Page 23 of Heaven Help Me

I’ll just have to watch my back.

For outside threats.

And for Deuce.

CHAPTER NINE

Deuce

“I swear I heard Landry ask a vendor if they can source body bags,” Lottie whispers to me with wide, troubled eyes.

I give her an easy smile back, tamping down my irritation at Valentina for, once again, drawing attention to herself. “I’m sure she was kidding.”

Valentina’s angry voice comes through the storage room door where she’s been working tirelessly on the Battle of the Boutiques for three days now.

“No, I will not simply take your word for it. You ever heard of a contract? Crap on a cracker, it’s like you’re not even a real business!”

Not even I can keep the wince from my face at that outburst. Lottie flails her arms around, mouth flopping open and closed, clearly at a loss for words. Should I be happy Valentina at least didn’t curse at whomever she was speaking to?

“I’ll go see if she’s okay,” I say quietly, pushing off the tabletop behind the register where I was reviewing the parameters for the sale we have planned the following week.

I see the dark-haired she-beast that is my fake girlfriend bent over the worktable, papers strewn across the surface. She’s writing with enough pressure to imprint the words on the wooden desktop below her piece of paper.

“Landry, honey?” I say calmly, not wanting to startle her.

Valentina whips around, several papers falling to the floor. “What?”

She’s got a pen jammed into her slicked-back ponytail. The one she was writing with is in her fist, raised in the air like she intends to use it like a knife.

I hold my hands in the air in a gesture of peace. “Easy, V. Just wanted to check on you since everyone on the sales floor can hear you arguing with vendors.”

Her eyes flick to the door, like she’s just now remembering where she is. “I didn’t cuss!”

I dig into the pocket inside my suit jacket, pulling out nothing but air, then press my index finger to her forehead. She pulls her face back with a confused grunt.

“Gold star for you.”

She swats my hand away, swiveling back to her work with zero appreciation for my joke. “I have work to do.”

I check my watch. “I have to go run an errand. You be nice to people on the phone while I’m gone. This is a small town. You can’t just yell at people and then expect to have friends when you see them at the store the next day.”

She rolls her eyes and picks up her phone, already dialing another vendor. “If people weren’t such flat-tired wheelbarrows, I wouldn’t have to yell.”

I snort, then pat her shoulder. “Okay. I like the creative cursing, but maybe just take it down a notch, huh? For me? Your devoted boyfriend?”

She shrugs her shoulder, effectively removing my hand. She hits the call button and puts the phone to her ear. I slip out the back and head for my car. I have just enough time to swing by Dad’s and get to the hospital.

He’s waiting for me on the stoop when I pull up to his townhome just off the Square minutes later. He’s got on pressed khakis and a short-sleeved button-down shirt in a green plaid. My father was once a handsome guy, tall, muscular, and always highly educated. He’s still a part-time professor at the university, though I know it was a hit to his ego to have to scale back after his cancer diagnosis. It’s not easy being a college professor while also being a person of color in the deep South. Stereotypes persist even when there are several degrees under your belt.

“Hey, Papa.” I inject as much cheer as I can into my voice. He’s always wiped after his chemotherapy session, which is why I insist on driving him there and back.

“Son.” He climbs in the car, shuts the door, and puts on his seat belt. Then he turns to me with a serious expression. “What’s that woman got you doin’?”

He’s been chomping at the bit to know how my meeting with Bettina went last week. He also knows we don’t discuss her business over the phone. It only takes one wiretap to make you cautious for the rest of your life.

My father spent my entire childhood trying to protect me from that life. I’m sure he always regretted his short affair with Bettina long ago. I hope he doesn’t regret that their time together gave him me. Now that he’s older and dealing with health issues, our roles have reversed. I’m now the one protecting him from Bettina. He doesn’t need to know all the details and he certainly shouldn’t be worrying about me. I want him focused on getting well.

“She asked me to house Valentina Ricci for a month or two while Bettina cleans up a little mess in New York.”