“Got it,” Angelo says.
I hang up the phone and rub my temples as I walk out the door.
For Goldberg’s sake, I hope he’s not planning what Owen is suggesting he is. Then again, desperation is a dangerous thing. I know.
It’s better to extinguish the fuse before it causes something to blow up.
Chapter Seven
Leah
The flavors of bubblegum, caramel, peach and peanut butter explode in my mouth. A shiver of delight goes down my spine. I close my eyes and purse my lips as a moan escapes my throat.
“Mm. That is so good.”
The woman behind the counter was afraid the combination wouldn’t work. She was looking at me like I had just gone out of my mind. It does, though. The tartness of the peach, the sweetness of the bubblegum, the bitterness of the caramel syrup and the saltiness in the peanut butter cups all make sense together. Then there’s that lovely whipped cream just going on in the background.
Heavenly.
I shove another heaping spoonful inside my mouth and lick my lips.
Up until now, I’d been having a bad day, mostly because of what happened this morning, which led to my new friend, Giselle, having to leave in tears. I had to cry for hours myself afterwards.
I still can’t believe Gavin fired her. It makes no sense. What happened was an accident, and it wasn’t even Giselle’s fault. I don’t care if Gavin thinks she didn’t move fast enough. When you run over a person, you don’t blame the person for not crossing the street fast enough. It was my fault. But fine, let’s say it was Giselle’s. What exactly did she do? Hurt me? I was okay. Yes, my butt hurt a bit when I fell- and no one helped me up, by the way- but I was okay. I didn’t lose the baby. I didn’t break any bones. I didn’t shed any blood. I was okay. That means the worst thing Giselle did was break that glass. So what? It’s not like it was an irreplaceable antique or anything. I’d say that glass cost no more than five dollars. Five dollars. That’s not even change for someone who can throw away five million dollars like it was nothing. But if Gavin really wanted to teach her a lesson, he could have just let Giselle pay for the glass, deducted it from her pay like Ron used to do with me. He didn’t have to fire her. Who fires someone for breaking a five-dollar glass?
I shake my head. Nope. It makes no sense whatsoever.
I eat another spoonful of ice cream. Bubblegum, caramel, peach and peanut butter? Now, that makes perfect sense.
I savor the rest of the ice cream and scrape the puddle at the bottom of the bowl with my spoon. When I’m done, I lick the spoon front and back before setting it down on the napkin. Then I pat my belly.
Craving satisfied.
I leave the parlor, about to go back to the apartment. I’ve only taken a few steps, though, when someone appears behind me. My heart stops as I feel something hard poking my side through my clothes.
A gun?
My mind races. What is this? Mugging? It’s definitely nothing new in New York City. But why use a gun? And why me? I just came out of an ice cream parlor. Yes, I am technically a millionaire, but I don’t have that money yet. In fact, after spending what little cash I had left on those three bowls of ice cream, I’m flat broke. I’m not wearing any jewelry, either.
A lump forms in my throat. He’s not going to hurt me when he finds out I have nothing, is he?
A voice whispers in my ear. “Keep walking. The car’s just around the corner.”
Car? Am I being kidnapped? Well, that would explain the gun.
When I hesitate, I feel the barrel press between my ribs. I flinch and take a step forward.
Again, why me?
When I see the car- a shiny Jaguar instead of the rusty Toyota I was expecting- my fear spikes. Whoever is taking me isn’t after money. He clearly has it already. So what is he after? Who is he?
My heart hammers in my chest as my mind goes through the possibilities, none of which are encouraging. My hands begin to shake. My knees start to feel weak.
In a panic, I glance around, trying to make eye contact with people passing by, trying to send a plea for help. But everyone is busy with their phones or steeped in their own cares. There doesn’t seem to be a cop around either. Why isn’t there ever one around when I need one?
Please. Won’t anyone help me? Anyone?
Suddenly, the man behind me grabs my arm as he stops walking.
“Let her go,” another male voice commands.
My eyes grow wide as I recognize who it belongs to- Gavin. I don’t know why or how, but he’s here. The tightness in my chest eases.