Page 52 of Five Stolen Rings
It’s been a long time since I’ve been to this café, but I find it just fine. The parking gods are smiling on me, because there’s an open spot right next to the door. I pull in and kill the engine immediately before going inside. It does smell good, I can admit, but for the most part I’m not paying attention. My eyes are busy searching the place for a woman drunk on eggnog.
I find her in the corner booth, a wrap-around bench beneath a large window. She’s seated next to one of the twins—I’m man enough to admit I can’t tell them apart—her legs swinging under the table, head bobbing happily.
She seems fine, aside from her obvious inebriation; some of my anxiety drains away as I take a deep breath. My frown doesn’t disappear, though. If anything it deepens, because I recognize the man sitting on the other side of the booth from Stella.
It’s Benny, wearing a workout tank and probably gym shorts in this French café. He’s clearly buzzed—Benny the health nut, BennyI’ll-have-ginger-ale-with-no-iceNuzzolo, smiling dopily at the women around him.
I grit my teeth and weave my way toward the table.
Stella lets her head drop onto the shoulder of whichever twin is next to her; Sophronia/Lucretia pats her gently on the back and lifts a glass of water to her mouth.
“Have some more water,” the unidentified twin says. “Here you go—no, the straw’s here—good job. Your sexy doctor boyfriend is coming to get you, okay? And you can go home and rest.”
Stella nods, her eyes closed, a carefree smile on her lips.
“Oh,” the twin says when she looks up to see me approaching. She pats Stella on the back again. “Stell, he’s here. Come on, hon. Let’s get up.”
“Jacky,” Benny says, louder than normal for him, his smile wide. “Jacky is here!”
Stella’s eyes open, and she blinks blearily around before her gaze lands on me.
Then she smiles—and I’d like to know where she gets theaudacityto smile at me like that. It’s the same smile she gave me all those years ago, the one that sent me careening down her path—brilliant and joyful.
“Jack,” she says as Lucretia/Sophronia helps her to her feet. She blinks a few times, her smile sweetening as she stumbles toward me. She points at my face and goes on, “I’m so proud of you. You did so good at life. And you’re anamazingkisser.Ah-may-ay-ay-zing.”
And then she collapses, right in my arms.
Crap. This woman is not tastefully buzzed, of the sort you might see among high society women with secret drinking problems. She is flat-out drunk.
“Let me tell you,” Benny says as I dig around in my back pocket. “Jacky wasobsessedwith this girl—ow,” he mutters when I stop searching my pockets and cuff him on the back of the head instead.
“Stop talking, you idiot,” I mutter, and he blinks stupidly at me.
“There’s nothing wrong with love, Jacky,” Benny says, shaking his head. “I think it’s beautiful. You called her after that earthquake to make—ow, ow, ow!”
My heart is going to thunder right out of my chest; I twist Benny’s ear further and then give it a tug.
“Come on,” I say sharply, my eyes darting over thewomen at the table. They’re all watching with a mixture of curiosity and interest. I tug on Benny’s ear again. “Get up,” I tell him. “You’re coming with me too.”
I pull a neatly folded five dollar bill out of my back pocket and pass it to the twin who’s still helping Stella. “Add this to the tip,” I say, and she takes it with a nod.
“She’s okay, I think,” Sophronia/Lucretia says, though she looks a little worried.
I support Stella with one arm and use the other to find her pulse; it’s strong and steady. Then I tilt her chin up to look at me. She gives me another sleepy smile.
“I knew the phone call was you,” she murmurs.
Do not panic,I order myself.Priorities. Just get her home for now.
“She should be fine,” I say then, although I’m not so sure. I’ve seen my fair share of alcohol poisoning in the ER. Stella is conscious and vaguely responsive with no vomiting so far, which is good, but if she relapses… “I’ll keep an eye on her. Thanks, guys.” I say this to the twins; I do not say it to the three other women at the table, because they’re not at all helpful.
One of the twins passes me the little red bag Stella was carrying last night, and I tuck it under my arm. Then I help Stella through the café, Benny drifting vaguely behind me. The hostess looks faintly scandalized, but I ignore her, focusing on making it across the entryway instead.
“You’ve had quite a morning,” I tell Stella, trying to lighten the mood as we shuffle along.
She comes to a stop and turns to look at me, her bottom lip jutting out as tears fill her eyes.
“Oh, whoa,” I say, alarmed. “Don’t cry.” I glance around at the hostess and the people whose tables are nearest theentry; they haven’t noticed us stop, and I would like to keep it that way. “Come on, Princess, let’s...” But I trail off as her face screws up and more tears stream down her cheeks.
