Queens Ransom (Sofie Metropolis) (20 page)

Epilogue

If I liked Christmas, I liked the day after Christmas equally as much. Especially when it fell on the weekend, like now. There was no rush to be anywhere. No gift giving or meal fussing. Oh, at some point, the family would end up gathered at my parents’, and food would definitely be everywhere, but there was no stress or worry or clock watching or dressing up. Just a nice, laid back day where the glow continued to burn.

I did, however, have a couple of items on my agenda that morning. One was more of a mission that I happily carried out first thing . . . in the rain, of all things.

Had to love New York weather. Blizzards one day; fifty degrees and rain the next. Outside a few black piles that hadn’t melted yet, it was hard to believe it had snowed at all.

Perfect for Boxing Day.

I understood in Canada and the UK that’s what the day after Christmas was referred to. I remember being curious some years back, thinking it couldn’t possibly have to do with the sport, not so close to such a religious holiday, and when I looked it up I liked what it in actuality signified. Outside being dedicated to a saint, it was traditionally a day when employee bonuses were given, in boxes. And seeing as Christmas Eve morning’s events had prevented me from distributing them, I decided I was going to hand-deliver the bonuses myself.

When I’d popped up at my cousin Pete’s mom’s, he had believed it was some sort of reward for having returned the money. I assured him that wasn’t the case; doing the right thing was its own reward.

I’d received a give-me-a-break stare in return, which told me he might be regretting his good deed. Well, if I hadn’t noticed the way the tips of his ears had gone pink.

Next on the list was Eugene.

His apartment building wasn’t all that dissimilar to the one in which I’d originally found Sara Canton. I’d knocked on the door twice, to no response, even though I could hear him inside, presumably arguing again with his ‘woman’. Both of them saying things about each other’s privates I would have preferred not to hear – ever.

He’d opened the door with an exasperated, ‘What?’

I merely handed him the envelope.

‘What’s this? Hell, the way this nigga’s luck is running today, it’s probably a summons. If it is, girl, I’ma have to—’

The rest of his sentence was forgotten as he gaped at his bonus.

He’d been caught so off guard he hugged me. Then jumped back and straightened his ‘fro as if he’d somehow spoiled his image by showing genuine affection that didn’t have a sexual connotation.

His wife’s voice sounded somewhere behind him and he’d quickly put the money back in the envelope and tucked it inside the front of his pants. ‘Shit, this is the one place she ain’t about to look today.’ He then leaned toward me. ‘Between you and me, OK? I don’t want the old lady knowing.’

‘About what? Us? Or the money?’

‘Us?’ He’d flashed me his gold tooth.

I gave him an eye roll. ‘Of course, the money. And you don’t want her to know, I’m not telling . . .’

Us.

I shuddered just thinking about it.

Next I stopped by the office where I left a box in the middle of Lenny Nash’s desk. Oh, it wasn’t much. Just a silver bell with a note that read: ‘So you’re not so silent.’

The next couple of stops were uneventful, envelopes left in mailboxes because the recipients – including Pamela Coe – hadn’t been home.

Then came Rosie . . .

Oh, yeah, the spunky Puerto Rican and I definitely had our differences. But truth be told, she was still one of my favorite people.

‘Sofie!’

She’d thrown her arms around me when she saw me standing in the doorway. I’d beamed nearly as brightly as when Dino had popped up as my Christmas surprise.

Despite the early hour and the fact she didn’t have to work, she was dressed to the ghetto nines, all tight top, jeans, clinking jewelry, high heels and higher hair. In fact, there was only one time when I’d seen her not look her ‘absolute best’ as she liked to call it, and that’s because she was doing what she needed to in order to achieve that lofty goal.

I didn’t think I’d ever forget her in that green facial mask and curlers helping me look for a missing ferret in the middle of the night.

Wait, there was one other time: when Seth dumped her.

Oh, boy, had that been a sniffling mess. I hoped never to see her in that condition again. Not because she still hadn’t been beautiful, but because it had broken
my
heart to see hers so achingly exposed.

She’d been so overjoyed with the bonus and the gifts, it had taken me forever to find a crack in her non-stop chatter about everything and anything so I could make my getaway. But I finally had, and was now back home, letting myself into my apartment where I expected to stay for a few hours doing nothing much more than indulging in the yummy leftovers from yesterday before going over to my parents to eat again and bring home even more leftovers.

I stepped inside, Muffy demonstrating how happy he was for the unexpected return, doing his spring-loaded bit as I tried to close the door behind me.

‘Whoa! Tongue away from the mouth, please,’ I told him, hanging up my coat and settling him down with a scratch behind the ears. ‘Yes, you like that, don’t you? Yes, yes, you do.’

Sometimes I didn’t know this person who talked to a dog like he was a baby . . . but most times I liked her.

Where was Tee?

I still wasn’t clear on why the old Tom had chosen my apartment as his winter camping spot, but he kept Muffy company and didn’t cause any trouble so I didn’t mind.

‘Tee?’

Muffy ran past me into my bedroom, then out again, his tongue lolling.

‘What is it, boy?’

I thought it was a pretty safe bet he wasn’t excited about an intruder, so I passed the empty spot where the sofa used to be, ignoring the boarded-up windows and shotgun-peppered walls, and the bare floors from where I’d stripped them of the bloodstained area rugs and drew to a stop in my bedroom doorway.

Well . . .

Just when I thought there were no more surprises to be had . . .

Turned out the Tom? He wasn’t a Tom at all. But rather a Harriet. And that big gut? Hadn’t been from overindulgence but because
she
was pregnant.

Hunh.

There on he floor in the corner, on my favorite suede jacket she must have pulled from the doorknob, lay Mama Tee and . . . one, two, three, four tiny kittens.

‘Aww . . .’ I bent over, slowly outstretched my hand to allow Tee to sniff, before running a finger over their tiny little bodies where they nursed. There seemed to be one of every color.

‘My, you’ve been busy, haven’t you . . . girl?’ I asked Tee.

She batted at my finger.

‘OK . . . I’ll leave you be to recover. But you and I? We have to talk.’

I sat on the edge of my bed, watching as Muffy none too gently sniffed and nudged the kittens with Tee’s if not approval, then permission.

How cute was that?

I looked around my room, thinking of something I could use as a better bed for them – although I was pretty sure my coat was ruined – and my gaze caught on the wedding gifts.

Wow. I’d completely forgotten.

I glanced at my clock radio, realizing that at St Demetrios, right about now, my ex-best-friend, Kati, was marrying my ex-groom, Thomas.

I waited for some significant emotion to take root . . . but I honestly felt nothing.

I smiled, opened one of the larger wedding gifts from one member or another of Thomas’ family, then stared down at the hideous pink and green comforter inside.

Perfect.

I placed the open box on the floor next to Tee, comforter and all, and methodically moved the kitties to lay inside, their immediate mewling sounding too loud to come from something so small.

Tee glared at me and followed.

I stood up and back, watching.

I half expected her to transfer the brood back to my coat. Instead, she finally lay down with what I imagined was a long-suffering sigh, and then began licking her kittens as if to tell them everything was OK and she was back.

How cute was that?

Deciding my presence was not only unneeded but unwanted, I grabbed the throw from the foot of my bed and decided I’d head up to the roof to take advantage of both the break in the rain and the warmer weather. Muffy agreed and followed on my heels, appearing more happy, proud feline father than unrelated canine.

I wasn’t surprised to find my next-door neighbor, Sloane, had the same idea. He sat on a folding chair, his too thin body wrapped in a blanket.

‘Hey, you,’ I greeted him, sitting down on the low brick wall that separated his roof from mine. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Warm greetings yourself, neighbor.’

I took my cell phone out of my pocket and checked it. Two missed-call alerts from my mother, a text from Dino, and a voicemail from my sister who’d tried roping me into shopping today.

Nothing from the man I’d hoped to hear from.

‘Keeping out of trouble?’ Sloane asked.

I laughed, draping the throw over my shoulders and looking out over the city. ‘Of course, not.’

I sighed, clutching my cell in my hand. I loved the view from up here. The lower buildings of Queens stretched to the East River and her fraternal bridges, then gave way to the jagged Manhattan skyline that looked like a complicated skeleton key in the cloudy light.

It was then it struck me what I could do with the rest of my wedding gifts: I could send them to the happy couple.

My smiled widened. Yes . . . that’s what I would do. Most of them were from Thomas’ family, anyway, so it was only right that he should have them.

I made a mental note to arrange to have them delivered tomorrow.

‘Uh oh,’ Sloane said. ‘That naughty smile can’t mean anything good.’

‘You’re right.’

‘So long as it doesn’t have anything to do with me, I’m cool.’

I liked Sloane. The only time I saw him was on days like today when we both found ourselves on our respective roofs. Sometimes we talked. Often times we didn’t.

He was good company.

A cool breeze blew, carrying on it the promise of more rain.

I shivered.

The past week emerged time outside of time somehow, filled with red-nosed reindeer, an old woman who smelled like chocolate chip cookies, a CIS agent that kissed like nobody’s business, a hunky hot Aussie who deported the competition and touched me in places others couldn’t hope to reach, and yummy Greek bakers who deserved better than me, but who I wanted to eat whole nonetheless.

I don’t know. There was something about what went down the other day that made me look at everything a little differently. Compelled me to look at my life a little more closely.

My cell vibrated.

I looked down at the screen, my heart feeling like it had been given a jolt of electricity as I read the familiar name on the screen.

Jake.

He’d sent me a message.

I ran the pad of my thumb over the phone face, not immediately opening the text.

I’d tried contacting him last night only to find my call forwarded to some sort of service that said the number was no longer in service. I’d left a message anyway, outlining what I’d wanted from him.

I’d had no idea if he’d ever get it.

But I’d hoped he might.

And not just because of my unusual request, either.

I clicked to access his text.

‘Merry Christmas’ was all it said.

Then a video began playing.

I cupped the screen. I heard a thick Russian accent say something along the lines of, ‘I’m a naturalized American citizen, you know. You can’t do this, you know . . .’

I squinted, watching as none other than CIS Agent David Hunter led a cuffed Boris Kazimier to a car and shut him into the back of it.

I raised my brows. Was it me, or had Hunter just looked directly into the camera and winked, presumably at me?

The video stopped.

I held the cell phone tightly to my chest.

Was it wrong for me to think the act of deporting Boris romantic?

I sighed wistfully.

If my reaction had anything to do with Jake not being entirely out of my life . . . I wasn’t saying.

Not even to myself.

‘Good news?’ Sloane asked.

I nodded and slid my cell into my pocket. ‘Very.’

I don’t know. Maybe my mom was right. Maybe I was making the wrong choices. But they were my choices. And, increasingly, circumstances were making it harder and harder to turn back to the girl I used to be. Providing, of course, I was ever interested in doing that.

Which I wasn’t.

No. The only path for me now lay ahead. And the more I thought about what I might find . . . well, the more hope and promise expanded within me.

And, in the end, wasn’t that what all that was about? The future?

I hugged my knees to my chest, closed my eyes and took a deep breath, two words forming in my head: bring it . . .