Lost and Found (28 page)

Mr. Fancy Pants lives on the thirty-fifth floor of Trump Towers. No wonder I bumped into him at the fountain. He was probably walking home that day. I reflect on my extreme good luck one more time as the elevator zooms upwards. When that girl Veronica called me at Belinda’s shop, I nearly had a heart attack.

“How’d you get my number?” I asked suspiciously. When she told me how she kept Shay Dee’s manager’s phone number handy and had tracked me down through him, I knew I’d met a kindred spirit. No man should mess with women like us. We always get what we want eventually. Doctor Oliver should stop trying to fight me on this. Anyway, after tonight, it won’t matter anymore. He can be as stubborn as he wants, but I’m going to win this war.

I was told to take a left off the elevator and go to the end of the hall. There’s a door there, but it’s closed. Normally, I’d knock in a situation like this, but I’m in too much of a hurry to finish my business. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he won’t even see me come in. I can leave the ring and take off. I just have to get out of the building before anyone can stop me. Maybe I’ll take the stairs down and give him and his army of doormen the slip. Trying to estimate how long it will take me to get thirty-five floors down on foot starts to give me a headache, though, so I decide to wait and do what feels right when the time comes. On-the-fly decision making. Ninja skills. I can do this.

As soon as I open the door, the smell hits me.

Death. Or something very near death. Is he a serial killer storing bodies in here or what?

“What the hell …?” I whisper.

“Hello?!” comes a voice from somewhere I can’t see.

I need to say something or he’ll come out here and bust me.

“Hello! Chinese food delivery!” I put the grocery sack full of crap from my meager pantry offerings down on the foyer table and reach into my backpack, trying to find the ring. I’m going to hide it in the apartment somewhere so I have more time to get away.

“Could you help me please?” he says loudly. “I’m kind of stuck here!”

I pause, my hand wrapping around the ring in my bag.

“Stuck?!” I really don’t want to answer his call, but he sounds desperate.

“Please! Help! It’s an emergency!”

Goddammit, Karma, why are you such a bitch?!
I’m so close. So close!

“Oh my god, noooo!” he yells, sounding very distressed.

I can’t stand still any longer. This is a test. Karma is asking me what I’m going to do … be selfish or selfless. I really have no choice.

Dropping my backpack to the floor, I run as fast as I can in my heels, following the sound of moaning and groaning. They lead me through a bedroom and into a bathroom.

I cannot believe what I’m looking at.

First, there’s the reflection of me in the mirror. I look hot. I should probably masquerade as an Asian girl more often. My black wig, heavily lined eyes — drawn to make them appear almond-shaped — are killing it. And this dress I found in a cheap Chinatown souvenir shop? Holy crap. I never realized I had so many curves. Boom chakka lakka. Sexxxyyyyy.

“Excuse me, but when you’re done checking yourself out in the mirror, do you think you could help me out?”

I scowl down at the guy who’s on his knees and who’s obviously
not
hurt at all. Then I realize he’s not alone.

“What in the heck …?”

“She had a blowout,” he explains.

There’s a baby lying in the middle of a pile of towels, her diaper sagging off one leg, and baby shit everywhere.

“What did you do to it?” I ask, afraid to get any closer.

“She’s not an
It
, she’s a she. She’s Cassie.”

Somehow, I never pictured him as a father. He always seemed too stuck up or something. “Is she yours?”

“She’s my niece.” He looks up exasperated and sighs. “Do you know how to change diapers or not?”

“Not.” I laugh one quick second and then stop.

“How is that possible?” He gets up from his knees and puts his hands on his hips.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Because I’m Chinese I should automatically know how to change diapers?” Is that a thing? Are Asian woman expert diaper changers from birth? How did I not know that?

He narrows his eyes at me. “If you’re Chinese, my name’s Antonio.”

“Okay, Antonio, whatever you say.” I look away so he can’t get too close a look at my makeup. The stink in here is starting to make my eyes water, and I’m not sure this stuff is waterproof.

“Here,” he says, bending over and grabbing the baby, dangling her in the air between us, “pull her diaper off for me, at least.”

I stare in disgust at the mess just inches from my face. “Hell no, I’m not doing that!”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “You’re going to let this baby get sepsis from the infection?”

My heart lurches. “Infection? What infection?”

“Diaper rash. It’s inevitable.”

The baby isn’t facing me, but even so, I can see she’s tiny. And she’s cute. Even though she’s being dangled in midair, she doesn’t seem to mind. I know if I had my pants full of shit and someone was holding me like that I’d be pissed.

“Fine. I’ll take it off, but then I’m leaving.”

“Don’t you want to be paid?” he asks, pushing the baby closer to me.

“You’d better not be suggesting that I’m only getting paid if I change this diaper.” Not that it matters. He can have my cans of four-year-old soup gratis. It’s just the principle of the thing. You get take-out delivered, you pay for it without requiring extra services. That’s like a social rule or whatever.

“I can’t get my wallet until my hands are clean, which isn’t going to happen until this is finished.”

The ring is in the hallway and I’m afraid if I just take off, I won’t have time to get it out and hide it somewhere before he comes out and catches me in the act. He’ll have me arrested for trespassing or something, and if I get busted this time, I’ll never get another chance. This place is like a fortress. I know I got lucky this trip getting inside it, and my luck can only hold out for so long.

“Okay, I’m taking it off,” I say, reaching out for the sides of the diaper. “Then you need to pay me so I can leave. I’m allergic to baby shit.”

Grabbing hold of the diaper in the only two spots that don’t have poo on them, I try to pull it down. Nothing happens.

“What are you doing?” he asks, annoyed.

“I’m doing what you asked me to do!”

He scowls at me. “Shhh, don’t yell, you’ll make her cry.”

I shift down into a loud whisper. “Fine. I’m not yelling. Her diaper is stuck, though.”

“You have to un-do the tapes.”

“Tapes?”

“Jesus, you really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

I sigh loudly in annoyance. “I believe I said that from the beginning.”

“Just … come around to this side and pull the tapes off.”

Grumbling, I walk around to the other side of the baby, stopping when I’m next to him. “What tapes?”

He points towards the baby with his chin. “Near her hips. One on each side.”

I lean in and squint through my massively thick false eyelashes. Now that I’m closer I can see a piece of tape or something holding the diaper together. A smile pops up unbidden. “Oh. There they are. Cool. That’s handy.”

He sighs, but says nothing.

I reach in very gingerly and grab the edge of one. It pulls away with a slight ripping sound. I glance at the side of the doctor’s face. “You ready for number two?”

“I was ready five minutes ago.”

I roll my eyes at his rudeness. “Okay. Here goes nothing…” I pull the last bit of tape away and the diaper, released from its tether, slides down her chubby little legs and lands with a stinky plop on the bathroom floor.

Something wet splatters all over my ankles.

Chapter Fifty-Six

NO WONDER THE DOORMAN TOLD me to have fun with that tone in his voice. As she looked at herself in the mirror, I was trying to decide if she was a transvestite prostitute or just a badly misguided teenager, but when she came over and stood next to me, I knew she wasn’t either. I’d recognize that smell anywhere. Leah Betty smells like an incense burner, an impossible scent to forget. I cannot believe she snuck past the doorman and got into my condo with that costume on. Talk about balls.

“Oh my god,” she says in a desperate tone, “I have baby poop on my legs.”

“You and me both.” I’m too annoyed with the smell situation to bust her ass for sneaking into my condo, and I can’t afford to alienate the one person who could help me right now. Besides, I know she’s here to unload that ring on me, and I need to keep her distracted long enough to throw her out of here … with that ring still in her bra or wherever it is she’s hiding it. Maybe it’s in the lo mein. I’ll have to chew carefully.

“Come on,” I say, stepping over the towels towards the shower.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“We’re hosing this baby down.”

She laughs for a second and then stops. “Are you serious?”

I look over my shoulder at her. “You have any better ideas?”

Her fake-slanted eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Shouldn’t we try to use some toilet paper first?”

I battle to keep the smile from my face. Later I’m going to tell her that her eye makeup is crooked, making her look mentally unbalanced.

“No, it’ll just stick and then we’ll clog the drain with paper when we try to rinse it off.”

I step into the large Italian shower and gesture at the shower handle with my elbow. “Grab that and then turn on the water.”

She leans in really far and before I have a chance to stop her, turns a dial.

“Not that one!” I yell, just as the water bursts out of the showerhead and hits me square in the face. “I told you to grab the handle first!”

“Oh crap!”

Right now I’m really glad I paid to have the plumbing fixture that makes water come out at exactly the right temperature without having to wait, because I’m pretty sure Cassie would not have appreciated having her bare butt sprayed with ice cold water. As it is, she looks a little shocked.

“Get it!” I yell, water filling my eyes and mouth. “Get the handle off the wall!”

She leans in as far as she can, but it’s clear she won’t be able to reach without more of a commitment.

“You get it,” she says, her tone desperate.

“I can’t!” I roar, spitting out water. “I’m a little busy holding a shit-coated baby right now!”

Cassie starts to cry.

“Goddamn it, Boo!” Leah Betty steps into the shower far enough to grab the handle off the wall. One side of her head and face gets wet along with half her dress. Her left eyelash comes undone at the outside corner and hangs awkwardly from her eyelid.

She stands across from me, pointing the handle at Cassie’s butt.

The power of the spray sends all of the baby’s nasty business to the front of my shirt.

Leah Betty and I stand there in complete silence watching as the disaster unfolds and drips down my pants to my socks.

Slowly, she moves the spray, up and down, around to the front of the baby, and then finally to my shirt.

“Who’s Boo?” I finally ask, trying to forget the fact that I’m standing in the shower with a faux half-Asian, half-hippy girl from the wrong side of the tracks.

She looks good wet, which is saying a lot considering the fact that her eyes are falling off and the smell in here is enough to gag a normal person. I’ve smelled too many things at the hospital to be overly bothered by it, though, leaving me free to notice things like the fact that Leah Betty can look her very worst and still be attractive.

She sighs, refusing to look at me, staring at the front of my shirt instead. “Boo is the fake name I gave you as my ex fiancé to my fake father.”

“You have a lot of fake relationships, I gather. Any real ones?”

She bites the inside of her cheek but says nothing.

“Listen, I know why you’re here, and it’s not going to work.”

“I’m just here to bring you some food.” Her jaw goes off center.

“No, you’re here to try and give me that ring. But I told you before I don’t want it back. I want you to keep it.”

She finally looks at me, her makeup running down both sides of her face, leaving a trail of black streaks. “Because you love me?”

I’m too shocked to remain cool. “Love you? What? No!” I frown at her. “Are you nuts?”

She smiles. “No. Just testing you. Seeing if maybe you’ve been stalking me or something.”

I hold Cassie up higher so my wannabe-Asian friend can get her undercarriage better. “Please. This is the third … no the
fourth
… time you’ve tried to sneak in to see me. I think we know who the real stalker is.”

She drops the shower head to her side. “What is your damage, anyway?”

I lower the baby, turning her around and flipping her sideways so I can hold her like a football over my forearm. “Damage? I don’t have any damage. What’s your damage?”

“Of course you have damage. How else do you explain refusing to take back a five hundred thousand dollar ring that belongs to you?”

“I don’t care about the ring.”

“Obviously. But why can’t you just get your money back? Cartier will take it back for a full refund, they already said they would.”

“I don’t want anything to do with that ring or the money used to buy it.” I step around her to get out of the shower. Pulling the last towel off the rack on the wall, I carefully wrap Cassie in it and put her on my shoulder. Once she’s all set, I work my way out of my shirt, dropping it to the floor and leaving myself bare-chested. It’s tempting to leave my pants there too, but I don’t want to scare this woman away. Not yet anyway.

“But why?” She follows me out of the bathroom.

I go right for the bags in the front hall. Surely there are some diapers in there somewhere.

“It doesn’t matter. Just keep the ring and leave me alone about it.”

“I can’t.”

I wait for her to explain, but all I get is silence. I pause searching the bag I’m in to look over my shoulder at her. “Don’t tell me you don’t need the money, because I know you do.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “You are the rudest person I have ever met in my entire life, you know that?”

I shrug and go back to my search. “I’m just being honest. Take the money. Make a new life for yourself.”