Dances with Monsters(11)

She moved past him in a flash, even as he turned after her. "Hey," he called. "I'm really sorry about that. Let me help you out—can I call someone for you?"

"You can go to hell!" she threw over her shoulder before she shoved through the doors and hurried into the night.

"What the hell was that?" Rex asked, slightly out of breath from running out of the office. "Who the hell was that?"

"That was the kid, the skinny kid, Carnevale," Heath said. "Except he's really a she, and she just got assaulted on our property by Mikey, Jimmy and Charlie."

"What?" Rex demanded. "Where are they now?"

"Kicked 'em the fuck out," Heath replied. "You think I'd keep 'em around?"

"What about her?" Rex said, jerking his chin in the direction that the woman had gone. "What if she tells the cops or something?"

"Thought about that," Heath replied. "I'm more concerned with the fact that she's too scared to ever come back here now. I feel like fuckin' shit, man. This shit should never have happened, not on my watch. That ain't the kind of place I want to run."

"Think her name's really Drew Carnevale?" Rex asked.

"Shit, who knows?" Heath said. "She felt the need to dress up like a dude; she probably would have used a fake name."

"Carnevale," Rex repeated aloud, muttering it again to himself. "Carnevale."

"What?" Heath demanded.

"Nah, it just sounds familiar for some reason," Rex mused, rubbing his chin. He snapped his fingers. "That's it. Café Carneval, over on Liberty Avenue. Italian family place, it's like a coffee shop and a bakery. My girl took me there one day."

"Think it's her place?" Heath asked doubtfully.

"Maybe her family's or somethin'. Not that I know how many Carnevales are in Pittsburgh."

"Hmm," Heath said, folding his arms. "Who knows." He shook his head. "Poor kid."

***

Carnevale, Drew, whoever she was, didn't show up the next day. Or the day after that, or the day after that. It bothered Heath more than he could stand. One reason was because he didn't like the idea of anyone getting assaulted at his gym—he hated bullies, and it just churned his guts to know that it had happened under his watch.

Another reason was because he couldn't get over the absolute fear in her eyes. It was evident in every line of her. Nobody deserved to be scared like that, especially not a woman. Especially not her, when she'd never done anything to anyone at the gym, had just minded her own business. It pissed him off every time he thought about it and he wished he didn't have the self-restraint and control he did now; he would have loved to have been able to rearrange those three assholes' fucking faces.

A whole week had passed since the incident. Apparently, she hadn't decided to call the police. No one came knocking, and no one was talking about it. That was because the only other person who'd been around was Rex, and Heath had given him strict orders not to speak of it to anyone. Every day, he hoped to see her, to know that she felt safe in coming back to the gym, but apparently she was done with it. He knew he should have cut his losses, hoped to do better next time, but he just couldn't let it go.

He let another week pass. One day, when he determined that Carnevale was never coming back, he did something completely out of character. He hopped on the internet and looked up Café Carnevale, noting its address, and told Rex to hold the fort down for a little bit while he left to run an errand.

***

Drew was in the kitchen, making more whipped cream for the small refrigerators under the espresso machines. She was making two batches—one batch of vanilla and one batch of caramel. They would go into the air-pressured canisters to be piped on hot lattes and other espresso beverages.

The afternoon had been a little slow, so she had come back to join Bunz in the kitchen as her friend was whipping up a batch of chocolate chip cannolis. Bunz seemed to be able to sense her friend's moodiness and need for quiet, as it had been for the past couple of weeks. Drew had informed Bunz of what happened at the gym, announcing that her friend had been right all along and she was done.

Suddenly, they heard the bell over the door tinkle. Bunz glanced at Drew, who had her hands full of half and half and whole milk. She quickly wiped her hands on her apron and waved Drew off.

"I got it," she said, walking through the door.

Drew shrugged and carefully poured the liquid and the flavoring into a canister, screwed on the cap, then the little canister of pressurized air that would give it the whipped, airy consistency. She flipped the canister upside down and leaned one hand on the counter, shaking it vigorously as she absently stared off into space.