The Good Kind of Bad (6 page)

Joe didn’t shop at Fox and Oban, if he shopped at all. The rotting food in the fridge was about to hand in its notice and vacate, it’d been there so long, which brought me on to the mounting chores and my shrewd avoidance of them. When I suggested hiring a maid, Joe had laughed like I’d told the funniest joke
ever
. Still, I made a mental note to hire a cleaner, though I knew his reluctance probably had little to do with money. I imagined his childhood home as one where women cleaned and men dirtied, his mother a painfully thin white-aproned woman, scrubbing the floor on hands and knees. If he’d grown up in a Dickensian novel, of course.

After my random shop, Saturday turned out glorious in the weather stakes. With Joe elsewhere, (random errands, anyone?) and the stifling apartment too much to bear, the park was beckoning.

Winding Sybil’s lead around my wrist, she soon broke into a run over the grass and almost severed my circulation. For a small mutt she was unusually strong, and as the rest of the city sweltered I was dragged off into the greenery, my blond ponytail bobbing and my polka dot dress planting smiles on the old men. It was short and fun, much like most of them, propping up the park benches in their fedoras and war medals.

With all his macho bravado, I pondered why Joe had chosen a fluffy ankle-biter over a gnashing pit bull. His long shifts meant Sybil had become my sole companion, and although I loved her to bits, becoming chief pooper-scooper was hardly something I bargained on at the altar. Though between the business luncheons and dinner dates of my old life, not to mention organising Will’s goddamn life for him, this was preferable. I’d been more PA than fiancée. And now? I was a
wifey
.

Taking a moment to rest on a bench, my gaze met the vastness of the park, where the sweet scent of blossom clung to the air. These early days of summer felt cosy and warm, like a soft blanket around my shoulders. There wasn’t a wisp of cloud in the azure sky and the buildings shimmered and shone under the hot sun. With the air so still I had to remember to breathe. It was much like a dream, everything about the place I’d run away to.

It was the absence, the space between I couldn’t grasp. Here there were trees and grass and dogs and war heroes. Here was more life than in the place I’d left behind to rot. People were people and I was still under the same stars, but the gut-wrench remained. I was one step from the drop, from everything I’d hoped never to feel again; the loneliness of a place so known and the company of a man I didn’t understand. For all my frivolity on the novelty of Joe, he was still that.

Sybil brushed my leg and whimpered.

‘I know, girl, I know,’ I murmured, bending for her straggly coat. Though I could see her attention had shifted to a golden Labrador, closely followed by its handsome owner. Sybil attempted a growl but soon retreated under the bench. Across the grass the man continued, launching a stick for his companion as the muscles flexed against the cool white of his shirt. He was tall, blond and athletic, the Adonis of Granter Park. He only had to turn to the camera and flash his pearly whites and I could’ve been watching a commercial for Men’s Health.

Mr Blond; now there was a seriously fun distraction. ‘Never mind, Sib, I’ve got a man at home. If he ever was at home.’

A week passed, and after balancing a positive start at Faith Advertising with more nights out with Joe, I was utilising a lazy Sunday for a spot of spring cleaning, but only the token amount while Joe fixed some leaking bathroom pipe.

I was clearing the food cupboards of canned goods at least ten years out of date. While contemplating whether the can of Manwich Sloppy Joe Sauce in my hand had
ever
been edible, I heard someone repeatedly jam the apartment intercom.

‘I heard you the first time. You press it once,’ I shouted through the speaker by the door.

‘It’s me. Let me in, girl, please? It’s not safe out here.’

Releasing the door and waiting for Nina to negotiate the four flights of stairs, I soon heard one hell of a ruckus outside the front door. I was expecting her at five. It was barely two in the afternoon.

‘What’s with being three hours early?’ I clung to the open door as I watched her doubled over, panting breathlessly.

Nina looked up at me and smiled, before pushing past my bended elbow into the kitchen. ‘You live here?’

‘You know I love slumming it on the wrong side of town. Want to see where I got shot last week?’ I joked, raising the hem of my T-shirt and poking my ribs.

Shooting a hand to her mouth, it was lost on her. ‘You’re not serious!’

‘No, I’m not serious. Jesus, this is Armanti, not Beirut.’ With a wry smile, I showed her to the lounge. For all her sarcasm, Nina was stunningly naive.

‘Try telling Mickey this isn’t Beirut. He’s a cop and even he’s, you know,
nervous
down here.’

I winced as Nina perched herself on the shamefully battered sofa in her cream top and embellished mini skirt combo. I watched her eyes circle the room, landing on the shabby chic dresser that was more shabby than chic, the lack of artwork or photos and the pine green décor that plunged the room into a darkness seldom needed for the window size.

Then she turned to me with an almost pitiful look. It didn’t help I was a tad underdressed, even for chores. I was in Joe’s jogging bottoms and black Rocky T-shirt that screamed unwashed bag lady for sure.

‘So, where is he? Have I missed him? Mickey’s bored already.’

‘Of what?’

‘Of hearing about my friend who married ten rungs beneath her station.’ Opposed to her face, Nina’s tone was surprising chipper. ‘I’m dying to meet your gangster.’

I took a cursory glance behind. ‘Nina . . . keep it down. Joe’s only in the bathroom, he’ll hear you.’

I was given an innocent shrug. ‘So? I mean, sorry, no offence.’

I balanced on the edge of the TV chair, swinging my legs while gulping down Nina’s honesty. ‘None taken.’

Right on cue, Joe swaggered into the lounge like he’d pushed a saloon door aside. ‘Who’s this, baby?’

A decidedly shirtless Joe was clutching a wrench in his hand. An impressive six-pack was lurking under his olive skin, glistening with water droplets from the leak. Rub in a little engine grease and he’d be straight from one of
those
calendars, but in a good way. Besides, he still had his pants on and I hoped his tattoos were more arrogant rock star than unwashed Hells Angel. Please let it be rock star.

‘Nina, this is my husband, Joe.’

‘Hi,’ Nina purred.

There was no response from Joe, apart from one highly suspicious stare.

‘This is Nina from work. Remember, the girl from Missouri I told you about?’

‘Go Cards!’ Nina cheered with a half-hearted fist pump.

There was another awkward pause, before Joe replied with, ‘That’s great.’

Two syllables. That’s all he could manage before heading to the kitchen. She was my only friend in Chicago, my only friend
period,
and he’d mustered the grand total of two words.

I gave Nina an embarrassed shrug. ‘I don’t think his parents were big on social skills.’

‘No kidding.’

‘People don’t come over much.’ Or ever.

‘His friends don’t visit?’

‘I’m out, see you later,’ Joe shouted from the kitchen.

‘
What
? What about the leak?’ I called blindly.

‘Need more tools.’

‘And that was Joe.’ I looked almost guiltily at Nina while aiming both hands at the door I heard slam.

Nina’s stare said it all. If only I
didn’t
know what was coming.

‘What’s the deal here? Shacky boy meets glittery girl, girl moves into hole and is happy about it?’

I looked down, picking at Rocky’s head on Joe’s T-shirt. ‘Of course I’m happy about it. There’s more to life than money.’

‘Come on, there’s not much more, though I suppose that body helps. Doesn’t it worry you he goes out without a shirt on though? Women could be throwing themselves at him. He ever been on one of those calendars?’ Nina almost sounded excited.

‘Okay, so the place isn’t great but it’s only temporary, ’til I can persuade him to move. Yes, the body helps and he did buy me a proper ring two days ago.’

She grabbed for my hand as I presented it for her inspection. ‘I
thought
that other ring you were wearing looked kinda cheap.’

‘He thought the priest supplied them. We had to borrow the rings.’

She gave me a teasing thumbs-up. ‘Girl, he sounds like one hell of a keeper, and I thought the guy didn’t have any money. That must’ve burned a ten-grand hole in his pocket.’

I cleared my throat, hoping she’d get the drop-the-conversation hint. ‘I’m sure he got it cheap.’

‘You mean, you’re sure he got it five-finger-discount cheap. So, apart from him being a gangster that has you living in squalor, what’re his folks like? Hey, he have any single brothers?’

‘He’s not a gangster. And Nina, you’re engaged!’

‘So?’ She toyed with the beads draping her long neck, her face as blank as her emotions.

‘He doesn’t talk about his family. We had witnesses at the church. I don’t know the first thing about his past. Happy now?’ I almost scoffed. Almost.

‘Is there anything you
do
know about him? If he’s into all that macho trash he’ll never talk about his feelings. I’ve dated way too many guys like that. Hell, I am still dating one. But if you want my advice, and I’m sure you do, ask him about it. Sit him down and say, “Honey, we have to talk. And about everything.”’

I wasn’t taking the bait. Joe was my husband, and this was my life. This was how we lived and if Nina didn’t like it, she knew where the door was. Besides, I was already sick of excusing myself to a girl I barely knew, a girl who’d branded my husband a criminal, but I gave it one last shot. ‘I think it’s time we did a little talking about Mickey, your mysterious fiancé, don’t you?’

‘Let’s just say he’s a cop and he’s toxic. Come on, this place is freaking me out. I need a sugar rush and you have to see Jodi’s. It’s this adorable coffee shop on East Delaware.’ Then she stopped and ran her eyes across me so sharply, I felt my skin prick. ‘Though you should change first.’

Four hours later, and a little tipsy, I returned home to find Joe shoehorned into the TV chair, still shirtless, with the bathroom repairs long abandoned. Football was blaring out from the television, which could only mean one thing. The cowboy hat was back. It was a total mystery why he insisted on wearing it while watching television, but at least he looked cute in it.

I was flashed a smile before Joe reached for his lighter within the gloom and sparked a cigarette.

‘Howdy little lady, where’ve you been all this time?’ He tipped his hat to me while the cigarette dangled from his lips, like he was sitting in some hick bar in Kentucky. ‘You look nice.’

Nice
? I was hoping for more than nice. I’d plumped for cigarette pants, a cream blazer and lashings of bling to compete with Nina’s disapproval.

‘Coffee turned into an early dinner. And what
are
you doing?’

‘Watching my team win?’

He made it sound like a question as I stepped closer. ‘The Kansas City Chiefs? You’re not from Kansas City. Are you?’ I smiled a little at having to ask. ‘I thought you said the football season was over. Don’t tell me these games are TiVo’d.’

‘They’ve always been my team. Uncle Tommy’s a big fan.’

‘Uncle Tommy?’

‘I go to home games when I can.’ He pointed at the television, puffing away on the cigarette.

That looked like the end of any family talk. ‘What about the hat?’ I tried instead.

‘What about the
hat
?’

‘Is it going to be explained or do I have to guess?’

He laughed, reaching out and pinching my side. ‘What is it with you and this hat already? Don’t mock the headwear, okay? This is serious stuff. If I don’t wear it the Chiefs will lose and they’ll be damned for all time.’

I batted his hand playfully away. ‘But you already know if they’re going to lose.’ Joe logic, I presumed.

‘I guess that’s why you love me.’

There it was, the elephant in the room. Even Joe looked uneasy at his throwaway remark. Love? The jury was still out on that. Was I supposed to love him by now? And did he really love me, or did he tell that to all his wives?

It took time, I knew that: there was no such thing as love at first sight. You can’t love what you don’t know, but the important thing was Joe was the kind of man I
could
love one day. That was enough for me. Any day now, and I’d feel it, for real.

He must’ve sensed my unease as he continued with, ‘Why don’t I ditch the game and take my baby for a drink? Some place I can wear my own jacket. Come on, it’ll be fun.’

Joe’s smile was devastating. I could’ve watched him sporadically wink and buzz over his hat all night. He’d make a good cowboy, he had the build, though I was sure he’d mentioned being scared of horses. How could I know such a useless fact but when it came to anything meaningful, I wasn’t even on the radar?