Page 66 of Caught Up

Nonna nodded. “Yes, well, she went into the deli, panicking, and told Kristen that Tommy hadn’t been home in weeks, so Kristen went to the cops and filed a missing person report. The cops spent a few days looking into it, and it turns out your asshole father hasn’t used his cell phone or credit cards since he first disappeared.”

I blinked. “So wait, he’s, like,reallymissing?”

She nodded and sat back.

“Why didn’t Kristen tell me any of this?” I asked, confused and a little hurt.

Nonna waved a hand in the air. “You know your sister, always wanting to shield you from Tommy’s bullshit.”

That wasnotwhat Kristen did, but I let Nonna go on believing the comforting lie. Kristen loved being the one who knew everything, loved doling out information in tiny pieces, forcing people to ask her question after question while she slowly revealed the rest. And when it came to me? Half the time she wouldn’t even answer, just because she liked lording her knowledge over me and watching me get increasingly frustrated. She might have looked just like Mom, but her personality had mostly come from our father.

“What else did the cops have to say?” I asked.

Nonna shrugged. “Just that they’re looking into it. If you ask me, my friend Barb is right, and that selfish prick probably has a second family somewhere and is out West visiting them. It would explain all his other disappearances, too.”

I nodded. That thought had crossed my mind before. But knowing he wasn’t using his phone or credit cards...

“Anyway,” Nonna said, “I just wanted you to hear it from me instead of anyone else. You know how people at church gossip.”

“I do, and thank you.” My sister was going to get an earful from me soon. I should have heard it fromher, the second our father’s girlfriend showed up, not weeks later.

Nonna took a sip of coffee, her gaze turning shrewd as she set the cup back down. “Now tell me, who are you sleeping with these days?”

“Would you look at that,” I said, glancing at the nonexistent watch on my wrist. “We better go before we’re late.”

Nonna grinned. “Shut up, we have plenty of time.”

“I amnotdiscussing my sex life with my grandmother.” That was a step too far, even for me.

“Fine,” she said. “Just tell me that you’re having lots of it. I loved your grandfather more than anything, but my biggest regret in life is that I wasn’t a complete skank before I met him.”

Someone nearby choked, and I decided it was time to switch topics. And get some answers to a question that had been bothering me since last night. “Did you ever figure out what happened to everyone’s tires?”

Nonna eyed me for a second like she wasn’t going to let me get away with the subject change, but finally she shook her head. “No. Someone cut the wire to the camera that faced the side lot they were parked in.”

“Whose cars were targeted?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

She frowned. “I think just Maria’s, Angelina’s, and Nina’s.”

The three women who happened to be sitting directly behind us that morning, whispering amongst themselves. Fucking Junior. He’d totally done it, hadn’t he?

Nonna’s expression turned serious. “Back to what I was saying.”

Oh no.

“I hope you’re sowing your oats now.” Her eyes fluttered shut, and a look of grief washed over her face. “One penis. For fifty years, Lauren.” She blinked and met my gaze. “Learn from my mistakes. Be a slut while you still can.”

22

Lauren

Nonna and her friends hadmoved on from talking about their ailments—thank god—and were now deep into a discussion about some big drama that happened before I was even born. I listened with half an ear, trying not to tap my fingers against the table. We were midway through coffee hour, and Junior was still nowhere to be seen. The prick. I was angry at him and impatient to get out of here, get my phone back, and call my sister to ask her why she felt the need to act like such a controlling bitch.

If Junior was blowing me off, so help me god...

An unfamiliar ringing rose from somewhere near the floor, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced down and realized the sound was coming from my purse. Great, someone was calling him. I was half tempted to pick it up and ask if they knew where he was, but his tone when he told me not to answer it had held serious menace, like something bad could happen if I disobeyed him, and my brat streak didn’t run deep enough to put my safety in jeopardy.

Planning to silence it, I lifted it out only to see my own number on the caller ID. I froze. How the fuck had he unlocked my phone?

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