Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures) (18 page)

DeFiore
put the phone down and walked over to Mina. “You told Sam what?”

“About the dumbbells. She saw me when I drove to Ginger’s condo. I didn’t want her to think I was snooping or something. I explained I was driving Margo’s car because she wasn’t feeling well…”

Mina didn’t get a chance to finish her story.
DeFiore
raced out of his office leaving her there with Adams.

“Adams, when Angelina came to work that Sunday, her face was bruised. Maybe Barbara did it, while fighting for her life.” They left the police department right after
DeFiore
and Mina could think
of nothing but
Ginger and Barbara. Adams kept the car idling in front of West Coast Software while he tried to convince Mina to leave California.

“Who knows?” he said
.
“
A
little overseas vacation m
ight
do you good. You could fly to Europe, connect with Brian and his mom and have a white Christmas in Italy. By the time you get back to Orange County all this ugliness with Ginger, Angelina and Barbara would be sorted out, and you can take your time deciding about your future. Don’t get me
wrong;
I’m still getting the lease voided. I’ll have your belongings stored until we know what tomorrow holds. Mina, this is no way to live. I know you had the best intentions when you agreed to work at Bosom Bodies. You’ve seen how that turned out.
Why don’t you stay with us a couple of days? M
y daughter is not around much
and we have
plenty
of room
. Monday you get your car and we can park it at West Coast Software until you get back from Europe.”

“What’s happening with the investors? I thought by now
a
merger
or a sale
would’ve been a done deal.”

“Mina, why do I get the sense you are trying to change the subject?”

While she searched for an excuse, the car phone rang. Adams didn’t appear in a rush to answer, and when he did it seemed to Mina he had kept her sitting in the car just for that, a call from
DeFiore
. And
DeFiore
didn’t sound happy at all. His voice so loud she could make out most of what he was saying from her passenger seat.

“A brick through the rear window—over in minutes…no kid job.”

Mina wanted to know what was so important for
DeFiore
to call Adams’
s
mobile, but above all
,
she wanted to know how she was connected with the call. She poked Adams. He ignored her, totally focused on
DeFiore
’s tirade. When he hung up, he turned to Mina, “It’s settled. You are going to Europe.”

“Like hell I will. Who threw what through whose window?”

“You were listening?”

“Listening?
DeFiore
was hollering like a TV preacher. What happened?”

“Someone broke into Margo’s car. He arrived at the complex a few minutes after the fact. The manager thought he was responding to his nine-one-one call.”

“Margo’s car? Oh, my God. Poor Margo, she
is still making payments on that car
. What was taken? Her stereo system?”

“No, the thieves broke the rear window and stole Ginger’s pink dumbbells and your Super Glue. Nothing else.”

Mina
was
speechless.
Too bad Diego wasn’t around to
enjoy
the moment.
Some clarity began to unfold from this deceptive act of vandalism. The pink dumbbells held the key to all the troubles. With some luck, they were now in the murderous hands of the people who killed Barbara and Ginger. While she felt bad for
DeFiore
, a sense of relief wrapped her mind and soul. It was over. No more drugged hot cocoa, no more break-ins, no more living in fear, no more—Diego?

T
he kaleidoscope of emotions
must have
reflect
ed
on her face because
Adams
said, “You are still going to Europe.”

Mina ignored him. She needed to be alone, to analyze her true feelings now that Diego’s protection and his constant presence w
ere
no longer a requisite for survival.

“I’m going to the office to call Margo to see if I can help, then I’ll get myself back to the condo. Don’t start making any flight reservations on my behalf, okay?”
She got out of the Lincoln without waiting for Adams to answer.

It was late Saturday afternoon, and West Coast Software was locked up and deserted. Mina let herself in, entered the security code
and
went to sit at the receptionist’s desk like she had so many times before.
The whole reception area sported a coat of fresh paint, probably part of the staging for the investors’ benefit. Adams never had answered her question regarding the
pending
business
deal
.
She dialed Margo’s number. “Hey, Margo, I heard about your car. I’m so sorry. What else was taken?”

“Shit, Mina, only your stuff. Well, the dumb dumbbells. I don’t give a damn about that, but I have a five hundred dollars deductible on the car. Shit. That’s what my life is, shit.”

Mina’s mind wandered to Ginger’s life and death, or what she had been told of it. Margo didn’t know how lucky she was. “Margo, don’t fret, I’ll help you out. Consider it an early Christmas present. I feel responsible. Maybe nothing would have happened if I hadn’t forgotten what you so appropriately call the dumb dumbbells. Okay?”

“That’s nice. Thanks, Mina. I’m calling the insurance company. They have a twenty-four hour glass repair service. I intend to show up for work on Monday even if I have to tape cardboard over the window. And
DeFiore
is taking fingerprints.
Fingerprints
. A bona fide detective spending time on my car. I think he really likes me.”

“I think he does too,” Mina lied. No need to drag Margo into this. “And don’t be too concerned about coming to work. Come Monday I’ll have my Bug
back
.
I can cover for you.
Ciao
.”

Sitting there alone brought back an avalanche of repressed memories
:  h
er mother, the Fernandez sisters, the unnecessary ugliness culminating in her mother’s murder. All the pains and sorrows seemed to share a common denominator—betrayal. Betrayal fueled by greed. Even now, if she tried to analyze the seeds of this new madness, the answer was still the same. Barbara and Ginger stole from others,
both
greed and betrayal. Mina put her arms on the desk, rested her head on them and cried. It was a quiet weep, a cleansing process, because this very room had also witnessed acts of kindness. Perhaps even love. This is where she met Paco, who turned out to be a wonderful friend, a father figure almost, and Margo, who pretended to be tough, but deep down was a simple woman looking for true love like any other mortal soul.

And it was in this very room
Mina
realized she was falling in love with Brian and his blue eyes. It was an evening like this
. S
he was alone, getting ready to lock up the place. He showed up with a pizza.
Brian.
Not too long ago the sound of his name brought joy to her heart and fire to her body. What went wrong? She hadn’t seen it coming. Was there something left to be saved?
Maybe it was the holiday blues, Christmas around the corner and no one to share it with. Could Brian have been the one asking Adams to suggest her trip to Europe?

The night timer kicked in and the outdoor lights came on. Inside only a dim floor lamp was on automatic. The room felt so restful, she could just stay there all night, forget about everything and everyone. She remembered she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Maybe that was one of the reasons she felt so melanchol
ic
. She could order some pizza and a soda. Paco had done that before when they worked overtime. What was the name of that pizza place? She was searching under the desk for a phone book when she heard a soft tapping on the front door. Her heart stopped. Whoever was knocking couldn’t see her under the desk because of the modesty panel. What now? The tapping turned into a thumping. Mina got up from under the desk and turned to look. Diego leaned sideways against the door, his face pressed against the glass pane, looking straight at her. He waved his hand and waited. For what? The door was unlocked. With a sigh she left her chair and went to let him in.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked.

“And good evening to you also. Adams,” he said.

“You know Adams?”

“No.
DeFiore
does.”

Oh, yes, team work
.

“May I come in?”

“Sure, sorry.” They faced each other. For the first time since she met him
,
she saw him as a friend more than a man of mystery. Could it be because she no longer needed his protection? He walked in and closed the door.

“So, this is West Coast Software.” He looked around.

“The reception area, yes. And the offices, then there is a warehouse and—if you want a tour, I’m not sure I remember how to get everything working, and I’m the only one here.”

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Hungry, you know—food, eating?”

“How did you get here?” she asked.

“Is that a yes?” he said.

“Yes to what?”

“The pizza I picked up on my way here.”

He brought a pizza.
Brian had showed up with a pizza. Too much coincidence. Better behave.

“You want to eat here?” she said.

He kept his eyes locked on to hers. “Here, in the car, at my place?”

Was he
still
talking food?
“Where is your car?”

“Just around the corner. Do you need help locking up?”

Instead of answering, Mina gathered her things, opened the door and motioned Diego to get out. She set the alarm, ran to the exit and locked up. He stood back watching
as she went
through the motions, his hands in the pockets of the black leather jacket, his expression unruffled. They walked to the car without touching or speaking. Mina felt awkward and self conscious, burdened by a sense of guilt heightened by the urge to surrender to her whims. She assured herself it was all in her head and nothing between them would change. They were on their way to share a pizza, a glass of wine and a laugh. Isn’t that what friendship is all about?

What would her mother say?
Her mother had known betrayal in so many ways by so many people. Her mother thought Brian was the perfect match for Mina. But her mother was gone, and Brian was not around when she needed him most. Mina snuggled in the passenger seat of the black automobile and watched Diego maneuver off the West Coast Software parking lot.

Diego removed his leather jacket and placed it on a chair, then popped a bottle of Prosecco, same brand she drank. Interesting. The pizza warming in the oven didn’t resemble the typical carry out Mina was used to. It looked more like the pizza from back home, thin crust, lighter sauce, artichoke hearts and prosciutto, just the way she liked it. No pepperoni—thank God for that—she didn’t know what pepperoni would be in Italian because she had never seen it in the old country. Besides,
peperoni
in Italian meant bell peppers. She had no idea where the extra “p” came from.

She sat in his comfortable living room. Should she tell him that
DeFiore
said it was okay for her to go back to her place? No, she wasn’t ready to go yet. And her phone would need to be moved also. The only thing she needed to share was about the dumbbells.

“Do you need help in there?” she asked.

“You can decide how many slices you want
.
”

They sat on the high kitchen stools, shared delightful pizza and chilled sparkling wine. Music played in the background. It sounded like it came form the bedroom. Mina could hum the classical piece in her head, it sounded that familiar, but she couldn’t think of the title and she wasn’t about to ask Diego, either.

“This is the best pizza I’ve had since coming to America
.
”

“You still call it America?” Diego smiled.

“Yeah, so what? Where did you find it?” She had already checked out the box, but it was a plain white cardboard box with no business logo on it.

“What’s with all the questions? I have a friend who owns a restaurant and he lets me go into his kitchen and play. That’s all.”

“Maybe so, but this is the way they make pizza where I come from
. Y
ou didn’t just dream it up.” It seemed like every time anything to do with Italy came up, Diego’s mood changed. Better pick a different subject. “If you spoke to
DeFiore
, he must have told you about the pink dumbbells.”