“Ah, fuck?” Danny says, laughing. “That’s what you’ve got to say? Ah, fuck? Who the fuck is it and how long has he been in your car? Because it fucking stinks.”
I step forward and sniff, as does Rose, and immediately slam a palm over my mouth. “Ewww.” Stale urine. “You are not taking me for dinner in that,” I blurt.
“Oh, you’re going for dinner?” Rose sings, facing me, her shopping bag whirling with her.
“We were,” I say, as James steps forward and prods the body. “Now I have a feeling we’ll be getting rid of a body.”
“He’s still alive,” James says. “He’s only been in here since last night.”
“I know he’s still a-fucking-live,” Danny yells, pulling on his cigarette urgently, like it’s the only thing keeping him on the ground. “Because he yelped when I threw my wife’s shopping in the trunk.”
“Threw?” Rose says, outraged. “There’s a Jo Malone Candle in there, Black.” She starts rummaging through the dozens of bags, looking for her candle.
“I know.” Danny laughs. “It hit him on the head.”
I look between Danny and Rose, then to James, absolutely . . . amused. I’m amused. And unable to push it back, it pours out of me, forcing me to drop my purse and use my hands to hold on to James. I catch Rose’s eye as she looks up from her bags, abandoning her check of the candle, and she falls apart too, obviously realizing how crazy this is.
And the men?
They smoke, and they watch, letting us hang on to them while we get it out of our systems. I think I’ve gone mad. Definitely, actually.
“So,” James says when I’ve straightened and composed myself, although I can still hear Rose’s random chuckles, the aftermath of her laughing fit dragging out longer than mine. “Are we going for dinner or not?” he asks.
“Yes, dinner,” I reply, sniffling and wiping my nose. Lord knows, I need some wine, and while this is all so inappropriate, it is respite from dealing with . . . everything. “What about him?” I ask, pointing to the trunk.
Danny pushes the button on the underside to close it and flicks his cigarette butt away. “He can wait.” He scowls, looking at James. “Wait, who is it?”
“The Leprechaun.”
“Irish by any chance?” I ask, dipping and collecting my purse, prompting another chuckle from Rose, but this time through her nose, making the most unattractive sound.
Her laughter stops abruptly, and she slaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I just snorted.” She looks absolutely horrified, looking at me with wide eyes, and I’m off again, laughing like a hyena, my makeup ruined by tears.
James moves in and holds me up. “He was at the Pink Flamingo last night,” he says to Danny.
“That’s great, I’m happy for you, but in future, would you mind letting me know if you do a lucky dip on a bar and score?”
“I was a little distracted,” James retorts, looking out the corner of his eye at me, prompting everyone else to too. My face straightens. Kill the mood, why don’t you?
“I drove home like Miss Daisy,” Danny grumbles. “Saw a thousand cop cars and sweated a million oh shits.”
“He really did,” Rose pipes up, walking toward the house.
“Where are you going?” Danny calls after her, making her lift the bags in her hands as if to show him, like he could have missed half the mall she’s carrying.
“I’m taking these to our room.”
“Watch the candle,” he yells, lighting another cigarette. “You two don’t mind if we join you?”
I smile, not minding at all. We’ll get our alone time when we’re home. It’s nice for us all to be together again, and all talking. “I don’t mind.”
“Good. There’s a lovely little Italian place I know.”
“Oh, where we’ll have murder for our main course?” I head for the car and slip into the back, but before I can pull the door closed, Danny’s there, leaning in.
“You two talk too much.”
“Stressful day?” I ask, nodding to the cigarette between his lips.
“A few unexpected surprises, yes.” He looks over the car. To James? And then I remember in the gym earlier. You never mentioned that bit.
Said with such emphasis on that.
What were they talking about?
“So you’re joining the ranks, eh?” Danny says, blowing smoke in my face, forcing me to waft it away.
“You need to quit.”
He laughs hysterically. “Beau, sweeth—” He thinks for a second. “Beau, if I don’t smoke, I’ll kill.”
“Maybe you need to learn to control your impulses,” I retort casually, brushing the creases out of my dress as Danny bares his teeth. I roll my eyes. “You don’t scare me, Black.” I reach for the door and pull it shut, nearly taking his nose off as Rose slips in beside me, dumping her cell and purse on the seat between us as she buckles up.
“Ready,” she breathes, joining our hands and resting them on the leather. Her phone dings, and I instinctively look down.
“Esther’s coming to Miami?” I ask, seeing a short preview of her message. “You’re not going back to St. Lucia now?”
Rose looks at me, putting her finger to her lips for me to hush.
Oh God.
I lean in closer. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
She peeks out the corner of her eye at me, that look saying it all. “I can’t go to Daniel without Danny, so Daniel must come to me. As my husband keeps pointing out when I’m feeling misplaced, I am a mother. That’s my job,” she whispers. “A hard job to do when one kid is in another country and the other’s not even born yet.”
“He’s going to go mad.”
“I’ll give him one last opportunity to stop being a stubborn dick. If not, I’ll take the matter into my own hands. He’ll get over it. We all know Otto is part of the reason Esther’s not here, and I’m not in St. Lucia with my son because—”
“You were worried about Danny.”
“True. But worrying is stressful, and as everyone keeps saying, I need to chill the fuck out. Besides, I thought I’d be gone a few days. Not weeks. And now Danny’s got a bee in his bonnet about Barney’s dad and that is why he won’t let me go back to St. Lucia without him.”
“I’ll look forward to the fireworks.” There’s no way Danny’s agreeing to Daniel coming here or Rose going there. The doors open and the men slide in, and, of course, we both shut up, prompting both of them to turn around in their seats and eye us.
I remain mute.
As does Rose.
I just want to enjoy a nice dinner in relative calm.
19
DANNY
A week of silence. Oddly, silence in Miami makes me feel more uneasy than constantly dodging bombs and bullets. I watch the water rippling around my bare feet, feel the sun on my bare chest. It feels good after being wrapped up for so long, the Dermabond dissolved, the cuts red but no longer raw. I listen to the roars of engines on the ocean. Smell the salt. The sand.