Lacey Luzzi: Sprinkled: A humorous cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 1) (18 page)

Clay kept walking, but I saw his shoulders stiffen, pulling on the spand-i-fabric.

“Hey, I’m asking you a question – did you talk to Meg?” I asked.

“She came up to make sure you made it in okay. We had a drink.”

I smiled at his receding back. I tapped the doorway, deciding if I should comment. I decided against it and turned back into my room to prepare for the mental and physical torture ahead.

When we walked into the gym, Anthony was waiting at the counter. He was talking with Marge, but they stopped abruptly as we approached, and Marge’s ears turned a slight pinkish color.

I stuck my hand out for a wristband and looked over my shoulder at Anthony. “We’re not even late.”

“I heard you drive up.” He nodded through the window, through which we could clearly see Clay’s van parked in two spots. His face was unreadable, as usual. “Nice wheels.”

“Hey,” I said, as Clay looked away awkwardly. “You should see the inside. It’s really impressive what he’s done with it.”

Anthony looked at me, the slightest shadow of surprise reflected on his face. “I meant it. The inside is amazing.”

“It is.” I crossed my arms. “Wait a minute, how did you-”

“Let’s go. Get changed.” Anthony surveyed my outfit.

“I
am
changed.” I looked down at the yellow sweatshirt I’d been wearing for days and shorts that could’ve passed as pajamas. “I’m comfortable.”

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” mumbled Clay, pushing past the two of us.

Anthony and I stood defiantly with our backs to the counter, neither looking at one another nor speaking. Marge bustled away, as if she didn’t want to intrude on our awkward stare down.

I heard her fiddling with something in the cooking area behind the desk, but didn’t break eye contact with the chair across the room.

A moment later, she bustled back out. “Freshly baked cookies, anyone?”

They smelled delicious, but after the debacle last night, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“I’m okay,” I said. “But thanks a lot, Marge.”

Anthony looked at me for the first time. I thought I imagined a flicker of a smile pass across his face, as if he was reading the thoughts flooding my brain.

He leaned over and snatched a cookie from the tray. I watched out of the corner of my eye, and my stomach growled. I hadn’t got the chance to get my sugar infusion that morning, yet.

Now, there was no mistaking his smile.

“Cookie?” He stuck his arm out. “I promise they’re not burned.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but Clay waddled from the bathroom and I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of him. I ate the cookie. I also grabbed a second and third one for the road.

I settled for a steely glare throughout the entire workout.

Then when Anthony added an extra five pounds to my bench press, the stream of expletives that left my mouth caused him to raise an eyebrow. Clay looked mortified; his entire face was the shade of a beet – something I’ve never eaten, only looked upon in disgust.

And when he cranked my treadmill up an extra notch, I stood on the sides and let it run underneath me, my feet safely planted on the non-moving parts, refusing to put up with his punishing workout.

Anthony eyed me. All he said was, “Cookies.”

I looked down at my stomach and hoped to see a six pack of abs, so that I could laugh at his face. But, I didn’t. I stepped back on the treadmill.

Finally, we wrapped up for the day, and Clay went to rinse off.

I rounded on Anthony. “What the hell do you know about my dating life? And
why
are you so interested?”

He didn’t move a muscle. He was so nonplussed; it notched my anger up another level.

“Huh? Have you been following me?” I asked. I poked his rock hard chest. If he weren’t my crazy gym trainer and maybe stalker, I would’ve thought he was quite attractive. And I would have never talked to him like this. But getting him into bed was (almost) the furthest thing from my mind.

“You know I could have you arrested for that!” I said, following him as he walked back towards the front desk, maybe to wait for his next client. “I could call the cops on you.”

I wasn’t expecting him to whirl around and stare me down with his dark, mysterious eyes. He thoroughly looked me up and down, and while I expected to feel violated by his studious gaze, instead my body shivered with an excited thrill. “Yeah, but you won’t.”

** **

I’d missed a call from Carlos during the workout, along with six from Auntie Nora and a combination call with Nora yelling at Carlos in the background to ‘have anotha scoop of gravy.’ Then, there was a last one that was just a few huffy breaths followed by a click, which could have been either of them trying to figure out how to properly dial the phone.

The jumbled messages all suggested the same thing: it’d been too long since I’d been over to eat. Come for lunch. Now. I sighed, thinking that I’d already seen Carlos for breakfast recently and would see him tomorrow. Were they
trying
to get me fat?

Promising Clay that I’d do the dishes for a week, he grudgingly agreed to drop me at my car and come with to lunch. My little Kia was right where I’d left it after the cookie disaster of the previous evening. I refused to look towards Michael’s house (except once, and I saw nothing), as I got in my car and vroomed away.

I pulled into the driveway of Nora and Carlos’ estate and parked behind Clay’s creep-van. Our two cars were extremely successful at creating an eyesore in the driveway, especially next to Carlos’ spiffy Lamborghini shining brightly next to them. I knocked on the door. Clay shot daggers at me with his eyes. I looked down. I realized neither of us had changed – and while it wasn’t exactly tragic in my case, just slob-worthy, Clay’s blue biker shorts weren’t exactly ‘Family’ material.

“Go change,” I hissed.

“No.” He crossed his arms defiantly.

“Are you
trying
to pick a fight?”

“I can wear whatever I want. Are you ashamed of my body?” He smirked.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But you’re asking for this one.”

Harold whisked the door open. “Buongiorno-no-nooo no. No. No.”

Harold shook his head back and forth. “Have you two showered in the past week? The smell is incredible.”

“Well, it was a last minute invitation,” I offered.

Harold smiled at Clay, who returned the grin. “Good to see you, Clay, it’s been awhile.”

“Same to you, Mr. Harold.” Clay shook Harold’s hand. They’d always gotten along. Harold was a sweet soul, and it was hard for anyone to dislike him.

“I think your attire is rather fabulous, but I’m not sure that Carlos will agree,” Harold said honestly.

“Carlos and I have… come to an agreement. But thanks for watching my back.” Clay winked.

Harold bowed deeply. “Anytime.”

I idly wondered if their ‘agreement’ had anything to do with Clay’s ability to move Family money around and make it vanish faster than a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie within my arm’s reach.

Harold gestured us in and we escaped a brutal pat down, due to the fact that the guards on duty were seasoned veterans this time around. Either that, or Clay’s body was on full display – no patting necessary.

“Carlos is in the kitchen,” Vittorio said. He was one of the older ones, his hair on the verge of turning gray, but not quite there. He was buffer than most college football players, however, and eight times as smart.

“Thanks, Vitto.” I smiled, and Clay and I tramped down the hallway towards the aroma of bubbling pasta sauce.

Auntie Nora opened the revolving kitchen door, enveloping me in a huge squeeze. When she released me and turned to Clay, her gaze faltered as her eyes took in his uber-tight workout clothes. “Oh, dear, do you need to use the restroom before supper? I have an extra pair of pants, if you’d like in the closet. Carlos’ old ones.”

“Nah, I’m comfy.” Clay gave a solid nod.

“Oh, dear. Okay, then. Come on in,” she gave a weak smile. However, as Clay stepped over the rug she hugged him just as tightly as she had me. Just, a little off to the side and one-armed, avoiding a full-frontal hug. I didn’t exactly blame her. She closed her eyes as she hugged him, as if it might be the last time she saw him alive.

Which, it very well could be when Carlos saw his attire.

“We’re just sitting down to supper. I cooked plenty of meatballs. Clay, I hope there’s enough to keep you full – I hadn’t known you were coming.” Nora ushered us into the dining room.

“It’s no problem, I appreciate it. I always love stopping in,” Clay said wryly, hanging one arm over Nora’s shoulder.

Carlos looked up from his seat at the head of the table. He opened his mouth as if chewing a meatball, though there was no food on the table. His eyes flicked between the three of us, who I’m sure were looking as guilty as robbers caught red-handed.

“Sit. Mangiamo,” he declared in Italian.
We eat
.

I caught Auntie Nora’s eye and there was a second of bewildered eye contact. Since when did Carlos not have a smart comment about Clay? Maybe what they said was true: people did change.

Then I looked at Carlos, and I realized I was being stupid – Carlos would never change. I idly wondered what favor he needed from Clay this time around. Either that, Carlos was
really
scared of his grandson.

Nora plied us with heaps of wine, pasta and meatballs. As we dug in, Carlos asked about my progress on the case.

“It’s good,” I said. “Got some new information.”

I filled him in on my newest conclusions. It was the first time Clay had heard any of them, but he didn’t look phased. He kept his head in his spaghetti and noodles in his mouth.

Carlos gave one slow nod afterwards. Nora gave me another scoop. I pushed my plate away.

“How’d you figure this out? Who’d you talk to?” He eyed me closer than I liked.

“A friend,” I said vaguely. “Nobody you know.”

“Then I don’t trust him.”

“You can trust him, Sir. Its good information, isn’t it?”

Carlos grunted. “Why’d you take two cars today?”

I glanced at Clay, who seemed in the middle of a huge gulp of wine. “Uh, just coming from different places. I called him last minute.”

“If you’re not coming from the gym, then why are you still in your pajamas? And if he’s not coming from the gym-” Carlos nodded to Clay, “then why the hell is he wearing those hideous pants?”

I looked at Clay, who said nothing. I looked to Carlos, but realized I didn’t have anything either.

“You stayed at a boy’s place last night,” Carlos said accusingly.

“Not
exactly
,” I clarified. “I’d call him a
man
. And I didn’t sleep there, either.”

Carlos glared angrily at me. “Don’t tell me he’s your source of information.”

His voice was cool and threatening. I’d have almost preferred for him to snap and yell at me.

“Uh-”

“Lacey. What was the first rule I told you when I brought you into the Family? No emotions on the job.” He shook his head. “Maybe I was wrong about you. Thought I could bring you into a man’s game…”

“You can!” I stood up. “It’s not because I’m a girl – and for your information, I didn’t sleep with him. There are no emotions. I was over there for the mission. You want to meet him? I’ll show you there are no emotions.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth. “I don’t mean that. Don’t say yes.”

I shot a horrified glance at Clay, but even his eyes were wide.

A slow smile crept up the sides of Carlos’ face. “Yes, I’d like to meet him. You know what? I’d like to meet both of your boyfriends.”

“What, both?” I glared at Clay. “What, are you his snitch now?”

Clay opened his arms as a gesture of innocence. “I haven’t talked to him for weeks. I didn’t tell him a thing.”

“So, it’s true…” Carlos watched me. “Maybe I did give you less credit than you deserve.”

He took a sip of wine. I watched his throat contract with the effort. It was the longest pause ever. When he opened his mouth, I felt like I’d been teetering on a precipice for days. “Fine. Here’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow – one boyfriend for lunch, one for dinner. Prove to me you have no feelings for your
source,
and you can continue the job. If not, I bring someone else on. Deal?”

“Fine.” I shrugged. “No feelings, no problems.”

“Perfect! I’ll make a double batch of cookies.” Nora beamed, while the rest of the table flinched. “Just don’t forget, you have to dump them both at the end of the case, so you can go out with my man of choice.”

Carlos eyed Nora.

“Oh, dear, my
second
man of choice.”

We each pushed around our pasta for a minute.

“Started at the gym today,” Clay said. “Met a great trainer. Name’s Anthony. Big dude. Good guy.”

I looked up, sure I had a pasta noodle hanging from my mouth. Since when did Clay care to converse with Carlos?

To my ultimate surprise, Carlos was staring at Clay with his mouth open.

“I’m not sure he’s that nice. He’s a little creepy, actually. I think he might be coming onto me,” I piped in.

Carlos shook his head, his mouth still hanging open. It was not a portrait I’d want to paint.

“No…” he said in the most unsure voice I’d ever heard uttered from his lips.

“Yep,” Clay said. “Well, not the creepy part. I don’t get that vibe.”

“You haven’t been around when-”

“Did you see the note I left you at the laundromat?” Nora interrupted, flicking her spoon at me. “I volunteered you to watch Nicky’s kids – Clarissa and Marissa – oh, don’t give me that look. It’s for an afternoon. He’s got some business to take care of. What about your phone bill, did they ever tell you why you lost service?”

Well, I could’ve told her the reason I lost service: it’s what happens when you don’t pay our bills. As for babysitting – that’d be a no. The dentist? No, also. Returned phone calls? See line about not paying phone bill. (She didn’t need to know I had it turned back on).

“Okay, time to go,” I said to Clay – this conversation was starting to go to uncharted territories, land I didn’t feel like conquering today. “Places to be. Things to get ready for. Bills to pay.”