clinked it against Scott's, his mind elsewhere.

He had paid a visit to the shelter earlier in the day. After accepting Scott's invitation to watch the last Cubs game of the season with him that night, he ran into John, the captain of the shelter's running team.

"Hey, Nick, you'll never guess who I saw today."

"Gimme a hint."

John thought for a minute. "Pretty."

Nick shook his head. "I'm drawin' a blank."

"Uh, runner?"

Narrowing his eyes, Nick repeated, "Runner. A pretty runner. Male or female?"

John made a face.

"Sorry. I'm just messin' with ya. Give me another hint."

Thinking for a minute, John pointed at him and said, "OK, I got it. And if you can't guess after I give you this one, I won't bother telling you what she told me to tell you."

This peaked Nick's interest. Fighting back the urge to grab John by his shirt and shake it out of him, he instead took a deep breath and said, "Gimme the hint."

"Writer."

 "Mattie Ross?"

"Bingo, man."

"Where'd you see her?"

"Running on the lakefront. This morning. With the guys. I think we scared her."

In his don't-make-me-hurt you voice, Nick asked, "Why? What did you do?"

"Nothing. It's just, there were a lot of us and just one of her."

Nick had shadowed her most mornings, but not that one.

"What's the message?"

"It was weird. Didn't make any sense."

"Tell me."

"Mathilde Jean can't find her kick."

His heart twisted into a knot when he heard it. She needed him, but as her coach or something more?

Hours later, he was still contemplating how to respond to her when Scott nudged him.

"Hey, look. You're on the news."

Nick looked at the flat screen TV over the bar and saw a picture of Eddie in a business suit, then a video clip of him being led away in handcuffs in front of a two-story house tucked next to a gray stone apartment building.

 "Jesus," he muttered. "Hey, can you turn that up?" he asked the bartender.

"…most wanted list captured tonight at this near north side residence by none other than Mattie Ross, a member of our very own Griffin Media team. Miss Ross, taken to an area hospital where she is being treated for non-life threatening injuries she suffered in the attack, was unavailable for comment."

"Holy shit," Scott exclaimed.

Nick would've heard him, too, if he weren't already storming out the door.

It had been many months since he got a good look at Mattie's driver's license, but her address was still burned into his brain.

2535 N. Bailey Court, Apt. 2

By the time he arrived, just one squad car remained, and two officers stood next to it, talking. When one of the officers spotted Nick approaching, he immediately reached for his gun.

"Easy. I'm not who you think. I'm his brother. I can prove it."

When he reached for his wallet, the officer barked, "Keep your hands where I can see 'em."

His partner approached Nick and started to frisk him.

With both hands in the air, Nick said, "Check my license. Back pocket. Right side."

After checking his credentials, the first cop to pull a gun on him said, "You're a dead ringer, man."

"Not exactly," Nick replied. "I got this." He pointed proudly to the scar Mattie had given him.

The cop shook his head. "That's not gonna work for you anymore, pal. After tonight, your brother's gonna have the same thing."

Nick shoved his wallet back into his pocket. "Is Mattie all right? Can you tell me where I can find her?"

The second officer responded. "Sorry, we can't give out that information."

Nick looked away for a moment. "Listen, he didn't
? Did he—? Was she
?"

He couldn't bring himself to articulate his greatest fear.

The officer shook his head. "No worries, man. We got there just in time."

"Oh, thank God." Nick ran both hands through his hair.

"She should be fine once they get the cast on."
"Cast?"

"Yeah. She broke three fingers on her left hand when she slugged him. I saw it happen. Knocked him out cold."

Both officers frowned as Nick let out a laugh.

That's my girl.

"Life itself is the proper binge."

–
Julia Child

After learning what he could about Mattie's condition from the police, Nick's first instinct was to call her sister. Claudia invited him to join her at the hospital. He agreed, but on one condition.

"Don't tell her I'm coming."

Claudia agreed and told him to text her when he arrived.

Hopping into the back of a nearby cab, Nick shot out, "Chicago General."

Having convinced himself for so long that should Eddie ever re-emerge, Mattie would run to him with open arms, he spent the entire ride to the hospital trying to take in what had just happened.

Twenty minutes later he stood in the emergency room full of energy, his mind clearer than it had been in months.