Robin Kaye - Domestic Gods 01 by Romeo Romeo (html)

Author:Romeo, Romeo (html) [Romeo, Romeo (html)]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-03-21T18:52:41+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Rosalie had just gotten out of a status meeting with her boss and didn't want to go back to the dealership. She was tired; she was cranky; she was starving; and she still had two hours and thirty-eight minutes until she could go home. Gina and the back-office gang had passed her around like a hot potato, each hoping they wouldn't be the one dealing with her when she finally blew. Who could blame them? It was as if she was looking down from above, watching herself get through the day and doing everything wrong, and she could do nothing to stop it.

What the hell was she going to do on Sunday? How was she going to sit across from her father and pretend she didn't know what was going on? She should have gone after him with the champagne bottle when she'd had the chance. If she had, this whole mess would be over and done with. Holding onto anger was so not her.

Rosalie stared at the couch. A nap was tempting. She wondered if anyone would notice. She could still be getting over the crud, or depression could have set in.What-ever the reason, the only thing that sounded the least bit appealing was sleep.

A knock snapped her out of her musing. The door opened a few inches. A hand stuck through the crack, waving a tissue.

“Is it safe to enter?”

No matter how bad things got, Gina could always make her smile. “Come on in.”

“What has that prick done to put you in such a mood?” She heard Gina ask from beyond the door. The door swung open, and a huge flower arrangement with legs appeared. The legs Rosalie guessed were Gina's; the flower arrangement looked like something you'd see in a really expensive hotel. The kind of flowers that looked so perfect, you had to touch them to see if they were real. Of course, when you did, everyone knew you'd grown up in a house with fake flowers and plastic fruit.

“What does the card say?” It never occurred to her that Gina hadn't already read it.

“'Nick.' That's it. Do you believe the nerve of that man? You come to work in the mood from hell; you have everyone from the mailroom on up walking around with wastepaper baskets on their heads to protect them from the fallout; and the only clue to the puzzle that is Rosalie Ronaldi's bad mood is 'Nick'? What did he do? You can tell me. I'll call Sam, and he can go over there and rough him up.”

“Sam's a cop. Cops don't rough people up.”

“You're right, I'll have to handle it myself. I told you he was trouble.”

“Down, girl. It's not Nick. Nick's been, well… you know.”

“No, I don't know. I wish you'd tell me, so I can deal with it and go on with my terribly uneventful, boring, and tedious life.”

“Gina, I'm sorry. I can't talk about this. It's family stuff and—”

“Did something happen to Richie?”

“No. He's fine. I'm sorry about today.

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