That afternoon at Art I unwittingly answered the phone (as you do when, say, you run a business) and without even a hello Hector said in my ear, “I’m standin’ in the Station, Eddie’s with me and he says you haven’t come in yet.”
Oh my.
“Well –” I started.
He interrupted me, “You don’t come in they gotta let Harvey go.”
I tried again, “I just –”
“They let Harvey go and you don’t tell them what Ricky did to you I still got four Balducci brothers to deal with rather than bein’ down to two.”
My body went tight and I stared unseeing at the counter unable to process his words.
“What?” I asked.
“I think you heard me,” he answered.
I heard him all right.
“I heard you. I just don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean,” he explained but I could tell he was losing patience, “if Ricky and Harvey are out of commission, I just gotta go after Marty and Donny.”
I kept staring at the counter. “Why are you after the Balducci Brothers?”
Silence then a soft, “Mamita, are you shittin’ me?”
Quietly I answered, “No.”
More silence then, still soft, “Tonight, after dinner, we’re gonna talk.”
He gave me an opening, my back went straight and I took it.
“Hector, about dinner –”
“Seven o’clock, you aren’t there, I’ll find you.”
Disconnect.
I kept staring at the counter and tried to decide if Hector could find me.
Then I decided Hector could very likely find me.
Then I spent the next six hours alternately having panic attacks and letting Ralphie talk me into things. Things like closing down the shop. Things like going to Cherry Creek Mall. Things like buying a new outfit for my dinner with Hector. Things like buying that new Coach handbag I did not need. Things like agreeing it was a good idea that Ralphie bought the cute doggie food and water bowls even though I knew Buddy would lose his mind. Things like trying on everything Ralphie threw at me in thirteen different stores without losing my patience or calling on the Ice Princess (not even once).
* * * * *
“Ralphie, calm down,” Buddy said to the still dancing Ralphie.
Ralphie was in no mood to calm down. He rushed to me and grabbed my arms.
“Sweet ‘ums, your outfit is perfection. He’s wearing jeans, a shirt and a leather jacket. Thank God we didn’t go OTT with that slutty top from Bebe.”
There was no way on earth I was ever going to buy that slutty top in Bebe that Ralphie forced me to try on. Of course, I didn’t tell him that in Bebe or now.
The doorbell went, thoughts of slutty tops flew out of my head and all the breath went out of lungs in a whoosh.
Then without looking at Ralphie or Buddy, I turned on my stiletto heel, rushed to the powder room and slammed the door.