the phone call, sounding enough like Peter for Crawford to believe that Bea was in trouble.
Gianna had always been impeccably dressed in college and today was no different. I remember that she always had the best and most expensive clothes and what she was wearing now was evidence of that: impeccably cut black pants, black leather boots, and a butter-soft black leather jacket. To me, it had always seemed that Peter had gotten the better end of the deal when he married Gianna; it was the proverbial Beauty and the Beast scenario with mafiosi. Gianna waved the gun in my direction. “I understand you’ve been spending a little time with my husband, Alison.”
I looked back at Gianna, the realization dawning on me slowly. The night at St. Thomas where she told me that Peter sent his regards, the note…it was all coming together. Oh, jeez, I thought; now I’m caught in the middle of a Mafia love triangle. “Gianna, Peter has this habit of either breaking into my house or kidnapping me. Believe me,” I said gravely, “and I mean this with all due respect, I have no interest in your husband.” As a matter of fact, he makes my skin crawl, I thought, but I left that out. I also left out the part where we made out in the diner.
Gianna looked at Franco and then back at me. “I don’t believe you,” she said.
I sighed, more out of frustration than anything else. “Gianna, believe me.” I shot Bea a look. “I’m in love with someone else. I have no interest in Peter whatsoever.” I was dancing, and dancing that fine line between denial and insult: if I denied an attraction to Peter too much, I would end up insulting Gianna. I had to tread carefully so that I didn’t end up with a bullet in the face.
I looked over at Bea, who had a huge grin on her face. “In love?” she mouthed silently.
“Oh, this Detective Crawford character?” Gianna asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She motioned around his apartment. “You’re in love with a guy who makes a dollar ninety an hour and will retire with a city pension? Spare me, Alison.” She looked down at my feet. “The shoes you’re wearing cost more than that guy makes in a week.” She tossed her blond mane over her shoulder and smirked.
She was right—about the shoes, that is. They were expensive, but I never would have bought them for myself, good old-fashioned French-Canadian thrift being part of my makeup. “They were a gift, Gianna. From Max.” I knew they cost a lot. More than Crawford made in a week? Highly doubtful. But Gianna was on a tear and I wasn’t going to stop her. She was the one with the gun.
She grabbed me by the collar and pulled me toward the door; I was surprised by the strength in this petite woman. “Let’s go.” She turned and looked at Bea, who was hunched over on the couch, her hands between her legs. “Are you going to join us or do I need to have Franco”—she searched for the right word—“persuade you?”
Bea hoisted herself off the couch and resignedly walked to the door. I noticed a piece of paper flutter to the ground before Bea walked away from the couch. Gianna tightened her grip on my collar and pulled me out into the hallway and down the stairs. The limo was idling by the front door of the house.
I looked around before Franco pushed me into the car, but nobody on the busy street seemed to find it unusual that Bea and I were getting into the limo or noticed our obvious distress. “Where are we going, Gianna?” I asked her.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said, and tapped on the glass for Franco.
I thought about the situation. It was hard for me to believe that this woman—someone with whom I had only a nodding acquaintance fifteen years ago—was back in my life, accusing me of being attracted to her husband, and threatening my life. But she certainly meant business. My heart was thumping in my chest, and I reached across the seat to grab Bea’s hand. She curled her chubby little fingers around my own and squeezed.
We hurtled down the West Side Highway, through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, and onto some highway I was sure I had never traveled. We passed acre after acre of warehouses and rundown apartment buildings and houses and it finally occurred to me that