No Such Thing as a Free Ride (29 page)

“As a matter of fact, it’s not okay,” he growled, blocking my way. “I was here first.”

“Well, that’s just too damn bad.” I pushed ahead of him, threw five bucks on the counter and sprinted out of the store, not waiting for change. He followed me out, yelling about how that’s what’s wrong with young people today.

I reached Nick’s truck and found Franny sitting in the back seat, her face pressed against the headrest. She was sweating buckets and swearing to beat the band.

“Did you call Eddie?” I climbed into the front seat and started the engine.

“I didn’t bring my phone with me,” she croaked. “Did you get my ice cream?”

“Here,” I said, passing it back to her. “Try not to get it on the seat. I don’t want to ruin the cushions.”

“Uh, Bran, I think it’s a little late for that.”

“What do you mean?” I turned all the way around in the seat and found Fran sitting in a giant puddle, her skirt hiked up around her hips. “Holy crap, Franny! Why’d you pee in the truck?”

“I didn’t! My water broke. Bran, I think the baby’s coming!”

“I thought you said we had plenty of time!”

“Well, obviously I was wrong!”

I turned off the engine, whipped out my cell phone and dialed 911. “Hang in there, Franny. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Tell that to the baby! He wants out NOW!”

I ripped open the back door and slid in next to Franny, helping her into a semi-sitting position. She grabbed my hand and squeezed so hard I was sure I felt a bone crack. The contractions were coming one on top of the next now, giving her no time to rest in between.

Fran’s eyes were wide with fear. “It’s gonna be okay, right?” she asked, her voice thick with pain.

Of all the life and death situations I’d found myself in over the last several months, this was, by far, the scariest. “Piece of cake,” I told her. “The ambulance is pulling up as we speak. In the mean time, how about taking some of those deep, cleansing breaths we practiced in class?”

“Fuck the cleansing breaths, Bran!” she screamed, tears pouring down her cheeks. “It hurts like a mutha! I need to get this thing out of me!”

The guy from the Acme was still standing in front of the truck, waiting to give me another lesson in supermarket etiquette.

I opened the door and yelled out to him. “Yo, buddy, c’mere.”

Warily, he walked around to the side of the truck and almost fainted at the sight of Franny, skirt up, knees bent, about to pass a basketball through the eye of a needle.

“Woah! You weren’t kiddin’!” he marveled, staring at Fran.

“Hey! Eyes up here. Put your hands on her back to support her,” I commanded. “And don’t let go. Fran, I’m gonna need you to push now.”

Franny bore down on the seat cushion and pushed. A moment later the top of the skull appeared. “Fran, I see the baby!”

“Oh, Mother of God!” Franny roared and sank back against the door.

“Come on, DiAngelo. Don’t stop now. You’re almost there.”

“I can’t!” she wailed. “I’m too tired!”

“Franny,
please,
just a couple more pushes and you’re home free.”

“
Listen,” she huffed, bearing down again, “I’ve got to ask you something.”

“I’m a little busy here, honey. Can it wait?”

“No busier than
I
am! Look,” she said, her breath ragged, “I know we asked Eddie’s sister to be the baby’s godmother, but I’ve changed my mind. I want you to be the godmother.”

“
Me?”
I yelled, instinctively forming a cradle with my hands. “Are you nuts? I had a half a box of Good N’ Plenty and a can of olives for dinner last night. How can you trust me to raise your kid when I can’t even feed myself?”

The head crowned and then a pair of shoulders came into view. Franny cursed and gave one last push, and a second later the baby shot out of her like a greased pig right into my waiting arms. I was shaking so hard I thought I was going to drop her.

“We did it!” yelled the guy whose name, ironically, turned out to be Eddie.

Franny held out her arms and I placed the baby carefully on her stomach. “Bran,” she said, gazing down at her new baby daughter, “I trust you more than anyone on the face of the planet, and nobody would love and protect her the way that you would. So will you please consent to being Christina Brandy Bonaduce’s godmother?”

“Christina
Brandy?”
I repeated, my eyes filling up.

Fran nodded.

“Wow.”

“Bee-yood-ee-ful” said Supermarket Eddie, putting an arm around each of us. “Jus’ bee-yood-ee-ful.”

And then we were crying. All four of us.

*****

Twelve people gathered around Franny’s hospital bed, all talking at once. Squeezed into the mix of friends and relatives was a camera guy and a reporter from a local news show who’d gotten a tip about Christina’s unusual entrance into the world. The din was enough to alert the floor nurse, who stormed into the room like a house mother in a college dorm.

“You can’t all be in here now,” she announced, slipping past Eddie’s mom to check on Fran’s vitals. “Some of you will have to wait outside.”

We all stopped and looked at her. Nobody budged.

“Well?” she said.

Mr. DiAngelo’s mother nodded happily at her. She’d just arrived from Italy and didn’t speak a word of English. “Sono una bisnonna!” she shouted, pointing, first to herself and then to the baby. “Non e bella?”

“Non e bella?” we all repeated, grinning like idiots.

The nurse opened her mouth to say something and closed it again probably figuring it wasn’t worth touching off an international incident.

After she left, I told Fran I had to go. “I’ve got to let Adrian out before he uses the palm tree for a urinal again. I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Franny’s mother held my hand all the way down the hall. “Brandy, honey,” she said, patting my arm. It was the first time she’d ever referred to me by a term of endearment that didn’t start with, “God bless her, but…”

Mrs. DiAngelo stared at me so intently I started thinking I had a huge zit on the tip of my nose. “My daughter made an excellent choice when she asked you to be Christina’s godmother,” she said, finally. “Welcome to the family.” And for the second time that day, a DiAngelo made me cry.

As I stepped into my living room, Adrian dove between my legs doing the “Happy Dance.” I ran to let him out the back door. Outside, neighborhood kids were letting off fireworks, a preview of what was to come on the Fourth.

The phone rang and I went back inside to answer it. It was Bobby. He was working and had just heard the news.

“Franny asked me to be the godmother,” I said, trying not to sound too braggy and not succeeding.

“Yeah? Eddie asked me to be the godfather. I think we should get married. You know, for the sake of our godchild.”

“You do understand how this works, right? She’s ours in name only—and at Christmas and birthdays—oh yeah, and if I were you, I’d start saving for her college fund. We’re responsible for that too.”

“No kidding?”

“Look in the Godparents’ Handbook. It’s all there. Oh, hey, I’m getting another call. Can I call you back?”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Sweetheart. I’m beat.”

I clicked onto the next phone call, my stomach flipping over in the process. It was Nick. The last time I’d seen him was when he’d visited me in the hospital, and that was just because he thought I was dying. He’d even arranged for Alphonso to deliver the truck to me instead of bringing it over himself. Was he avoiding me because he didn’t want to get attached or was he really that indifferent?

I didn’t have time to do an in depth analysis with the dog and cat because Nick broke in with some news.

“Crystal ran away from the safe house, Angel. She left some time this afternoon.”

“
But why?
Nick, I thought she was happy there.”

“Maybe too happy. It’s tough on a kid like Crystal to enjoy perks her friends don’t have. Sal said she’d been talking about going back on the streets to look for Star. She must’ve made good on her word.”

Crystal
set out to do the job I should have done. I let her down.

“I have to go find her,” I told him. I grabbed my keys and headed toward the door.

“Slow down, there, darlin’. As much as you want to protect her, Crystal isn’t ready to come back. She’ll contact you when the time’s right for her.”

The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. “Thanks for letting me know, Nick.”

“Brandy, call me if you hear from her.”

“I will.”

I was about to say goodbye when I heard a familiar voice in the background. “Oh, hey, is Alphonso there with you?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Great. Could I speak to him a minute?”

I thought I detected a split second of hesitation in Nick’s voice, which, ever hopeful, I immediately interpreted as jealousy caused by his unexpressed, yet deep and abiding love for me.

“Sure,” he said. “Hey, Jackson. Phone.”

“She wants to talk to me?” What about?”

“She didn’t say.”

Alphonso got on the line. “Whaddup, Sweetcakes?”

“A reconnaissance mission, if you’re interested.”

“I’m interested,” he laughed. “My life is
dull
. I need you to kick it up a notch. So what’s the gig?”

“There’s a property out in Quakertown I want to check out. I thought since we had so much fun the last time…”

“What do you mean by ‘check out’?”

“Um, well, maybe a little more than check out. I think some really bad stuff may be going on in this place and—”

“In other words, you need muscle and a tool kit. I’m in.”

“Really? Uh, listen, I’m a little short on cash, so…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said his voice sobering. I’m happy to go with you.”

“Thanks. Tomorrow night okay?”

“Hang on. Nick, you got anything goin’ for me tomorrow night? We’re all good,” he said, getting back on the line.

“Great. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

After I hung up, I sat down on the couch and hauled my feet up onto the coffee table, allowing the tensions of the day to seep slowly out of me. Rocky crawled out from under the dining room table and climbed into my lap, butting her furry head against my hand for me to pet her.

“You must be wondering why I didn’t ask Nick to go with me to Quakertown,” I said, knowing full well she couldn’t care less about my “man” problems. “Well, here’s the thing. I don’t know why. So if you have any ideas, feel free to chime in.” She must have needed some time to think it over, because she didn’t say anything.

When Rocky had had enough petting, she bit me and wandered off leaving me free to concentrate on the humongous knot in my stomach left by the news that Crystal had run away. I mean I really couldn’t blame Crystal. Star was her family, and I was no closer to finding her or uncovering the truth about what happened to those young prostitutes than I was when I started out. Everything
had
to be connected, like a double-sided jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces lock together to make two different but thematically related pictures. Only how?

*****

It was after midnight but I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and tried to fix the air conditioner, only it broke some more, scrubbed the grease stains off of all my tee shirts and made a list of the ten essential things all babies should know so that I could teach little Chrissy and be the best godmother in the history of Godmotherdom.

I was about to restring my old guitar when the phone rang. I picked it up, making the sign of the cross to ward off bad news.

“Brandy, it’s Crystal.” Her voice was small and scared and tired and it broke my heart.

Keeping the fear out of my own voice I said, “Crystal, Nick told me you left Father Sal’s safe house. Where are you now?”

“It’s not important. I just called to let you know that I’m okay, because I thought you might be—y’know— worried.”

“I’m glad you called. I mean I know you can take care of yourself and all, but—listen, maybe you should come over here for a while so we can talk. I could pick you up.”

“Look,” she said, her voice growing ever softer. “I appreciate what you’ve been trying to do for me and Star, but this is something I have to take care of myself.”

“I get the feeling I’m missing something here.”

Crystal cleared her throat. I could tell she’d been crying. “Little Red’s spreading it around that he killed Star for trying to leave him.”

Oh, fuck
.

“Do you believe him?”

“Yeah,” she said a little too calmly. “I do.”

My stomach dropped. “Listen, he’s probably just lying to bolster his street cred, but if what he says turns out to be true, you owe it to Star to see him punished. We’ve got to tell the police.”

“No cops. We take care of our own, Brandy. That’s just how it is.” Her voice flattened. “Little Red killed Star, and now I’m going to kill him.”

“Crystal, no!” I screamed, but she’d already hung up.

Frantically, I began to punch in 911 and then abruptly stopped. What was I going to tell them? I had absolutely nothing substantial to report and I’d only waste valuable time trying to convince them that this kid was in real danger. I called Nick instead. He understood Crystal in ways I never would.

“Try not to panic, Angel,” he said, his voice washing over me like a warm bath. “We’ll find her. I’ll pick you up in a few minutes.”

It felt like a lifetime.

I paced the living room, trying to talk myself out of the nauseating panic that was beginning to envelop me, but all that loomed before me were the worst case scenarios.

What if Crystal does find Little Red? If she goes after him, he’ll kill her. And on the off chance that she gets the drop on him, she’ll be looking at Murder One. Okay, calm down! After all, what are the chances of Crystal finding this creep before we find her? Nick can probably track her down through the GPS system on her phone. And besides, she doesn’t have a weapon, right? I mean, even if she’s got a knife, she’d have to get pretty close to do him in. It’s not like she’s got a gun or anything… oh crap. The gun! Why didn’t I see it when I cleaned out the planter after Adrian peed in it?