“Chop, chop.”
They started walking out of the kitchen when Marco called Simon back. He held out Simon’s cell phone. “The agency,” Marco said.
Simon turned to Nikki. “Hang on a second. I’ll be right there.”
This thing about Marco and Simon adopting seemed to be the real deal. Nikki could see it now. They’d adopt a baby girl, name her Diamond or something else bizarre like celebrities did. Then they’d deck the poor child out in designer duds made by Prada, or whoever else had the marketing brilliance to sell onesies for the price of a Benjamin. They’d feed her organics only and stuff good energy and all that vibration nonsense into the kid’s brain. Hmmm. Maybe they could adopt Nikki instead? It really didn’t sound like too bad of a life.
She flipped on the lights inside the chilly warehouse. It smelled like aged oak and fruit. The blend itself was intoxicating and Nikki took in a big whiff of it as she always did when she came in here. She closed her eyes and took in several deep breaths. Breaths to slow down… good stuff. Oh, man, maybe Alan Sansi and all his preaching were getting to her. She supposed she could concede there was something to all of it, especially the relaxation parts. She could get into that.
Nikki found the row she needed. There it was. The Merlot. Good stuff. She could see why Alan wanted to take some home. Looked like Alan wanted to do one of two things-either go out of this thing in style, or get totally shitfaced and forget any of this ever happened.
She’d need the ladder to get to the case she wanted. She walked to the end of the row and slid the ladder down. A light shone through a vent in the roof. There were birds flying around it. If she didn’t come in here often, this place might kind of spook her. It was huge, quiet, and cold.
Nikki made her way up about five steps on the ladder and grabbed the edge of the box to pull it out. Good thing she’d been doing some of that Core Power stuff that was all the rage these days. Nikki had gone from one exercise program to the next. She had a bad habit of watching infomercials and then ordering whatever the latest craze might be. But the Core Power yoga started after going to a class with Simon one day. She’d liked it and it had made her pretty darn strong.
When she had the box in her arms, she started to work her way slowly down the rungs. What happened next was a blur, like watercolors swirled together. Not a pretty scene, but a rather dark blend of reds, browns, and black that made Nikki think of death, blood, and murder.
She found herself on the ground. Wine bottles crashing around her, glass shattering everywhere. A bottle hit her on the side of her cheek, too close to her eye. What the hell…? How had this happened?
And then she saw him-a hooded figure all in black, standing over her, a rope pulled taut in his hand. Nikki tried to move but he’d kicked the ladder on top of her, right onto her stomach. It almost felt like something had punctured her in the gut and she knew she was about to meet her maker.
Her heart raced at a rate that would’ve given most people a heart attack. Her mouth went as dry as the air inside an empty oak cask. She hoped God above would let her through the gates of heaven. She hadn’t exactly been a good girl much of the time.
Then she heard the voice of an angel-Simon.
“Oh, Snow White. Where are you?” Her friend’s voice rang through the warehouse. “You were supposed to wait.”
The man bent down to grab her and she squirmed enough and screamed enough so that he turned and ran.
“Lord, what was that? Marco!”
The boys came running around the corner just as the back door to the warehouse slammed. They bent over her. “Don’t move. Oh, God! Oh, no! Nikki? Marco, call 911.” Simon pulled the ladder off her. He knelt down and cradled her head in his lap. “No, no. You poor baby. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she whispered, right before she passed out.
Thirty-one
NIKKI hated hospitals. Hated them. They smelled of Lysol and alcohol and there were sick people-lots of sick people. Not to mention people running around barking orders at you. How was it that anyone was expected to recuperate in one of these places? Weren’t doctors and nurses always telling patients to get some rest? That was what Nikki had just been told by her unpleasant nurse in the emergency room.
Simon hovered over her and barked as many orders at the nurse as she’d asked questions of Nikki. “Can we please get some Diet Coke in here for her? She likes Diet Coke. Also, I think she’s a little warm, so a cool cloth would be good. When will the doctor be here? This is ridiculous. It’s been two hours or something totally insane. What kind of operation are you people running?”
The nurse, who looked as old as God and as happy as the devil, squinted her eyes. “Excuse me, Liberace, the last time I checked, her name”-she pointed at Nikki-“wasn’t Hillary Clinton or the likes of her. And in case you haven’t taken note, this is an emergency room, not the Ritz-Carlton.”
“Well, I never,” Simon said, completely put out by this witch.
“Now you have,” the nurse replied, imitating him.
“Si, please let the woman do her job,” Nikki begged. “I’m fine. Really I am.”
Marco stood at her head, stroking it. “I am so happy I came with Simon to get the wine for you. He would have had to leave you to call the emergency people. I was chopping and then he said he needed me to help him with the wine because I’m stronger than he is.”
“You are,” Simon said, rubbing Marco’s arm.
“If we were only there a few minutes sooner, this wouldn’t have happened to her.” Marco leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. The thought crossed her mind that these two would actually make good parents. They had worry down to a science.
Another half hour, and another meltdown from Simon, and the doctor appeared.
“You’re the doctor?” Simon asked.
“Yes.” He showed him his badge. “Dr. Woodruff.”
Dr. Woodruff looked fifteen with curly dark hair and dark eyes. He was slight and honestly he didn’t look as though he’d ever shaved-baby skin like a baby’s butt.
“Honey, I have Dolce and Gabbana T-shirts older than you.”
Dr. Woodruff wasn’t amused.
“Simon,” Nikki warned.
Dr. Woodruff asked the same questions that the nurses and everyone before him had asked, and she was pretty sure that Robinson would be showing up sometime to ask the same questions again before she’d be able to leave. All she wanted was to go home.
The doctor examined her with the boys out of the room. “Anything hurt?”
“Everything,” Nikki replied. “I feel like I’ve been pushed off a ladder, clobbered by a maniac, and then almost strung up to die.”
“Ah.” The doctor winced.
Nikki doubted he’d heard that story before. “My stomach really hurts where the guy pushed the ladder down on me. I’m not usually a baby, but it does hurt.”
“Can you point to it?”
Nikki did so.
“It’s not exactly your stomach, is it?”
“No.” Now why did she feel embarrassed? The kid was a doctor.
“That’s where your ovary is on that side. To be safe, we should have an ultrasound done. I may call in a gynecologist to do an exam on you.”
“What? Why?” There was nothing Nikki could think of that might actually be worse at that moment-hoisting her legs up in a pair of stirrups so some teenager could take a peek at her parts. It was hard enough going to her private physician, a woman in her fifties.
“A precaution. We should be sure that your ovary didn’t rupture. Looks to me like you were dealt some pretty hard blows.” He touched the side of her face.
She winced.
“Good thing you don’t need stitches, but that will bruise up. Not pretty.”
“Thanks,” Nikki replied.