Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures) Read online

  It started soon after Paola left Italy. Mina asked why all the crying and the answer was always the same, “Such a wonderful aria, such words of hope, hope to see your loved one again.”

  Mina always felt there was more to it than tears of joy. Once her grandmother promised to take her to see Madame Butterfly someday when Mina was a little older and the opera company came to town. It never happened. Her grandmother died in the car accident, and Mina flew to California to be with Paola. She hadn’t thought of Madame Butterfly in a very long time. She swallowed hard and kept looking straight ahead.

  From the corner of her eye she caught Diego’s hand on the stereo’s control.

  “No.” She tried to stop him.

  If she surprised him, he didn’t show it, “Looks like we have an opera lover onboard,” he said.

  “Don’t know much about operas, only this one song.” Mina could hear the sadness in her own voice.

  “I saw Madame Butterfly performed at the Arena di Verona. It was summer, long ago.” He stopped abruptly and turned his focus to the road. Strings of holiday lights hung over the street like a terrestrial Milky Way. The car traveled smoothly under the imaginary galaxy.

  “Verona,” Mina whispered, “so close to home.” Would she ever get back there?

  “Are you thinking about going back to Italy?” Diego asked.

  “Nah…I’ll settle for watching movies like Romeo and Juliet, and pretend I live there in the old buildings.” The question caught Mina off guard. Deep down she didn’t know the answer. She sounded phony to herself.

  “It’s not about the buildings,” Diego said. “It’s about the people.”

  Mina nodded in silence.

  They were in front of the old Bosom Bodies. Windows were boarded up. A link fence surrounded the structure and part of the parking lot, and a no trespassing sign could be seen from the car.

  “This is where it all started,” Mina said out loud.

  “You only worked there two days, a very short career, even for a place like this. I remember the first day you showed up. I checked you out, thinking you were linked to the money laundering gang. Angelina must have checked you out, thinking you were an undercover cop.”

  “Really?” In spite of herself, Mina felt a little flattered they assumed she was some sort of spy.

  “Didn’t last long. Both sides knew you couldn’t possibly be a real waitress, a real redhead and—you know…” He put his fists on his chest, mimicking breasts.

  Mina pouted, pretending to be offended. She noticed a mobile telephone on the console between the two seats.

  “Oh, you have a car phone like Adams.” She pointed to the object.

  “I’m borrowing the car. The phone came with it.”

  “Who are you borrowing the car from?”

  He shrugged and tapped his index finger on her nose. “You ask too many questions. I think it’s safe for us to go back to the condo.”

  The calm before the storm. Talking to Diego about opera and Italy made her forget about what was coming. Mention of the condo brought it all back. Diego started the engine. Mina felt like she was shrinking into the passenger seat. They traveled in silence. When they reached Bayside condos, Diego drove past the guard gate without slowing.

  “Where are you taking me?” Mina’s voice quivered, she was at his mercy. He kept driving. Soon they reached the back of the complex, no more bright lights, no more guards. The car came to a stop by a parking gate arm. The driver’s window slid open and Diego entered a code. The automatic arm snapped open.

  “I didn’t know there was a back entrance,” Mina said

  “It’s for emergencies. Most large complexes have one.”

  She would like to know the code, but decided to keep quiet and watch where he was headed. She didn’t have to wait long. They entered the common garage from the back. Mina had never ventured through that dark entry. Neither had most of the other tenants, judging from the very few cars. Diego parked the black automobile by a door marked Emergency Exit. He turned off the engine and got out, then came around to open her door. She stood, her arms crossed over her gym bag, feeling self-conscious of the fact she was alone with this man she hardly knew—a man who scared and fascinated her at the same time. There wasn’t a flicker of concern in his behavior. To a stranger’s eyes, they could pass for lovers back from a night on the town. Lovers? Night on the town? Mina felt the need to make the sign of the cross, and was thankful for the gym bag that kept her arms occupied.

  Diego locked the car. “Let’s go.”

  To her surprise, he didn’t use the emergency door. The two of them walked side by side, yet, only the sound of her steps resonated in the cavernous space. It was like his feet didn’t touch the ground. Like a cat of prey, he moved soundlessly. That same thought that flashed in her mind earlier in the hall of her condo haunted her now. She remembered the gun and came to a halt.

  He stopped, turned to look at her, “Something wrong?”

  “You have a gun?” They stood a few feet apart.

  Diego kept staring at her, his left fist tight around his keys. In one step he was next to her, so close she could see the pulse of his Adam’s apple, so close she could smell his skin and his scent of pine. He tilted his head a little, lifted his right hand and tapped his index finger on her nose like he had in the car, “I’ll tell you later. For now, we must keep moving. You want me to carry your bag?”

  “No,” she cried out.

  He shook his head. “You must have a lot more than undies in that bag to act that way. Let’s go.” He quickened his pace and she hurried to keep up with him. Diego stopped by a service elevator and again punched in a code. The door opened. He motioned for Mina to get in. She felt like she was in a cage, the platform under her feet shook and moaned at every floor. It finally came to a grinding stop. The door opened and Mina found herself on what appeared to be the rooftop of the building. Diego, whose back was toward her, was busy sending the lift back down. Above her, the real Milky Way twinkled unconcerned.

  Diego headed toward a door, unlocked it and turned to see if Mina followed him. In the slice of light coming from the landing, his smile looked as encouraging as Jack Nicholson’s in The Shining.

  They descended steep, narrow, metal stairs, out through another door, and arrived at a terrace similar to Mina’s. Diego had likely used this route a few times before. He seemed to know every step, every turn. On second glance, this terrace was much larger than Mina’s. They walked a good distance until they reached a low wall. Mina couldn’t see what was on the other side because the building came to a sharp angle. Diego easily hopped over the wall, then turned and offered his hand to help her. She ignored him, kept both hands where they had been all night, over the gym bag. She followed Diego’s lead and climbed the wall.

  They were on Diego’s terrace. Mina was sure of it, her own place just a skip away. She wanted to feel happy but couldn’t. Diego was already by the terrace door of his condo. He fiddled with the handle and soon disappeared inside. She waited. A few minutes later he reappeared and motioned her in. He stood sideways, holding back the drapes.

  When she stepped over the threshold, he said, “Mi casa es tu casa.” He locked the door behind her.

  The place looked like hers, except it was reversed. The kitchen was at the opposite end, strange. It looked better decorated than her place even before the break in. Diego went into one of the bedrooms, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. She sat on the edge of the beige leather sofa, noticing a stack of silver metal boxes next to the coffee table—just the way Margo described them. The place was so quiet she could hear herself swallow. Diego came out of the bedroom, locked the door behind him and put the keys in his pocket.

  “What do you have in that bedroom?”

  “There is one thing I don’t have in there, and that’s a bed.” He answered without answering?

  Ah! “You’re afraid I’ll go snooping?”

  “Afraid? No. Willing to bet on it? Absolute
ly.”

  “Thanks for the trust.”

  He was right, of course. Given the chance she would get into that room.

  “Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. You show me your things, and I show you mine.”

  Mina felt blood rushing to her cheeks. He couldn’t miss her raging blush.

  “Girl, what are you thinking? I meant for you to show me what you protect so fiercely in that gym bag and I’ll let you see into the room.”

  She blushed even more, feeling like a total dummy. She clasped the bag tighter. He watched her, his back to the kitchen, looking straight into her eyes. Because she was sitting, he towered over her. On purpose. The soft, pinkish glow came from some silky sconces artfully placed throughout the whole place. Hardly something this bedeviled man would pick.

  Oh, my god, she was reviewing the décor while she didn’t know if she would be around to see daybreak.

  Her sense of drama kicked in, she slid from the couch to the plush carpet, unzipped the gym bag and spilled all the contents onto the rug. She looked up and caught the shadow of a smile on that face of his. He knelt down, the coffee table all that separated them. With one swift pull, he slid the table to the side, then sat crossed legged across from her, his boots next to her belongings, the mystifying smile still on his lips.

  “Let’s see what we have here.” While talking, he moved his open palms around, pressing on her soft pile of clothes, his eyes still locked on hers. He didn’t look away; neither did she.

  Diego lifted the crumpled paper bag with the remains of the cross-eyed angel. He opened the bag with both hands, and a look of puzzlement wiped away his grin.

  “What is—what was it?” He lined up the pieces on the carpet next to her feet.

  “My Christmas angel. I was going to put it on the tree. It broke when you pushed me against the wall.” Twelve hours of frustration and ache flavored her words with bitterness.

  “Mina, I am very sorry.” Without getting up, he scooted next to her. They sat, backs against the cushy couch, shoulders whispers apart. Diego picked up the broken parts one by one, gently repositioning them to try to make it whole.

  “Wait, that’s one of the wings.” Mina moved one of the pieces.

  They worked together. Soon the angel was assembled, no missing parts. Of course, a light sneeze would be enough to split it apart once again.

  “I can fix it,” Diego said. “I know I can. I will. I promise—before you are done decorating your tree, I’ll have your angel back together for good.”

  “Too bad I left the superglue in Margo’s car.”

  “Super glue? I can do better than that. Hey, this is an angel we are trying to put back, not Humpty Dumpty.”

  “What are you going to use? Special secret CIA formula?” Mina caught the lighter mood.

  “Maybe, if I have any left after sealing the lips of chatty young ladies. Where is the tree? I don’t remember seeing it at your place.”

  “I didn’t get it yet. I don’t have a car, remember?”

  “If you don’t get your Volkswagen back tomorrow, we can use my borrowed car. Believe me, Mina. I am sorry. My intention was to keep you safe. I’ll make it up to you if it’s the last thing I do.” He started to get up from the floor, the edge of one of his jeans legs caught on the coffee table. He bent over to get it loose and Mina saw the butt-end of a gun sticking out from his boot. Her hand went for it, but Diego beat her to it, grabbed her wrist and held it.

  “That’s the gun,” she shouted, excited by her discovery.

  She looked at Diego and hardly recognized him, no smile, no kindness. His face seemed to be a different shade, more like ashes than embers. And his eyes drilled into her soul. What happened?

  “You are hurting my wrist.”

  “Why did you do that? Are you trying to get killed?” He spoke into her face, not letting go of her.

  “Boy, are we touchy. I wanted to feel the gun. I didn’t see you getting it from your boot earlier this evening. How do you do that? Doesn’t it hurt your ankle? How much does it weigh?” Smile, Mina.

  He kept staring at her, freed her wrist. “Are you for real? Mina, this is not a game.”

  His body relaxed, the color came back to his face. Something extraordinary had just happened. She witnessed a hundred eighty degree transformation in the blink of an eye, the kind of make believe Mina only saw in movies. In that moment, she realized the man bowed in front of her was a killer.

  Chapter 13

  Morning light expanded on the bedroom walls. Mina welcomed the new day regardless of what it would bring. After hours of arguing with Diego the evening before, she ended up sleeping in his room after all. His point was that his bedroom was the safest place in the condo, mainly because the only window in that room was on the fourth floor and not facing other buildings. He slept on the couch, or so he said.

  She felt a sense of betrayal over the whole gun confrontation. More than betrayal, a sense of loss. She needed a friend so badly, and had been ready to open her heart to Diego. That was the way it had been with Brian. He was there for her when her mother died. Why can’t Brian be here now? What was he doing roaming foreign countries and leaving her all alone at Christmastime?

  All was quiet. Was Diego awake?

  Riiiing.

  It sounded like her phone. Were the walls between condos so thin you could hear the neighbor’s phone?

  Riiiing.

  “Mina, phone,” Diego called out.

  Instinctively, she jumped out of bed and ran barefoot toward the ringing. She had slept with her clothes on. Diego stood at the end of the hall, pointing into the living room.

  Riiiing. It was her phone. On his coffee table. She picked it up.

  “Finally,” Brian said, “I’ve been calling you day and night. Where do you go all the time? Do you sleep in your own bed? Whose bed have you been sleeping in?’ The anger in his voice stirred the anger in her heart.

  “I’ve been sleeping in my neighbor’s bed. Any other questions?” She hung up. Oh, no.

  She slumped as if she were a marionette with broken strings. She sensed Diego’s nearness, but was too embarrassed to look up. She felt ugly, frumpy and unloved. Fueled by leftover pride, she headed for the hall before remembering it wasn’t her place. She kept on moving. When she walked by the open door of the guest bath, she caught a glimpse of herself.

  Dio mio! The mascara from the day before had turned into dark halos around her eyes. Maledizione. A raccoon, a giant raccoon, that’s what she had become. Where did she put her make-up kit? She needed some make-up remover.

  The door to the room next to the bathroom was left wide open. Diego forgot to lock the mystery room? She slowed her pace, stretching her neck to see what was so special inside there. She didn’t know where Diego was. He could have been in the kitchen reading the paper or right behind watching her every move, but she wouldn’t turn and risk facing him, not the way she looked.

  The only thing visible in the forbidden room was a large desk and two computers. Why would someone need two computers? She reached the master bedroom, stepped in and closed the door.

  The clock on the night table said ten a.m. It felt like seven a.m. Maybe he kept his clock on New York time or something. Sooner or later she would have to face Diego and give him some kind of explanation about her rude behavior. Truth was, she hated herself for hanging up on Brian, but he sort of brought it on himself. Whose bed have you been sleeping in? He made her feel guilty when she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Apart from the color and fluffiness of the towels, everything in his bathroom looked like hers. She turned on the shower. The bath towels smelled really good. Mina compared them with her towels, reeking of shampoo. Maybe he had a cleaning lady who did his laundry. Or maybe he was one of those boring, nit-picking perfectionists. Memories of last night’s confrontation flashed in her mind’s eye. She sighed. No, Diego was many things, but a boring perfectionist wasn’t one of them.

  She had clean underwear and a c
lean top but no bottoms. She tried to smooth out the wrinkled jeans she had slept in, gave up and put them on, combed her wet hair behind her ears so it wouldn’t drip on the front of her blouse. Her skin smelled of Mountain Pines like he always did. It was the soap. She liked that.

  “Hey, in there, everything okay?” Diego called from outside his bedroom door.

  “Yes, fine, thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Good, breakfast is almost ready.”

  Breakfast? She hadn’t thought about eating. She wasn’t hungry or thirsty. She wasn’t anything at all except sad, so sad she wanted to disappear forever.

  Diego’s kitchen, while like hers, looked—sunnier. He had a small wicker table and two chairs against the wall. The furniture, painted a lemony color, had fat pillows covered in a flowery fabric with yellow and light blue flowers. Very Pier One Special Beach Edition and a tad girly, she thought. The placemats matched the pillows. Okay, girly or not, she was impressed. She didn’t even have a chair with four level legs in her kitchen.

  If Diego hadn’t slept, she couldn’t tell. He looked cheerful and full of energy.

  “What would you like to eat?”

  “What, no menu?”

  He tweaked her chin. “Coffee, milk, frozen OJ, toast and… drum roll… Nutella.”

  “You really have Nutella?” She felt giddy over a jar of chocolate hazelnut spread? “I nominate you honorary Italian Citizen.”

  His smile froze; he tweaked her chin again, turned his back and went to pour coffee. What happened? When he put the steaming mugs on the table he seemed peaceful and pleasant again.

  “I’m not much of a breakfast person,” he said. “I won’t be offended if you rush to a restaurant for a real meal the moment I drop you off.”

  “Diego, how did my phone get into your condo?”

  “Magic. Not a big deal, I have extra long phone cords and figured you might want to use the phone,” he hesitated, “or even get a call.”

  She looked away. “You went back into my condo? Didn’t DeFiore say to stay away?”