Look Before You Jump (19 page)

Still, Reggie was living proof that with
enough hard work, dedication, and talent – not to mention the right
connections – anyone could rehab their image from bad boy to the
area’s leading interior designer. Texas mojo and the American
entrepreneurial spirit at its finest. Just don’t judge him by the
personal fashion sense.

Reggie looked wide-eyed around my living
room, pursed his lips then chucked my chin. “So zis is where
leettle Victoria has been hiding herself, no?”

Mom interjected, “Some thief had the audacity
to break into my daughter’s apartment. Just look at the place.”

After a quick peck in greeting to both Mom
and Janine, Reggie took my mother’s advice. No one spoke as Reggie
followed the cat trails we’d created through the heap that had
become my apartment. A
hmm
vibrated from the bedroom.
Tsk-tsk
echoed in the bathroom before he made his return to
the living room. With one hand on his black leather-clad hip and
the other with a finger at the corner of his lips, Reggie completed
a series of three-hundred-and-sixty degree turns encompassing the
living, dining, and kitchen before passing sentence.

“Zis place is a mess.”

I laughed out loud at the obvious.

“But not beyond saving,
mein
liebchen
,” Reggie continued with a flourish of his hands. “Zis
is why mothers call, no?”

“Where do you think we should start?” Mom
asked.

“Don’t you think we should finish cleaning
first?” Janine put in.

I simply stood by and watched the show,
knowing I’d lost complete control of my apartment the moment Mom
hit speed dial. But even in the loud outfit, I trusted Reginald. I
think. Maybe.

“Not to worry,” Reggie said, “tis all part of
zee plan.” A sharp clap of his hands made all of us jump.
“Han!”

Reggie’s diminutive Asian assistant came
scurrying in pushing a small, metal cart loaded with decorator
books, fabric swatches, carpet swatches, paint and tile samples,
you name it. I immediately felt a headache coming on and wanted to
hug the medicine cabinet like an accountant during tax season. Only
the medicine cabinet was no longer there.

“Um, Mom?” I called, joining her overlooking
the kitchen island. “Not that I don’t appreciate seeing Reggie, but
I can no longer afford to piddle in your park. How much is this
gonna cost me?”

“That reminds me,” Mom said. “Reginald, this
place needs a full and total remodel. Design, furniture,
electronics, everything. Include a full security system as
well.”

Reggie’s ebony eyes shined with dollar signs,
and Han sped up laying out sample books across the counter. I felt
like I’d just been bucked from a bronco into next week.

“I can’t afford this, Mom.”

“Really, Victoria. Who do you think is paying
for it all?”

The black AmEx came to mind. I considered my
word carefully. “Dad?”

“Exactly,” she replied without missing a
beat. “Since it’s obvious you won’t be returning to the family home
anytime soon, I need the assurance that my daughter is comfortable
and safe. What’s a few hundred thousand to a mother’s peace of
mind?”

I gulped. It’s not a piddle in the park,
that’s for sure.

With a need to wash my tainted clothes, not
to mention desperation to escape the madness overtaking my
apartment, I snatched up a load or two in a basket and crept
downstairs to the communal laundry. I had to have something to wear
to work tonight.

Normally on Saturdays I wore something
awesome and sexy. Made me feel all flirty, which helped me connect
with patrons of the male persuasion, which garnered better tips.
However, most of those little numbers were dry clean only types.
Even though my mother would offer to pay for the one-hour dry
cleaning service, the remodel of my apartment was more than enough
to set her back for the next few months – more like hours on the
sperm donor’s dime. I just didn’t want to milk it any more than
necessary.

After all, I was a proud independent woman
now. Well, sorta.

Tonight it would be simple – jean shorts and
a colorful, scoop neck t-shirt. After dumping denim in one washer
and colors in another, I sat down in a corner and fought the urge
to fall asleep. Forty minutes later, the buzz woke me enough to
stumble across the room to fill a dryer before reentering dreamland
and all it entailed.

Made me miss Nick even more. Maybe he’d
returned from parts unknown and we could meet up at the bar tonight
for a session of extreme stress release. It’d save me having to
face Zeke again – until I had to pick up Slinky in the morning.

I couldn’t keep treating my poor, traumatized
kitty to a life of vagrancy, staying at Zeke’s one night and
somewhere else the next. If I could just get my apartment cleaned
up and buy a new mattress, I could stay here. Honest I could.
‘Cause even though he’d probably say yes, asking Nick to let us
shack up with him for a few days was too intimate. Out of the
question. No way, no how, and a great big
hell
no.

The snort and drool trickle woke me from my
musings right before the dryer buzzed like an alarm clock. A few
other tenants had arrived for laundry duty, so I shoved mine into
the basket and lugged my exhausted and stiff carcass up to the
fourth floor.

It’s amazing what a team of big strong men
can do in less than two hours. In my absence, Reggie had called in
the cavalry – and then some. About ten sweaty guys swarmed my
one-bedroom apartment, tugging up carpet from a virtually blank
slate, ripping cabinets from my kitchen, and carrying out the final
remnants of the trash heap. My jaw almost hit the floor.

“What in the…heck?”

I quickly modified my preferred wording when
Mom turned around from where she stood by the window seat, ear to
the phone and jaw determined. Thankfully Slinky’s favorite window
seat haunt hadn’t been destroyed – yet. Jimmy-the-Super stood in
the center of my living room, alternately yelling at the workers to
stop tearing up carpet and targeting Reggie and Han, who pretty
much ignored him and continued comparing swatches and paint
samples.

Janine was nowhere to be found. Then the
bedroom door crept open a fraction of an inch and a recognizable
blue eye shown through the crack. I scuttled past everyone and
joined her before dropping the laundry basket on the vacant floor
of my bedroom.

“What’s going on, Janine?” I asked.

“Your mom’s gone a little, shall we say,
nuts.”

“I can see that.”

“She and Reginald got it in their heads to do
a complete overhaul of your apartment,” Janine replied, “including
structural.”

So much for buying a new mattress and staying
here during a quick reno. “But she can’t do that. I don’t own, I
rent.”

“Which is why your super is here raising
cain. He’s threatened to call the cops.”

“Oh great, just what I need right now. More
vice visitors.”

Janine’s cell phone rang. While she spoke to
her mom, I contemplated what it would be like to watch the police
haul my bound and determined mother off to jail. I doubted if I
could convince them to trade her out for my dad instead. After all,
his AmEx card was the culprit behind this current chaos.

When Janine hung up her phone, my brain
shifted gears with her words faster than my Vette on the
freeway.

“Bobby’s been bailed from jail.”

***

The yellow crime scene barrier was gone when
we pulled up to Bobby’s house. Freshly showered, shaved, and
dressed, he answered the door with a surprising sparkle in his blue
eyes.

“I have a new mission,” Bobby said before
Janine or I could ask.

We followed him into the living room in
stunned silence and sat together on the beige couch while he
continued the stunning reveal.

“I’m going to start a prison ministry.”

Janine was the first to find her tongue. “But
what about the children’s pastorate at the church?”

“Dad’s already begun the search for someone
else to fill that position.”

“Wait a minute,” I said with just a touch of
heat. “Your father
fired
you?”

“No, no, no,” Bobby reassured. “I quit.”

Janine’s big eyes grew wider. “But why?”

Lurching to his feet, Bobby began the
familiar pacing of a caged tiger – ‘cept this time he seemed more
energized and excited than apathetic or pissed-off.

“Don’t you see? God always brings something
good out of the bad.”

Janine and I looked at each other. “Still not
following you,” I said.

Bobby stopped, his animated hand movements
reminding me of his dad’s once Pastor Dennis got wound up during a
Sunday sermon.

“I couldn’t go back and serve in children’s
ministry. Not after…losing my own,” Bobby admitted with a bob of
his Adam’s apple. “But after an inside look at the souls
languishing in prison, experiencing the fear and dejection
firsthand, one night while in my bunk God thumped me on the head
with a new vision.”

Maybe God had thumped Bobby a little too
hard.

“Aren’t prison ministries a dime a dozen?” I
asked.

“Yes,” Bobby admitted.” But most are simply
there to offer up a sermon here and a word there. Those shepherds
have no idea what it’s really like eating, sleeping, and trying to
mentally survive minute-by-minute in such an environment. They
don’t know how to truly reach the heart of a prisoner.”

“And after four nights behind bars, you do?”
I challenged.

“It may as well have been four years,” Bobby
surmised. “In those four days I learned more about myself. About
what Paul and the disciples experienced during the early days of
the church, more so than any impact of a sermon. This is it…I know
it. It’s what Amy would’ve wanted from all this.”

“That’s powerful,” Janine said, her voice
tinged with awe.

Their blue-eyed gazes locked in spiritual
wonder. I rolled my eyes. “I hate to be the bad news bearer, but
this ministry is a moot cause if the charges aren’t dropped or you
aren’t proven innocent of Amy’s death.”

That sat Bobby down. “Have you discovered
anything new?”

I nodded. “Zeke thinks there’s some sort of
connection between Amy’s death and a case he’s working. I spent all
day yesterday with him down in Austin checking out Amy’s birth
records.” I pulled the envelope from my purse and handed it to him.
“You were right about Amy’s father.”

“What about Amy’s father?” Janine asked.

“It’s probably best you don’t know,” I
replied.

With arms crossed over her chest, Janine
plopped against the couch arm, offering me her best irritated drama
queen stare. Papers scattered across the other couch arm as Bobby
dug through the pile until discovering the golden ticket. I knew
immediately when he saw the name.

“Jackpot,” he muttered. “I was right. It’s
connected to the cartel.”

“What cartel?” Janine asked, interest piqued
again.

Someday she’d thank me for keeping her in the
dark.

***

Late-afternoon and I had about two hours
until I had to be at the bar. That gave me enough time to drop
Janine at her car, thank her profusely for giving up her Saturday,
then sneak past the super and up the stairs to the room that used
to be my apartment. At least the empty shell no longer looked like
a tornado had passed by ‘cept for the fine particles clouding the
air like high humidity in spring. But I still wondered where I’d
sleep that night. Or tomorrow night. Next week anyone?

Mom was still in full sergeant mode, so
arguing was as pointless as breathing underwater. I simply grabbed
the basket of clean laundry, gave her a kiss, and handed over the
apartment key with instructions to let me know when I could return.
Then I hightailed it across town to the Ranger Residence Inn to beg
for mercy.

Zeke greeted me with a bare chest, bare feet
hanging below his lounge pants, and a half-eaten piece of meat
works pizza in his hand. The grumble of my stomach protested
another skipped meal. My nether regions? Yeah, they were protesting
a skipped something too, what with all that manliness on
display.

“Early dinner?” I asked.

“Late lunch,” Zeke said and took a bite.
“Come to rescue your cat?” He glanced down at the laundry basket at
my hip. “Guess not.”

“I might need to impose on your hospitality a
little longer,” I begged.

The door swung open wider and Zeke padded
into the living room without offering to carry my burden like a
chivalrous knight. “I get paid time-and-a-half for cat sitting on
weekends,” he called over his shoulder.

So much for chivalry. “Gee, thanks.”

Reentering the devil’s lair, I dropped the
basket with a smack on the foyer tiles before joining Zeke at the
couch and finding Slinky reclining next to him watching the Texas
Rangers whip on the Astros. When Zeke offered up a sliver of ham, I
knew my feline had flipped to the opposing side faster than a
free-agent in the off season.

I narrowed my eyes at the fur ball.
“Traitor.”

“I take it the clean-up at
Chateau d’
Vicki
remains ongoing?”

“You could say that,” I replied.

“I take it there’s more?” Zeke asked with the
arch of a brow.

“More? No, try less.”

“I don’t follow.”

I sighed and plopped down on the couch with
the cat ensconced between us. As if expecting me, there was already
a second empty plate and bottle of beer with a condensation puddle
on my side of the pizza box. A greedy pull went a long way toward
quenching my thirst.

“Janine told her mother,” I started, “who
told my mother, who then showed up at my apartment.”

Zeke nodded. “Ah, the church ladies food
chain.”

“Mom got one look at the place and went into
momma bear mode so fast, this cub had to run for her life.”