Luca and Hugh both laughed at that.
“Yeah,” Hugh said, “But not this late. Al’s in bed long before now.” He gave Lips—Dmitri—a critical once-over. “You look okay to drive.”
“Yeah, but she drove. And I don’t drive a stick.”
“I’m fine,” said a small voice from the corner. “I can drive, Dimi.”
Luca thought that was a bald lie. “Sugar, you slashed a guy for grabbing your ass. I’m gonna go on a limb and say your faculties are somewhat impaired tonight. You live anywhere close?”
Manny came up to her feet but didn’t answer. Dmitri said, “Yeah, just a few miles—on, uh, Cormorant Street. There’s a little apartment building there, just down from a gas station? The building is pink.”
Luca nodded. “Yeah, I know it. Okay, come on.”
Recognition finally entered Manny’s insanely blue eyes. “Fuck. It’s you.”
He chuckled. “You know, I’m gonna start getting hurt feelings if you keep dropping f-bombs every time you see me.”
Dmitri and Hugh both swiveled between Manny and Luca. “You know her?,” Hugh asked.
“I do. Gave me a massage this afternoon.” Luca kept his eyes on Manny. He could see her relaxing little by little. This chick was strung tight. Damn.
“No shit?”
“No shit. C’mon, you two. My giant phallus is parked in the lot down the block. We’ll go out the back here.”
Dmitri gave him a strange look. Manny almost smiled; he was sure of it. Hugh was practically giggling as he went back out front.
oOo
He pulled up in front of Manny’s apartment building, a weathered clapboard structure that had once been a grand manor, then, around the Depression, had devolved into a rooming house, and then found new life in the Eighties as a building with six small apartments. It had been painted a vibrant pink at some point, years back. That paint was faded and peeling badly these days. The bright, sodium arc lights from the Gulf station at the end of the block made shadows under the peeling paint so that the building looked scarred.
Luca had been to more than a few town meetings during which this block of Cormorant had been a hot topic. If Quiet Cove had a slum, this was it. This one block at the end of a street.
He parked, and Dmitri, with a muttered, “Thanks, man,” climbed out of the back seat. Manny, who’d been up front with him, just sat there.
“You okay, sugar?”
“I guess I’m supposed to thank you, too.”
“Nah. No need. Just glad you’re okay. Go on inside now.”
Again, though, she surprised him, and before he even saw her coming, so fast and smoothly he wasn’t sure how she’d made it, she was straddling him. She grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him, her tongue plunging into his mouth. Yep—pierced.
Just as quickly, she sat back. “You can fuck me if you want.” She rocked in his lap a little, and his cock definitely noticed. He saw in her eyes that she noticed him noticing.
But this shit was all too surreal and confusing, and he was likely to end up missing that cock if he indulged this little psycho’s sudden interest. He put his hands on hers—she hissed and jumped at that, like he’d hurt her or something—and moved her hands from his face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to.”
A little pout pursed her lips. “Oh. Okay.” But she didn’t move.
So he opened his door and stepped out, her body stiff as he held her. He set her down on the ground. “You should go on up to bed, Manny. Sleep it off.”
“Manny, come on.” Dmitri took her hand—she didn’t seem to mind that—and led her toward the building. He turned and called over his shoulder to Luca, “Hold up a sec, okay?”
Hoping that psycho didn’t run in that family and Dmitri wasn’t going to roll back out with a shotgun or some shit, Luca closed the driver’s door and leaned against his truck.
He waited about ten minutes and was thinking he was being a damn fool and should head on out and see if he could still catch up with Lynne, when Dmitri came trotting down the front steps.
“Thanks for waiting, man. I just…you said she gave you a massage, and she needs that job. I want to try to explain, so you maybe don’t feel like you should tell everybody she’s a psycho or something.”
“I had no intention of bad-mouthing your sister.”
“Thanks. But still. She’s not psycho. Not really. She just has trouble calibrating her responses to people.”