I snapped the phone closed, gazed at it, and snarled, "Shit! ”
It rang again in my hand.
I instantly turned it open and placed it to my ear.
"It's not pleasant to hang up on -"
Falcone cut me off with "Babe."
“Falcone? ”
I was taken aback. I assumed he was cut off.
"Please explain why you're calling Isabelle."
I sat stunned, then realized he knew everything about me, even monitoring my phone conversations
"Falcone"
"You've never met her."
"Falcone"
"If you don't know someone, you don't talk to them."
"Falcone"
"You converse to her, and someone is listening in on her conversation; they hear you, find you, or make conclusions."
Okay, another reason Falcone might be irritating, and that was when he was correct.
"I got a wild hair when I saw her name on my contact list," I acknowledged.
"No, you saw her name on your contact list, and that reminded you that you were worried about your sister, so you called her," Falcone explained.
"I guess it's kind of the same thing.
"Babe," he sighed.
"I thought you were busy," I said, changing the subject.
"I was but base got the ping on your phone, Mo phoned Jorge, Jorge is behind me and not busy like me." He told me you're calling your fucking sister, and I became uncomfortable."
"Oh," I grumbled.
"Gia, sweetie, please do me a favor. Believe in me enough to help your sister. And trust me enough to handle the emotional repercussions if we discover there's nothing I can do for your sister. Yeah? ”
I moved my gaze from my lap to his books, CDs, and lair.
"Gia, are you there?" Falcone said.
He became unoccupied. For me.
He asked me to put my emotional baggage on him.
I locked my gaze on his den. It still didn't provide me anything.
Even yet, I knew Enrico was mistaken.
"I'm here," I gently stated, "and I'll do you that favor."
"Thank you, Sweet Pea," he said gently.
"Are you okay with my girlfriends coming over later?" I inquired.
"Sure, darling." Ramona has decided she wants to be my girlfriend," I said.
"Not surprising," he said.
“Do you need to get reoccupied? I questioned, even though he didn't seem anxious or distracted, but I figured if he was forwarding his calls, it was because he was in the middle of something important that demanded his whole attention.
He moved his attention to me.
Shit.
"Yeah," he said.
"All right, I'll let you go."
"Come back later, sweetie."
"Falcone, later."
There is no sound.
I closed my phone and stared unfocusedly into his lair.
Then I flicked open my phone again and dialed information to obtain the number for my insurance agent, since I needed to report my hit-and-run.
#####CHAPTER 20.1
C H A P T E R - T W E N T Y
“Ohmigod! This site is awesome! " This was Antonette, sashaying into the warehouse, glancing about as if she had just arrived at Willy Wonka's candy garden with chocolate stream. Her gaze was drawn to Ramona, who was in the kitchen. "Hey, lady! What's going on? ”
"Job satisfaction, beanpole, what's up with you?" Ramona answered with a wide smile, taking the sting out of Antonette's moniker (I hoped).
Ramona was the yang to all of our yins if Mic was the yin to Antonette's yang. She couldn't be taller than five four. She was spherical. Her skin was flawlessly chocolate and silky. She had short hair on the back and sides, but the front had a huge, heavy bang with blonde streaks. And it wasn't humorous how far from commando gear she was. I was interested in working at Falcone if their dress code permitted Ramona's ensemble. Short, mustard-colored sweater dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline and thigh-high, fire engine red suede boots complete the look.
Ramona was in the kitchen making what she called "boards," but instead of using Falcone's large, square, midnight-blue plates, she was using them. She told me that she was carrying bags from Crate & Barrel and Fresh and Wild into the warehouse since she had taken time out of work to visit those stores. These bags included four brand-new, long-stemmed, ultra-sleek martini glasses, a martini shaker, a huge wedge of brie, a French baton, grapes, apples, varied olives, gherkins, red onion marmalade, assorted crackers, assorted chocolates, and a huge bit of pâté.
Aside from that, she also packed the components for cosmopolitans.
The martini glasses were what drew me in. The remainder of it prompted me to announce my enduring love for her and to inform her that she had gained formal membership in my female posse.
The truth.
Ramona simply laughed when I did this, and I assumed that she did so because she already believed she was a member of my girl posse or had planned to be.
Oh my God, is this where he resides?
Mic enquired as he entered the room behind Antonette, his eyes wide with astonishment and a veiled glimmer of awe.
"He enjoys big space," I said.
Mic answered, "He'd have to."
"Who are you?" Ramona demanded, staring up at Mic, and Mic stared at her.
Mic said, "Gia's best friend."
"We share that title," Antonette said to Ramona as she leaned both forearms against the bar.
Ramona cast a glance over her shoulder at me as I sat at the rear counter.
"If that's the case, girl, you'd best make a decision since you can't have two maids of honor." I have a pal, and she tried that thing and blew her head off. Those two were fierce competitors in every way. Sure, two bridal showers, two bachelorette parties, two people focused on catering to your every need. But then it becomes ugly. They all ended up fighting, and no one was talking to anybody else by the big day. It was a calamity. I had to step in, and the dress was too small. They had to tie the fucker together at the rear with a shoestring. A shoestring cannot be hidden when walking down an aisle. As a result, I slid in from the side. It seemed odd. I don't enjoy looking ridiculous. Now I don't talk to her either, but it's not because I'm broke. Because she works at mylastnerve. She always does, but I think I'm just too kind, till I don't want to be nice anymore." I was stuck on "you can't have two maids of honor" and so fought back shortness of breath while flashing images of a commando-style wedding flooded my thoughts; Falcone in black cargos, myself in a white flak jacket decorated with lace. The image of me with a bunch of flowers and Falcone with an automatic firearm. The photo of me admiring Falcone's massive hunting knife. The image of Falcone pulling me out of the reception in a fireman's grip as gunshots flew and Molotov cocktails exploded on the dance floor.
Antonette was also fixated on it, her flashing visuals quite different from mine, so she applauded and yelled, "There it is! Ramona is the insider, and she believes this is going to be big! ”
"Oh God, I don't even have my a$$ on a seat and I'm already in desperate need of a cosmo," Mic said.
"Well, get your a$$ back here and man the shaker, daughter," Ramona said to Mic before turning to face Antonette. "As for going anywhere, I'm not sure whether Falcone is the marryin' type, and if you asked me a week ago, I would have said 'hellno,' but a week ago, he wasn't the shoe-buyin' kind, so right now, my guess is, everything goes."
"Mic, quick, Cosmo," I said quietly.
"I've got you covered, honey," Mic grumbled.
"Well, I see wonderful things, but I've always seen good things," Antonette stated, bending forward to snag an olive from Ramona's board.
The breadknife Ramona was wielding clattered on the counter, and Antonette slapped her palm hard.
"I'm not done," Ramona exclaimed as Antonette yanked her hand back and clutched it with her other hand, stunned. "It's all about the presentation." Don't muck up my presentation."
"OK," Antonette said quietly, her eyes slipping to mine. I pushed my lips together, and Ramona returned to work, and, frighteningly, she also returned to chatting.
"Boys at the bottom aren't big on gossip; it's frowned upon to do anything too girly or sissy, and I mean frowned upon in the sense that if you do such crap, you risk being water boarded."
Oh my God!
Ramona continued. "They may reveal whose ass they've tagged, but that's about it." The most difficult aspect of the job. Who has ever heard of a work where no one gossips? But I can tell you this," she turned to me and stabbed the breadknife at me, "you've been a source of intrigue for a long time."
Oh my god.