Amanda
My hand shook as I took notes on a yellow legal pad. Per Eliza’s instructions, the best thing to do when a client needed to talk was to stay calm and listen. Staying calm helped the client remain calm, especially if they were scared.
I cleared my throat. “Let’s go back to the beginning. You said you shot your boyfriend?”
“He left me with no other choice.” Sharon, the woman who’d just entered the office, sniffed into a tissue. “If I hadn’t shot him, he would have killed me.”
Reaching over, I patted her hand. “You must have been terrified.”
She rubbed her neck absentmindedly, as if still feeling his hands there. “I was. Usually, he only beats me when he’s drunk. This time it was different. He was sober.”
“What happened, Sharon?”
With her stylishly cut dark hair and business casual clothing, Sharon looked so…normal. So pulled together. So unlike how I imagined an abused woman might look.
She tugged on one of her gold hoop earrings. “We were in the basement. He got mad and went crazy. He choked me so hard, I saw stars, but I managed to break away. He caught up with me at the bottom of the steps.” She twisted the tissue in her hands. “Strangely enough, he’s the one who insisted I keep a gun there. Right next to the staircase. He wanted me to be able to protect myself. Funny, huh?”
“I’m glad you were able to get away from him.”
“He nearly died.” She put a hand to her forehead. “I almost murdered him. Things might be easier now if I had killed him, but I’m glad I didn’t. I’m not sure I could have lived with myself.”
I swallowed hard. “What did the police say?”
“They asked me to file charges, but I’m afraid that will make him even angrier. I just want him to go away and leave me alone.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m a real estate agent, but I’m scared to show houses. I’m afraid he might do something.”
“And when did the abuse begin?” I asked, trying to keep the facts straight as I jotted notes for my sister.
“Two years ago. A few weeks after we started living together.” When I looked at her in surprise, she continued. “I never thought this would happen to me. I never thought I’d let a man beat me. But it starts slowly. By the time you understand how bad it is, they have control over every aspect of your life. I couldn’t see my family. I couldn’t work. I couldn’t show houses without his approval. I was one of the top agents in my area, but my income plummeted. And with each step, he gained more control over me. He gained more power. And it got worse and worse.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my mind going to Solomon. He’d never hit me, ever, but he definitely had a temper, and he was controlling. My mom was controlling, too. I understood that personality type very well and could sympathize with Sharon on many levels. “I think it’s hard to see you’re being controlled when it’s someone you care about. When it becomes a habit.”
She gave me a sad smile. “That was the scariest thing of all. Not the beatings, or the verbal abuse. The worst part was losing control over my own life. Allowing someone else to have power over me. And knowing I’m the one who let it happen. Knowing it was all my fault.”
I understood the powerlessness she described only too well, but this wasn’t about me. It was about Sharon, and I had no idea how to help her. Fortunately, Eliza arrived at that very moment.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, taking Sharon’s hand. “How are you? Can I get you anything?”
My sister had a reputation for being a tough lawyer, but she was kind and understanding when it came to her clients. I handed her my notes, and they chatted a few minutes before Eliza said, “We should head to the courthouse to get a Protection From Abuse order. It’s a good place to start. We’ll get you through this, but you have to be aware of something.”
“What?” asked Sharon, her eyes huge as she nervously clutched her purse to her chest.
“He’s going to try to get you back. You have to be strong. Don’t take his calls. Don’t let him sway you with gifts and flowers. He’ll be on his best behavior, because he can’t stand not having power over you. But if you take him back, eventually, he’ll kill you. You know that, don’t you?” Sharon nodded, her face tense. “Good. Let’s go.”
After they left, I stared numbly out the window, processing what Sharon had shared. It had disturbed me on so many levels, but it had also been a wake-up call as well. Abusive boyfriends and husbands weren’t the only people who tried to exert an unhealthy level of control over the lives of others. Mothers sometimes did it, too.
I picked up my cell phone. It was still early in California, but Celeste had been texting me for hours. Not a good sign.
Whenever we had a problem, and Celeste wanted to resolve it, we usually followed the same pattern. First, she acted civil. Apologetic. Remorseful. From there, she slid into defensive mode and made excuses for her behavior. Then she turned offensive and blamed me for everything, even my own birth. After that came the worst phase. The anger phase. And, judging by her texts, she’d been in the anger phase since yesterday.
Escalation of the anger phase would not be good. I needed to confront her directly and tell her to stop. It might not improve at all, but at least it would enable us to have our argument, get it out of the way, and start the cycle once again.
Life with my mother. Always such a pleasure.
I steadied myself and dialed her number. She answered on the first ring. “You’re ignoring my calls now? After all I’ve—”
“Stop. I’m not going to play this game anymore. Tell me what you want, or I’ll hang up right now and I won’t call you back.”
I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head, even though she was thousands of miles away. She somehow swallowed her anger. I was surprised she didn’t choke on it.
“I was worried about you, sweetheart.”
Rolling my eyes, I decided to play along. “I’m fine. There is nothing to worry about.”
“I’m afraid there is.” I heard her close a door and lower her voice. Was she hiding inside a closet? A tremor of real fear washed over me.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s Solomon. He’s coming after you.”
“He can’t. He doesn’t know where I am.” Silence met my words, and I clenched the phone tighter. “Mother, did you tell him where I’m staying?”
“He seemed so concerned. And he’s sure this show will be your ticket to the big time. He has connections, you know. He can make this happen for you. For us.”
“You had no right to give him my personal information.”
“I have every right,” she sniffed. “I’m looking out for your best interests.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You’re lying, and we both know it.” When she protested, I cut her off. “When will he be here?”
She paused. “Next week sometime. He has to be in Vegas until Monday. I only wanted to help.”
I couldn’t listen anymore, so I hung up, and set my phone to silent. This was not good news. Solomon O’Sullivan showing up in Pittsburgh meant nothing but trouble.
I put my face in my hands, remembering the first time I’d seen him. He’d been so handsome, so sophisticated, with his ginger hair, dark eyes, and cute Irish accent. I felt flattered by the attention he gave me.
It was all an illusion.
Thank goodness I didn’t sleep with him. Of course, that wasn’t exactly a surprise. I didn’t sleep with anyone.
Well, almost anyone.
“Hey, stranger.” A voice from the doorway made me jump.
“Charlie?”
My best friend from childhood, Charlotte Dubois, stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, and a grin on her pretty face that showed off the deep dimples in her cheeks. Her long, dark hair hung in a thick braid down her back, and she wore her paramedic uniform.
I jumped up and gave her a big hug. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. I was so glad to hear you were back.” I grabbed her a soda from the fridge, and we sat at my desk and caught up. I hadn’t seen Charlotte since she’d come out to visit me in California six months ago. “Sorry I couldn’t stop by sooner. I had to work all weekend. I just finished my shift a few minutes ago.”
“No problem. I was busy helping Eliza with the Samhain celebration. I wish you could have come.”
“Me, too, but Tommy Belfiore told me it was fun.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “He also said he was happy to see you and asked me a bunch of questions. It was cute. Do you remember how crazy you were about him in high school?”
I lifted a finger into the air. “Uh, excuse me. We were all crazy about him. I was the norm, not the exception. We were also crazy about his brother Anthony and his cousin Dario. They were the Italian trifecta of hotness.”
She sighed. “You’re right. He had a herd of hot girl cousins, too. The whole family is beautiful, and a danger to Catholic virgins everywhere.”
She wasn’t wrong, but I’d had a major crush on Tommy my whole life. Not that he’d ever noticed me. He always treated me like one of the guys. Well, until the night of our commencement, at least. He definitely hadn’t treated me like one of the guys that night.
“Anthony’s a cop now,” Charlie continued. “And Dario writes for the Post-Gazette.”
“I heard,” I said, trying to act nonchalant.
She shot me a knowing smile. “And Tommy is a firefighter, but you already know that, I’m sure.”
I closed my eyes, picturing the dark-haired Tommy in his firefighter’s uniform, but also shirtless for some reason. And holding a kitten. “He told me at the party, and I saw him again last night. He gave me a ride home from the Booby Bungalow.”
“Oh, I heard,” she said with a laugh. “He hasn’t recovered yet from the shock. You were pole dancing?”
She laughed as I explained to her what happened. “It was totally innocent. Tommy just happened to come in at the wrong moment.”
“Or the right moment,” she said, echoing Tommy’s words from the night before. “I only see the three of them because of work. Sadly, the last few times I saw Tommy socially, he was hanging out with Becky Bowser.” She made a disgusted face and a gagging sound.
I cringed. “He’s dating Becky?”
Beautiful, blonde Becky had been my childhood archnemesis ever since Sister Teresa made me the angel in our fifth-grade nativity play. Becky didn’t handle losing well, and she’d been mean to me ever since.
“I’m not sure,” said Charlie. “But I hope not. She’s such a bitch. And a bully. Especially to you. She was so jealous of you.”
“I guess. It was a long time ago.”
“Old habits die hard.” She glanced around my office. “It’s good you’re home. I bet your dad is delighted. How’s my favorite guy?”
I smiled and caught her up on all our family gossip. Charlie had grown up with a single mom. She adopted my father as a surrogate sometime in first grade, and they’d been pals ever since.
“And how is Celeste?”
My smile faded. “Fine. I guess.”
“That good, huh?” Charlie raised a dark, elegant eyebrow. “So, she isn’t calling you a hundred times a day and phone stalking you and driving you crazy?”
I glanced at my phone. “Oh, no. So far, she’s only sent me sixty-three texts and called fifteen times. Seems like progress.”
I didn’t mention I’d spoken with her or anything else about my current predicament. The Dragonsong coping method. Ignore it until it went away.
My father had attempted the same strategy with my mother, and it backfired. Celeste was a problem that never ended.
I snuck a glance at my phone again. Sixty-six text messages. Crap.
“I almost forgot. I brought you a present.”
Charlie pulled a black T-shirt out of her bag. It read, You might as well face it, you’re a dick with a glove.
I grinned, holding it up to admire it. “Okay, that is hilarious. I love it.”
“It’s kind of a bribe,” said Charlie. “Have you been doing any singing lately?”
“Only for work. You know, commercials and stuff.”
“How would you feel about singing in church again?” she asked. “Sister Bernadette heard you’re back in town. She told me they’re desperate to have you at Prince of Peace and can make any accommodations you need.”
“Accommodations?”
“Not being right in front of the whole congregation. Standing upstairs, alone, on the balcony to sing. Covering your head with a paper bag. The usual stuff.”
I snorted. “I’ve always loved that church. It has great acoustics. Is Father Bob still there?”
“He is. Say you’ll do it. Make a sweet old nun happy. She’s already arranged everything. You can start at twelve o’clock mass.”
“This Sunday?”
“Yes.” Charlie shot me a no-nonsense look. The kind of look that said we’d reached a decision whether I liked it or not. “You have to do it. I brought you a T-shirt.”
I scowled at her. “You’re using a shirt with the words ‘dick with a glove’ on it to bribe me into singing in church?”
“Yes,” she said, evidently not ashamed in the least. “I’ll be there. Don’t worry. And if you don’t come and sing, I’ll have to listen to Mary Francis DeAngelo squawk the entire mass.” She shuddered, which made me laugh.
I glanced at the T-shirt. “I guess I can do it.”
“I know you can do it.” She smiled. “My ears almost bled the last time Mary Francis sang.”
“She isn’t that bad.”
“She is, and I can’t wait to see her face when she finds out you’re back in town.” She wiggled her fingers in maniacal glee, and then frowned. “Crap. I have to go to confession now, don’t I?”
I nodded. “Yep. You do.” I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not, but the idea of singing at the Prince of Peace parish felt as much like coming home as walking into Dragonsong Manor. Maybe I could try it this once.
Charlotte stood. “I’d better run. Can you meet me at Fat Heads after work for a drink? It’s Taco Tuesday, which means it’s also Nacho Night.”
“Sure,” I said as I walked her to the door. “Mostly because you get grumpy without your weekly dose of nachos.”
“I do. You know me so well.” She pulled me into another quick hug. “The South Side wasn’t the same without you. It’s a good thing you finally came home.”
After I said goodbye to her, I folded up the T-shirt and put it in my bag. When I grabbed my phone, I realized Charlie had already sent me a text.
Grease fire at Wicked Wienies. Tommy’s working today if you want to see him in action.
She added a long line of emojis after her words, mostly flames and hearts. I heard the whine of sirens as Eliza returned to the office. She glanced out the window.
“I wonder what that’s about.”
“There’s a grease fire at Wicked Wienies. Do you mind if I go check on Bernie and Bob?”
Wicked Wienies was the best hot dog shop in the South Side, and I truly did care about the owners, Bernie and Bob, but I also hoped to catch a glimpse of a certain firefighter. Eliza didn’t seem to mind.
“Good idea. I’ll come with you.”
We walked the two blocks to the restaurant. Smoke billowed out the front door, and a crowd had already formed. Bernie, an older man with gray curly hair, stood next to his partner, Bob. Bob was short and bald, and they had on matching purple “Eat More Wienies!” T-shirts.
“What happened?” asked Eliza.
“Oh, it’s terrible.” Bernie had a hand over his heart and his eyes frantically searched the interior of the shop. “The French fry oil just burst into flames. Thank goodness no one was hurt, but our new kitten was in the back room. We adopted him a few days ago and didn’t want to leave him at home alone. We thought it would be safer to have him with us, but…” His voice cracked. “We haven’t even chosen a name yet.”
Bob put an arm around his shoulders. “The fire started so quickly, and the smoke was terrible. We couldn’t reach our poor baby. We keep the rear entrance locked and the key is in our office. It’s just a nightmare.”
I glanced around at the firefighters in their heavy, brown jackets with bright yellow stripes but didn’t see Tommy. They readied their hoses, but it seemed the fire was already contained. The smoke was the problem at this point.
I heard a gasp and glanced at the front of the restaurant. A firefighter appeared in the doorway, cradling a small grey kitten in his hands. It wasn’t until he took off his mask and helmet that I realized it was Tommy and I nearly swooned. I’d just fantasized moments earlier about Tommy holding a kitten. Of course, Tommy had been shirtless in my imagination, but this still wasn’t bad.
He didn’t see me at first, because his focus was on the tiny animal. He shouted something to one of his fellow firefighters as he set the poor thing on the ground and shrugged out of his jacket. To my surprise, he whipped off his navy-blue T-shirt as well, and I had a perfect view of his broad shoulders, sculpted chest, and his abs.
Oh, God. His abs.
Distracted by Tommy’s spontaneous striptease, I hadn’t noticed the kitten wasn’t moving. My heart sank, as everyone around me grew quiet, watching the scene unfold.
“Come on,” Tommy said, using his T-shirt to wipe off the kitten’s face and rub its chest, before giving it oxygen with his mask. “Breathe.”
He continued massaging the small, furry body until the kitten let out a soft meow. In seconds, it started moving, and Tommy leaned back onto his feet, a smile spreading over his beautiful face.
When his eyes met mine, that smile seemed to widen, and for a moment it was like we were the only two people there. The spell was broken when Charlie appeared at my side and gave me a nudge. “Aren’t you glad I texted you?”
I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away from Tommy. He was surrounded now, with people giving him pats on the back and thanking him. Sadly, he put his T-shirt back on and covered all that lovely skin.
Charlie leaned closer and giggled in my ear. “There is something I’ve always wondered. Do firemen really have big hoses?”
I punched her in the arm. “There is something so wrong with you.”
She snorted. “I’m not the one drooling over Tommy Belfiore in the middle of East Carson Street.”
I wiped my mouth automatically to make sure I hadn’t actually drooled. When she laughed, I shot her a glare. “Stop it.”
Fortunately, no one else had heard what she said. And I no longer had to imagine what Tommy looked like while shirtless and holding a kitten. This proved even better than my fantasy.
Eliza left to close up the office. I stayed a few minutes to chat with Charlie. To my surprise, Tommy got up and came straight toward me. “Hi, Amanda.”
“Hi.”
Charlie and Tommy both stared at me, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. My brain no longer functioned. Charlie saved me just in time.
“We’re going to Fat Heads for happy hour. Want to join us?”
He glanced at his watch. “Sure. My shift is over. I can clean up and head over. Is that okay with you, Amanda?”
I blinked. “Yes. Of course. Nice work with the kitten,” I said, and gave him a thumbs up. Immediately, I wanted to kick myself. Why had I given him a thumbs up? I blamed it on the fact I kept picturing Tommy shirtless. It really threw me off. That man should come with a warning label.
He bit his lip and gave me the slowest, sexiest smile possible. “See you then.”
As he walked away, Charlie and I watched him go. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I think my panties just spontaneously combusted.”
“I could call Tommy back,” she said. “I hear he puts out, you know.” When I gasped at her, she grinned. “Fires, Amanda. He puts out fires. It was a joke.”
I saw nothing funny with this situation at all. Tommy had been the object of my fantasies for as long as I could remember, but the reality was so much better than my imagination. And I was meeting him for drinks. What could possibly go wrong?