To Tuscany with Love (17 page)

“Mr. Jackson, I’m afraid because it is the end of the term and this paper counts as your final, if you don’t turn it in today, you and your partner will have to accept zeroes on it, which means you fail my Organic Chemistry class. I suggest you either take it again next summer or fall, or drop out of pre-med.”

Lee took the stairs down two at a time. He ran to his car parked a block away. Gusts of wind pelted snow through the campus. Other students were also racing to their cars, so the storm wouldn’t strand them. Lee guided his VW Rabbit, already packed for the holiday, to I-94. His foot pressed down on the accelerator as he headed home for Christmas.

No matter how loud Lee cranked the volume on the car’s tape player, he couldn’t drown out the professor’s words to Stillman.

17

Los Angeles, California

R
une, one year after college, rocked his head in time to the blaring music. The walls shuddered from the bass and the crowd’s screams. He eased open the back stage entrance, peeked outside, and slammed it shut again behind the broad backs of the bodybuilder duo who guarded the door. The groupies spilled like vomit over the sidewalk outside the back entrance. His hands rubbed together.

Mick ran up to Rune from the edge of the stage. A shit-ass grin stretched across Mick’s face. Coked already. Mick’s entire body jiggled in time to the finale. He shouted to be heard. “Last encore. Be ready to run. Grab the hottest two chicks on your way through the crowd. I’ll do the same. The muscles fill the last limo with anybody that’ll blow them.”

Mick grabbed Rune’s cheeks between his palms. “I told you, dude. Metal bands are the ticket.” Mick’s head tilted back, sending his high-pitched scream to the stars. “Sex ... drugs ... and rock-and-roll!”

Bodacious girls and a weed cloud. Entering the band’s hotel suite, Rune scoped pairs and threesomes sprawled in marathon sex. The dudes outside on the balcony sucked joints, snorted coke, and diddled with needles. Beer bottles littered the floor.

Rune slid down against a wall. He tapped out a line of coke on the table next to him. A topless blonde with cantaloupe tits crouched in front of him. She eyed his coke. Her head dove. Awesome. Mick was right.

Rune’s head lolled back. His eyes wandered to a couple on the balcony. A guy long on hair and short on body fat straddled a bimbo lying on chair cushions. She shouted obscenities in rhythm with his thrusts. Her hands clung to his protruding hipbones.

After sucking him off, the blonde pulled up from Rune’s crotch and crouched over the coke. Rune saw Mick sprawled on the couch. His friend cinched a band around his biceps. A redhead, likely jailbait, sat next to Mick. She injected her arm, then passed the syringe to Mick.

“Don’t do it, man.” Rune’s eyes widened. “Dirty needles are no good, man.”

Mick didn’t hesitate. He jabbed the needle into his arm.

Rune watched Mick flip the strap off his arm. Mick’s eyes rolled and he slumped back against the couch.

The cantaloupe-titted chick flopped against Rune’s side, her left boob smashed into his ribs. Rune’s eyes drifted closed. This was the life.

18

Chicago, Illinois

M
eghan, in her mid-twenties, lounged in the middle of ten women sitting cross-legged on the floor. Glasses of champagne sat next to them amid opened boxes and crumpled wrapping paper. The giggling and laughter drowned out Ravel’s
Bolero
in the background.

The boutique had closed an hour early so that Karen could host the lingerie shower for Meghan here in their store. Meghan couldn’t keep the grin off her face. Life was perfect. The twins, along with Karen’s husband, Ed, owned this growing boutique, and now Meghan was getting married.

“Ooh, hoo-hoo. Look at this one.” Karen held up a filmy black lace panty and swung it in the air. “This is destined to become one of Jason’s favorites.” She moved on to a matching camisole, swishing it through the air by its satin straps. “I really blew it, getting married right after college. No one had money to buy sexy lingerie for me.”

Meghan’s eyes sparkled. “I thought you liked the kitchen gadget shower I threw for you.”

“Are you kidding?” Karen laughed. “What could be sexier than a sand-colored toaster?”

Meghan pursed her lips. “Guess you have to toast bread naked then, don’t you?”

“Shh. You’ll give away my secrets.” Karen succumbed to a fit of giggles.

Howls of laughter erupted at the banter between the twins.

Karen leaned over and whispered to her sister. “I told you things would work out when we left Italy. That you were better off without Lee.”

Meghan kissed her sister’s cheek. “You’re right. If I’d left Chicago to be with Lee in medical school, we wouldn’t have the shop. And without the shop, I wouldn’t have met Jason.” She had met her fiancé at the deli across the street from the shop one day when they each had run in for a quick takeout lunch.

She tingled all over at the mere thought of him. He was sexy in a bad-boy way. Jason supported her career, too, never complaining about her night or weekend shifts at the shop. The day they met, he had followed her back to the boutique, quizzing her about her interests and the store as they ate their lunches. It had been love at first sight for him, he’d brag to anyone they met. Jason traveled most of the time, selling medical equipment to hospitals from Chicago to Los Angeles.

Meghan remembered that she hadn’t completed the purchase orders for the upcoming season. “We have to go through the new order tomorrow. I’m not letting this wedding stuff ruin our profits because we didn’t pay attention to business.”

“Ed’s not sure it’s wise to bring in the two new lines,” Karen said.

Meghan covered Karen’s hand with her own. “Tomorrow, come an hour early. I’ll have the coffee on and we can go through the budgets. We need the new lines to stay on the forefront. If we want to move to Pine Street and be part of boutique row, we’ve got to be avant-garde trendsetters. We need those lines.” She sat back, the matter settled. “I’m not leaving on a honeymoon until the new order is in.”

“Ed’s worried about the money.” Karen’s eyes dropped to her lap, where one palm rested on her belly.

Meghan’s eyes followed her sister’s. Karen’s champagne sat untouched beside her. Meghan’s mouth gaped open at a sudden suspicion. “Are you pregnant?”

Karen looked up. A flush ran up her cheeks. She nodded twice. Meghan’s arms flew around her sister. “I’m so excited!” She waved her arms back and forth in the air, calling for the attention of the group. “Karen is having a baby. I’m going to be an auntie.”

The women clustered around them and hugged Karen. Karen’s eyes met Meghan’s. “I’m sorry. This was supposed to be your day.”

Meghan flicked her hand, dismissing her sister’s comment. But inside her, the giddy feeling from the wedding shower deflated by one-third. Her mind traveled back to the day she first fell in love—the day she lost her virginity to Lee. That day, too, Karen’s news of her engagement to Ed had put a lid on her own milestone. Meghan felt Karen’s eyes on her face. She smiled and nodded at her sister. “I’m happy for you.”

Meghan scooted around the floor, gathering up the satin and lace undergarments. The girls’ giggly banter shifted from sexual innuendos to talk of babies and motherhood. The camisole on the top of the pile, fire-engine red with white lace trim, glistened under a spotlight. Meghan remembered that the florist wanted final approval for the table centerpieces on Monday: red roses surrounded by lily-of-the-valley.

Her smile widened. In one week, she’d be married.

A bell tinkled when Meghan pushed open the door to the florist shop and was hit by the immediate sensory overload. Vibrant colors splashed from every corner. The fragrance of the flowers tickled her nose. Her eyes settled on the sales counter. Papers were scattered on the surface, but no one manned the desk.

“Hello?” she said.

Meghan peeked into the walk-in coolers. Empty. She heard a muffled voice from the back room. “Harvey?” It didn’t sound like Harvey’s nasal tone, the only thing about him she didn’t like. She opened the door to the back workroom.

Only one light, a yellowish bulb by the alley door, lit the crammed space. Meghan heard a muffled noise on the left side of the room. It came from the passageway between the floor-to-ceiling metal storage shelves.

Maybe Harvey had fallen and was hurt. Was it an intruder?

She shuddered and grabbed a stoneware vase by the lip; it was the only thing she saw that was heavy enough to be a weapon. She eyed the back door and calculated an escape route, in case she needed it. Her feet padded against the linoleum floor.

Meghan thought about calling the police, but what if Harvey was bleeding or had suffered a heart attack? Every moment might count, and she’d heard far too many horror stories of Cook County 911 operators putting callers on hold.

She leaned to her left and peered around the storage unit. The shelves, crammed full of vases, wires, and florist foam, allowed only ribbons of amber light into the space.

Meghan’s gaze dropped from eye level to the floor.

She saw not an injured Harvey, but two bodies curled together. The man’s freckled ass moved in time with his grunts. A freckled body Meghan knew all too well. Underneath him, the spindly legs of a girl jutted out.

Meghan had seen the girl before, an eighteen-year-old beauty who helped Harvey with the cash register. Not a brain trust, but the girl had a pretty face with a bust that made Meghan look flat. The girl’s wide eyes peered over the man’s shoulder and broadcast horror at being caught. Her long green and black fingernails dug into her partner’s shoulders. His thrusts sped up, apparently taking her clawing as a sign of passion.

Meghan remembered giving Jason the address of Harvey’s floral shop a month earlier so that he could order her bouquet.
Her wedding bouquet
. The slivers of light created stripes across Jason’s skin as his backside moved up and down with each thrust.

She let the vase slip from her fingers. It crashed against the floor and split in two. A retching cough erupted from her throat. Somehow, by sheer will, she kept her nausea in check. She’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing her toss her cookies.