Lisa Scottoline - Think Twice

“Okay, I won’t wait for your call. Have fun. Are we gonna look at houses tomorrow?”

Uh-oh. “Not sure, yet. I have a lot of work.”

“Really? Sunday’s a big open-house day, and the weather’s supposed to be less humid. It would be fun.”

Mary felt a guilty twinge. “I know, but I have that brief to write for Bennie.”

“Okay, call me whenever, tonight or tomorrow. Let me know what you want to do.” Anthony was silent a minute. “Babe, you mad at me?”

Mary’s throat caught. “No. Are you?”

“Not at all. I love you.”

“Love you, too. Good night.” Mary pressed END, placated. She did love him, and he loved her. They were in love, and nothing was wrong. She pressed J, and Judy picked up, croaking a hello. Mary said, “I’m coming to check on you. What do you need beside Häagen-Dazs?”

“Fresh limes.”

“For what?”

“Margaritas, of course.”

“See you in half an hour, crazy.” Mary pressed END and picked up the pace, satisfied she had made the right decision. Sometimes BFFs were better for Saturday nights, especially when limes were involved.

Half an hour later, one look at Judy, in her gray hoodie and blue gym shorts, told Mary her BFF was sick. Her fair skin was pale, her blue eyes washed out, and a short yellow ponytail sprouted from her head like the Lorax.

“Feeling crummy, honey?” Mary asked.

“Yes.”

“Poor thing.” Mary closed the apartment door, then trailed Judy into her tiny galley kitchen, where she dropped her purse and briefcase on the café table and set the shopping bag on a butcherblock counter. “Did you sleep?”

“No, my head hurt too much.”

“Did you have some soup?”

“I hate soup. I like tequila.”

Mary stowed the ice cream in the freezer and unpacked five fresh limes, which rolled around on the counter. “You really think alcohol’s a good idea?”

“Yes. Tequila’s like Vitamin C, without the Vitamin or the C.”

“I can only have one drink. I gotta get up early and finish that brief for Bennie.” Mary sniffed the air, which reeked of the turpentine and oil paints that Judy kept in her studio/apartment, which really was a studio and an apartment. “You know, that smell would make anybody sick.”

“It’s not the smell, it’s the spell.”

Mary looked over. “Did you just make that up?”

“Yes.”

“Then we should get you to a doctor.”

“Please call Fiorella.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “You, a woman of genius, can’t actually believe that you have the evil eye. It’s folk medicine. It’s what peasants made up to explain their lives, like sacrificing goats.”

“What’s the harm in calling her? Humor me.”

“Fine.” Mary went to the table, retrieved her phone, and sat down with it, pressing H. The phone rang, and she hit a button. “I’m putting it on speaker. I wanna hear what she says.”

“Good.” Judy folded her arms.

“ ’Allo?” Mary’s mother said, picking up.

“Hi, Ma, how are you?”

“I’m a fine, Maria, how you?”

Mary cut the small talk. “Good, but I’m here with Judy, who thinks she has the evil eye, still.”

“ Oh Deo! ”

“Can you ask Fiorella to come to the phone?”

“Fiorella? She’s a no here. She go viz’ her ladyfrien’, on Snyd’ Avenue. They come back, soon.”

“They? Who’s they?”

“Your father, he take her.”

“And he’s not back yet?”

Mary and Judy exchanged looks.

“He drive her.”

Mary’s mouth fell open. Her father never drove anybody anywhere. Nobody in South Philly ever gave up a parking space unless they were going to their own funeral. “Why didn’t she take a cab? You can’t park on Snyder anyway.”

“What, Maria, why?”

“Ma, Fiorella came to visit you, but she’s visiting everyone else, with Pop. Did you eat dinner alone?”

“Is good, alla good.”

Judy edged closer to the phone. “Hey, Mrs. D, it’s Judy. How are you?”

“Good, Judy, you got ’em bad?”

“Mrs. D, can you cure me?” Judy looked hopeful. “No, no, only Donna Fiorella. She have a great power, greates’ power, more great than a me.”

“Ma, no, stop that, you’re as good as Fiorella.” Mary’s heart went out to her little mother, eating dinner alone and thinking her superpowers were substandard.

“ Maria, she’s a better, strong, she’s a very strong.”

Judy asked, “Can we call Fiorella at her girlfriend’s?”

“No, non lo so. ”

Mary was trying to remember the last time her mother had spent a Saturday night without her father. “I don’t like you being alone so much. This is wrong.”

“Shhh, basta, tomorr’, you come to church?”

“I can’t, I have to work. Sorry.”

“Okay, Maria . Good night, love you, Maria, Jud’, love you, God bless.”

“Love you, Ma. Bye.” Mary hung up, heartsick. “This is ridiculous. My father never leaves the house.”

“Correction, he never leaves the kitchen.” Judy started cutting limes with a sharp knife, releasing a pungent scent. “I’ll help you with your brief, after we have the perfect margarita.”

“You got a shot glass instead?” Mary asked, rising.

Bennie dug into the lid, pounding and dragging her nails across the wood, reduced to the animal on the other side. She fought the awareness that it was getting harder and harder to breathe. She couldn’t fill her lungs and settled for shallow panting, little intakes of breath that could barely keep her going. She knew she needed oxygen because she could feel her brain get funky, her thoughts melting together in odd ways, like she kept thinking she had a giant can opener and was prying the lid off the box, like in the Popeye cartoons where they took the top off the spinach can, leaving a jagged edge. Boy, she was wishing for one of those can openers right now, and if she had one, she knew it would do the trick.

She kept digging, her arms weakening, hurting from the effort of keeping them up. She’d been scratching and pounding on the same spot on the crack, concentrating all her force on three square inches. She could hear the animal working on the same spot, they had the same idea at the same time, only one idea completely occupying their animal brains, which was to get through, to finally reach the other side.

One animal wanting life and the other wanting death.

Alice buried herself in Grady’s embrace, on the sidewalk. She loved the feel of a man’s arms around her and she brushed her cheek against his strong chin, which had just the right amount of blondish stubble. He smelled like hard soap and hard work, and she was feeling his good-provider vibe. She got so turned on that she had to stop herself from grinding her hips into him. Bennie wouldn’t know how to steam up this boy’s glasses, and Alice had to stay in character. He was a test she hadn’t expected, and she didn’t need a monkey wrench thrown into her plans, not when she was this close to getting away.

“Well,” Grady said, smiling down at her. “Quite a greeting.”

Buckle up, professor. “I’m happy to see you.”

“I tried to call you, but that number was disconnected. I assume you got a new one.”

“Yes, sorry.”

“I know it’s impromptu, my arriving unannounced, but my flight got diverted from Pittsburgh and I came straight here from the airport. Call it an irresistible impulse. I thought maybe I could take you to dinner.” Grady put an arm around her shoulder. “By the way, this would be a good time for you to tell me you’re not married.”