Page 22 of Craving Vengeance
Shannon shot Spinelli a sideways glare then glanced back at Walker. “For you, Brad, I’ll do it, but only for you,” she reiterated as she shifted her icy cold glare back to Spinelli.
Spinelli leaned into the backseat and grabbed the flowers and candy Sister Pat had given him for the extra deliveries. He slid them into Shannon’s car. He watched as Walker pulled away from the curb. He knew Walker wasn’t going too far, just out of Shannon’s view. He’d be listening on his earpiece.
Shannon nodded toward Billy’s BBQ, though she didn’t have to. A blind man could have found his way just by following the wonderful aroma of deep fried food. The smell made Spinelli’s mouth water. His stomach growled. He realized he hadn’t eaten anything all day. He’d been called out of bed early by Captain Jackson to attend to the murder of Mike Carter, their first cupid. Then when he went to ask Shannon out for lunch, he caught her kissing Dr. Meyers, and before he could even return to the precinct, he’d gotten the call to investigate the murder of Chad Williams, the third cupid. And now instead of sitting down to dinner, he found himself delivering flowers and candy to starry-eyed victims of love.
“We’re delivering to a waitress by the name of Stacey Hicks. What are you going to sing to her?” Shannon asked.
“What?”
“That’s what I’m asking you. What are you going to sing to her?
You’re cupid. It’s your job.”
The shrillness in her voice sent a shiver up his spine. It was going to be a long couple of hours. Evidently, he hadn’t thought this whole cupid thing all the way through. He couldn’t sing, and he certainly didn’t know any cutesy love songs. And even if he did know any, he certainly wasn’t in the mood to sing to any poor love-struck saps.
He could tell by the look in her eyes she was serious, and she’d make his life even more miserable if he didn’t do it. Additionally, she didn’t think he could do it. He’d show her. He thought for a moment. There must be some half-assed love song he could sing. All that came to mind was Adam Sandler singing the song “Love Stinks” in the movieThe Wedding Singer. That certainly wasn’t going to work.
His mouth went dry. Sweat beaded on his temples.Christ almighty, it's twenty-five degrees outside, and I’m sweating. Freaking women. I didn’t sign up for this!
It took a moment, but a song came to him. He’d heard on a car commercial some time ago.
Spinelli gestured toward the front door of the restaurant. “After you, my dear.”
Shannon stomped off toward the door. If her heels hit the pavement any harder, they’d crack the sidewalk. She pushed through the door letting it fall shut behind her. Spinelli grabbed the handle and passed through as well.
All heads turned toward them. He felt like such an idiot; dressed in a white toga, holding a fake gold colored bow, almost child sized, with a quiver full of golden arrows slung over his shoulder. People smiled in their direction. Spinelli fought the urge to roll his eyes.Fools, blinded by the hype of the holiday.
He listened as Shannon spoke with the hostess. Her voice was soft and sweet. He remembered when she talked to him like that. It was just this morning.All a front. A big fat lie.
The hostess motioned to a waitress, catching her attention almost immediately. Her nametag said, Stacey. The hostess waved her over. All eyes followed the young woman who stepped in their direction with a degree of hesitation. “Can I help you?” she asked.
Shannon smiled softly at her. “Dustin sent us,” she said as she reached over and took the bouquet of roses from Spinelli and handed them to Stacey. Spinelli still held the heart-shaped box of chocolates in his hand. He didn’t want to let them go. He needed something to occupy his shaky fingers. He glanced around the room. All eyes were still on them. His heart thudded in his chest.
Shannon stepped back. Her smile grew wider. She gestured toward Spinelli. “Dustin also sent a message for you from Cupid.”
Spinelli’s cheeks burned. His pulse pounded. Maybe his head would explode, and he’d get out of this awful mess. His mind raced to place the words of the song from the car commercial into order. It was a Nissan commercial. No, it was Honda.For chrissake sake, who in the hell cares what kind of commercial it was? Just sing the stupid song already.All eyes were still on him. He cleared his throat and broke out into a rendition of “You Are My Sunshine.”
He kept his eyes on Stacey as he sang the short verse and swayed back and forth with both his shaky hands fixed to the box of chocolates. It was almost as if he was dancing with the box. A bright shade of red consumed her cheeks. Was he that bad? Her lips quivered but eventually broke into a full smile.
When he finished his song and dance, he handed her the chocolates as the crowd applauded.
Spinelli shifted his gaze to Shannon. She seemed surprised. She smiled and clapped as well. He imagined Walker listening to the whole ordeal through his earpiece. He imagined he’d never hear the end of it once the entire precinct found out. He took a bow, spun on his heel, and headed out the door.
He didn’t have to turn around to know Shannon followed close behind him. The sound of her heels pounding against the cement assured him. Her steps didn’t sound as heavy as when they first went into the restaurant. Maybe she was lightening up a bit. Wait a minute, why did he care if she was still mad? He was the one who was supposed to be pissed as hell. She’s so damn beautiful, he’d almost forgotten.
Spinelli stomped toward Shannon’s car without looking back at her. The automatic locks clicked, and he slid into the passenger seat. He didn’t even attempt to open her door for her, even though he always opened her door. Shannon slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. Without a word, she shifted the car into drive and pulled into traffic. Spinelli checked the side mirror. Walker followed close behind.
Shannon plucked the clipboard from between the seats and handed it to him. He glanced at the list of deliveries. The next one was only four blocks away. He read the name aloud, “Bernard Mathison.” A guy? How in the hell was he going to keep a straight face singing a love song to a guy?
“Yep, his wife calls him Bernie.” He shot Shannon a sideways glance. The corner of her mouth twitched as if she were trying to suppress an unstoppable smile. He was sure she was enjoying his severe discomfort.
Shannon parked the car on the same side of the street as Bernie’s bar. Spinelli’s mind raced for a song. He couldn’t possibly sing “You Are My Sunshine” to a guy. It just wouldn’t be right, and the only song filtering through his brain at present was Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name.” So not appropriate. True maybe, but not appropriate.
Spinelli climbed out of the car and took the box of chocolates from Shannon. He needed something to occupy his hands. Shannon pushed her way through the large glass door and stepped into Bernie’s bar. The room was long and narrow. All heads turned in their direction as the bells on the door clinked. Nearly every barstool was occupied at the old worn wooden bar, which ran almost the entire length of the room. A few patrons sat at the small tables lining the opposite wall of the bar. The middle of the room was home to two pool tables, neither being used at the moment.
Shannon stepped toward the opening at the end of the bar. She handed the bartender the bouquet of roses and leaned toward the large burly man and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled and winked at her. His bright blue eyes twinkled. His curly red hair matched Shannon’s. Who was this guy, and how did she know him?
“Hi, Uncle Bernie.”
