Chapter 2 - You’re An Accountant?
I hear the front door open, look up and find Tony stalking into Megan’s entry way with an infuriated look on his face. Always the picture of perfection when at work, he’s now lost the suit jacket, his tie is loose with his top button undone and his sleeves rolled up. His ultra-dark brown wavy hair is rustled and I can tell he’s been running his hands through it in frustration.
Even though we’re on the heels of August and it’s still freaking hot outside, I doubt his state of appearance has much to do with the weather. I wonder if he’s pissed at me for pulling him out of a meeting with a new client or maybe he’s pissed because his favorite cousin, and although he won’t admit it, one of his favorite people ever, has been caught in the middle of some big raid and is being detained and questioned by two federal agencies. I’m praying it’s the latter. I’ve never been a fan of a pissed off Anthony Carpino, Jr.
The last forty-five minutes have been interesting to say the least. As I’ve sat here on Megan’s super comfortable sofa (it should be noted, I shop for furniture for a living so I know not all formal living room furniture is made for comfort) there has been a flurry of activity around the house.
In addition to the original group of big guys dressed in black, we’ve had a second wave of plain clothed people with badges and guns on their belts breeze through. Everyone’s wearing plastic gloves and searching through everything. And I mean everything. Seeing as the FBI and ATF are present, I can only assume this is something big on the scales of bad, which freaks me way the hell out. Although Megan and I aren’t super close, we are friends and I would never in all my life guess that she could be involved in something illegal. That shit happens to people on the news, not my people.
I could hear Megan throwing a fit from the other room and I have offered up many prayers of thanks in the last forty-five minutes that the big guys decided to separate us. Listening to her go on about calling Trevor, trying to find Pam the babysitter to tell her to keep the kids away, trying to figure out who her attorney is so she can call him, yadda, yadda, yadda, was wearing on my last nerve. Needless to say, I’m grateful we’ve been separated.
The housecleaners have been questioned, and after foregoing attorneys, have been released. They hightailed it out of here as fast as they could. They looked relieved to say the least. I heard them whispering to each other while they were waiting and it’s safe to say Megan is not going to get the chance to fire them because I’m pretty sure from what I heard they are never coming back. They seemed pretty resolute on this, can’t say I blame them.
From what I gather, Salt and Pepper, Agent Ortiz and one person in plain clothes seem to be running this party. They’re hanging out here in the living room, answering questions, directing everyone else and watching over me. They talk low and look over at me from time to time. I hope they don’t think I’m going to bolt. I am in heels, a tight pencil skirt, plus they have my purse, keys, phone and I’d really like to have my gun back!
I did take this quiet moment of reflection while no one was talking to me to take in Agent Ortiz. He did feel me up, I mean, pat me down, so I figure I should at least get to check him out, right? Apparently bullets flying were no longer a threat, because he’s since lost the bullet proof vest. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with big FBI lettering across the front, fitting snug across the chest and biceps. He is broad and thick across the shoulders, but still lean with long muscular legs.
He glanced over at me twice as I was inventorying all that was him, caught and held my eyes for long moments before looking away. This was a tad bit embarrassing, but really, this is an intense situation and I am trying to ward off my freak out over a search for who knows what’s going on around me so I’m doing everything I can to distract myself from my thoughts. And he’s very distracting to say the least.
So, watching Tony stalk into Megan’s house, whatever he’s pissed about, is a sight for sore eyes. I immediately relax, not realizing how tense I really am. Tony’s eyes scan the room, finds me and he moves directly toward my sofa.
Agent Ortiz steps in front of him asking, “Excuse me, who are you?”
“Anthony Carpino, representing Gabrielle Carpino,” Tony reaches into his pocket withdrawing a business card and handing it to Agent Ortiz. “And you are…?”
“Special Agent Jude Ortiz, FBI. I’m the case agent on this operation,” he answers.
“And would you like to describe your operation and what my client has to do with it?” Tony bites back.
“No. I don’t have to tell you anything about this operation, but your client was here when we served the warrant and neutralized the premises. She was armed, we disarmed her, she probably could have been gone by now but she refused to speak to us without you. So now that you’re here, maybe we can move this along.”
“My client has a Conceal and Carry and has been given the right to be armed by the state, hopefully you know that by now,” Tony replies. Agent Ortiz jerks his head once in agreement. Tony looks over and scowls, “Gabby, let’s get this done.”
Hmm, maybe he is pissed. I get up, walk over to stand next to Tony and find I was right. Tony’s six foot two, Jude Ortiz has to be six foot three or four.
“Ask away,” I reply, trying again for haughty.
Jude’s eyes move between Tony and me, then he slowly takes me in from tip to toe and back up to my eyes. I look away quickly, slightly uncomfortable and he moves to the dining room table. Tony rolls his eyes at me shaking his head, putting his hand on the small of my back and gives me a nudge, so I head that way as well. We all sit down, Tony next to me.
“Ms. Carpino, how do you know Trevor Harper?” Jude asks, his voice deep and raspy.
Well this seems easy enough, so I simply answer, “Trevor’s married to my friend Megan. They’ve been married for about five years give or take. I guess I knew him a year or so before when they were engaged. Megan’s my friend, but I try and not have anything to do with Trevor.”
“What do you mean, try?” he asked.
Oh shit. Why did I say try?
“Well…,” how do I explain this? I feel my eyes widen and they instantly move to Tony.
“Gabby,” Tony grunts out with frustration and now I’m almost sure he’s pissed.
“What?” my voice going too high, as I turn to speak directly to Tony. “You know I don’t like him. He’s weird and is always trying to set me up with his friends or business associates. I’ve told you before I don’t get a good vibe from him. I go to Megan’s parties, make an appearance for her sake, but he always looks at me creepy-like even though he’s married to my friend, not to mention all the creepier guys he tries to introduce me to.”
I turn to Jude and keep going, “I’m only here because I just renovated the laundry room.” Jude’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, so I carry on, “I’m an interior decorator, the laundry room was old and icky and one of the only rooms yet to be redone in the house. I know, it’s a little over the top for a laundry room, but Megan insisted on spending all that money, so what was I supposed to do? I redecorated her powder bath last year, the sink was especially amazing, hammered copper in an oval shape that sits on top of an antique vanity. It took me forever to find the right piece for that vanity, not to mention my plumber had one hell of a time getting the faucet plumbed out of the wall what with the house being some thirty-odd years old.”
Jude has now leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest stretching his t-shirt to its limits, his head cocked to the side staring at me. I look over at Tony and say quietly, “What? That sink is a showstopper.”
“Gabby,” Tony impatiently replies, “just tell him everything you know about Trevor. That’s it.”
“I don’t know anything about Trevor,” shaking my head. “And, why in the world are you investigating Trevor? This is really bad, isn’t it? I knew there was something not right about him. Megan never really says what he does for a living. Is she going to be okay? The kids?” I turn to look at Tony again. “They’re little hoodlums because no one ever says no to them, but they’re just little kids. Timothy is only six months old and hasn’t even learned how to be a hoodlum yet. They can’t help it that their dad’s a jerk.”
Jude leans forward with his forearms on the table and clears his throat, “Can we get back to you, Ms. Carpino? So you’re an interior designer--”
“Decorator,” I interrupt and correct him at the same time. “Interior decorator. I’m not licensed, I don’t have a degree as an interior designer and I know nothing about architecture. I’m an accountant,” I simply state.
“You’re an accountant?” Jude asks, now looking confused and frustrated with the conversation.
“Well yes, but I don’t do accounting for anyone but myself, maybe some family members if their taxes aren’t too complex. But I’m really good at decor, so that’s what I do…well, right now, anyway.”
“Fine,” he bites out with a sigh, looking as if he’s trying to find the patience to continue. “You’re a decorator,” he pauses and looks to me with eyebrows raised for confirmation, so I give him a small smile and he continues, “and are here because of the laundry room. Do you know where Trevor Harper is right now? Who he’s with?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “Megan said he had to leave town on a business trip unexpectedly. She said he left right before I got here this morning. And why would I know who he’s with? I told you I do my best to avoid Trevor and his associates.”
“He left right before you got here this morning?” he asked.
“Well yes, that’s what Megan said.”
“What time did you get here?” he shot back.
“Eleven, maybe eleven fifteen. I was barely here fifteen to twenty minutes before you all barged in. Why?” I asked.
“Just needed a time line,” he responded.
Looking even more frustrated and maybe a bit disappointed, I think Agent Ortiz finally understands that I have no idea what’s going on and know nothing about Trevor, either.
Tony, shifting at my side, says, “I think it’s pretty clear she has no useful information about Trevor Harper. Is she free to go?”
“Sure. We’ll need your contact information, Ms. Carpino, if you don’t mind filling out some paperwork for us before you leave, we’d appreciate it,” Jude says on a sigh.
“Of course. Can I have my things back, please?”
“Yeah. Mac has your stuff and I’ll be right back with the paperwork,” Jude answers.
“Can I see Megan?” I add.
“No, absolutely not,” Tony butts in, joining the conversation. “You are not talking to Megan Harper until after all this is settled. It’s important, Gabby, you need to let this play out the way it’s gonna play out, but no contact. Got it? You’ve been pulled into this shit just by being here, you do not want to buy into more of Megan’s drama.”
Okay, Tony’s pissed. He knows Megan, we all went to high school together so he knows her tendency for drama. I get that but he can’t order me around and tell me who I can or cannot talk to.
I glare at him as I hear Jude agree, “Yeah, the best idea would be to stay away from Megan Harper for a while.”
Looking back at Jude, I ask, “Why? How serious is this?”
It’s not Jude, but Tony that answers, “Gabby, I don’t even know what the fuck’s goin on here, but I can see there’s a hell of a lot of Federal Agents and Police Officers goin through all their shit. I can only assume this is pretty serious and I don’t want you anywhere near anyone with the last name Harper or anyone who has anything to do with them. Are you feeling the magnitude of what’s up here? No. Megan. Harper. Period.”
“Are you her husband?” Jude asks out of the blue.
I guess I can see how he might come to this conclusion since we have the same last name and Tony being all bossy with no patience for me. But still, yuck! He’s my cousin. Tony’s only seven months older than me, but was a year ahead of me in school. He has seven inches on me, almost black eyes to my blue, rich brown hair to my dark blonde but we do share our dads olive toned complexion.
“Fuck no. She’s my cousin, but she’s still a huge pain in my ass at times,” Tony answers as I gasp. “At least she knows enough to call for representation when she gets herself into shit like this,” he goes on, shaking his head.
“You are unbelievable, Tony Carpino,” I say throwing him my dirtiest look. I turn to Jude, “Just for your information, I’ve never had to call for representation before. Ever! But if there’s a next time, I’m calling another Carpino,” I turn to Tony, “got it?” Looking back at Jude, I say, “Paperwork…my things…please?”
“Yes ma’am” Jude replies, gazing down with a hint of a grin.
*****
Salt and Pepper, who turns out to be Mac, returns my purse with all my belongings and my gun. He smiles kindly to me and despite him making fun of me earlier, I’m pretty sure had I met him at say, a picnic, or any happier occasion I would really like him. He seems to have a soft side under his tough black police outfit.
I fill out my paperwork and without giving Tony a glance, turn and strut myself out to my car. It’s a miracle I’m not blocked in with the amount of cars parked in the drive. I walk as fast as my heels will take me and start to climb up into my pearly white Tahoe.
I can hear Tony trailing behind me and he finally says, “Gabby, stop.”
Barely turning to him, I give him the edge of my tongue saying, “What? What do you want Tony?”
“Stop and talk to me for a second. Calm down.”
“Calm down?” I ask, fully turning to him. “Do you think I wanted that to happen to me today? For heaven’s sake, I was told to stand with my hands against a wall, cuffed, patted down, had to wait for almost an hour because if I didn’t I’d be treated to a different load of shit from you for not calling before answering questions. Am I right?” Tony sighed, tipped his head back and looks to the sky. I go on while waving my hand around, “See, I’m right. I did nothing but deliver a client gift today to be treated to this crazy ass mess. So, drop the attitude Tony, next time I’ll call your dad or Gino, the only reason I didn’t was because it would get straight to my aunts and I didn’t want to worry them. They worry about me enough, I don’t need to add fuel to their fire.”
“I’m sorry Gabby, but you run your mouth like a freight train and always say too much. I know you’ve never been questioned like that before, but next time, heaven help me there won’t be one, but if there is a next time just answer the questions. I’m ninety nine percent sure you’re clear here, but you never know. Just leave out the fucking commentary,” he basically pleads.
“You’re in business law, Tone, mergers and acquisitions. Didn’t know you handled so many interrogations on a daily basis,” I have no trouble being haughty now.
Tony takes a step closer to me, puts a hand on the side of my neck and leans down to me. “Look, I’m sorry. I hated to see you sitting in that shit storm when I walked into the house,” I close my eyes and turn my head to the side. “Gabba Gabba,” he uses his nickname for me softly and I open my eyes but don’t turn to look at him. “You good?”
I don’t answer him for a few seconds and his hand gives me a little shake. I finally look up at him and whisper on a sigh, “Yeah, I’m good.”
Tony goes on softly, “I was serious in there. You do not see or talk to Megan. If she tries to call you, you do not answer and let me know if she tries to come see you. They don’t put together an operation like this for no reason, Trevor’s got himself sucked into some serious shit and I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“I know, I get it, I get it,” I say, finally giving in.
“I don’t have any meetings the rest of the day, do you want me to follow you home and hang out for a while?” he asks, proving to me I’m his favorite cousin and just maybe his favorite person ever.
“I’m good, Tone, really. I’ve ruined enough of your day. You’ve got a couple hours left. Go back to work,” I answer. “But don’t you dare tell your dad. He’ll tell Aunt Lizzie, she’ll freak and be all up in my business stressing me out.”
Tony looks as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to give me what I want. I’m really not worried about it, he usually lets me have my way.
“Okay,” he finally gives in.
See? There’s a reason he’s my favorite cousin, too. I smile and give him a hug as he kisses the top of my head saying to me, “You comin’ to the draft tomorrow night? Dad’s grilling.”
“I’ll be there, I’m bringing a salad,” I inform him.
“Of course you are,” he says smiling as he rolls his eyes.
“Shut up and go back to work,” I say while giving him a good hard shove which of course doesn’t move him an inch.
“See you tomorrow, Gabby. Try not to get arrested,” he says, teasingly.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes as I climb up in my car to crank it on and jack up the A/C. My hair is going to start frizzing if I stand out in his heat and humidity any longer.
On the drive home I start feeling guilty about leaving Megan, wondering where Trevor is and what in the hell he’s into. I really don’t know why I’m surprised, he’s a jerk but it’s still a surprising situation to be at your high school friend’s home only to find yourself in the middle of a federal raid. I understand why Tony doesn’t want me to have anything to do with Megan right now but I have a feeling this guilt is going to eat away at me.
I pull into my neighborhood, curve around and turn down my dead end street. My chest tightens a bit like it does every time I drive up to my childhood home over the last three years and eight months. Counting the weeks and days is a different level of depressing that I’ve made myself stop doing. I smile and wave to my neighbor, Martha, who is weeding her front flower beds.
My neighborhood is developed with mature trees and landscape. The homes are somewhere between twenty to twenty-five years old. My parents built ours when I was three and it was one of the first in the development so I have a prime lot. I am at the end of a cul-de-sac backing to a lake with a tree line on the other side so I have a lot of privacy in back of my house. The lots are wide, spacious and well maintained by homeowners. There has been quite a bit of turnover in the past ten years, empty nesters moving out, younger people making homes for their young families, it’s a popular neighborhood because of the larger homes and good school district.
I push out a breath as I pull into one of my three garages. Hopping down from my car, I trudge through my yard sale, estate sale and Craigslist treasures that I’ve not quite found a use for but couldn’t say no to because of their personality. I’m sure someday I’ll have just the right project for them.
Opening the door to my mudroom I’m instantly attacked from the knees down, the tightness in my chest quickly releases as Mia whines and yelps, communicating how much she missed me during the last four long hours she had to manage on her own.
“Hi baby,” I crouch low to give my sweet little Maltese-Shih Tzu mix scratches and kisses. “Mama’s had a bad day, but I’m home now.”
Mia, with her paws on my knees, reaches as far as she can for my face, relaying to me how happy she is and that she loves me more than anything. I stand, she races across the kitchen and great room to the deck door off the back of my house, showing me she knows the ritual we go through every time I come home. I follow much slower and see her dancing circles in eager anticipation of the outdoors. She has business to take care of, squirrels to chase and neighbors to greet, so I hurry myself to the door to give her what she wants.
I turn and see the mess in my kitchen from my morning coffee and breakfast, and if I’m honest with myself, a couple dinner dishes from the night before. I keep a clean house without a problem, but being tidy on a daily basis is something I’m still trying to mature into. The arguments my mother and I used to have over my bedroom still play in my head. My dad would say, “Meredith, just shut her bedroom door so you don’t have to look at it. I’m sure it’ll be clean again someday when she takes all her shit and moves out and then you’ll be sad, so get over it.” Such stupid arguments, why I couldn’t just pick up my clothes to make her happy, I will never know. With these thoughts, I grab the remote, turn on my stereo hitting shuffle on the playlist and start to tidy my kitchen.
My mom completely gutted and refurbished the kitchen about five years ago. I lived in an apartment then since I was finishing up graduate school, but she and I had a grand time renovating. She would say, “I don’t need a decorator, I have my Gabby.” The cabinets are all cherry wood, dark brown and distressed with just enough black glaze settling into the grooves. The kitchen, originally U-shaped, was replaced with a long, deep rectangular island the length of the room that houses an extra-large copper apron front sink with five barstools across the front. Across from the sink is a five burner Jenn-Air stainless steel range. To the side are matching stainless steel double ovens and an enormous refrigerator. My mom always said, “Having a big family means you need the right tools to cook.”
I kick off my heels and toss them in the way of my bedroom thinking I’m just going to have to pick them up later. I hear Lifehouse start to croon out You & Me and set about my task. I do my best to put my day behind me and move on. I’ve gotten very good at this the past few years but I’ve also never been handcuffed, patted down and questioned by federal agents. Thinking of being patted down brings my thoughts back to Jude Ortiz. I haven’t had many second thoughts about men in the past few years. I’ve been set up occasionally by friends, asked out a few times on the rare occasion I put myself in a social situation, but haven’t dated anyone on a regular basis since James.
James and I met in the last year of our MBA program. He was fun, nice and attentive as long as we were doing what he wanted to do. He always wanted to be with his friends, watch the game he wanted to watch, eat where he wanted to eat and so on. I thought I loved James, we were together for one year and three months, but my family was not so crazy about James.
My family is big. My family is gregarious. My family is in your face if you are their family. And since I am their family, they love me, they want to see me, spend time with me and be in my face, they saw James as a roadblock to all of the above. James thought my family was overbearing. Period. I did my best to walk that tightrope for one year and three months because I thought I loved James and he loved me in return. Then I found out when times got tough and I needed to focus on me, he proved to be the self-centered jack wagon that he is and broke up with me. This sucked, but other things sucked worse and I got over James-who-I-thought-I-loved way faster than I ever imagined I could. End of story. End of James.
So thinking of Jude Ortiz with his melty eyes, big strong hands, broad shoulders and the list goes on, is a surprise even to me. He has a great voice and when his lips tipped up at me right before I left it was so appealing that I can’t help but think what a full on smile would do to me.
Finishing my tasks in the kitchen, I go to the back door and whistle for Mia. She comes bounding like it was her idea and runs straight to her treat jar.
“This is number two today, Mia, you only get one more. And don’t try and talk me into a fourth, Lanny said you have to cut back or you’re gonna get chubby.”
Lanny is my vet and my cousin’s husband. He loves Mia but thinks I overindulge her with treats, which is true. I overindulge Mia in about everything.
I walk to my room with Mia at my feet, picking up my heels on my way and the phone rings. Rounding my bed to get to the phone I look at the caller ID, sigh and hesitantly answer.
“Lilly, what’s up?” I ask.
“Yoga is what’s up. Five o’clock. I have reservations for both of us, it should be a semi private class, she has two others signed up with us,” she informs me. “You in?”
“I don’t know,” I say closing my eyes. “It’s Friday and you would not believe my day if I gave you a thousand guesses. I’m beat and was going to curl up with wine and a movie.”
“Gabby, get your ass up and going, you can do your wine and movie afterwards,” she says, planning my night. “It’s just an hour, you’ll have the rest of the night to veg.”
I guess I could use some stress release and I’ve been so busy I’ve barely hit my treadmill all week. “Fine, I’ll be there,” I agree. “I need to swing by the grocery store anyway, I’ll do that on my way home.”
“Perfect! See ya there,” she says, way too excited for yoga.
Hanging up the phone, I head to my closet to change, try to center my head or whatever it is we do in yoga that I can never seem to concentrate on enough to do. I put all thoughts of Jude Ortiz out of my head, I’ll never see him again anyway.