“What’s going on?” Mary asked, puzzled, as Anne hurried them both up the hall toward reception.
“Actually, I’m not sure they’re your clients. They look like your clients.”
Mary knew what she meant. Code for South Philly. Big hair and workmen’s comp appeals. “I’m not expecting anybody this morning.”
“They’re really pissed off at you.”
“Why?” Mary asked, and they’d gotten almost all the way up the hall when three women came charging from the reception area toward them, a flying wedge of curly extensions, big chests, and stiletto heels.
“Mare!” they shouted, from down the hall. “Mary DiNunzio? That you? Get your ass out here!”
At the middle of the hall, Judy, who must have just come into work, opened her office door and popped her head out, her expression astonished. “Who’s yelling? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Mary answered, mystified until she recognized the three women. The Mean Girls-Giulia Palazzolo, Missy Toohey, and Yolanda Varlecki. Each wore tight blue jeans, huge gold earrings, and a form-fitting leather jacket in shades of black, black, and black, respectively. They all had long, matte-black hair in elaborate ringlets, distinguished only by the color of their highlights. Giulia’s streaks were ruby red, Missy’s bleached white, and Yolanda’s electric blue, our nation’s colors gone terribly wrong.
Giulia shouted, “You’re ignorant, Mare! This is all your fault!”
Missy yelled, “You don’t give a crap about anybody but yourself! I always hated your guts!”
Yolanda hollered, “I could effin’ kill you myself!”
Mary froze. Anne took her arm. Judy came out of her office. The three lawyers faced off against the three Mean Girls, but it was no contest. The lawyers had advanced degrees, but the Mean Girls had acrylic tips.
“What are you talking about?” Mary asked, but Judy stepped forward and put up a hand.
“Please stop yelling at my friend. That’s so not cool.”
“Yeah, cut it out,” Anne yelped, just as Missy shoved Judy backward, knocking her off balance. Mary leaped to catch her, dropping her coffee, purse, and briefcase, but Giulia yanked her hair and Yolanda screamed cigarette breath in her face. Mary struggled to get free, somebody with too much lipliner threw a punch at Anne, handbags and clogs went flying, and in the next second, Rosato amp; Associates hosted its first, full-fledged catfight.
“STOP THAT!” came a shout from down the hall, and Mary looked up from Giulia’s chokehold to see Bennie running toward them like a superhero, her suit jacket flying. Giulia only tightened her grip, but in the next moment Mary felt Bennie’s powerful hand clamp down on her arm and yank her out of harm’s way.
“STOP RIGHT NOW!” Bennie hollered.
“You’re scum!” Giulia yelled, pointing a lethal fingernail at Mary, who staggered to her feet and watched Bennie bring order to chaos. The boss grabbed Judy by the T-shirt, extricating her from the melee, and shielded Anne as she scrambled to her Blahniks and scooted from the fracas.
“STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!” Bennie shouted, stepping forward and grabbing Giulia by her padded leather shoulder. “HOW DARE YOU!”
“Who’re you?” Giulia practically spat. “A freakin’ Amazon?”
“Go.” Bennie released Giulia, who tottered slightly on her stilettos. “Get out of my office before I call the police.”
“Call them,” Giulia shot back “They’re good for nothin’.”
“Wrong, crazy.” Bennie towered over the Mean Girls, who seemed surprisingly intimidated. “They’re good for charging people with crimes. I’ll make sure they charge you with assault, battery, terroristic threats, and trespassing. Now get out of my office and don’t you ever, ever touch one of these girls again.”
“Ha!” Giulia erupted in a laugh. “You should know that your girl turned her back on our best friend-and now she’s gone.”
“You mean Trish?” Mary felt sick.
“Yeah, she’s gone.” Giulia’s mascared eyes burned with outrage. “And so’s he. All because you couldn’t be bothered.”
“How you live with yourself?” Missy yelled, and Yolanda glowered.
“I bet she’s dead right now because a you.”
Mary was stricken. Judy caught her eye. Anne cowered in the rear.
Bennie turned, her cheeks flushed. “DiNunzio, are these women speaking a language you understand, or are they merely delusional?”
“I understand,” Mary answered, miserably. Trish. Gone. “Don’t throw them out. I know them from high school.”
“You feel safe with them?” Bennie frowned. “Fine. DiNunzio, I leave this situation to you. I have a case to try.”
“Okay, sorry, thanks.” Mary nodded, and Bennie turned to Giulia.
“You. Go to the reception area. She’ll call you when she’s ready. Do what I say or leave.”
“Whatever.” Giulia turned away and pivoted on her spike heel, and Missy and Yolanda followed suit, all of them stalking off, trailing a crowd of perfume and adrenaline. Bennie and the associates watched them reach the reception area.
Judy couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Those girls are wack.”
“They’re girls?” Anne finger-combed her hair back into place.
“Sorry.” Mary picked up Judy’s clog and handed it to her. “Thanks for the help.”
Bennie shook her head. “Is everybody okay?”
“Fine,” Judy and Anne answered.
“Thanks.” Mary scooped up her purse, while Judy retrieved her briefcase. Anne got the Dunkin’ Donuts cup, mopping up the spilled coffee with the newspaper.
“DiNunzio, I’m surprised you agreed to meet with them.” Bennie frowned. “I wouldn’t reward that behavior. I’m still not sure you’ll be safe.”
“I’ll be fine. They’re just emotional.”
“Hormonal,” Judy said.
“Certifiable.” Anne looked up from the wet rug. “You shouldn’t be around them. You could catch really bad taste.”
“They’ll settle down.”
Bennie motioned to Judy. “Stay with her, Carrier. Don’t leave her alone with them.”
“Okay.”
Bennie put a soft hand on Mary’s shoulder and looked at her in a way that was almost maternal. “Don’t let them push you around, understand? They’re not worth one ounce of you.”
The boss never talked that way, and Judy and Anne looked over in surprise. But Mary barely heard the praise, engulfed by guilt. She flashed on Trish, crying in the office, her life dependent on a gun and the Pink Sisters.
Gone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
T he Mean Girls were no longer homicidal by the time they all sat down at the conference table, and Mary could see the individual differences in them that she’d missed when they were trying to kill her. Giulia looked Italian, with large, warm brown eyes, a biggish nose, and full lips, each feature a bold stroke on an olive-skinned canvas, like Botticelli on acid. Missy Toohey had small, light blue eyes, a little nose with the tiniest bump, and heavy foundation that obliterated a freckled complexion, as if she were erasing her Irishness. Yolanda Varlecki looked like a working-class Angelina Jolie, with round brown eyes in perfect symmetry with a lovely nose and lips like hot dogs.
Mary began, “So tell me why you say she’s missing.”
“How about you tell us why you blew her off?” Giulia’s eyes flashed with anger. “She came to you for help, Mare. You’re from the neighborhood. You too good for us now?”
Mary’s mouth went dry. “I didn’t blow her off. I told her I’d take her to court but she didn’t want to go.”
“She was worried he’d kill her. Now maybe he did. Ya happy?”
