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“Chrissy, hold up.”
She stopped on the steps of her apartment building and glanced over her shoulder to see Marcus at the bottom. “Hi, Marcus. What’s up?”
“I, um, well...”
“Spit it out, Marcus. What’s going on?” Marcus made his way up the steps and Chrissy continued her journey. When she got to her door, though, a tall box sat there. She stared at it, surprised to see it. “What’s this? Did you leave this?”
“No,” said Marcus. “Here, let me take it.”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, I’m sure it’s not a bomb.”
“How do you know?” said Marcus as he hefted the box.
“Because the way you manhandled it, it would have gone off.”
Marcus gave her a disparaging glance. “Open the door and fill the tub with water.”
“Seriously?”
“Do it,” he said.
“This is a half-assed thing to do,” said Chrissy. But Marcus glowered at her, so she opened the door and walked to the bathroom and ran the water to fill the tub. She called him and he brought the box and dumped it in the water. It sat on top until the cardboard saturated then sank.
“There, satisfied?” said Chrissy with a snort.
Marcus touched the cardboard, which disintegrated under his hands. The box opened to reveal a bouquet of red roses in a glass vase, now lying on its side.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” said Chrissy, exasperated. She pulled the plug and set the vase upright after the water drained. Water dripped from the rose petals and its green leaves and poured off the vase into the tub.
“Who’re they from?” asked Marcus.
“Like it’s any of your business,” Chrissy snapped. She reached for the sodden card and hoped she could read it. At this point they could be from Richard, or Drummond Walker, or James Pearson, and she would hate not knowing where they came from. She pulled the card carefully from the tiny envelope. Her heart sank as the ink ran into the other words. Chrissy thought she could make out the words.
“What’s it say?”
Chrissy squinted, trying to make sense of the running mess of words.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet. _____thy name.” The rest was an illegible mess. She couldn’t even make out the name at the bottom.
“What the hell does that mean?” snarled Marcus.
She whipped around, fury curling in her gut. Marcus kept making things more complicated than they had to be. Now she had soggy roses and no way of knowing who they came from. “What is it you want, Marcus?”
“Your grandfather sent me over to make sure that you’re not seeing that Rocco man anymore.”
Chrissy felt her face flush. She balled her hands at her side. “You can report to my grandfather I’m not seeing Anthony Parks.” She snarled her answer, as if she was a cornered cat ready to shred an attacker with her claws.
“Hey,” he said, “don’t give me attitude. Anyway, it’s good you aren’t seeing him. We can start—” Marcus stopped himself suddenly.
“You can start what?”
“I’ve gotta go,” mumbled Marcus.
Chrissy grabbed his arm as he turned to leave and pressed her fingernails into his arm.
“Ouch. You do that worse than Gloria.”
“You can start what?” she said with more menace than a rattlesnake shaking its tail.
“It ain’t nothing much. Teach the Roccos a lesson. A few beat-downs is all.”
Chrissy’s eyes went wide. “A few beat-downs? Are you nuts?”
“Not me,” denied Marcus.
“So, what, a Rocco pulls a gun and then it’s open season? Without getting permission from the New York bosses?”
Marcus’s eyes darted away. Chrissy had hit the nail on the head.
“I don’t know nothin’,” mumbled Marcus.
“Get out of here! Who’s more of a stunad—you, my father, or my grandfather? I tell you what. If anyone of them touches Saks, I’ll claw your balls off before you can scream. Get the hell out of here!”
The front door opened.
“Hey, baby.” Gloria walked to Marcus with a smile on her face. “I got out of work and was going to call—” She stopped mid-step and took in the charged atmosphere between Chrissy and Marcus. “What’s going on?” she said slowly.
“Get him out of here,” growled Chrissy. “And if you know anything about this hair-brained scheme you can take your clothes and go sleep at Mom’s.”
Gloria ignored her. She stood on her tiptoes and stared past Marcus’ arm to the roses in the bathtub. “What happened to those flowers?”
“Marcus drowned them.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a fucking idiot.”
“Chrissy,” said Marcus in a warning voice. “Getting upset isn’t going to change anything.”
“You think so? Watch.” She pushed at Marcus to move him out the way, but the big man wouldn’t budge.
“No, Chrissy, you stay here.”
“Why? Who’s gonna stop me?”
“What’s going on?” asked Gloria.
“This goombah won’t get out of my way.” She pushed more frantically at Marcus, who stood as still as a wall.
“Marcus?” asked Gloria.
“She needs to stay out of the way,” said Marcus.
“Of what? Why?” asked Gloria.
“So they can beat the shit out of Saks!” Chrissy yelled. She beat her fists on Marcus’ chest, trying to get him to move.
“Why? What for?”
“To teach the Roccos a lesson, that’s why,” said Chrissy. Frantic, she pushed even harder at Marcus.
“Marcus,” said Gloria in a warning voice. “Let her go.”
“But your grandfather—”
“Is googootz!” snapped Gloria. “Get away from her or I’ll twist your balls around your neck.” Gloria looked at Marcus so fiercely he stepped away, and Chrissy edged past him and her sister. She grabbed her purse and fled out the door.
“Chrissy,” called Gloria, chasing after her. But Chrissy didn’t stop. She flung open the door of her Cadillac. Gloria ripped the passenger side door open and jumped in.
“What’re you doing?”
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t imagine it would go this far.”
“Not your fault. But I have to go.”
“I’m going with you.”
“Gloria,” protested Chrissy.
“No. You’re my sister and I have your back. I’m going.”
“I’m going, too,” said Marcus, opening the back door.
“Great, I have the whole goombah parade.”
“Drive,” said Gloria. “And when I see Grandpa I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. He starts this shit just so he can beat down some Roccos. What a stunad!”
“Yeah. That’ll work as well as you pleading Saks’ case did.”
“I didn’t get to see him yet. I had to go to work.”
Chrissy snorted. Gloria’s part-time job at the local student bookstore was so irregular Chrissy couldn’t keep track of the schedule.
“Gloria, why would you plead this Saks’ case?” said Marcus.
“Well, she loves him.”
“I do not,” denied Chrissy. She blew a stray piece of her hair away from her face in frustration as she swung out onto the highway.
“Yes, you do. It’s written all over your face.”
“I just don’t want to see him get any more hurt than he is. We did enough damage to him.”
“Yeah,” chuckled Marcus. “Seeing the egg stream down his face was a beautiful thing.”
Gloria turned in the seat and smacked Marcus in the head.
“Who’s stunad now?”
“I barely know him,” Chrissy said.
“Yeah,” snorted Gloria. “Enough to have scorching sex with him.”
“What?” protested Chrissy again.
“Don’t lie to me, Chrissy. I see how red your face gets when you hear his name. He nails you good and you know it.”
“Chrissy’s sleeping with the Rocco man?” said Marcus. “I thought she didn’t like him.” He sounded confused.
“I don’t!” said Chrissy.
“Liking someone is not a prerequisite to loving them,” said Gloria, “as I’m finding out now.” She turned a scathing gaze to Marcus.
“What? You don’t like me?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Chrissy. “She fucking loves you, Marcus, and you should thank your lucky stars. You won’t find another woman as crazy for you as she is. So, you might as well ask her to marry you, or I will personally tell every single woman in Connecticut what an idiot you are.”
“Chrissy!” snapped Gloria.
“Oh, hell, Chrissy. Why did you go and say that? I wanted to do it nice for Gloria.”
“What do you mean?” said Gloria. Her arms crossed her chest tightly, and a scowl sat on her lips.
“I was going to ask you, but I wanted to take you to that restaurant on the shore you like so much. Take a walk on the beach in the moonlight and then ask you.”
“What?” Gloria exclaimed, one octave away from a shriek. “Well, if something happens to Saks, you can forget it. I won’t have anything to do with a man who hurts the man Chrissy loves.”
“Stop saying that!” Chrissy was at the end of her patience with Gloria.
“I wasn’t hurting Saks,” protested Marcus.
“You knew about it and didn’t stop it,” said Gloria, fully outraged. If Chrissy wasn’t driving, she would have kissed her for it. Not that she loved Saks. Yeah, he was incredibly hot and set her afire just thinking about him, but that was lust, not love. But Chrissy did appreciate her little sister sticking up for her.
“Women!” Marcus threw up his hands. “Who can understand them?”
