Chapter 6
“Oh, gawd.” Dina rose from the porcelain throne she’d prayed to for the last few hours. Last night was vague. She remembered Monique calling her cell and Cole answering after she upchucked on his shoes in the parking garage. Not one of her better moments.
Checking out her appearance in the bathroom mirror, she sighed in disgust. Her shiny, blonde hair now looked dull. The strands that didn’t stick to her face stood on end as if electrocuted. Mascara ran down her cheeks, turning the skin around her violet eyes black.
“Here you go, sweetie.” Monique handed her a cup of coffee.
Dina looked over at Monique’s perfect hair and makeup. “Th-thank you for taking care of me.”
Monique picked up a brush and slid it through Dina’s hair. Her scalp ached. Everything did. A quarter bottle of the Scotch was gone before she had realized it.
“But why you wanted me to stay instead of that hottie is beyond me. Mr. Twenty-ten has everyone drooling.”
The brush snagged and Dina’s head flew back. “No more. I need aspirin, water, and a bed.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Monique hurried out of the apartment.
Dina climbed into bed, hating she drank so much, and draped her arm over her face to block out the little bit of sunlight coming in through the window shade. She knew better than to have more than one serving, but with her thoughts flying in every direction, she hadn’t paid attention.
“This will work wonders,” Monique said in a perky voice. Why was it when you had a hangover, the rest of the world was happy and energetic?
“It’s a prairie oyster.”
Dina’s belly wanted to revolt. She sat up, grasped the glass, and studied the contents. “Ugh. What’s in it?”
“Raw egg, Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, salt, and pepper. Drink up.”
“You’re waiting for me to barf this up, aren’t you?”
“Hey now! I don’t take enjoyment from others’ misery. This will work. Trust me.”
“It looks disgusting.”
“If you want to play with the big boys, you have to pay the consequences.”
Dina insides grumbled. “Okay…thanks…I think.” Dina held her nose and drank most of the brown, rancid liquid.
“Finish, or the magic won’t work.” Monique nudged her hand holding the glass.
“You’re a devil spawn.”
Monique snickered. “So be it. Drink.”
“Fine.” She did, set the glass on the nightstand, and flopped back on her pillow.
“You’ll be good as new with more sleep.” Monique covered her with blankets. “When you wake, take a shower. You stink.”
Dina opened an eye. “De-vil Spa-wn.”
****
“Oh crap!” someone yelled.
Dina sat up in bed, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and was glad her head didn’t throb.
“Help!” Monique yelled, her voice sounding desperate.
Adrenaline kicked in, Dina rushed out of bed, and dashed into the family room.
Monique sat on the couch, handcuffs on her wrists.
Dina insides jolted with awareness and she quickly scanned the room. Was someone here? Who did that to her? “Who’s here?” she whispered.
“I’m alone,” Monique drawled, not sounding happy.
Dina’s hand flew to her heaving chest. “Then what are you doing?”
Monique’s eyes darkened. “Where’s the key?”
“Key?” Why would she have a key? Those weren’t her handcuffs.
Monique raised her wrists, showing the shiny metal. “Please, tell me you have one.”
Last night replayed. Accident…Cole…handcuffs…oh shit! “Um, there are some things I haven’t told you.”
“And this has to do with the key?” Monique’s eyebrow arched. She dropped her hands back to her lap.
A smile forced itself onto Dina’s lips. The situation turned more humorous by the minute. Well, at least from her end, the non-handcuffed side. “It’s like this.”
“No! We’re not going there.” Monique flopped her head against the back of the couch. “Saying, it’s like this means I’m screwed. That’s not how this conversation should start.”
“In a matter of speaking, you are.”
Monique’s mouth turned downward. “These aren’t toy handcuffs?”
Dina debated between laughing and having sympathy for her friend.
“No. Yesterday, I was in an accident—”
“Accident? Mr. Twenty-ten said you drank too much in his limo.”
“Let me finish. Last night, a friend of mine was arrested. In the midst of their scuffle, the officer dropped the handcuffs.”
“Scuffle?”
“Hush and stop repeating everything I say.”
Monique sent her a smirk. “You’re bitchy.”
“Do you want to wear the cuffs all day? It’d be a fashion statement.”
“Nooo.”
“Okay, then.” Dina twisted, saw the closed guest bedroom door, and remembered the officer’s comment that Vince would stay the night in jail. She hoped he hadn’t. “Shoot. I need to call Vince.”
“This guy…Vince…he’s the friend who was arrested?”
The lines etching Monique’s forehead ratcheted up Dina’s concern. “Yes.”
“He called earlier.”
“What?” The headache she thought left returned right between the eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Cause you were snoozing. He said come get him when you woke.”
Dina lifted a brow. “You talked to him and he didn’t demand for you to wake me up?”
Monique shook her head. “Nope.”
“Monique, the guy’s in jail. You should have gotten me.”
“If he’d told me where he was, I would have.”
Dina picked up her cell and thumbed through messages. “I have to take a shower and bail Vince out.”
“How did this conversation turn to you? I need it about me. How do I get them off?” She lifted her cuff-linked wrists.
“Two birds with one stone. Come with me to bail out Vince and we’ll get the handcuffs off. First, I’m taking a shower.”
“You better hope I don’t have to go the bathroom. Guess who will have to help?”
Dina groaned and headed for the shower.
Monique followed like a puppy dog and sat on the closed toilet lid. “So, tell me more about this Vince guy.”
Dina warmed the water, stripped off her pajamas, and stepped under the spray. “He’s an old friend. Our fathers used to work together until his dad died.” She scrubbed shampoo into her hair.
“Is he hot?”
Dina stuck her head around the curtain, considering the question. “Yeah.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
She closed the curtain and let the water drum over her head. “No, he is.”
“Is he as hot as Mr. Twenty-ten?”
No one’s that hot. “What can I say? Vince is like a brother to me. It’s hard to gauge his looks.”
“Okay. Whatever. Can I wear your lucky shoes? I want to wear them out this evening to see if I can find some of the mojo you found. Mine isn’t working. One man phoned you, albeit from jail, brother or not, at least he’s calling. Another guy wanted to take care of your sick ass. Not to mention the virtual guy you’re stringing along. He’s dreamy and been chatting you up…for what…months?”
“Something like that.” Monique pegged Sir Palladium right. He was dreamy.
“I love the way he describes kissing your palm. Oh, and his username…I mean how cool. To think of a name that means protection.” Monique’s voice drifted off.
Finished with her hair, Dina shaved her legs. “Monique, what’s this about mojo? Yours has always been good.”
Monique chuckled, the sound of her shoes shuffled on the linoleum floor. “I have a story to tell you. Do you have any sharps?”
“A razor.”
“Be careful. The reason I hunted you down yesterday evening and ended up talking with Twenty-ten might surprise you.”
Dina’s life was so calm and dormant compared to Monique’s. She loved listening to her stories. “Go for it.”
“First off, you weren’t the only one who had dealings with the police.”
Dina opened the curtain. “Huh?”
“I wasn’t arrested.”
“Good.”
“Let me clarify, I’ve never wore handcuffs until today.”
Dina arched her eyebrow. No way, Monique Stone, the exotic flight attendant hadn’t worn handcuffs. “Come again?”
“Okay, real ones.”
She stared at Monique and waited for her to continue.
Monique sent Dina a sideways glance. “Don’t you have someplace to go?”
“Oops.” Dina slipped her head back in the shower and shaved under her arms.
“I met up with a couple friends who insisted on setting me up with a blind date.”
“That’s right. One of your friends emailed you a pic of him.”
“Yes, he’s good looking. After our designated driver was called back to work, the three of us decided to walk home. Larry, the guy I’ve known since high school, drank a little too much.”
“He’s not alone in that department.” Dina shook her head and lathered her leg.
“Hush, it’s my turn to talk,” Monique teased.
“Geez, okay.”
“Hal, my blind date, and I are holding hands and chatting. Ahead of us, Larry starts weaving from one side of the sidewalk to the other. Since no one is around, we figured he was okay.”
“Uh-oh. Doom is coming,” Dina said.
“Shush!” Monique returned to the closed toilet with a clank. “Hal and I lose ourselves in each other and fail to keep an eye on our drunken friend. He mumbled something about having to use the bathroom. At this point, we’re strolling through Central Park, so we sit on a bench and make out.” Monique sighed.
“Couldn’t get a room?”
“When did you become Chatty Cathy? Hush!”
Dina giggled.
“Anyway, two policemen and Larry, now wearing handcuffs, interrupt us. The front of Larry’s pants is wet. I almost asked why he peed himself, but I figured I might humiliate him, so I kept quiet. Hal, who didn’t have the same issue, asked what happened.” Monique snickered.
Dina threw back the curtain again. “And…”
“Larry planned to pee in a letter box.”
“A mailbox? I didn’t know Central Park had mailboxes.” She resumed shaving.
“There aren’t any. The mail slot…get this…was the passenger window of a police car.”
Dina laughed. The razor slipped and nicked her ankle. “Ouch!”
“I told you no sharps.” Monique’s snort turned into an outright belly laugh. “Bleeding much?”
“You’re all heart.” Dina pressed a finger to the wound. “That’s too funny. How old is this guy?”
“In his late thirties. I adore Larry. He keeps everything real.”
Dina turned the shower off, snatched a towel from the rack in the back of the shower and wrapped it around herself. “You love getting your kicks off other people’s misfortunes,” she said, sliding the curtain back.
“Seems you do as well.” Monique held up her wrists. “You’ve been laughing at me.”
“I think those handcuffs are your payback. Why did you put them on?”
“Something to do. I’m getting some iced tea.”
“Good luck.”
Monique grunted and left.
Twenty-minutes later, Dina stepped into the kitchen and found Monique eating her last piece of pizza. The slice she wanted to eat on the way to the police station. “Hope you enjoyed it.” Dina grabbed a handful of crackers and headed out the door.
“Immensely,” Monique said, following and scooting in front of her to push the elevator button. “If it’s all the same to you, I think you should drive.”
“Really? Stating the obvious?”
Monique play-slapped her as they stepped onto the elevator. “I know how much you hate it.”
“I do, but I will.” Dina sighed. “Should we bail Larry out today, too?”
“They released him. He’s friends with an officer and they gave him a break.”
She wished the same had happened for Vince. “That’s fortunate.” They strolled into the parking garage and Dina looked around. “I’m not sure where my car is.”
“Hit the button on the remote to make it toot.”
“Duh.” Dina pushed the button. Nothing. She hit it again. Zilch.
Monique faced Dina, her hands hanging in front of her, a sly smile crossing her face. “Shortly, someone will come after you for taking me against my will.”
“No, they won’t. They’ll inquire about what we’re doing, but nothing else.”
“Not if I scream,” Monique said in a sing-song voice.
Dina’s eyebrows shot up. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Now get your memory bank working and find your car.”
Dina trotted up the ramp and hit the key fob again. The alarm on her Audi signaled back. “It’s up here.”
Monique climbed inside and tugged the door closed. “You have a freaking nice car. I don’t understand why you won’t drive. Just like, I don’t know how you don’t look like shit after getting shitfaced.”
Dina blew out an exaggerated sigh and twisted the key. The engine hummed surprisingly easy for not running in a few months. “Sure I do, and don’t remind me.”
During the ten minute drive to the police station, Dina avoided getting sideswiped three times. “I hate driving in Manhattan.”
“It’s your lucky day,” Monique said, pointing to the curb. “There’s a parking spot along the street. We won’t have to find a garage.”
They parked, fed the meter, and entered the station. Cinderblock walls enclosed the stuffy, dirty area. A long counter stretched across the front, separating the visitors from the police. Uniformed policemen milled around a desk in the back. A large man with a potbelly approached them. His stern gaze landed on Dina. “I haven’t seen you here before. Officer…”
“Oh, no, I’m not. My friend put handcuffs on her wrists. We need a key.”
The man raised a questioning brow. “Uh-huh.”
“No. Really,” Dina said.
“I wanted to get it on with my boyfriend, but he fled when he discovered the cuffs were real.” Monique batted her dark eyelashes.
“Now, that I believe.” He chuckled, but his eyes turned serious, his eyebrows lowering and he studied them.
“Figures,” Monique said under her breath.
“Sh-h-h.” Dina nudged Monique with an elbow. “He might change his mind.”
Monique went wide-eyed and pressed her lips together.
“Where do I bail someone out of jail?” Dina asked.
“Walk through those doors and turn to your left. There will be someone at the desk that can help. Before I unlock the cuffs, I need more information. Your story was funny, but how do I know you’re not a fugitive?” he asked, nailing Monique with a glare.
“Cause, a police officer dropped them last night when my friend was arrested,” Dina rushed to say. “I planned to return them today, but Monique thought they were toy cuffs while I was asleep.”
His gaze shifted between the two of them and for a minute, Dina was afraid he might arrest them both.
“Are you the woman involved in the accident with the limo?”
She didn’t like the sound of this. “Yes. How did you know?”
“You made the paper,” he said lifting the key from a hook and strolling around the counter. He unlocked Monique’s cuffs and laid them on the counter. “What’s the arresting officer’s name?”
“Ward.”
“She made the paper?” Monique asked, rubbing her wrists, and peering at the newspaper on the counter.
He pointed to a picture. “Right there.”
“Let me see.” Monique snatched it and held it between them. “Why is this news?”
The officer hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Because of the cars involved.”
Dina read the caption: Eligible Bachelors Take Love Triangle To a Whole New Level. The reporters thought Silo and Vince crashed on purpose? Cole wasn’t even involved in the accident. “Unbelievable.”
She pitched the paper aside and headed for the doors the chuckling officer had indicated and came to another desk. A plump woman wearing a blue uniform and glasses looked up, a stern look in her eyes. Her nametag read Butkus.
Monique and her exchanged Oh my God glances before Dina cleared her throat to stop the laughter in her tone. “I’m here to bail out Vince Carrington.”
“Just a second,” the officer said and disappeared through a door.
Monique snapped her fingers. “I get the picture’s caption. Vince Carrington is in the top fifty hottest guys named in Today’s Entertainment, right up there with Mr. Twenty-ten.”
Leave it to Monique to know the list. She probably had all their names memorized. “Still isn’t a reason to scribe there’s a love triangle. I should sue for slander!”
The officer returned. “Ma’am, if you would sign here,” she said, tapping her finger on the paper. “I need a form of identification, also.” Dina handed over her driver’s license. The officer read it. “His bail is twenty-thousand.”
Monique’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline and her eyes bugged out. “Do you have that much cash?”
Some of her money was family money, but the majority of her savings came from hard work. Dina didn’t want to discuss her financial situation and pulled out her checkbook. “Take a check?”
“Girl,” Monique whispered beside her.
The woman sent her a glare over her glasses. “What do I look like? A bank? See the bail bondsman on the corner a street over then come back.” The officer handed her license back. “Dina Saunders Wright?” she said, questioning colored her voice.
Dina held her breath, waiting to hear what the woman would say.
She leaned her arms on the counter. “Tom is a good man. Doesn’t deserve the crap he’s been dealt.”
The officer’s comment surprised her. She would have thought the woman would have felt for her mother, not her father. “You know him?”
“Yes.”
Before she could digest Butkus’ comment further, Monique touched her arm. “You’re one of the Saunders?”
Dina cringed. She hated people pointing out her connection to the family name as if the name made her who she was. “Yes, but that’s not who I am,” she said and turned to the officer. “Thank you. We’ll be right back.”
“Girl, what are you talking about?” Monique pushed the door open. “Of course, it’s who you are. How had I not put the two together before?”
She wished her friend hadn’t put it together now. Upbringing and status could strain a friendship. “No, it’s not.” If it was, it meant she was a cheater like her dad and highfalutin like her mom.
A half hour later, Dina handed Officer Butkus the cashier’s check.
“I’ll be back,” the officer said.
“Oh!” Monique said, a lilt in her voice Dina had heard all too often when a good looking guy was near.
She raised her gaze from the self-defense article to Monique’s wide eyes and wet lips, and looked toward the door creaking open.
Vince walked side by side with Officer Butkus, the officer looking adoringly at him.
“Wow! He’s hot!” From Monique’s excited voice and the desire in her voice, Dina knew her wish to keep her friends apart wouldn’t happen.