Black Ties and Lullabies, page 12
Jeremy gave her a small, knowing smile. “Trust me, Bernie. I have skills I haven’t even begun to show you yet.” He moved closer. “Want me to give you a preview?”
With a slow, deliberate sweep of his eyes, he lowered his gaze to her lips. Memories came flooding back of that moment in his safe room when he’d swooped in and kissed her with an unrestrained carnality that made her knees buckle. And when her legs wobbled a little all over again, she wondered: What the hell was it about this man that made her want to kiss him and slap him all at the same time?
“This is just amazing,” she said.
His gaze came up slowly to meet hers again. “What’s amazing?”
“The more you try to intimidate me, the more I get the urge to open that door and throw you down the stairs.”
He shook his head sadly. “Bernie? Have you ever thought about trying sex without anger?”
“From now on, where you’re concerned, I think I’ll stick to anger without sex.”
“Never say never. It makes it so much harder later when you’re dying to change your mind.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to go now. But don’t worry. You’ll be seeing me again soon.”
On his way out the door, Jeremy gave her one of his smiles that looked charming on the surface but was calculating underneath, making her wonder what he was up to. Because he was always up to something.
Always.
She watched as he trotted down the stairs. He grabbed the handrail at the same time, clearly forgetting how he’d complained about it on the way up. When it wobbled beneath his hand, he stopped, cursed beneath his breath, and gave it a hard shake. One end came free, falling to the stairs beneath it with a clatter, and a couple of rusty screws went flying. He stepped back suddenly, then glared down at it.
“Gee, thanks,” Bernie said. “That made things much better.”
“This place is a dump,” he muttered.
“I’m still not moving.”
“You’ve made that clear.”
“So you can stop trying to talk me into it.”
“Oh, I’m through talking. That’s not getting me anywhere.”
“Well, thank God.”
“It’s time for action. Later, Bernie.”
As he trotted the rest of the way down the stairs and into the parking lot, Bernie felt a rush of apprehension. It’s time for action? What the hell did he mean by that?
Max swung the car around. Jeremy got in, and the car sped away. Just then, the door across the breezeway opened and Ruby peered out, a half-smoked Marlboro between her fingers. She wore pink terrycloth slippers and a leopard-print housecoat. Ruby was fond of leopard. Said it was way better than zebra or cheetah for hiding cigarette burns.
“Is he gone?” she asked.
“Ruby. You’re spying again.”
“What else have I got to do? Is he a friend of yours?”
“Not exactly. With luck, he won’t be back.”
“I don’t know,” Ruby said. “Maybe you’re being too picky. Men don’t wander up here very often.” She hobbled out to the landing and glanced down at the half-collapsed railing. “Then again, he does kinda tear things up.” She looked back at Bernie. “So when are you gonna get yourself a man?”
“Same time you do.”
“Nah. I’m old enough to know what a pain in the ass they are. You’re young enough to still get taken in. So who was he, anyway?”
Bernie sighed. “He’s the father of my baby.”
“Huh?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Ruby’s eyes widened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Bernie said. “Imagine that. Me, thirty-six years old and pregnant.”
“Hmm. I take it you’re not loving the idea.”
“Let’s just say I have mixed emotions.”
“Yeah, I hear you. If men are the biggest pains in the ass, kids are a close second.”
“Particularly when you’re having two of them.”
“Two of them?” Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Twins?”
“Uh-huh.”
She shook her head. “Holy crap. You really are screwed.”
So there it was. Confirmation of exactly how Bernie felt right then.
“Well,” Ruby said. “Look at the bright side. He’s good-looking, so at least the babies won’t be ugly.”
Bernie couldn’t argue with that. She had no doubt that Jeremy’s genetic material was as domineering as the rest of him and would shove hers right out of the way. Unfortunately, attractive children would be a small consolation for having to put up with a man like him.
“If I can help you out,” Ruby said, “you let me know. You hear?”
“I hear.”
Ruby headed back to her apartment, only to look back over her shoulder. “Meant to ask.”
“What?” Bernie said.
“How come your shirt’s on backward?”
Bernie sighed. “Long story.”
“Better turn it around. People will think you’re weird, or something.”
Bernie’s phone rang. She grabbed it from her pocket and looked at the caller ID. “Gotta take this.”
“Okay,” Ruby said. “But when you get a chance, can you light another fire under Charmin? Now that handrail really is screwed up.”
“Sure,” Bernie said. “I’ll call her in a minute.”
Ruby shuffled back into her apartment, and Bernie hit the TALK button. “Hey, Max.”
“Hey, Bernie. You okay?”
“I’m fine. Bridges has been driving me nuts for years. Nothing new there.”
“You sure about that?”
“I appreciate you looking out for me,” she said, going back into her apartment. “But I can deal with him.”
“You let me know if the day comes when you can’t. Because trust me—I can.”
Bernie couldn’t help smiling at that. Max wasn’t exactly all bark and no bite. He was just a very big dog who didn’t have to resort to biting very often.
“He’s listening to every word you say, isn’t he?” Bernie said.
“Yep.”
“Is he pissed off that you’re talking to me?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Let him stew for a while. Thanks, Max.”
Bernie tossed her phone aside and collapsed on her sofa, a dozen emotions pulling her in a dozen different directions. She hated that feeling of things being up in the air. Of not knowing when she’d turn around and find Jeremy standing there again. Of not knowing why, when she’d given him a gold-plated ticket right out of this situation, he’d chosen not to take it.
She didn’t know what his motives were, but she did know one thing: The fact that Jeremy hadn’t walked away didn’t mean he’d suddenly taken a 180-degree turn and decided he was going to leap into fatherhood with both feet. And even though he was making a lot of noise right now about running the show, when a father wasn’t also a husband, there was only so much he could do even if he wanted to.
In the end, she knew the truth. Raising these babies was going to be up to her.
Max returned his phone to his pocket and kept driving without saying another word. Jeremy thought it took a lot of gall for him to carry on a conversation with Bernie right there in front of him, but what was he supposed to do? Complain about it? All that would accomplish would be to make Max hate him even more.
“So,” Jeremy said offhandedly, “you were talking to Bernie.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Given that I’m still breathing, I take it you’re not feeling the need to beat my brains out on her behalf?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“But the possibility still exists?”
“That’s completely up to you, sir.”
Sir. God, how he hated the sound of that coming out of Max’s mouth. He might as well have said, That’s completely up to you, asshole.
“She’s going to need some help,” Jeremy said.
“Depends on where that help comes from.”
“Believe it or not,” Jeremy said, “I only want what’s best for her.”
“That remains to be seen, sir.”
“Will you stop with all the yes sir, no sir crap?” Jeremy said. “It’s getting a little old.”
“Just showing respect, sir.”
But Jeremy didn’t miss the scorn in Max’s voice. “No, Max, you’re not. You don’t respect me in the least.”
When Max didn’t respond, Jeremy felt the strangest twinge of irritation. He didn’t remember a day in his adult life where he’d wasted a single minute worrying what anybody else thought of him. But this… this bothered him, and it was because Max was close to Bernie. But he just couldn’t understand why they both had such a big problem with him when all he was doing was trying to help.
He had to figure out a way to get Bernie to see things his way, to do what was best for her and the babies, even with Max in the mix. And he would. It was just a matter of time.
Chapter 14
The security system at the Lone Star Museum of Art consisted of thirty-two cameras placed strategically within the building, wired directly to the surveillance room on a closed-circuit system. Inside that room, a bank of six monitors allowed Bernie to swap around to see what was happening within the overlapping radii of each camera. If she saw any irregularities, she phoned the information to the security guard posted downstairs and he investigated.
That was her job in a nutshell.
A building like this, unoccupied at night, normally wouldn’t even have twenty-four-hour manned security, but with the donation three years ago of approximately a gazillion dollars’ worth of Egyptian artifacts, the board had decided the extra cost was worth it. But it was pure PR, designed to assure that donor, as well as other potential donors, that any private collections they chose to give up would have a safe home forever.
She’d started this job several days ago, and already the boredom factor had shot through the roof. Nobody had tried to steal anything. Vandalism had been nonexistent. Even schoolchildren on tour had behaved themselves. It was so quiet that sometimes that she imagined one day she actually would go crazy. She’d rip open the door and go screaming through the building. They’d call the EMTs, who would strap her down and send her to a psych ward, where she’d spend the rest of her life in a padded room so drugged up she didn’t know her own name.
But so what if that happened? Would that life really be much different from this one? Wouldn’t it be better than this one?
Shut up. It’s a job. One you desperately need.
As long as she didn’t actually go stark raving mad.
Of course, if this job didn’t cause her to go completely insane, her mother would drive her the rest of the way. As much as Bernie thought she’d prepared herself for her mother’s intrusiveness, her expectations didn’t even approach reality. She called twice a day to see how Bernie was feeling, offering advice on everything from prenatal vitamins to the kind of crib she should buy to the preschools she should consider. Or she’d drop by to show Bernie some random pacifier or baby socks she’d bought. When Bernie told her mother she was having twins, she fell into paroxysms of swooning delight, launching the annoyance level straight into the stratosphere.
Unfortunately, it had been a few days since she’d stopped by her mother’s house to check on things, so she decided she needed to do that as soon as she left work today. Her mother would make her a cup of tea and feed her a homemade muffin, then launch into another round of baby talk. Bernie hadn’t yet told her that Jeremy was in the picture, and at least for now, she didn’t intend to. That he was here today didn’t mean he wouldn’t be gone tomorrow. If that was a disappointment she could spare her mother, that was what she was going to do.
She heard a commotion behind her. The door opened, and Lawanda came into the room. Bernie loved the sound of that door opening. She checked her watch. Yep, three o’clock. Time for Lawanda to take over and for her to go home.
Lawanda dropped a Subway sack on the desk, clunked her tote bag down beside it, and set a small cooler on the floor. She wore a lime-green baby-doll top with layers of sequin-lined ruffles, a pair of jeans, astronomical green pumps, and silver hoop earrings so huge they grazed her shoulders. False eyelashes stuck out approximately a foot in front of her face, and her cherry-red lipstick glowed by the light of the security monitors. Lawanda’s sense of style entered a room before she did. And because she was a plus-size woman, it filled every molecule of space once it was there.
She flopped her considerable bulk into the chair beside Bernie. The chair groaned and squeaked, making Bernie wonder just how much more the poor thing could take.
Lawanda had gone to work for Gabe three years ago doing contract jobs like this one, and she’d worked the evening shift here at the museum for the past six months. Bernie went crazy watching those monitors when the building was occupied. She couldn’t imagine the boredom when it wasn’t. But the only thing Lawanda seemed to hate about the evening shift was that she missed their once-a-month poker games with the guys.
“Hey, girl,” Lawanda said, the light from the monitors reflecting off her blinding white smile. “What’s up?”
“What’s ever up around here?” Bernie said.
“Good point.”
Lawanda dug through her cooler, pulled out a Red Bull, and popped the top. “Anything happen on your shift I need to know about?”
“Nope,” Bernie said. She stuck her iPhone into her backpack and stood up. “I’m out of here.”
“You hate being here, don’t you?”
Bernie glanced back. “Gee, how could you tell?”
“I know job disgust when I see it.”
Bernie sat back down. “How do you deal with it?”
“Deal with what?” she said.
“The boredom.”
“Oh, yeah. That.” She reached into her tote bag. “I got my magazines. I got my music. I got my Subway and my Red Bull. I got my phone. You train yourself to look up every twenty seconds or so and to swap around the cameras on a regular basis, and you’ve done your job. The rest of the time you read, you text, you drink, you eat. It’s still like spending eight hours a day sitting in a traffic jam, but it sure beats the hell out of being a prison guard. Try getting cussed at and spit on eight hours a day. After putting up with that, this job is heaven.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that,” Bernie said, thinking that if she were getting cussed at and spit on, at least something was happening.
“And you ought to try wearing a prison guard uniform,” Lawanda said with disgust. “At least on this job, I’m free to express my personal fashion sense.”
“But nobody’s around to see it.”
“But I get to feel it,” Lawanda said with a smile, her palm against her chest. “Contributes to my positive mental health.”
“Sounds like a small consolation for being bored to death.”
“I figured you’d like this job, being pregnant and all.”
“I don’t have much of a choice.”
“So how you feeling these days?”
“Okay.”
Lawanda asked a few more baby-related questions that seemed innocuous on the surface. But Bernie knew they were designed to zero in on the burning question everybody at Delgado & Associates was wondering about: Who was the father of her baby? But until Bernie knew just how far Jeremy intended to take the issue of fatherhood, it was a question she had no intention of answering, and she was certain that Max wouldn’t tell anyone, either. She stood up and tossed her purse over her shoulder.
“Wait,” Lawanda said. “Forgot to ask. Could you stay a couple of extra hours this Friday? I got a meeting with that lawyer, the one my friend Sylvia recommended. All I could get was an evening appointment, and she’s in Mansfield.”
“Mansfield? That’s a long way from here.”
“Chick’s worth it. She handled Sylvia’s divorce. Took her husband to the cleaners. If she can do the same for me, I’ll fly to the freakin’ moon to meet with her.” A wicked smile spread across her face. “Teddy isn’t gonna know what hit him.”
Two months ago, Lawanda had found out her husband of three years was having an affair with their next-door neighbor. It had been a tough sell, but Bernie had finally convinced her that legal action was preferable to homicide.
“Sure,” Bernie said. “I can stay. See you tomorrow.”
As Bernie left the room, Lawanda was already unwrapping her Subway sandwich, settling in for the long eight hours ahead. When the heavy metal door clanged closed behind Bernie, she was already dreading having to come back there tomorrow.
After the babies were born, surely she could find another job. But for now, she was stuck. Pregnant or not, as long as she could make it to this room every day, sit upright, and stare at the monitors, she was employable. She made money. She had health insurance. And right now, those were the only things that mattered.
Half an hour later, Bernie was driving down the street toward her mother’s house. She slowed down when she saw a couple of kids playing too close to the curb, then stopped completely when their ball bounced into the street and they went after it. Did they bother to check for traffic? Of course not. Kids. Good God. It was a wonder most of them made it to adulthood without getting stuck to the bottom of a Uniroyal.
A few minutes later, her mother met her at the door with a big smile. They went into the living room, which was filled with overstuffed furniture, a thousand knickknacks, and the too-heavy aroma of Glade “Always Spring” air freshener. Bernie was convinced that her childhood memories of dainty doilies, china cabinets, and giant silk flower arrangements had been a big reason she’d decided to go into the military and shoot things.
“How are you feeling?” her mother said.
“Better every day.”
“How’s the job?”
“Good. It’s good.”
“You just sit right down, and I’ll get you a cup of tea. And I made some lemon poppy seed muffins.” She scurried toward the kitchen, only to turn back. “Oh! I went to that new baby store in the strip center by the mall. They have such cute things! Just a minute. I grabbed a catalog—”
