stripped of his shiny veneer and I was getting a glimpse of the man inside. The man that might have taken me years of fancy dates to the Hollywood Bowl to uncover in any other circumstances. And under the lawyer veneer, I had a sinking feeling there wasn’t much left.
I’d spent the last week desperately wanting to find Richard. Thinking that if Richard was here, then suddenly I wouldn’t be going through this whole possible pregnancy thing alone. That if I saw that pink line and freaked out, at least I’d have Richard to fall back on. Only I had the idea now as I sat here looking at the man I'd spent the last five months of my life with, that even if he tried, Richard might not be strong enough to catch me. Instead of falling back on him, would I be the one holding the both of us up?
Suddenly all I wanted to do was let him have it. To scream and yell and take out all my frustrations on the man that was single handedly ruining my life. I wanted to let loose and have a crying, girly breakdown to end all breakdowns right here in the prison visiting room.
He was still waiting for me to say something. “I need you to believe me.” He lifted my hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of my knuckles. “Please, pumpkin, you’re all I have.”
Ugh. If I ever contemplated getting involved with a man again, I made a mental note to shoot myself first.
“Fine. I believe you.” Maybe.
Richard did a little half smile, his hand still covering mine. “Thanks, pumpkin. I knew I could count on you.”
I walked out with an odd feeling in my stomach. Hollow. Nauseating. Painful. I think it was that damn pride again.
After my brush with prison life, I stopped in at a Taco Bell and ordered a big greasy plate of nachos, smothered in gooey cheese and jalapenos. Comfort food. I ate the entire thing before going back to my apartment.
I tried not to think about my conversation with Richard as I pulled up to my studio. The awful thing was, I really kind of did believe him. I didn’t think Richard was capable of leading a double life, and I could see him buying Cinderella off with a car only too well. In fact, when I’d wanted him to come with me to my cousin Shannon’s confirmation last month, he’d put me off with a sparkly pair of 24 karat earrings. His story fit with his MO. Which left me where? With a boyfriend? Without? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t even sure it was about me anymore. I glanced down at my belly. I made a mental note to go out and buy a new pregnancy test in the morning.
I slowly trudged up the stairs, so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice anything was wrong until I reached the top step.
And saw my front door gaping open.
Cold fear prickled up my spine, my feet freezing in place. Maybe it was just Dana. Maybe she’d had a fight with Sasha and had come over looking for a shoulder to cry on. Maybe Ramirez was back. Maybe he’d just let himself in.
Only I didn’t see a black SUV or Dana’s tan Saturn on the street.
I slowly crept forward, one step at a time, my ears pricked for any sound. All I heard was the slight hum of my neighbor’s TV and the street traffic from Venice. Gingerly I pushed the front door open on its hinges.
“Hello? Dana?”
I stifled a gasp when I saw my apartment. It looked like the Big One had hit. Every cupboard was open, the meager contents of my kitchen in a broken pile on the tile floor. My futon was on its side, cushions tossed across the room. My pens were scattered across the floor mingling with shoes, clothes and makeup into one big mess.
Fearing the worst, I took a few steps toward my drawing table. I sucked in a quick breath, biting back tears. Someone had taken a big black marker and written across my Strawberry Shortcake shoe design. “Back off bitch.”
The words swam before my eyes and I felt dizzy. I was still staring at the ruined designs, realizing I had to start all over on the damn thing now, when I heard a noise behind me.
I spun around.
But not quickly enough. Before I could see what had pricked my ears, I felt an explosion behind my temple. Then the drawing table, the ruined designs, and the entire mess that was my life faded and everything went black.
Chapter Nineteen
Slowly I blinked one eye open. Then the other. My vision was fuzzy but as I continued the painful practice of blinking, objects slowly came into focus. One emerald slingback. The Purple People Eater across the room. My pens, lipstick, purse. Slowly the room materialized in front of me. I moved my head and felt carpet beneath my cheek. What was I doing on the floor? I slowly sat up, putting one hand to my head as a jackhammer began to pound at my temple.
Then it all came back to me. My open front door, the ruined designs. The whack on the head. My eyes whipped wildly around for a sign of my attacker. None.
I grabbed my purse where it had fallen beside me and quickly dialed 911. I stood up shakily and half ran, half fell out the front door with one slingback on, down the stairs to my Jeep, where I locked myself in until I heard the police sirens approaching.
Two uniformed cops were the first to arrive. It only took them a couple minutes, but it was long enough for me to work myself up into a state of unhinged hysteria. I was crying and babbling and I’m not entirely sure the bump on the head hadn’t knocked what little sanity I had left right out of my brain. One called for an ambulance and pretty soon my block was full of flashing sirens. I was impressed. Usually we didn’t get this kind of law enforcement turnout unless there was a gang shooting.
The police officers searched my apartment and, predictably, found no one. The paramedic gave me a pack of ice and wrapped me in one of those ugly green blankets even though it was nearing ninety outside. He said I was in shock. I didn’t disagree.
By the time the black SUV pulled up to my building, I’m happy to say I almost had myself under control again. My breathing had slowed to a near normal pace, the nice officer had retrieved a pair of fuzzy pink slippers from my closet and my nose had almost stopped running. Almost.
I sniffed as Ramirez got out of the car, his poker face in place. He was wearing those worn-in-the-right-spots jeans again with a navy T-shirt that highlighted his dedication to the gym. I hugged the green blanket around me to keep from throwing myself into his arms.
Ramirez sat down beside me on the steps, blowing out a long breath as if I’d just tried his last nerve. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
He reached his hand to the back of my head and carefully felt the lump. His hands were warm and gentle and I resisted the urge to lean in to his touch.
“That’s quite a lump.”
“Thanks.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “That wasn’t exactly a compliment.”
I bit my lip. “Right.”
His hand moved lower, caressing the back of my neck. I think I let out a little happy groan.
“So what happened?” he asked.
I drew a shaky breath and proceeded to relive what were quite possibly the scariest moments of my entire life. Something about the idea of being attacked in my own home, a place I’d always associated with coziness and safety, shook me harder than a 7.2. When I finished my eyes were getting watery again and I was sniffling like the guy in the Allegra commercials.
Ramirez stared at me, his hand still gently kneading my neck.
“Just say it,” I said.
