Chapter Two: An unexpected visitor
It was pitch black outside when I woke up needing to use the restroom. The clock on the nightstand said it was a little before 6:00 AM. My mouth tasted terrible. That just wouldn't do. I had to take a toothbrush to my teeth right now.
I grabbed a robe and wrapped it around myself. It was too early for this crowd to be up, but there was no way I was taking chances around Rod. I hurried out of my room toward the bathroom and stopped dead in my tracks. Five feet away, staring at me with equal surprise was Melissa.
She didn't let that surprise stop her from softly closing Rod's door behind her and holding a finger up to her lips. Her robe was loose; her hair was in wild disarray. Even after all that bastard had done, and all the time that had passed, I still felt a momentary surge of jealousy. With a snort to myself, I forced it down. I really was an idiot to have any emotion for Rod other than contempt.
I smiled and shook my head. Daddy had outdone himself in getting a woman that suited him this time. I wondered if he knew his sweetie was sleeping around on him. If he knew, did he care? Regardless, I certainly didn't. I motioned for her to go on without saying a word. Neither Rod's past nor Melissa's present infidelity was my problem. If Daddy didn't know that someone was diddling his darling on the side, it only sounded like fitting justice to me.
With a languid smile, Melissa opened Daddy's door and slipped back inside.
I locked the bathroom door behind me since I didn't want Rod walking in on me. Rod had a bad habit of doing that to me and my friends. I did my business and decided to shower so I could dress and get the hell out of this cursed place before people started getting up. The last day of the viewing would be soon enough to look at them.
As I dressed in my room a few minutes later, I kept glancing at the vial of cocaine. My hand itched to put it in my purse, just in case. I almost did, but in the end, I left it there and locked my door behind me on the way out. There was no need for me to be worried someone might see it. The maid would leave the locked room alone in her morning cleaning rounds.
I smiled maliciously as I boosted Conrad's spare keys from the hook by the door and let myself out. I could take one of the other cars in the three-car garage, but this would piss him off, and that made it the perfect choice.
In a few minutes, I had his SUV on the road into town and my stomach was starting to growl. I tried to find a place that was open for breakfast this early. And it needed to be someplace that I wouldn't run into any of Mother's family.
The first place I saw that fit the bill was one of those all-night diners. It looked like it should have had a flickering neon sign. The coffee was probably going to rip the lining out of my stomach. Screw it. I parked and walked in past two truckers on their way out. I saw them stare at me and knew I didn't quite fit the usual customer in this place. Good.
The waitress that seated me looked a little worse for wear. Her frazzled bottle-red hair threatened to escape from her hairnet in the same way her tits tried to escape her low-cut top. In this crowd, that probably earned some good tips.
"What'll it be, Hon?" She sounded like she should give up her two-pack-a-day habit while she still had a throat.
I looked at the menu. "What won't kill me?"
The waitress - Alice, her tag read - laughed roughly. "If I had a nickel for every time I heard that. Go with the omelets, and the coffee isn't too bad."
"Fine," I said. "Give me a veggie omelet, no onions, and a coffee."
"You got it."
I forgot her as soon as she swayed off to another table. I let the black cloud of thoughts flow over me and put my head into my hands. This depression and anger always seemed to be waiting for a chance to slip into my head. My life sucked.
I shook my head to force the negative thoughts out. Fighting these black moods and self-criticism was a never-ending battle. I knew I wasn't being fair to myself. Until Mother died, I'd had my life turned around, at least some. Actually, Gina and Margot had turned my life around.
Gina, especially, had finally told me that I needed to change. She'd been pretty firm, too. I yelled and screamed. I threw a tantrum. I sulked. And when the choice became clear that I'd lose my best friends if I didn't do something, I'd started changing. Years later, with what seemed like their tireless support, I was still fighting to change. In the process I'd found out that I didn't really know who Regan Thomas was, though in the last few years I'd started looking forward to meeting her.
After a few minutes, when Alice set the coffee on the table, I dragged myself back from the depths of my thoughts. I looked out into the parking lot while I sipped the paint thinner she called 'not too bad' coffee. I think I was wrong. She didn't smoke at all. She just drank this stuff.
A beaten up, muddy Land Rover lumbered into the parking lot. A man in a worn leather bomber jacket climbed out and stretched. My imagination placed him as a construction worker. A handsome construction worker. He looked a lot better than the average customer in this joint did. Forget this joint. He looked a lot better than most men anywhere did. Fit and trim, he probably worked out. And his walk...
He walked up to the doorway and smiled at Alice while she flirted with him. I gave him an automatic once-over as she led him down toward the empty table next to mine. Tall, with a ruggedly handsome face and dark eyes framed in straight black hair that fell to his shoulders. With the beat up leather jacket covering his torso, it was hard to be certain, but he seemed muscular. His walk exuded an air of confidence without the usual arrogance. That was an unusual combination in men, in my experience.
When he stopped beside my table, I knew what was coming next: the come on. Men only had one thing on their minds. His words startled me, though. "You're Regan Thomas, right?"
"Do I know you?" I asked with a frown.
His lips curved a little. "Probably not, but I know you. I'm Antonio Di Ricco. I'm so sorry to hear about your mother." He offered me his hand and I shook it automatically while trying to recall the name.
When I did place it, my frown deepened. "I remember someone by that name, but he was my father's age," I said. "A big guy, kind of, you know, round."
He nodded. "That's my dad, Big Tony. I came with him to see your dad a few times when we were teenagers. The round part happens to men in my family if they don't work out," he added with a grin, "and even my father would tell you that since he never works out, he's fatter than hell. Mind if I join you?"
My memory clicked. I remembered him now, a skinny kid that resented his father dragging him around. I remembered overhearing his father tell Daddy that he thought his kid would give him a stroke or end up in prison or, more likely, both. After hearing Daddy agree with his friend, I decided to avoid the kid.
Well, that was then and this was now. I wasn't inclined to let Daddy make my calls anymore.
"Sure, have a seat. I remember you now," I said with a nod. "So, if your dad is Big Tony, does that make you Little Tony?"
He shrugged as he sat, although I saw the barest flicker - an echo of some long ago pain - in his eyes. "I just go by Tony. I don't like being compared to my father." He looked at Alice, and pointed at me. "I'll take whatever she's having."
"Okay, Tony it is," I said as Alice sashayed back off. "I didn't think you knew my mother or father so well."
