Oh God, more larvae. Mexican ant larvae, at that. At least they'd be dead this time. Probably. Maybe she could convince Gino to come with her if he could get time off from the construction company; they could have a little vacation. He may not have approved of her career, but sometimes it wasn't so bad. "Well, yeah, I know a guy. How soon?"
"Next month. I'll give you a date this weekend after I talk to my people."
"Yeah, all right. Let me check my schedule . . . do you care if they're fresh or frozen?"
Oh God, please say frozen.
He shook his head and stepped backward. "Nah, not really. Later."
She watched him drive off, her shoulders sagging. Another job over, another wad of cash ready for her savings account. She could almost smell the fresh air of the suburbs underlying the humid soup eddying around her.
Before she could start her car, a blue Corolla zipped into Anthony's abandoned space. Seamus O'Hannahan popped out of the driver's side door and loped to her window -as much as a short man could anyway. She swore under her breath and attempted to arrest the scowl that threatened her face.
"Seamus."
"Heya, Varda." His gray hair wisped around in the breeze, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile.
He took his position as the organizer of the Two Street Munchers seriously but with far less idiocy and theatrics than Anthony. As Anthony's competition in the underground eating club arena, they were Varda's best customers.
Seamus' slight stature emphasized his thin body and quiet nature. The paleness of his skin showed a blue vein at his temple, next to the lines at the corner of his left eye.
He usually called when he wanted to place an order-like a normal person-which made the intrusion all the more surprising. "So, how's everything going?"
"Well, fine, thanks. But I'm in desperate need of some freshening up."
His lips lurched, but he refrained from allowing them to break into his normal hearty chuckle. "Yeah, so it would seem. Fresh off a plane from Sardinia, from what I hear."
Varda tossed up her hands. "Is my itinerary printed up somewhere-posted online maybe? Is Anthony trying to get me arrested?"
This time he did laugh. "Nothing quite so crazy, I'm afraid. My son got it from your boyfriend's brother-and I know this is Anthony's hand-off spot. That guy really has to start changing up his routine. The authorities are going to catch wind, and then he'll be up shit's crick."
She said nothing. It would seem another talk with Tommy about the legalities of her work was in order. South Philadelphia was too small to share news of her exploits with anyone, and he had a big mouth.
"Sorry about all this, by the way." He gestured toward the car. "I'm in a bit of a time crunch, and there's this thing." He paused. "Something my club would like for the Labor Day weekend dinner -it's Sunday night. Know anyone who can get their hands on a few pounds of the Death's Head Amerino mushroom on the fly?"
"You know they're poisonous, right?" Not that she'd never delivered potentially fatal foods before, but it was always worth a warning, especially with the way her adopted parents had passed. The last thing she wanted to do was add homicide to her pretend rap sheet on top of the ever-present guilt over the way she made her money.
The Large Marges of the world loved a girl in the pokey for manslaughter.
Seamus' fingers stroked his bare chin as though petting an imaginary beard. "Not if you cook them correctly."
"Well, I do know a guy. I'll look into it. Can I go now?"
"So testy! Yeah, go. Give me a holler about pricing and quantity when you have an estimate."
She nodded and backed the car onto the main street. Just let someone else come between her and the siren call of soap and water.
Gino waited until she was in the shower to chat. He'd taken one look at her when she stomped into their apartment and offered a tentative hello. She'd stopped long enough to run her fingertips across her parents' wedding mezuzah hung just inside the door, drop her bags, and allow a brief kiss to Gino's mouth. Then she sprinted across the living room and up the spiral stairs to the bathroom, shedding clothes as she went.
With Gino's lips fresh in her mind, she rethought her original plan to shower immediately, but she didn't want to gross him out. The stink lines likely radiating from her skin could repel anyone . Now that Varda stood under the steaming water, her skin scrubbed raw -her own personal Silkwood shower -she felt far less disgusting.
"So welcome home, shorty. I missed you."
She pulled back the blue shower curtain enough to glimpse Gino leaning against the bathroom counter and watched him for a moment, finally able to concentrate on something other than maggots.
She reached through the space to yank him by the shirt until she could reach his mouth without dripping water all over the place.
Gino's warm hand grasped her bare hip, leaning into the kiss. That was what she'd been waiting for. His fingertips drifted up to the underside of her breast and followed the curve for a quick grope.
"Missed you, too," she said, grinning, when they broke apart. Gino returned her smile, but his hand abandoned her skin and pulled the curtain closed.
She must have smelled worse than she thought-he wasn't the type to pass up an opportunity. "Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?"
"Nope. I mostly just worked-that new job I told you about over in Queens Village. We're about halfway done building the closet. How about you? Any problems?"
"Uh uh. I mean, it was the usual. Nice scenery. Creepy locals. Maggots. Just saw Anthony-he was charming as ever, but he paid me, and that's what counts. Oh, and I ran into Seamus."
"Yeah?"
"Nothing major. Just a few more jobs. But then I'm done. Absolutely out of the smuggling business."
"A few more, huh? I've heard that before, homeslice." He sniggered.
"Homeslice?" She stuck her head out of the shower, one eyebrow raised.
Gino rolled his shoulders up and down. She jerked the curtain closed again, enclosing her in the warmth of the white tile shower.
Why couldn't he just stick with sweetheart? His street thug vocabulary ph ase was getting tired.
"This time it's true. Anthony's job will take me to Mexico, but the Seamus job is local. Either way, I should have the money to buy the dairy space outright by the end of next month." She washed her hair and daydreamed about the feel of curd under her fingers, a benefit of being a full-time cheese maker. All curd, all the time.
"Really?"
"Yeah. You okay with that?"
"With what?"
"Well, it would mean moving out of the city. We really haven't talked about that. I guess we wouldn't have to, but it'd be cheaper." The rich scent of her buttercream shower gel had completely replaced the stink of rot, and she sighed.
"It would mean a longer commute for me most of the time." He sounded thoughtful but not opposed. Varda imagined him slinking around the Chester County countryside in his favorite pants, the elastic of his boxer shorts protruding above the waistband. He was sure to be a hit in the new neighborhood. She stifled a chuckle.
"Not if you quit to be my business partner."
"Not to point out the obvious, but I don't know anything about making cheese."
"You've seen me do it." Her words butted up against each other. "And I can teach you. You're better with numbers and money than I am-you could manage the business end of things."
"You really want me there all the time? Getting in your way. Wouldn't that drive you nuts?"
"No. We're together most of the time anyway. Haven't killed you yet. And besides," she teased, poking her head out of the shower to treat Gino to the most hopeful and compelling grin she could manage with a faceful of water, "if you get too annoying, I'll take you out with a cheese press and serve you up to Anthony's club as an Italian delicacy. A little extra cash for the rainy day fund never hurt."
He grunted out a laugh when she ducked back under the stream of water, but it died before she could take a full breath. "I'll think about it."
She turned off the faucet, and wrung the moisture from her hair before taking a deep breath of home. Gino waited with a towel outside the shower, and she made quick work of drying off before snuggling against his chest.
"No more of these trips," she said, listening to the sound of his heart, a solid and steady thump thump. "I won't miss them."
He kissed the side of her head. "Yeah, me neither."
"Do we have time for a nap? I sleep like crap when you're not next to me."
"Nope. I promised Ma we'd come to dinner. And besides, if we go to bed, I don't think you'll be getting too much sleep." His hand snaked down to squeeze her ass.
Varda groaned. "You know she'd rather you didn't bring me. I love you and all, but can't we skip it?" She mimicked him, grabbing his butt. "I promise to stay awake long enough to give you a nice welcome home."
"I promised," Gino repeated, although he at least at the grace to sound grumpy about it. His heart picked up under her ear. He held her by the shoulders to ease her away from him. "But speaking of Ma, I have something crazy to tell you."
"She's decided she loves me and wants to have a sleepover?"
He closed his eyes and shook his head. When his lids propped open, his face had become a mask of horror. "My mother's going out with Anthony Carluccio tomorrow night. On a date."
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.
Many thanks to my loving husband, who put up with long nights of seeing only the top of my head over the edge of my laptop. It takes a confident man to share his wife with a ghost she sort of has a crush on. Thanks, my sweet!
There are others who deserve my gratitude as well a Suzanne, Gilly, Claire, and Randi, all of whom took time out of their lives to catch my mistakes and tell me when something didn't make sense. I credit those four women with Between Seasons becoming something readable. Many other people read all or part of the manuscript, and to them I send out my appreciation. Thanks, too, to my Twitter friends, who answered questions and helped with research about mental institutions, drugs, and a number of other things.
Catch up with Aida at Aida's website , or you can email her at [email protected] . You can also find her on Twitter at @aidabrassington.
APPENDIX.
Coming in January 2012!
WRAITH by Angel Lawson Freak. Weird. Crazy. These are the names tossed around about seventeen-year-old Jane Watts by her fellow classmates. But things aren't always as they seem. Sometimes there's a reason for talking to yourself in the hallway at school.
Jane struggles with adjusting to her new home and school after an abrupt move. She wants one thing in life-to be like everyone else, but that's hard to do when you're the new kid. But she does manage to make one friend: Evan-he's sixteen, charming, and protective. Everything a girl could want in a best friend...with one minor caveat.
He's dead.
Caught somewhere between life and death, Evan is tied to Jane and the living world, unable to complete the journey to the other side. She thinks he's here to be her friend, to take care of her, and that's why no one can see or hear him except her.
That is until a new boy shows up at school after a rumored stretch in juvie. Connor can see Evan, and he's not convinced the ghost is being completely honest. From his own experience, ghosts tend to need something from the humans they connect to, and Evan, despite his arguments, isn't any different.
Jane is resentful of Connor's intrusion but realizes soon enough he's right. Evan has secrets about his past, and not only did his life end tragically but members of his family are still in danger. Jane must face her fears and battle Evan's human demons to free both of them.
Read an excerpt of Wraith a Yank.
I felt the sharp tug on my ponytail. Evan. What amounted to fun for him was really just obnoxious. I expected nothing less from my best friend.
YANK.
I winced this time. He wanted me to react. I wouldn't, though. He knew I couldn't risk turning to stare at his empty seat. I was at his mercy. To everyone else, the desk was unoccupied. None of my classmates wanted to sit near Jane Watts and risk social suicide.
Cool air stirred behind my neck and I braced myself. For a brief second, I longed for the days when Evan's touch didn't affect me. Usually, I liked it. It made things more real .
YAN- I shifted forward, slouching over my desk. "Ha!" I said, too loud and inappropriate for AP English. Half the class-- including Ms. Bates--looked in my direction, and I clamped a hand over my mouth before coughing. "Excuse me," I said to the girl closest to me. She sneered in reply. Jeez, can't a girl cough?
"I'm sorry," Evan said. He whispered even though no one else would hear him. "I'll behave."
Whatever. I shifted away from him and for the first time I saw the new kid everyone was talking about. From this position, I could only see his profile. He had an angular face and brownish skin-possibly a leftover tan from the summer. At first glance he seemed cute. Of course, at first glance I appeared normal and sane, although the mere presence of Evan proved otherwise.
It didn't take me long to realize I wasn't the only one observing the new boy. The majority of the class seemed to have reason to face his side of the room. Oblivious to the attention, he worked the pencil across the page with one hand and his other rubbed the back of his shorn hair. He was sketching-and this fact alone piqued my interest. I wondered what he was drawing and if he would be in my art class. But then, I considered, he could just be a doodler, one of those guys who created comic book figures and super heroes fighting dragons who then saved huge-chested women in skimpy clothing. He was probably a geek. Or a pervert. Or both.
"With that haircut I bet he's drawing army men with buzz cuts and hand-grenades. How long before Ms. Bates catches him and sends him to the office for zero tolerance," Evan said, having the same thoughts. "Who wears their hair in crew-cut? Probably just got out of military school."
The girl next to me coughed, (less spastic than I had) breaking the monotony of the room, and the new boy looked away from his paper. I diverted my eyes, focusing on the swirly butterfly I had been shading on my own paper. Curiosity got the best of me, though, and after a moment I took a peek to the side. He looked in my direction, but not at me-not exactly. His eyes were glued right behind me. To the seat I knew was technically empty, the seat of my best friend and current tormentor.
Pretending to stretch, I knew before I even looked what I'd find behind me. The thing that made me an outcast among my classmates. Sure enough, Evan sat quietly, his mouth twisted into an angelic grin, blonde, messy hair dipping into his eyes, and his brows furrowed in question. My eyes shifted back to the new kid, who stared at the two of us, his eyes darting back and forth. His behavior became disturbingly clear.
He could see Evan, too.
"That was nice of you to make an appearance in my lit class today," I tossed out, not even attempting to hide my sarcasm. The afternoon autumn breeze cooled my face as we climbed the hill on my street. After a full day trapped inside a sweaty, hormonally-charged pubescent environment, some fresh air was a blessing. I waited for Evan to bring up the boy from class, too chicken to approach it myself.
Evan shoved his hands in his jeans. It was his only pair and had a wide, fraying rip in the knee. "Meh, I was bored."
"Really? I couldn't tell." I looked over in time to catch the sly grin forming on his face. Even if I wanted to be mad at him, I couldn't. Not under our circumstances. He may be annoying, but in reality, he could be so much more if he wanted. I made a mental note to thank him for his consideration the next time he actually did something nice.
"So that kid..." he prompted.
"Saw nothing. Did nothing. Knows nothing."
"Denial much?"
"Works for me."
He frowns. "What if he saw me?"
"What if he didn't? Do you think I'm going to approach some guy and ask him? People already think I'm a freak. No need to make it worse."
Evan laid his arm over my shoulder. "I think he did and so do you, but we can wait and see."
"Maybe."
"Remember the first time you saw me?" he asked. "You didn't even flinch."
"I thought you were cute," I laugh. "Not really. I was completely freaking out. I had my eye on an umbrella next to my desk. Not that it would have worked."