Lynne Heitman - First Class Killing

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Okay.” He put his hand on my back. “Are you all right? Getting too old for this?”

“Hey…” I stood up straight. “I’m a little out of shape is all. Give me two minutes.”

“Can I ask you one more thing?” He stared straight down the running path, even though there was nothing there to see. It was still too dark. “How can you afford to live in your neighborhood on what you make?”

That made me smile. It was probably the question he had been dying to ask all along. As with Walter, money and the things it could buy meant a lot to Jamie. “The owner of my unit is a trustee of the building. He hired me to do the condo association’s books every quarter, and it partially offsets my rent. I don’t have a lot of spare cash, but I’m doing fine.”

“If you need money, Za, will you ask me? Will you promise me that?”

If in his mind money equaled love, then I could take the offer as a good thing, and I did. “If I need help, I promise to ask you. Thank you.”

He stiffened his arms and clapped his hands together. “How far from here?”

“Half a mile back to the footbridge.”

“Do you think you can make it?”

“Let’s go.”

We took off again. Maybe I would wait until next time to tell him about my new career.

The run felt good. It had been a while since I’d run that far. Later in the morning, after I had come back from the grocery store, I had reason to feel even more pleased that I had gotten it in, because I was about to become very busy. Angel had called.

So doll, I have good news, and I have good news. You passed your test. Good for you, and I hope itwasgood for you. To celebrate, we’re taking you out for a shindig. Be ready at nine o’clock tonight. We’ll come and get you.

I FELT SILLY STANDING IN THE LOBBY OF MY building in my party clothes, but I wanted to be ready to go when Angel rolled up. She had insisted on picking me up, and for some reason, I didn’t want any chance that she would come up to my apartment. I didn’t want her in my private space.

I’d been out that day shopping, looking for something appropriate to wear that I could afford. After several hours of fruitless searching, I gave up and went with expediency and my credit card. I bought a pair of low-rise black leather pants that felt as if they might slip down off my hipbones at any second and leave me mooning whoever was behind me. On top, I had a fuzzy little red boatneck sweater that looked good with a scarf but made me sneeze. The scarf was necessary to cover my still-healing bruises.

I was watching the cars go by on the street, trying to pick out Angel’s vehicle, which was why I didn’t notice Irene and Tristan sooner. They were up the steps and practically through the door before I realized it. They weren’t supposed to be there. They were out of uniform and out of context, and I was annoyed that I was going to have to make up a lie.

I walked out to join them on the front steps.

“Alexandra, you look fabulous. Yet another surprise from your closet. It’s racier than I would expect from you, but it’s only a dinner party. Why are you here? Why aren’t you-”

I blinked at them and offered a vague smile, trying hard to catch up to where they were. But I had no idea what he was talking about.

Tristan glanced at Irene. “Something tells me, Reenie, that she forgot all about my dinner party.”

“What dinner-” When I looked at his face, I heard his voice on my machine, and I remembered his message.Is everything all right? I’m worried about you. He had invited me to a dinner party. I had never even bothered to call him and acknowledge the invitation. When did I becomesuch an asshole?

“Tristan, I am so sorry.”

“We were worried,” Irene said. “We just walked down to check on you. I’m glad you’re all right.”

“We called.” Tristan reached over to check out my scarf. “This is a new look for you. It’s nice.”

“I was in the shower.” I had seen the messages when I got out, seen who they were from, and ignored them. While I was doing my makeup, the phone had rung again. I had let it roll to voice mail. The fist of guilt tightened around my conscience. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say exceptPlease leave before Angel gets here.

“Where are you going? Tell me you have a big date, and all is forgiven. You must, because you look amazing.”

There was Tristan, filling in all the blanks for me. “Thank you. I am going out, and I feel terrible about not calling you. I…I screwed up my schedule. I just…I didn’t…” I saw the limo out of the corner of my eye. It was cruising up Beacon slowly, going at checking-addresses speed. Angel hadn’t said she would send a limo, but when I saw it, I had no doubt it was about to pull up in front of my building. The adrenaline gates opened. “I’m not firing on all cylinders right now.”

“It’s so hard to keep track of your schedule when you’re flying,” Irene said. “I forget things all the time.” She was trying to make me feel better, but that was a fib. She was a single mom with a thirteen-year-old. She never forgot anything.

Now Tristan caught sight of the limo, probably because I couldn’t tear my eyes from it. I felt the way you do when you see a traffic accident unfolding. He smiled with delight.

“Is that for you? Someone is taking you out in a limo? Why didn’t you tell me? Of course you can blow me off for a date in a limo. Can we meet him? Why didn’t you say something?”

The long black vehicle sailed up and anchored. The door opened, and the driver stepped out. If I were really lucky, he would be the only one to step out. “Miss Shanahan?”

“Yes, I’m coming.”

I folded my arms tightly across my chest. I was afraid if I didn’t, my friends would see my heart trying to beat its way out, right through my chest and that fuzzy red sweater. I sneezed.

“Are you all right?” Irene asked. “You look pale.”

“I’m just tired. Please, please give my apologies to Barry. I’ll make it up to you, Tristan.” I gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise. Irene, I’m sorry.”

Another fifteen seconds, and I would have made it. I would have been in and gone, and they never would have seen Angel, who was right then popping out through the limo’s back door. She was dressed to party and walking straight toward us.

“Oh. My. God.” Tristan lifted his nose in the air. “I wondered what that stench was. Greasy french fries and chicken gizzards. It could only be Miss Dairy Queen come to grace us with her skanky presence. What is she…what are you doing here?”

Angel smiled at him with supreme satisfaction. “Are you ready to go, doll?”

Tristan’s and Irene’s heads swung around so they could gape at me full on. I was humiliated down to my split ends. But then they sprang into action. Tristan swung around to my right side and Irene stood to my left, putting me right in the middle of a concern sandwich.

“This way, dear.” Tristan dropped his arm across my shoulders. “We have a place all set at the table for you.” He tried to guide me away, but my high-heeled boots were planted.

“Tristan, please. Angel and I-”

“No, Alexandra.” His tone was fatherly, but insistent. “I don’t know what’s been going on with you, but it stops now. Consider this your intervention.”

As gently as I could, I took his hand and removed it from my shoulder. It popped right back.

“He’s right about this,” Irene said, with palpable unease. “You should come with us.”

Angel addressed herself to Tristan, as though Irene wasn’t even there. “Why don’t you back off and let her make up her own mind?”