ability.
“Knowing your luck, he’d manage to go to the only grocery store in the entire Bay Area where you happen to be shopping, or something ridiculous like that. And then you’ll bring more trouble to your family. You’re certainly not going to win any Daughter of the Year awards.”
As if she’d ever? What with working for her mob boss uncle against Mom’s wishes and then suddenly coming back from prison penniless, she figured she’d forfeited any parental brownie points. “Please, Mom, Elizabeth’s desperate. You saw the bruise on her face, and I thought we did a good job cleaning up the sunroom in the past couple days.”
“I have to admit, her fried chicken last night was good.”
Tessa couldn’t speak for a moment. The concession had been grudging, but for Mom to admit someone else’s cooking was good was like being knighted by the Queen. “I thought so too,” Tessa said in a neutral voice, but inside she was shrieking, “Good? It was flippin’ awesome!” The crust had been crispy and flaky. Colonel Sanders had nothing on Elizabeth St. Amant.
She entered the squeaking glass door to the small motel. A pitted wooden counter almost entirely hid a balding head sitting on a low chair behind it.
“Mom, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“We are not done talking about this.”
Tessa hung up with a sigh. They’d talked about it every single time Mom got her alone for the past two days. You’d think they’d talked it to death by now, but Mom liked beating dead horses. Maybe she thought the problem would go away if she mentioned it ad nauseam. At least she hadn’t been rude to Elizabeth or tried to get them to leave. In fact, she’d played with Daniel this morning and chatted comfortably with Elizabeth.
Tessa fought a twinge of jealousy that her mother, who had only disapproved of her all her years growing up, was so kind to a perfect stranger. Even now that Tessa was trying to go legitimate, her mother didn’t seem to treat her very differently.
Tessa approached the counter. “Who works nights here?”
“I do.” The man had a beak of a nose that reminded her ofGonzo from the Muppets. And he had as much — or rather, as little hair as Gonzo too. But unlike Gonzo’s wide friendly eyes, this man’s were narrow and bulgy like a lizard.
“A week or so ago, a man came — or maybe he came with several men.” Tessa showed a picture of Heath.
The man’s eyes remained flat, emotionless. Giving nothing away.
“They asked about this woman.” Tessa flashed a picture of Elizabeth.
A flicker, but it was so subtle, it could have been the indifferent fluorescent lights on the ceiling.
“I’m not a cop.”
“I could have figured that out, lady.” The eyes gleamed with a film of slime covering the irises.
Tessa realized she’d automatically fallen into the stance she usually adopted when talking to people on behalf of her uncle — neck high and chin up, confidence falling off her shoulders like a robe. She had flexed her muscles, the strength coursing through her limbs like buzzing electricity, waiting to be unleashed.
She had become yakuza again.
But she wasn’t yakuza any more, and this wasn’t yakuza business. Did that count? Was she still wrong to regress into this persona, if it got her what she wanted?
She didn’t know. She didn’t know who she was anymore.
She had to not show weakness. She had to uphold her pride or she would never get what she wanted. She leaned against the counter, but kept her shoulders straight. “What did these guys ask you about this woman?”
“Which time?”
“They talked to you more than once?”
“I can be persuaded to remember.”
Tessa dug into her back pocket for the cash she’d stashed there — cash she’d guiltily taken from her mom’s purse. She’d needed the money right away, and her cousin Ichiro hadn’t answered his cell phone. As soon as she got a hold of him, he’d lend her the money to pay Mom back — Itchy
“Knowing your luck, he’d manage to go to the only grocery store in the entire Bay Area where you happen to be shopping, or something ridiculous like that. And then you’ll bring more trouble to your family. You’re certainly not going to win any Daughter of the Year awards.”
As if she’d ever? What with working for her mob boss uncle against Mom’s wishes and then suddenly coming back from prison penniless, she figured she’d forfeited any parental brownie points. “Please, Mom, Elizabeth’s desperate. You saw the bruise on her face, and I thought we did a good job cleaning up the sunroom in the past couple days.”
“I have to admit, her fried chicken last night was good.”
Tessa couldn’t speak for a moment. The concession had been grudging, but for Mom to admit someone else’s cooking was good was like being knighted by the Queen. “I thought so too,” Tessa said in a neutral voice, but inside she was shrieking, “Good? It was flippin’ awesome!” The crust had been crispy and flaky. Colonel Sanders had nothing on Elizabeth St. Amant.
She entered the squeaking glass door to the small motel. A pitted wooden counter almost entirely hid a balding head sitting on a low chair behind it.
“Mom, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“We are not done talking about this.”
Tessa hung up with a sigh. They’d talked about it every single time Mom got her alone for the past two days. You’d think they’d talked it to death by now, but Mom liked beating dead horses. Maybe she thought the problem would go away if she mentioned it ad nauseam. At least she hadn’t been rude to Elizabeth or tried to get them to leave. In fact, she’d played with Daniel this morning and chatted comfortably with Elizabeth.
Tessa fought a twinge of jealousy that her mother, who had only disapproved of her all her years growing up, was so kind to a perfect stranger. Even now that Tessa was trying to go legitimate, her mother didn’t seem to treat her very differently.
Tessa approached the counter. “Who works nights here?”
“I do.” The man had a beak of a nose that reminded her ofGonzo from the Muppets. And he had as much — or rather, as little hair as Gonzo too. But unlike Gonzo’s wide friendly eyes, this man’s were narrow and bulgy like a lizard.
“A week or so ago, a man came — or maybe he came with several men.” Tessa showed a picture of Heath.
The man’s eyes remained flat, emotionless. Giving nothing away.
“They asked about this woman.” Tessa flashed a picture of Elizabeth.
A flicker, but it was so subtle, it could have been the indifferent fluorescent lights on the ceiling.
“I’m not a cop.”
“I could have figured that out, lady.” The eyes gleamed with a film of slime covering the irises.
Tessa realized she’d automatically fallen into the stance she usually adopted when talking to people on behalf of her uncle — neck high and chin up, confidence falling off her shoulders like a robe. She had flexed her muscles, the strength coursing through her limbs like buzzing electricity, waiting to be unleashed.
She had become yakuza again.
But she wasn’t yakuza any more, and this wasn’t yakuza business. Did that count? Was she still wrong to regress into this persona, if it got her what she wanted?
She didn’t know. She didn’t know who she was anymore.
She had to not show weakness. She had to uphold her pride or she would never get what she wanted. She leaned against the counter, but kept her shoulders straight. “What did these guys ask you about this woman?”
“Which time?”
“They talked to you more than once?”
“I can be persuaded to remember.”
Tessa dug into her back pocket for the cash she’d stashed there — cash she’d guiltily taken from her mom’s purse. She’d needed the money right away, and her cousin Ichiro hadn’t answered his cell phone. As soon as she got a hold of him, he’d lend her the money to pay Mom back — Itchy
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