Someone's Watching (14 page)

She talked softly to Marylou, careful not to wake him. She would tell Marylou about the big city, the fine restaurants, and the wonderful clothes she used to wear. “I almost had it all,” her mother said. Sometimes, she would take photos of herself out of a small leather box and show Marylou. How glamorous her mother was! But she had made a mistake and here she was. “In purgatory,” her mother would say. “But you, my darling girl, you’re my hope. You’ll get my dreams back for me.”

“Oh Mother,” Marylou said now, surprised to hear herself
speaking aloud. “I’m so sorry.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Marylou had tried everything—the slick men who promised her the world, then working as a hostess, a dancer, and even doing things that made her cringe at the memory. And now, even as she was getting closer to her goal, the seductive pull of Miami Beach was going to ruin it all for her. “I want to make you proud, Mother, but things keep getting in the way.”

But Marylou knew she was cleverer than all the forces working against her. Whatever it took, she was prepared to do, to save him from himself, to save their dream.

Her mother’s dream.

A noise came from the next room. Marylou held her breath. She hoped she hadn’t awakened him. He needed his sleep. From outside, she could hear the sound of boisterous drunks out for a night on the town, but nothing more from her little boy. He must have fallen back asleep. Thank God.

Marylou let out a sigh. He was a trial to her, her son was. A colicky baby, an angry toddler, and now that he was older, he was even more difficult to control. But he was her son, and she would do anything for him. And he for her.

“Ma?” he called.

“Yes, my darling boy. I’m coming.”

Robbie went home and made a list of nightclubs that Kate was likely to go to. She thought about calling Jeremy. He’d probably be willing to help, but was it fair to turn to him only when she had a problem? She’d go to the clubs herself.

Brett had left numerous text messages to call him, but Robbie didn’t need the distraction of a breakup while she was focused on finding her sister. She wrote back that she was busy and would talk to him later.

She found ten of the most popular clubs and plotted them out on a street map. She’d start at the far end of South Beach and work her way up. It didn’t make sense to go out before midnight since only unknowing tourists went clubbing earlier, so she decided to take a short nap.

The phone rang just as she was getting into bed. It was Leonard calling to ask Robbie to come to work tonight.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” she said.

“Please, Robbie. It’s Saturday, our busiest night, and I have no one. Two of the bartenders have the flu and sound like they’re on their deathbeds. And that new girl I hired? You know, Maddy? I can’t believe after begging me for extra shifts, she just up and quit. No notice. Didn’t even have the courtesy to call me herself. Had some guy call me. So there’s no one. I’ll be working myself, but just me, a barback, and a couple of cocktail waitresses won’t cut it.”

Saturday night. It was also the most likely night that Kate would be out—assuming she was able to go out and wasn’t being held captive, or worse. But being a runaway in the club scene was the only option that explained Kate’s disappearance, in which Robbie could actually do something.

“I’m desperate, Robbie,” Leonard said in her ear.

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

She felt like she was letting Gina down, and somehow that translated to letting her mother down. But Leonard’s problem was real. And Robbie knew, that as much as she wanted to believe the opposite, the likelihood of Robbie finding her sister club-hopping was remote.

She got to The Garage around nine thirty, bracing herself for an unfamiliar crowd, but she found Ben sitting at the bar in a smoky haze. She looked around. No sign of Jeremy.

Leonard came in from the back and gave her a thumbs-up as he slipped in behind the bar. How strange that Maddy had quit without notice. Maybe she’d had enough of South Beach and gone back home with her son.

“Hey, little Robbie,” Ben said, rubbing his clean-shaven head. “What’s? You never come in on Saturdays.”

“I missed you.”

Ben gave her a big grin. “Yeah, I’ll bet you did. Saw you at BURN last night. Almost didn’t recognize you all dressed up.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“So you and Jeremy are getting back together?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“Come on, Robbie. You guys disappeared into a dark corner, then I didn’t see either of you for the rest of the night.”

The music was a dull background thump. She picked up Ben’s empty glass. “Want another?”

“Sure. So? What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on.” She wondered where Jeremy had gone after she left. Probably home.

She put a fresh rum and coke down in front of Ben. Several new customers came in and she took their orders.

The crowd was still relatively light. About half the stools at the bar were taken and some people had congregated around the groupings of car benchseats. Leonard was filling orders for the cocktail waitress down at the other end of the bar. The door opened.

“Oh well,” Ben said, “I guess the ball’s still in play.”

Robbie checked out the people who had just come in. Brett and his boss. What were they doing here? Brett was wearing a pressed pin-striped shirt and Mike was in his standard white guayabera. They looked out of place among this grungy crowd.

Mike wandered off in the direction of the restrooms while Brett approached the bar.

“Honestly, Robbie,” Ben said in a low voice, “what do you see in him?”

Brett stepped up to the bar, glanced at Robbie, but looked away quickly and pounded his fist against Ben’s. “Hey man. Saw you at BURN last night. Sorry I was too busy to say hi.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben said in an exaggerated voice. “Sorry
I
was too busy to say hi.”

Robbie sucked in her cheeks to keep from smiling. How she missed Jeremy’s friends.

Ben finished his drink, put the glass down on the bar, and signed his credit card receipt. “Well, gotta go. I’m meeting the guys at Townhouse.”

She wondered if that meant Jeremy, too. “Have fun,” she said.

“Don’t I always?” He waved and left.

Robbie wiped down the bar with a white cloth.

Brett was watching her, shifting from foot to foot, reminding her of a kid who needed to go to the bathroom. It was hard to stay mad at someone who behaved so much like an eight-year-old.

“I was hoping you’d be here,” Brett said finally.

Robbie grabbed a couple of beers and handed them to a guy who’d ordered them.

“You hate me,” Brett said.

“I don’t hate you.”

“How come you wouldn’t talk to me?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I’ve been an asshole,” he said. “I want to make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Someone ordered a martini and she went to fix it.

Brett leaned against the bar. “Can we do something tomorrow? Maybe brunch?”

She took several more orders and worked on filling them. Brett stood there watching her. “I’m sorry, Brett, but I need to work.”

He handed her a small wrapped package.

“What’s this?”

“An apology gift.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Please, open it.”

She ripped off the paper. It was a book about jewelry making that she’d admired in a bookstore shortly after they’d started dating. A surprisingly thoughtful gift.

Brett was pulling on one of his ears, the shadow of his spiked hair falling across his forehead. They used to have such fun together. Did she really want to end things with him?

“Thank you,” she said. “This was very nice of you.”

“It’s okay? I was hoping you hadn’t gotten it for yourself.”

“It’s great.”

“So I’m forgiven?”

Such a little boy.

“Yes, Brett. You’re forgiven.”

Mike was approaching from the restroom, smoothing his thin orange hair into its rat tail.

“So what are we having, Mike?” Brett picked up a stack of coasters and shuffled them. “A couple of martinis?”

“Do you have Goose or just house brands?” Mister M asked Robbie as he sat down on one of the stools.

“This is The Garage, Mike,” Brett said. “Not some shit hole.”

Nice to see Brett stepping up to the plate.

She fixed two Grey Goose martinis while Brett left to say hello to some people he knew. His usual frenetic energy had returned.

Mike rested his elbow on the bar and picked up one of the flyers of Kate from the stack Robbie had left out the other night, as she had at the Fieldstone event. Mike probably thought she was blanketing all of South Beach with the flyers. And he’d be right.

“Still haven’t found her?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“How long’s she been gone?”

“About a week.” Robbie didn’t know why, but she felt uneasy sharing anything about her sister with this man.

“That’s too bad,” Mike said. “My experience is if a kid doesn’t come home after forty-eight hours, she’s probably not coming back.”

Robbie’s face heated up. “Well, I’m not sure what you base your experience on, Mike, but in this case I believe you’re wrong.”

He smiled at her, his skin stretching in the wrong places. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Mike left cash on the bar and picked up the drinks. He called over to Brett, who was talking to some girls. “Let’s shoot some pool.”

At around eleven, Robbie noticed Puck coming into the bar. He adjusted his glasses, then rubbed the stubble on his cheek as he took in the room. He was wearing his customary oversized sweatshirt,
clumsy jeans, and Bud N’ Mary’s billed cap. His eyes fell on Robbie. He smiled slightly, and then went directly to the seat Mike had vacated.

“Heineken?” Robbie asked, bringing over a beer.

He nodded. His face was transformed into almost handsome when he smiled.

“Thank you again for getting my bike fixed,” she said. “That was really sweet of you.”

“My pleasure.” He put a twenty down.

“Tonight’s my treat.”

He looked at her curiously. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s
my
pleasure.”

“If you insist.” He took the bill back.

There was a constant flow of customers who kept Robbie busy and didn’t leave her time to talk to anyone. Brett had settled down with Mike and some people she didn’t know across the dance floor.

After Puck finished his third beer, he switched to Scotch and left a twenty on the bar. “Thanks for the beers,” he said, “but the rest are mine.” He was definitely drinking more and faster than he had the other nights. “And please, let me buy you one.”

“Thanks, Puck, but I don’t like to drink when I’m working.”

“I figured, but I had to ask.” He drank down his Scotch and signaled for another.

Robbie brought it to him.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be in tonight,” Puck said, picking up his glass. “You said you didn’t work Saturdays.”

“A couple of the regular bartenders are sick and another one quit.”

He tapped on the side of his glass with his manicured fingernail. “I decided to stay in Miami a while longer than I was planning.” Puck seemed to be talking to himself. “It’s good to stop and smell the roses.” He gave her a half smile. “If you’ll excuse the cliché.”

“You’re right,” she said. “It’s easy to forget the roses.”

“I wish my wife would understand that.”

“Ah. So you’re married.”

His face flushed. “I wasn’t trying to mislead you. Yes, I’m married, but it’s a façade. We have nothing in common. We never did.”

It was funny what men would talk about when they had too much to drink. “No need to explain,” Robbie said.

“But I’d like to. You don’t really know me and I sense that you’re not judgmental.” Puck took a sip of his Scotch. “I know this sounds like a copout, but I feel like she manipulated me into marrying her.”

“You don’t seem that naïve.”

“Well. She was kind of a client.”

Kind of a client? What did that mean?

“I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her,” he said. “Especially in my position. It compromised me. But she was extremely attractive. And then—I know this sounds stupid—but I was afraid if I didn’t marry her, she’d use our affair to ruin me professionally.”

“She blackmailed you?”

“Pretty much.”

“I see.”

“I’m not saying I couldn’t have been stronger,” Puck said. “I could have. But you know the expression about men’s tendency to think with a part of their body that isn’t their brain.”

Robbie had certainly seen plenty to corroborate that.

“Anyway,” Puck said, “bottom line, I married her because she was sexy and beautiful.” He tapped his fingernail against his glass. “And it’s funny. She seemed so vulnerable. Like she needed to be taken care of.” He let out a short laugh. “Man did I get that wrong. I never dreamed she’d turn into an ambitious monster.”

Right. It’s always the woman’s fault. “So if you’re not happy with her, why don’t you get divorced?”

He brought his head back in surprise. “That’s a damn good question.”

A large, rowdy group came into the bar.

“Sorry,” Robbie said. “I need to take care of those guys.”

“No problem. Thanks for listening.”

Robbie turned her attention to getting drinks for her new customers. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Puck sliding off the bar stool. He waved at her and shouted over the din. “I’ll be back. Bring me a fresh one, would you?”

She signaled okay.

Robbie handed out the drinks and cashed the group out. There was a momentary lull. She took a sip of water. She wasn’t sure what to make of Puck’s candor. It bothered her when people didn’t take responsibility for their own actions. But why did she even care? He was obviously some rich guy playing at being a boater to get away from an unhappy marriage. But he had been so thoughtful and generous to her the other night, helping with her bike, that it saddened her to see this other side of him.

“Hey sexy,” Brett said. He had left Mike sitting with the group of people she didn’t know. “I didn’t realize how hard you work.”