“That’s not true. I definitely do.” She did. Otherwise it wouldn’t hurt this bad. She took a deep breath and fought back tears as she rinsed Maya’s hair. “He swept me off my feet, you know? It was like something out of a movie. He had everything. Gorgeous, smart, well traveled, from a prominent family. All these fancy white girls chasing him, and he picks me, a nobody from nowhere, a kid from the block.”
“Why wouldn’t he? You’re a fancy white girl in a hot boricua body, mami. He gets an exotica trip in the bedroom and an Ivy Leaguer with an A-plus résumé to hostess his dinner parties, all in one package.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?” Linda eyed her skeptically.
“Well, maybe,” Melanie conceded. “But it’s not like he’s the only one at fault. I mean, sometimes I think I picked him for the wrong reasons.”
“Sex and money, chica. Ain’t nothing wrong with that where I come from.”
“Sex, I grant you. But money had nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, come off it! The way he wined and dined you. Took you to Paris for that long weekend a month after you met.”
“That wasn’t about money, Lin. It was about romance. It was about culture. I mean, Steve didn’t just take me to fancy restaurants. He knew what wine to order and what fork to use. And afterward he’d take me to the opera and translate the German for me. Culture means a lot to me, with where we’re from.”
“What does it matter when the guy doesn’t treat you right? You’d be better off with a blue-collar schmo who really loved you.”
“Steve does love me! He’s trying to make it up to me. Maybe with time I can forgive him.”
“Well, if you’re telling me your heart still skips a beat when he walks into the room, I guess I can understand that.”
“Of course it does.” She paused. “Because I’m thinking about killing him.”
Linda laughed. “Now, what about this FBI guy? Does he make your heart skip a beat?” Melanie thought about that one a second too long. “Wow, I’m starting to think you’re falling for him, Mel.”
“Will you shut up about him already? I already told you, I would never do anything about it. Just because Steve was an asshole, doesn’t mean I should sink to his level. Plus, this guy would never mess around with a married woman. He’s incredibly sweet and decent. And he has sad eyes, like he’s been hurt before.” Linda looked at her dubiously. “I’m telling you, he’s not interested in me. I mean, you should see him, he is so hot. And I have child-bearing hips.” Melanie lifted Maya from the bath and, wrapping her in a hooded towel, carried her back to the changing table in her bedroom. Linda followed.
“You’re kidding me, right? Is your mirror broken or something? You’re totally gorgeous. You were before Maya, and you’re even better now. You’re all voluptuous, and you have that glow.”
“I have ten extra pounds on me.”
“So? Baby got back! Men love that.”
“And you said yourself I don’t do myself up.”
“You could dress a little sexier, is all I meant.”
“I can’t dress like a hooker when I might get called to court any minute. Besides, my clothes are nice-they’re just professional. I always wear lipstick and tacones, see?” She pointed to her sexy high-heeled shoes.
“I do see! Mr. FBI hunk is gonna be down on his knees begging for it.”
“¡Dios mío, the mouth on you, chica! Nothing is ever going to happen, okay, so never mention it again.”
“Why not? Hey, maybe he could move in here and guard you. Just like in Someone to Watch Over Me.”
Melanie threw the wet towel at Linda’s head.
BY THE TIME LINDA LEFT, MAYA WAS FALLING asleep in Melanie’s arms. Melanie carried her to her room, lowered the crib rail, and gently tucked her in. Little baby, so tiny and vulnerable. She said a silent prayer that Maya would always be safe. Then she went to her room, put on an old cotton nightgown, and stepped into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Her face in the harsh fluorescent light was drawn, dark circles under dark eyes. But the thought of sleeping made her nervous.
She stood in the middle of her bedroom floor and looked at her king-size bed with its many pillows and fluffy comforter, feeling the silence of the apartment all around her. Who, other than her baby daughter, would hear her if she screamed? She hated to admit that she was afraid to go to sleep, but what other explanation could there be, when she was so exhausted and the bed was so inviting? Maybe if she played the TV or slept with the lights on.
Instead she decided to walk around the apartment and double-check all the locks. Always best to take action. Her stomach fluttered with nerves as she made her circuit. She tried to tell herself it was just hunger. Speaking of which-that arroz con pollo would sure make her feel better. She got to the kitchen and turned on all the lights, then headed straight for the refrigerator. Diet be damned. She was sad, tired to the bone, and scared. She needed comfort, which unfortunately she only got from starchy Puerto Rican food. Why couldn’t she come from a culture where comfort food was steamed broccoli or something?
The plastic container was way in the back, hiding behind the little jars of baby food. She maneuvered it out and stuck it in the microwave. Waiting for her food to heat, she saw the light blinking on the answering machine. Two messages. Of course Linda hadn’t bothered to answer her phone.
She hit “play,” tensing up as the sound of Steve’s voice filled the room.
“Hey, it’s me. Listen, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I really need to talk to you, Melanie. Please stop screening my calls. Okay? Please? I’m about to catch the red-eye, and who knows if I’ll be able to reach you from the air. Please pick up. I know you’re there, Melanie. It’s after ten. Where else would you be?”
Linda was right. Steve took her for granted. She’d been in the file room getting chased at ten o’clock, not sitting home like some submissive wifey, but he would never believe that, not even if she told him. It was time to show him a new side of her. Maybe revenge was in order here. Hell, maybe she should just dump the son of a bitch and be done with it.
She jabbed the “delete” button angrily before the message was finished, then instantly regretted it. What if his plane crashed and that was the last she ever heard from him? Now she wanted the message back. He was trying hard to fix things, and she was giving him no hope. She thought about how sweet he’d been when she was pregnant-massaging her feet, carrying the sonogram pictures around in his wallet. But-who knew?-he could have been messing with Samantha already. Asshole. Just because he said it only happened a couple of times. Why should she even believe him? She hoped the plane fucking crashed. She’d get the insurance money and never have to see his lying face again. That’s what he deserved. But the thought of him dead brought her up short. Oh, God, she really just didn’t know what she felt these days, except that she’d better get started figuring it all out.
The microwave beeped. She grabbed a fork and stood there eating the fragrant, steaming rice straight from the container as she listened to the next message. It was from Sophie Cho.
“Melanie, it’s Sophie. Listen, I really need to talk to you about something. It’s very important. Please call me as soon as you get this message.”
Sounded urgent. Melanie put the container down. The clock on the wall read 12:10, but she was tempted to call despite the late hour. Maybe Sophie had some information about the Benson case? Sophie had requested an immediate callback, and she hadn’t put a time limit on it.
Melanie dialed Sophie’s number and stood listening to the unanswered rings. She counted ten, then hung up and tried again, to be certain she hadn’t misdialed. Again nobody answered, not even a machine. Sophie must have turned off the ringer for some reason. Melanie fished through the utility drawer, pulling out her address book, and looked up Sophie’s cell-phone number. She dialed it and got voice mail.