Seduced In The City

“All the different sports you played? Of course you were.”

“That’s not all I did.” Damn, he was getting tired of people homing in on superficial qualities. He had the ambition and smarts to do lots of things with his life.

“It’s not like being a jock was bad. That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Hey, I just thought of something...about you,” he said, and grinned at the dread on her face. “You kicking ass and taking names when you were editor of the paper. Christ, that one day you were riled up about cafeteria lunches and the faculty doing something stupid. We were all packed into the gym for some announcement.” He took a sip of his soda, his memory suddenly clear as a photograph. “You wore that pink sweater, the one with the cats on it.”

She gave him a one-sided grin. “You remember that?”

“You rained down hell on the entire staff. I always wondered if your grades tanked after that.”

The grin was faint but still there, and now her head tilted slightly to the left. “Huh.” She picked up another stack of bills.

“I graduated a few months later. I assume you were editor your senior year.”

Sara’s smile vanished and she looked down at her hands. Guess he’d assumed wrong. He wondered what had done her in, giving it to the faculty or writing a slanderous implication about him. He’d been plenty pissed, but he hadn’t said anything, not to anyone who mattered. Just his friends and Coach Randal. Pissed on his behalf, they’d urged him to file a complaint but he hadn’t.

“I think the emergency has passed,” he said, although he was still hungry. They’d been talking. Everything was good. But he’d lost ground with her. “Why don’t you put the rest of the pizza back in the fridge, give it to your regulars tomorrow?”

He stood up and had the unexpected pleasure of watching her walk to the fridge. Not on purpose but he couldn’t have timed it better. “You going home soon?”

She didn’t respond at first. “About ten minutes.”

“I’ll stick around and walk with you.” He wasn’t surprised by her hesitation. “You know this neighborhood isn’t what it used to be.”

“Dom. It’s still practically rush hour out there. Go home. I’ll even refill your soda.”

“I’m good.” He stood as he watched her count another stack of bills, pretty sure her deep concentration had more to do with ignoring him. He just didn’t know why.

“Hey, Dom. I thought that was your voice.” Carlo, one of the nicest guys in the neighborhood—even though he looked like he’d beat you up just for breathing—came from the back, his forehead beaded with perspiration. “Can you guys take this outside? I gotta wash the floor.”

“Dom was just leaving,” Sara said, and grabbed the keys. “I’m still cashing out.”

He studied her flushed face for a moment as Carlo started turning chairs upside down on the tables. Sara stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. “See you, Carlo,” Dom said on his way to the door, then gave her one last look before he opened the door and stepped outside. He heard the lock click behind him.

Yeah, well the hell with that. She couldn’t lock him out forever. No, he’d get his answer, one way or another.

* * *

IT TOOK A lot longer than ten minutes for Sara to leave. She said goodnight to Carlo, who stopped mopping to let her out. Poor guy would be at it for another hour. She’d been working since early that morning, making the weekly run to Costco to pick up staples for the restaurant and for the family, before meeting with the Scarpettis. But now, even the idea of listening to the soft, crackly voice of Mr. Scarpetti made her wish she’d majored in math.

It had been a good day, though. Ellie had been in a decent mood when she’d worked the early shift, and they’d made excellent tips. Lots of American tourists and regulars.

Then there was Dom.

It had been nice for a while. She’d realigned her opinion of him, and he’d proved again that he could be generous. That she’d dodged his question didn’t mean he was going quietly into the night. She was already regretting that she hadn’t taken advantage of the rare privacy to make sure everything stayed in the past where it belonged.

He’d given her an opening. He’d been willing to forgive and forget, chalk up the article to stupid kid stuff. She should’ve leaped onto that and admitted she’d been a silly, hormonal teenager, lied and said he hadn’t really done anything bad and could they just move on.

The offer to walk her home had been a nice touch. Misguided, but sweet. She’d like to think he’d do that for any of the girls who had to clock out late. In fact, she planned to ask Ellie about that in the morning.

But tonight, she’d stop thinking anything about Dominic, nice or not, and gear herself up for her thesis work.

Maybe.

No. She could manage an hour. As long as she had her feet up and Ellie left her alone. Sara would be crazy not to make use of the time with her folks away. She loved them dearly, but her parents had never run across a closed door they didn’t feel free to open. She could lock them out, but she wouldn’t. She hadn’t been home long enough. Soon, though, they’d get back to how it had been.

She crossed the street, her hand on her purse, which was slung cross-body style. As if she didn’t know how to handle herself in this neighborhood. Of course her sneaky thoughts had slid back to Dom.

Ten minutes later she was home but it took her another thirty to unwind, to get Dom Paladino out of her head, to quiet thoughts of the cataclysmic fallout that his formal complaint to the school board had caused. It actually hadn’t mattered if he’d heard the whole story, or that he hadn’t expressed any regret for taking his complaint to the extreme. She’d needed to apologize for her part. To own her mistake.

But that minor revelation had only come after she’d straightened her desk, adjusted her chair, made the perfect pot of tea and started transcribing the first interview tape.

Mr. Scarpetti’s voice tended to weaken at the end of his sentences, and Mrs. Scarpetti had a unique Italian accent, so Sara had to do a lot of rewinding to get the full meaning of most of their stories.

But finally, by eleven, she’d gotten accustomed to the voices and the work started to flow.

Which was precisely the moment Ellie barged into Sara’s bedroom. Barged, as in bounced the doorknob off the wall as she entered.

Sara jumped, knocked her recorder to the floor, and spun around prepared to meet a knife-wielding man wearing a balaclava. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Sorry,” Ellie lied. “I forgot this door is so loose. Listen, I’ve got—”

“I don’t care what you’ve got. You knock before you come into this room. I’m working here, not painting my nails. It’s going to take me forever to get back into the transcription, especially since you scared the crap out of me.”

Ellie seemed shocked. She’d been home studying and was wearing a Lemonade sleep shirt. With no makeup on, her blinking seemed a little understated. “You really think people in this house are going to knock on your door?”

Closing her eyes didn’t help Sara calm down at all, nor did the truth of Ellie’s statement. “I’ll take steps.”

“They won’t let you get a lock.”

“They won’t have a choice. Although I’m kind of amazed they left so much of my stuff here. I had no idea I’d ever be back.”

“Mom never believed anything else.”

Sara sighed. “So you’ve got...”

“A thing on Thursday. It’s going to run late. Just letting you know.”

“A bank robbery? Broadway tickets?”

“Very funny. Shopping for a prom dress. With Tina.”

At least Sara knew who Tina was. “So, Mom would be okay with you going out on a school night?”

Ellie pressed her lips together for a moment, before letting out a breath. “I’m allowed on special occasions.”

“What’s wrong with the weekend?”