Roses Are Red, page 1
Roses Are Red
By Kelly Janicello
ISBN: 978-1-77145-364-6
Copyright 2015 by Kelly Janicello
Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2015
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
* * *
Acknowledgement
To my family and friends, thank you again. You’ll always be at the top of my list. Tuesday night Diva’s you all rock! Kat, Janet, Jamie H, Scotty A, Robyn B, Heather P. and baby sis Sam––Thank you!! Shout out to Trooper Bill and NYPD Sgt. Mike, thanks for answering my questions, even the stupid ones.
Prologue
Marcus O’Boyle pulled into the dingy parking lot of the rat bag motel situated on the New York side of the George Washington Bridge. The neon lights beamed vacancy, though with the letter ‘v’ burned out, it looked like ‘acancy’. He idled his car outside the office and surveyed the activities of the shoddy inn.
“Oh, fuck no.” His best friend Jimmy Ryan had called him the night before last sounding more on edge than when he’d accepted a position with the FBI.
He’d refrained from breaking Jimmy’s balls because his best friend had been uncharacteristically shaken. Jain Ryan, Jimmy’s kid sister, had gone against his wishes and left their sleepy Virginia town for the big bad New York City. Now, after yet another man disguised in shades and a Yankees ball cap exited the office with a lady of the night, Marcus understood the other man’s concern.
Jain Ryan was a naïve idiot. He could kill Jimmy for putting him in this dick of a position. His irritation rose as a man fell against his car with a thud. What the… The ‘gentleman’ leaned against the passenger side door while the ‘lady’ dropped to her knees and out of sight.
He stretched across the seat and rapped on the window. “Eh!” The man turned and Marcus flashed his badge. “Move it along, buddy!” He rolled the window down. “Off the car!”
If the jack-off spewed on the black Caprice, he’d make him lick it off after he arrested the pair. Why did Jain believe this motel the best place to lay stakes? Did she think she’d get away with staying in this dive?
This would not do. Only she would choose a motel renting rooms by the hour. He glanced at his watch. The night was young, only a little after nine. He had absolutely no idea what room Jain was in. A scream tore out in the dark. That was her. Had to be. They were the wrong type of screams coming from this place. He climbed out from behind the wheel, slammed the door, and jogged up the steps listening.
“You’ve got the wrong room!” A frightened voice spilled out of 205. At least she’d chosen a room on the second floor. He knocked with his size twelve black boot. The door caved under the pressure and there was little Jain Ryan, smothered up against the wall with a three hundred pound ape trying to suck on her like a vampire. A beefy paw yanked her dark brown hair.
He grabbed the gorilla by the scruff of the neck and threw him to the lime green carpet before handcuffing him. “No means no, buddy.”
He glanced up at Jain, still in the same spot Mr. Happy Pants left her. Her green eyes were wide as saucers. Both hands crossed her chest rising and falling with fear and adrenaline. He sat her on the bed. Several times, she tried to peek around him to see the piece of shit on the floor.
“Don’t look at him.” He ripped the bed sheets from the mattress and wrapped them around her shoulders. Moisture pooled in her sea green depths. Don’t let her cry. Please. “I’ve got to call this in.”
She jumped from the bed and her tiny fists clung to the bottom of his shirt. “Marcus! No! I’m so embarrassed.”
“Good! What in hell possessed you to check into this dump anyway? You wonder why your brother didn’t want you to move to the city? Get your shit. You’re not staying here.”
“I’m a big girl Mar––”
“You’re all of what? Twenty three? Yeah, you’re a big girl all right. I’ve seen eighth graders with better street smarts than you. Get. Your. Shit.”
He turned to the assailant who’d gained to his knees attempting to escape. Planting a foot in his back, he helped the scumbag return to the threadbare rug. “You make one move I don’t like you’re going to find yourself on the wrong end of my gun.”
* * *
Jain sat on the bed and wrung her hands. She’d known Marcus from age twelve. He’d come home with Jimmy on spring break their senior year of college. She had never been so happy, or so filled with dread, to see someone come through the door. How had he known she was even in town? Jimmy must have called him.
She hadn’t seen him in five or six years. Not since his and Jimmy’s careers took them on different paths. He stood at the window, back to her, talking on his cell. Every now and then, he would cast a glance over his shoulder. Had he always been this big? As a teenager, she had just assumed so. His hand went to his waist. The action drew his jacket up drawing her gaze to his gun.
She rose. He pointed a finger and glared at her. A silent warning to stay. She wasn’t a dog. Why couldn’t he make up his mind? Should she pack her shit, as he so eloquently put it, or stare at the back of his head? Her butt met the mattress and she immediately bounced up again. Don’t let him intimidate you. His dark eyes widened in disbelief. Well, stick that in your pipe and smoke it, O’Boyle.
Ignoring him, she moved to the bathroom throwing her toiletries into a small canvas bag. As she wiped the shampoo off its container, a commotion brewed from the other room. Had the man escaped? Oh, my God. What would she do if he got loose?
“Can I help you, miss?” Marcus’ low timbre echoed.
“Who are you? Where’s Jain? Jain? Jain? Where are you?”
“I’m in the bathroom, Cara. Cara, meet Marcus. Marcus, meet Cara.” She picked the bag up. “Cara and I live here.”
“Not anymore you don’t.”
“You just can’t come in here and––” His brow arched in arrogance. She shut up at the expression on his face and imagined many a criminal had faltered under his stare.
Chapter One
Two Years Later
Jain walked down Christopher Street, unable to shake the feeling of eyes on her. In her two years of living in the city, she’d quickly learned to trust her instincts. The street at six on a Wednesday morning had a reasonable amount of folks going about their day. Not crammed with people bustling off to work and not devoid of human life. Nothing out of a place. She couldn’t pretend to peer over her shoulder without making it obvious and possibly alerting whoever had eyes on her. Equally lame––stopping to tie the shoelace of her Chucks. An infant had better skills. Instead, she paused in front of several storefronts using the glare of sunlight bouncing off the windows as a mirror.
A streak of yellow reflected back and a taxicab screeched to a halt behind her to pick up a fare. If she didn’t stop chasing shadows, she’d be late. She stood on the top step leading to the subway station. Again, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just people, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. A man knocked her shoulder jarring her into motion and she bounced down to catch the train she rode uptown to Columbus Circle.
The fifteen-minute ride took her to Pete’s Diner for her last shift. Already, patrons––her regulars––lined the counter. She dumped her purse inside a locker housed in the rear of the kitchen, tied an apron around her waist, and dropped her order pad in the front pocket. Mr. Bergman came in at the same time, sat in the same seat, and ordered the same breakfast every day during the two years she’d worked at Pete’s. Still, she put a menu in front of the older man sipping coffee.
“What can I get for you, Mr. Bergman?” She poured coffee in the small white mug sitting on the place mat.
“Two eggs sunny side up, a slice of wheat toast, and a kiss on an old man’s cheek.”
She smiled and tucked the unused pad into her apron. “Oh darn, you missed the early bird kiss special, but I will get you eggs and toast.”
She strolled to the window separating the dining area from the kitchen and yelled the order to Raul, the cook. Raul owned Pete’s diner and she wasn’t entirely sure how the place came to be known as Pete’s. She turned to the man at the far end of the counter working on the New York Times crossword puzzle in red ink. “Jonesy, do you know what you’re having yet?”
“You listen to me, missy. I’ll tell you when I finish the downs.”
Jain stifled a snort. “Come on, Jonesy, you’re taking up space for other paying and tipping customers. They all want to say goodbye on my last day.”
The grouch finally peeked up from his paper. “What do you mean your last day? Where are you going? Who’s going to make sure my bacon is crispy every morning? I’m your best tipper.”
“You’ve never tipped me a dime. You’re my worst customer. I told you the other day, I finally got a job.”
Mr. Bergman wobbled to Jonsey and nudged him with his cane. “You know the girl tried out for those shows on Broadway. Well she finally done it, her name in the big bright lights.”
The older gentleman, one of her greatest supporters, became her adopted grandfather on day one of working at Pete’s. “Mr. Bergman, you know the part is only in the ensemble.”
“Yes, but you are also the understudy for….for who?”
“Sandy.” After auditioning for two years with bit parts here and there, Jain’s luck took a turn for the better and she landed a part in the revival of the production of Grease.
“Well, Jainy, I am going to come to your debut.”
“Yes you are, Mr. Bergman, because I got you a ticket.”
“Jainy, you didn’t have to do that.”
She smiled and patted his hand. “You’ve been so good to me since I arrived, I had to do it. I’m going to the kitchen and check if your breakfast is ready. I’ll be back.”
* * *
Marcus stood in line outside Pete’s Diner with what seemed all the geriatric citizens of New York City. Short on sleep, he salivated for his second caffeine fix of the day. In front of him, an old man with shocking white hair barely held himself up with a metal frame walker. Effectively barring his way, Marcus had the urge to physically pick the man up and move him to the side. What in God’s name had drawn these old men to Pete’s? A foot taller than the rest of the diners, he peered over salt and pepper heads. All he saw was his best friend’s little sister in her ugly brown waitress uniform serving up coffee to the elderly patrons sitting at the counter in front of her. Nothing to explain the line ahead of him.
He and Jain had settled into an uneasy truce once he didn’t have to trek through the damn city to find her. A couple times a month he tried to meet up with her for dinner, and checked in by phone once a week. The arrangement prevented Jain from getting into a snit and her brother laid off his baby sis. Was Jimmy always this protective of Jain? The only thing he’d lied to Jimmy about were any men Jain dated. Of course, he ran each and every one of them, unbeknownst to her. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Now as he stood in line, he could see nothing wrong. He caught another glimpse of her. Her chestnut hair fell from her ponytail. Clearly frazzled, she raced around behind the counter carrying plates of food, coffee, and serving all the old folks with a big bright smile. She really did have a nice smile, thanks to the three years in braces. He grinned remembering how he would tease her unmercifully by calling her metal mouth.
The grin fell from his face when Raul, the owner of Pete’s, pinched her ass. Enough was enough. Gently moving the old man with the walker, he pushed through the crowd to get to the counter. Jain gazed at him with her big green eyes and started to smile. He ignored her and grabbed Raul by the back of his neck forcing him into the kitchen. The double doors banged against the wall several times.
Raul paled and tried to get away. “Officer Marcus,” he whined in his sleazy heavily accented voice.
He shoved the other man into a metal counter. “Raul, just what the hell were you doing?” The weasel’s eyes darted left and right. The hamster on the wheel took too long to come up with a plausible explanation.
“I couldn’t help myself?” Raul shrugged his bony shoulders
Marcus smacked him in the head. “If you ever lay hands on Jain again, you’ll be sorry, my friend.”
Raul vigorously nodded his head, his beady eyes darting all around the kitchen. “But Officer Marcus, she is leaving today and I just wanted to….”
“Raul if you finish the thought…” Marcus glowered at him. Disgust rose in his gut. “What do you mean she’s leaving today?”
Before Raul had a chance to respond, the door swung open and Jain entered. He smiled and started towards her. Taking her hand, he pulled her out of the kitchen and tossed a glare at Raul. The little ferret.
“What are you doing in the kitchen?”
“Nothing, sweetie. Raul and I had to have a little talk about my dissatisfaction with my last meal here.”
She tugged her hand away and eyed him suspiciously. “Cut the crap, Marcus.”
“We had a man-to-man talk with Raul agreeing not to touch so much as a hair on your head ever again.”
“Raul has been trying to cop a feel since I started working here. He even tried when I interviewed for the job.”
“What?”
She patted his arm condescendingly. “It’s okay. I can handle myself.”
“Had I known about this perv.”
“Enough. He’s harmless. Besides this is my last shift…ever.”
“Good because I don’t like you wearing this ugly brown uniform fending him off. I’ll take care of you until you find a better job.”
He couldn’t miss the eye roll. “You don’t understand. I got a job. That’s why I asked you to come down here today so I could tell you. You’ve been unreachable.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. I––” he was interrupted by the old man in the walker pushing him off balance. “What the—” Again, the man smashed into him. Exasperated, Marcus grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the counter. “Jeez, it’s crazy in here today. What’s going on? Why is every old person between here and Jersey at Pete’s? I know Raul’s not giving anything away. He’s too cheap.”
“Hi, Sam,” she greeted Marcus’ partner as he entered the diner.
He turned at Sam Toretti’s approach. “I thought you were going to wait in the car.”
Sam scanned the inhabitants. “You were gone fifteen minutes. What’s going on here?”
“They all came for me.”
“Why?” Marcus asked. “If they’re all the friends you have you need to get a life, darlin’.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you––” She rushed away when one of the patrons knocked a bowl to the floor. Oatmeal oozed down the side of the counter. At this rate, he’d never get the chance to talk to her. She skidded to the man’s side before he fell off his swivel stool. “I got it, Mr. Morris.”
“Oh Jainy, I am so sorry. Let me get it.” Mr. Morris replied leaning over. Jain put a hand on his arm to keep him from toppling.
Marcus bent and pulled her up. “Stop this for a second.”
“I’ve got to…”
“Let Raul do it. Raul!” The little Spanish perv rushed to the scene.
“Marcus!”
“Jain!” He mimicked his voice pitched high. “Come here and tell me what’s going on.” He pushed her into a booth and squeezed in with her so she couldn’t escape. Sam slid in opposite them while another server poured coffee. She left the pot at the end of the table.
“Thanks, Joanne.” Jain took a sip of the steaming brew. “I went on another audition a few weeks ago at the St. James.”
“Yeah? Go on.”
“Grease will be opening up there soon. So I auditioned and got a part in the ensemble.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Wow! Congratulations. I am proud of you. Your foot’s in the door.”
“Thanks, but it gets better. I’m understudy for the lead.”
“Babe that’s great!”
* * *
Jain beamed. No more waiting tables and cleaning up after customers. Oddly though, she felt sad to leave her home away from home, even if Raul was a pervert. For the last time, she took in the tacky pictures of Spain and the light blue walls. Yep, she would miss the place and its ugly motif. Most diners had either a Greek or Italian décor. Not Pete’s. Raul only came close to style when he matched both socks.
Her first day on the job she found Raul standing on a ladder attempting to hang piñatas from the ceiling. She told him he wasn’t making a lot of money then and if he’d planned to hang the florescent piñatas, he might as well close the place. She remembered he called her a cheeky senorita and tried to grab her butt. Had Marcus known then what he knew now about Raul….
“So when does the show open?” Marcus interrupted her memories.
“Next month, and I want you to come.”
“You know I’ll be there. Did you call Jimmy? Is he gonna come into town?”
She shook her head and swallowed more coffee. “I called him, but he’s been working on some counterfeiting thing or something, so he isn’t making any promises.”
“I’ll come, too.” Sam poured himself another cup of coffee. “Whatever happened to the last one you auditioned for?”
