Lisa Scottoline - Lady Killer

“I see.”

Mary cleared her throat. “I got pregnant in the backseat of a car, my first time ever. How’s that for luck?”

Anthony groaned.

“Bobby said he had blue balls, whatever that was, and he sort of guilted me into it, but I admit, I was in love. I wasn’t ready to go all the way, but I did love him. Even after.”

Anthony fell silent.

“We saw each other a few more times, but we never had sex again, and I couldn’t even look him in the eye. When I missed my period, I knew. I had the abortion and I didn’t tell anyone, not even him. Especially not him. I was too embarrassed to see him ever again. I quit tutoring him. I thought he was ignoring me, but I was ignoring him. I avoided him. And it, just, ended.”

“I can understand you not telling him.”

“Can you?” Mary felt her throat thicken. “I regret it now. I’ve regretted it for a long time.”

“Why?”

“I used to regret it because I thought he had a right to know, but that’s an intellectual concept. Abstract. Legal. Now I regret it because things might have been different, if he had known. If I had told him.”

“How different?”

“Everything.”

“You would have been the one who lived with him, and not Trish?”

Mary considered it, and for the first time, knew the answer. “No, not per se.”

Anthony smiled. “Now that’s a lawyer’s answer.”

“It’s the what-if that gets me. What if it had been me? Would he have turned out differently, good instead of bad?”

“I see.”

“I mean, aren’t there some decisions in your life that are so critical, so central to everything that follows, that they change everything? The whole course of your life, and not only that, the course of the lives of the people around you?” Mary wondered aloud, giving voice to thoughts that had been running through her mind since that first day in the office, with Trish. “If I had told him or we had stayed together, would he have followed the straight and narrow? Would he have gone to college? Would he be alive tonight? And Trish? Would she be safe?”

“I understand.”

“What if I had lived with him? Would I have died with him, too?”

“Good question,” Anthony answered, and they both fell silent.

Mary set down her glass, leaned back in the soft couch, and closed her eyes. Her body sank into the couch, and she felt her strength ebb from her muscles and her every emotion leach through her skin. She was worried about Trish, but she couldn’t do anything to help her right now. She had to let it go. She had to let everything go, all of her regrets. She thought of Dhiren, oddly, and felt him beyond her, too. All of it, just out of reach. In time, she must have drifted off to sleep, and later, when she woke up, Anthony was gone and the moon had deserted the sky.

Leaving Mary in total darkness.

I t was barely dawn but Mary was awake, showered, and dressed to match her mood, in a black dress with black pumps. Her makeup was light because she didn’t take the time to do it right; her hair fell unprofessionally loose to her shoulders because she didn’t bother to blow it dry. Her eyes had turned red from falling asleep in her contacts, and her face was puffy from the wine. In short, she’d remain single another day.

She got off the elevator at Rosato amp; Associates and went straight to Judy’s office, because they’d agreed to meet early for a private confab. Mary needed help and wasn’t ashamed to say so. That was another thing girlfriends were for, especially genius girlfriends.

“Mary, Jeez!” Judy rose the moment Mary opened the door and came around her desk to give her a hug. The window behind her showed a cloudy sky above the office buildings, and only a few windows were lit at this hour. “You poor thing. You must be so upset.”

“I’ve been better,” Mary said, feeling vaguely guilty, an improvement over insanely guilty. No matter, she didn’t have time to tell Judy about Bobby and the past. She had to find Trish. “Thanks for coming in this early.”

“No problem, except I didn’t want to wake Frank up, so I had to get dressed in the dark. Look at these clothes.” Judy threw up her arms. “I’m disgusting.”

“What do you mean? You look great.” Mary wouldn’t have recognized Judy but for the yellow Danskos; she looked fantastic even without makeup, in brown tailored pants that hugged her slim hips and a beige knit V-neck. The chic neutrals complemented the golden sunniness of her hair, and Mary was dumbfounded by her dismay.

“I look horrible.” Judy almost wailed. “I’m shades of brown.”

“Of course you are, your clothes are. That’s how normal people dress.”

“But it’s so matchy-matchy.”

“No, it’s color-coordinated. Everything’s from the same color family.”

“That’s my point. It’s like eating a meal composed entirely of meat. Everything’s from the same food group.”

“What?” Mary didn’t follow.

“You wouldn’t eat steak, a side of chicken breast, and pork chops for dessert, would you?”

“No.”

“So why is it okay with clothes?”

“Because clothes are different from meat?” Mary asked uncertainly, thinking that Judy was either really dumb or really smart. She was going with really smart, since she had come to her for advice. She sat down in a chair opposite the desk. “Okay, whatever, we have to talk about Trish.”

“Whatever.” Judy leaned forward. “Sorry I didn’t call you last night. Frank and I were at a movie, and when I saw the news online, I figured you’d already gone to bed.”

“That’s okay.”

“So what’s happening? You barely said on the phone, and this is some story.” Judy gestured at the newspaper on her desk. “They’re talking about a Mob war. It’s all over The Inquirer.”

“I know. But the bottom line is, Trish is gone, maybe dead, or maybe he locked her in a basement somewhere.”

“What a nightmare, even for Trash.”

Mary winced. “We like her now. Get with the program.”

“Done. Next?”

“His sister says he has a house somewhere, because he wasn’t always going to stay in the Mob. So all we have to do is find the house.”

“We?” Judy grinned, brightening. “Yay! We need a new adventure. Lately I’m feeling so brown.”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean us. I meant me. You stay and cover my desk. Please, please, please, I beg of you.” Mary slapped her hands together, praying hard as a Communion photo. “I can’t do what I have to do if my desk isn’t covered.”

“But your desk is even more boring than my desk.”

“I need you. I’m getting dropped by half my clients as we speak.”

“I heard.” Judy puckered her lower lip. “ Marshall told me you got another cancellation yesterday afternoon.”

“Great. I liked it better when I was the Neighborhood Girl Who Made Good.” Mary tried not to think about it. “So please, will you cover me for just one more day? I’ll owe you, big-time.”

“Okay, but you do owe me.” Judy sighed. “I want food.”

“Fine. What’s your favorite food?”

“I don’t have a favorite food. Food is my favorite.”

“Okay, I’ll take you out for food. Meantime, I made a list of my matters today.” Mary got the paper from her purse and gave it to Judy, but she set it down.

“Hold on, I have a more important question.” She picked up one of the newspapers from her desk, and it showed a picture of Mary, her head down as she left the Roundhouse. Anthony was looking at her, his hand on her arm. “Who’s this hottie?”

“The guy I told you about. The not-gay one.”

“How’d he get invited and not me?”