Romano and Albright 01 - Catch Me If You Can (MM) (8 page)

BOOK: Romano and Albright 01 - Catch Me If You Can (MM)
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“You’re right.” Why hadn’t I seen that detail? Maybe Jean had more depth than he let on. His satirical look at power and money was either going to be his claim to fame or cause him financial ruin. I shoved the photo away. “All right. I’ll take you, and we’ll go to dinner at Rocco’s, but Mom will have to walk you back. I have some things to do.” Like buy a glue gun and some floral wire without Nana’s interference. I glanced at the ear again. Maybe I’d pick up some fine-tipped markers as well.

She nearly leered. “Does it involve a man? Let me just fix my lipstick and grab my good handbag. Oh, and I have a circular I need to take as well.”

“Great.”

We walked into the restaurant at seven thirty. I blinked in disbelief. Shep McNamara sat at the best table in the house, a bleached-out preppie man in a Vineyard Vines tie on his right, and an older woman with jet black hair and yellow teeth at his left. Even from the door, I knew it was his agent Estelle. She was loud and her crass laughter carried across the restaurant. She had a boiled wool jacket that screamed money and chunky gold jewelry that begged to be stolen. The three were clearly finishing a business dinner. Shep had a half-eaten cannoli in front of him.

“Shit.”

Nana smacked my arm. “Mind your manners. Oh! Isn’t that your college roommate? What’s wrong with his face?”

Nana beamed and waved. Shep, seeing us at the door, flushed scarlet. He nearly matched the restaurant décor. He was still dapper and darling, yet underneath I knew he was frayed around the edges. Actually, he was wide-eyed with panic. Three times I’d seen him in twenty-four hours. This was insane.

My brother Paulie, blond as a Swede, came bustling up wiping his hands on his apron. “If it ain’t the art fag come to pay his respects to the family.”

“Nobody died, Paulie—I’ve come for veal scallopini. Tell Pop.”

Paulie bent down from his great height and kissed our grandmother on her powdered cheek. Nana patted him absently and hustled over to Shep’s table. “Sheppard! The big star. I saw you on
Days
and in that Wheaties commercial. How are you? I tell everyone in the Altar Guild that you and Caesar were—”

“Mrs. Cooper!” Shep jumped to his feet, scraping his chair and nearly knocking his espresso off the table. The demitasse spoon clacked on its little dish. He kissed her cheek soundly. “Roommates. Yes. Three years.”

He nodded at me—suddenly so staunchly heterosexual I’d have set him up with my own sister if I’d had one.

“Caesar Romano, Mrs. Cooper, let me introduce you to my agent, Estelle Rosenstein. And the executive producer for my new show—this is Chad Schumacher. He’s from Darien. He and my parents went to Choate together back in the seventies.”

Gag. Pretentious
and
preppy. I nodded and made nice with country-club man. Nana, no fool, zipped her trap. Estelle Rosenstein flung her hand across the table and shook my entire arm with enthusiasm. Did she know who I was? I slid a look at Shep. “What a happy coincidence,” I said through clenched teeth.

Shep nodded, grinned, laughed and basically jumped through every hoop. He’d have rung a bell and barked, I knew, if it meant fame. Chad sat quiet and observant. I smiled cautiously at him. He was a homophobe of the first order, I could almost smell it.

“Shep here is our new Mr. Potter.” Chad’s eyes were glowing blue. He had the look of a zealot.

“Mr. Potter.” Nana turned to me. “That’s the new show, Caesar. I TiVo’d the pilot for us.”

“What? I didn’t know that.” God.

Shep turned a curious melon color. I guess he blanched. It was difficult to tell under the tan. He licked his lips. “Yes. We’re just discussing it now.
Mr. Potter’s Lullaby
—”

“About that name…” Nana shuddered and said in all innocence, “…I hate to be a prude, but it does sound unseemly.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Like story hour for pedophiles.”

Nana snorted indelicately. I loved her, plain and simple.

Shep shook his head at me desperately. He struggled to find the right words. “Well. It’s a family show for…people…about making good choices. It’s based on the book,
Mr. Potter’s Lullaby
?”

“Was on the bestseller list for inspirational fiction. Six weeks running,” Schumacher said, as if he’d written the book himself.

Shep offered weakly, “It’s like
Seventh Heaven
meets…uhm… It’ll appeal to typical American families. That’s the target demographic.”

“Sounds fascinating,” I said politely. Actually, it sounded suspiciously middle-American. “Any gunfights? Car chases? Strapping young Scotsmen in kilts? I like those.”

Chad’s laser-like eyes flashed in annoyance. “It’s a show that centers on traditional values.”

“So, that would be a no to the kilts then? That’s a real shame.” I shook my head sadly. Nana grabbed my elbow and pinched me hard. “Ow. Uh. That sounds like just the thing this country needs.”

My father saved us all from a scene. “Caesar!” He kissed my cheek and I let him. “You cumma back to the kitchen and pack uppa some nice cannoli for later.” His accent was ridiculous. I let it slide, but hear this now: the man is third-generation American.

“Yes, Pop. I will.”

“Your momma, she wants you to cumma into de kitchen. She’s a working, yes?”

I told him to knock it off, but nicely. “
Smettila!
” My old man winked and I smiled back. He was working the table for a fat check.

I was unsurprised when Shep nudged my foot under the table.

“If you’ll all pardon me. Mr. Romano. Ms. Cooper.” He wiped his mouth neatly and placed his napkin on the table, then he fled to the men’s room like his pants were on fire.

“I’ll go back and see Mom now.” I nodded to Estelle and rudely ignored the Nazi. I didn’t play that game. I settled Nan in a booth near the kitchen. Pop went to make her a Cosmo.

I went directly into the men’s room, just like old times with Shep, hiding from the public. I detested him. But I couldn’t out him. I’d leave that for the press, because eventually the truth would tell, and Mr. Potter was in for a rainbow-colored surprise.

Shep grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry. Estelle read about this place in the Times, and we’ve had this dinner planned with Chad, but I had no idea we were coming here. I am as horrified as you are. I keep wondering if your dad is going to say something, or Paulie, and then you walked in. Don’t act too gay.”

“I don’t act gay, Shep. I am gay. It’s a beautiful thing to live your life in the open.” Most of the time. Especially after payday. “Stop whining and tell me something new. Any luck? Did you remember anything?”

He shook his fabulous hair. Anxiety wrinkled his masculine brow, and I struggled not to feel sorry for him. Damn actor. “No. But…you need to see this.” He whipped out his iPhone—an item that was entirely beyond my price range, FYI—and the next thing I knew we were watching amateur porn. I reared back, shaking free of his hold.

“What the hell is this?” It was Shep getting his face plowed by someone filming at an odd angle with a cell phone. The quality was beyond poor. “Is this supposed to impress me? I’ve seen you give head before, in this very bathroom.”

“Ssshhh!” As if the producer had his ear to the door. Shep’s hand shook. “It was in my email. I don’t know who it’s from, but, Caesar, whoever it is wants something from me. It’s a threat.”

I reluctantly watched the phone. “There’s a lot of that going on. Someone left a piece of that sculpture today—and Peter had an incident as well. You don’t remember anything?” He played the video again. Shep was so wasted, he was placid. My stomach turned. “This is horrible.”

“I know.” His eyes welled with tears, and I awkwardly patted his shoulder. It was strange to comfort him, but I genuinely felt terrible. He mumbled, “I’m going to lose everything.” I squeezed his shoulder and he choked. I gave him a minute to regain his composure. Not a show this time. I knew the real thing when I saw it. “He wants money.”

“Don’t they all? How much?” This was so curious.

“It’s the stupidest thing. He only wants eight hundred and ninety-seven dollars. And sixty-eight cents. It’s insane. He’s threatening my entire career over nothing.” He pocketed his phone and glanced at himself in the mirror. He quickly checked his teeth.

“That’s not nothing to me.” I didn’t have fifty dollars in cash, and my credit cards were groaning from overexertion. “He’s bluffing. You need to call the police. This is vile.”

“I can’t. I just…I can’t. I’m seeing someone…and my pilot was picked up. Do you understand how important this is?”

I nodded. Of course I did. “If you’re involved with someone, that’s even more reason.” I kept myself from asking who he was seeing…but I wondered if some ingénue was waiting in the wings. “You do what you need to. We need to go back out there. Call me later.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” And then Shep did the unthinkable. He pulled me into his arms, hugging me quick, tight, like we were in some kind of Hollywood bromance. His cologne was the same, as was his shampoo. Christ, even his fabric softener—it all smelled comfortably like the past. Clean, like mountain air. Like a nice virginal straight college boy from Greenwich desperate not to be a homosexual and eager to experience the world.

It was a snug and private moment, the clatter of the restaurant seemingly far off. I felt his breath against my ear. The last time we’d been sequestered in this place, he’d been on his knees, begging me to let him get me off quick. He’d always been filled with surprisingly naughty fantasies. That one had been particularly exciting—with my parents only a few scant feet beyond the door.

Shep gave me a slap on the back and shoved me away. “Gotta go. Thanks, Ce.”

The door snapped shut in his rush to get away from me. I sighed and went to join my grandmother, who was sipping on a very large Cosmo. A maraschino cherry stem was tied on her napkin. I knew she hadn’t done that with her fingers.

She started in on me before I unfolded my napkin. “He looks good, Caesar, but when’s he going to turn into an honest man?”

“I’m not holding my breath. Don’t start with me. I’m not getting involved.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears.”

I gritted my teeth and said slowly, “Let’s just have our dinner.”

“Fine.”

I nodded. “Did you really TiVo that show? You never said.”

“Yes I did, puss. I thought we could make popcorn and throw it at the television.”

Paulie stopped by with a glass of Chianti for me and an antipasto for Nana and I to share. I snapped at him, flinging my hands wildly. “Why’d you let them in here?”

“Whoooo hoooo. Like I can do anythin’ about it? I can’t not let him in the door.” He tossed a white towel over his shoulder and leaned a hand on the back of the booth. The vinyl creaked.

“You could have been full. No reservation. Anything.” It would have worked. It was Saturday night and Rocco’s was packed, every booth and table filled.

“Nah. They had reservations under another name. I had no idea he was gonna be here. Besides, Pop loves when celebrities come in.”

That threw me. I was just going to have to adapt to Sheppard “Easy Mac” McNamara’s fame. And this behavior was true of my pop, and admittedly good for business. I sighed. “Fine. But next time, warn me. You knew I was coming in.”

Paulie nodded. “Okay, okay. Don’t have a stroke. Hey, he’s gonna have a picture made of them two—Shep said he’d sign it so as we can hang it at the register, next to the Al Pacino and the Patti LuPone.”

“Great.” We watched as Estelle, Shep and the Evil One finished their coffee. Shep sent me one last long look as he went to the door. He mouthed
call me
.

“What’s he want? You’re not going to call, are you?” Nana’s fork stopped mid bite, a slice of prosciutto dangling from the tines. “What a wimp.”

“I should have Joey run him out of town.” It slipped from my lips before I could stop myself.

“He’d do it, no question. Look out, paesan. Here comes Ma.” Paulie scampered away as my blonde and dainty mother slid into the booth clutching a half-full martini glass. She kissed my cheek, and I smiled at the scent of Oil of Olay and oregano.

“What’s that actor doing back here? Rocco likes the publicity, but me? Not so much.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I have no control over these things.”

My mother sniffed. “He’s a nice boy, I guess, but did you see that television show? Horrible. He plays a missionary in Appalachia.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Why do they need missionaries there?”

“Apparently they require a man in tight pants to deliver awkward messages. I’m not sure. I fell asleep.”

Nana drank her Cosmo. “You mark my words: that Chip man is out of his mind.”

“Chad.”

“Same difference.”

An hour later, my belly full of veal scallopini and my head stuffed with gossip, I crossed the narrow street to Poppy’s pink van. I would have missed the man entirely if he hadn’t met my eye. I wasn’t pleased. It was Detective Dan, my own personal stalker, with a smoldering cigarette between his fingertips. He had on a soft leather jacket and a Yankee’s cap low on his head, his black hair almost hidden. He blended into his surroundings seamlessly. He’d done that three times in the last twenty-four hours, and now I knew what was going on with the chameleon-like detective, and it wasn’t a sudden interest in hooking up with yours truly. “You’re following me?”

“Maybe.” He took a drag of his cigarette. He’d gone from frumpy and unassuming last night, to powerful and clean-cut this morning, to dangerous and a little unnerving.

No ring again. “What the hell is going on?”

“We need to talk.”

“Here?” The night was cool and the sidewalk dark on this side of the street. All along the block people were busy, returning from dinner or the movies, or heading out for the night. I gave him an exasperated sigh. “Look. I need to go get some art supplies. If you want to talk, climb in, we can have a powwow in the truck. I have things to do.”

That took the wind right out of his sails. He shook his head in confusion. “Art supplies? Are you a painter? It’s Saturday night. Don’t you have a…date or a club or something to go to?”

“Me? Obviously you haven’t been following me long, Detective. Other than the gallery and Rocco’s with my Nan on Saturday night, I have no life. And no, I’m no artist.”

BOOK: Romano and Albright 01 - Catch Me If You Can (MM)
3.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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