Mi Carino - Risky Love Read online

  The moon sparkled above her like a silver dollar under a spotlight. Her mother would tell her fantastic tales about the silver moon. This particular lunar beauty, bright and unrelenting, bleached the surrounding buildings in a dull brilliance and filled her with hope.

  “I think this could be a good omen.” Marcella smiled. Another gust of wind blew her hair from her brow and her ears. Suddenly she missed home and her mother. She stepped back into the warmth of her apartment. She closed the doors, locked them, and retrieved her phone from the lounger then dialed.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Mom,” said Marcella.

  “Hi baby, what time is it?”

  “Sorry, its nine here so I guess it’s what midnight there?”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s a full moon tonight and it got me to thinking about you.”

  Her mother’s soft laughter filled the receiver. The cold ache for Richard thawed around her heart and she again felt the sense of belonging. A mother’s love could be a powerful thing. “Wait, let me see.”

  Marcella picked up Ginger. The cat purred against her breast as she padded back to her bedroom out of her small living room. She passed the door to her guestroom. On most nights Susan would crash there, the uninvited roommate. Marcella had grown used to her presence and it did sting a little when she chose to stay away.

  Her bedroom too was bathed in the moon’s luminance. Marcella looked to the windows and noticed the silvery glow behind her shut blinds. Ginger jumped from her arms and curled out on the bed.

  “I see it,” her mother said.

  “That’s our moon.”

  “Sure is baby. How’s work? Are you eating right? I sent you some recipes for quick dinners. Did you get them?”

  “Mom. I’m twenty-four. I’m fine,” Marcella said. She drew back the covers and shooed Ginger over to the other side of the bed.

  “I know, I just worry, and you live so far away I can’t put my hands on you when I want to.”

  “I will see you soon. In the Spring maybe? I promise.”

  “Okay,” she heard her mother yawn.

  “I’ll let you go.”

  “Call me tomorrow so you can tell me who you’re dating. Thank God that Richard character is gone.” Her mother chuckled.

  Marcella rolled her eyes. “Really funny. Bye.”

  “Love you sweetheart.”

  Marcella eased in under the covers and blanket. Ginger stretched then curled up into a tight ball, drifting to sleep. A call home always did the trick. Her mother lived alone, by choice. She learned early, how to be self fulfilled without the comfort of a man. Susan was wrong. There was a big difference between being alone and being lonely. Her mother taught her so.

  Sleep had been brief though, as the ring of her phone woke her with start. She glanced around for a minute, breathless. Was she dreaming it? The phone rang again and Marcella switched on the lamp to her right. She picked up her cellular and frowned. “What the hell? Hello?”

  “Marcella?”

  “Why are you calling me?”

  “Don’t be angry. I got the number from Sam. She didn’t know who I was.”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Wait! Please.”

  Marcella sighed. “You got three minutes Richard.”

  “It’s a business call sweetheart. I have a client who has a rare piece. He’s in some financial trouble right now and I told him about you. I wanted to know if we could meet for lunch? Tomorrow?”

  Marcella rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You have a client? Right.”

  “I know I screwed up. I… I have many regrets. This is legitimate. He’s Colombian. A collector. It’s an Egyptian funerary figurine of some sort. Look babe I don’t know this stuff. Will you meet with the man? He has an office above a restaurant he owns down on the board walk.”

  “How did he get the funerary? From what dynasty?”

  “You have to meet with us. Please.”

  Marcella chewed on her bottom lip. She hadn’t seen Richard since the day she confronted him about his wife and kids. She closed her eyes to the warm feel of shame burning her chest. She shook her head sadly. “Okay. Send me the time and location, I’m going to sleep.”

  “Marcella?”

  “Good night Richard.” She ended the call. Marcella fell back on her pillows and crossed her arms over herself. Hearing his voice hurt. What would seeing him again do? “Dammit I should have said no. Why am I so stupid?”

  Morning -

  The eraser back of her pencil crumbled into chalky bits over her tongue. She cringed, and spat out the pieces in her hand. She’d had a nasty habit of nibbling eraser ends since she was a kid. It always surfaced when anxiety took over. Sadly, today would be no better than yesterday. No customers, no prospects, no new artifacts surfacing. Except for the lead Richard ceremoniously dropped in her lap, which could truly prove useful. Marcella sat upright, uncrossing her feet from underneath her desk. Shifting against the leather cushion of her swivel chair, she groaned through another back spasm. They came and went more frequently now.

  “Susan!”

  Garrett had every right to question her abilities. Hell she expected a trip to the gallows after the Bailey fiasco. “Susan!” Marcella yelled again, her voice pitched to the point of straining.

  “I’m here! Why are you yelling? It’s just me, you, and Sam here.”

  “Sorry. Sorry.” Marcella mumbled. “What time is Garrett expected in?”

  “He called. He isn’t, coming that is.” Susan sashayed over. At five-foot eleven with creamy porcelain skin, Susan was quite striking. She had dark hair and deep-set brown eyes. Not to mention a figure that rivaled most. She always wore the classics: suits and blouses that complimented her femininity with taste. Funny, Susan never dressed this way until they became friends. She noticed her tastes and influence in everything about her now, right down to the perfume that Susan bought. She didn’t mind. She preferred they dressed classy and appeared professional.

  Marcella’s new life began in Port Delgado over two years ago. The small import town, close to Seattle, was not the most fashion forward place. The seaside location made it an industrial wonderland.

  At twenty-seven, three years her senior, Susan had accomplished many things in their chosen profession. She had a doctorate in Mesopotamian Studies. The woman was a walking encyclopedia of knowledge when it came to rare antiquities. After she graduated from Berkley she worked for Christie’s as an acquisition liaison. Marcella admired and envied the gutsy confidence she exuded with archaeologists and snobby museum curators. It always seemed to be so natural. Susan Sands had become her other half. She handled all the bookings and sometimes acted as the curator and accountant of the ever-slipping budget. And despite Marcella’s youth, she and Susan were the best-matched pair in their field.

  “Oh, well damn.” Marcella sighed. She had room to breathe and set the night’s events the way she chose. “I was hoping to talk to him before I left.”

  “Left? You got an appointment I don’t know about?” Susan’s left brow arched. She gave Marcella a look of suspicion. “Out with it girl. What’s going on?”

  “Richard called.” Marcella sighed. “He wants to meet for lunch.”

  “Are you kidding? Wait? How the hell did he get your number?”

  Marcella rubbed her temples and tried to speak lower in hopes it would make Susan tone down the volume in her voice as well. She didn’t get much sleep last night, and now she had a headache. “It’s business, apparently he called the gallery representing a client and Sam gave him my number.”

  “Sam? Sam!!” Susan yelled for the assistant downstairs.

  “Lower your voice.”

  “I hope you declined.”

  “No. I need to meet with him. I agreed. He emailed me the location today, a place called El Jay’s. It’s just up the street on the boardwalk. I can walk there.”

  “Are you crazy? You will not meet with that asshole. Not after what
he did.”

  Marcella frowned. “The client has an Egyptian funerary. I have to meet with him. We need this. Bailey’s article did some serious damage to us. I was the one that bought the stupid Cinerary Urn.”

  “Oh please Bailey wrote that article to get back at Garrett and we had the damn thing authenticated. How were we to know it was a forgery if the labs didn’t?”

  Marcella shook her head. “We should have known. The reputation of this gallery is on the line. I need to do something or we both will be looking for new careers.”

  Bailey Landers was one of the most respected antiquities critics out of Eastern Europe. He’d also had an intense love affair with her boss Garrett, and has been viciously vindictive since their breakup. Susan suspected the urn they received from a collector and then sold to another had to be part of some elaborate scheme of Bailey’s to discredit them. Either way the damage was done. She had a plan. Something she hadn’t even discussed with Susan. She needed another rare piece to establish their credibility with an archaeologist she secretly courted.

  Marcella checked the time on her watch. “I have to leave. Can you watch things?”

  “You are seriously going to meet with the asshole? Shouldn’t I come? To be your support?”

  The suggestion made her smile. “You really are my best friend. That’s a great idea. Yes. You come with me and that way we can make sure the asshole isn’t playing games.”

  Susan nodded. “Damn right. I have your back.”

  Marcella rose. She wore a periwinkle blue business suit with peep-toe high heels. Her hair, dark and layered, was tucked behind both ears. She straightened her suit jacket with a tug at the bottom trim. “We’ll have Sam close up for lunch. I don’t think this will take long at all.”

  A blast from a bass guitar ripped through the air followed by the screech of a rocker’s voice. It blared like some angry alien language, and shouted at them from all directions. Marcella whirled around in a panic at first, not sure of the source. “Damn it.”

  She marched over to her open office door and scanned the gallery. Sam was nowhere in sight. “Sam!”

  Exasperated Marcella headed out of her office in search of her assistant.

  “You told her to get the system back working for the private showing with Michael Caspian tonight. Guess it works.”

  Marcella sighed. She’d done this showing three times in the past month and still the turn out remained thin. It was the best she could offer now. “You two are going to be the death of me. C’mon.” Marcella went back inside her office and snatched up her purse and her coat. Susan chuckled. One would think with the client list Marcella recruited her taste in music and entertainment would be equally vast. Wrong. Where Susan flaunted her inhibited wild child, Marcella did the polar opposite. Brooklyn raised, she made special effort to adapt to her new role and successes in life.

  Tired of the nonsense, she marched straight through the gallery to the back, with Susan on her heels. The music caused her left eye to jump and the corners of her mouth to twitch with restraint. She threw open the door to find Sam, short for Samantha, stooped in a tangle of black stereo wires and gold tip connectors.

  “What are you doing?” Marcella yelled over the blasting tunes.

  Sam’s head whipped around. She hadn’t heard either of them approach. “I’m doing what you told me.”

  “I never told you to make us all deaf.” She shouted. Sam turned down the dial and the music shut off. Marcella swallowed the amped volume of her voice and rubbed her eardrums. “You’re about to blow us out of here.”

  Sam rose wearing skintight black jeans with a black leather vest over a pressed white shirt. Standing at just under five-foot six she had a shaggy low haircut with bangs that covered her brow and insisted on dark eyeliner, no lipstick to complete her androgynous look. Sam hooked her thumbs in her spiked belt buckle. Her fuck-off attitude left most guessing about her within three minutes of meeting her. Marcella and Susan, both had been hit on by Sam and knew all too well what team she batted for. She was harmless, and a whiz at setting up the lighting and painting fixtures in the gallery.

  “I’m just trying to get ready for the great ole Caspian. I remember Garrett saying that he had interesting tastes.”

  “In art Sam, not music.” Susan laughed.

  Sam shrugged stretching her arms behind her back with locked together fingers. She let her eyes sweep over Marcella then Susan. “You two look hot.” She smirked. Susan winked but Marcella rolled her eyes.

  “We’re heading out, got a meeting with a prospective client. I’ve changed my mind, we can’t afford to close up for lunch. I need you to stay up front and greet the customers while we’re gone. You can take a late lunch or leave early, your choice.”

  Sam rocked on her heels. Her eyes went beyond them to the door. “Oh, you mean for those hundreds of customers lined up to buy an outrageously priced antique? Whatever will I do?”

  “Funny. Real funny.” Marcella huffed. “I should turn this place into Comedy Central.”

  Susan made a face behind Marcella’s back.

  “I see you!” Marcella called over her shoulders. “Let’s go and get this over with.”

  Out on the sidewalk, Marcella’s gaze lifted to the jaundiced eye of the sun. The blast of warmth and the fresh smells of a fading winter were plentiful. A lovely outdoor fragrance rich from the multicultural eateries, and wafting breeze from the not so far boardwalk flooded her senses. Together she and Susan hurried east toward the market. She tried to ignore her sweet tooth when the caramel and buttery roasting smell of the street vendors selling treats from their carts tempted her.

  “Marcella? What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing. Work,” she mumbled. “I have an idea how we can turn things around.”

  “Girl things aren’t that bad. In a few months the press will be out to slit the throat of another gallery and business will pick up.”

  Marcella shook her head. Susan and Garrett were protecting her from the truth. The label of ‘fraud’ in this business is certain death. “I’ve been in contact with the office of Edward Katchner.”

  “Who?” Susan said trying to keep up. Marcella slowed down for her friend and walked alongside her at a less hurried pace.

  “Katchner is the archaeologist who found the fossil of a print in southern Arizona. It’s supposed to date back further than ‘Lucy’. You remember I told you and Garrett about the carbon tests on plants found in the rock to prove its authenticity. They’ve come back. It’s the oldest recorded life.”

  “Yes. I remember. What about it?”

  Marcella sucked in a breath. “Katchner has been in Seattle and regularly frequents our area. In three months he will do the unveiling of the print. He hasn’t decided on the museum yet…”

  “And?”

  “I think we should get him to do it in the gallery. Think about it. The world’s attention will be focused on our place. We’d have a non-profit event that will bring in the customers by the truckload.”

  “He’d never agree. Every museum in the country worth its salt is vying for it.”

  “Working on that. Which is why we need this Egyptian funerary. If we can get it authenticated and have Bailey do a great article on it then Katchner might agree. Don’t you see? This is a perfect plan.”

  “It’s a stretch. If the funerary is real Richard’s client is going to want at least a half mil for it. We don’t have it in the budget to gamble with sweetheart. I’m sorry. Besides why would Katchner choose our small gallery?” Susan said.

  “He’s very protective of his discovery and mistrustful of everyone. He faced some harsh criticism before the fossil was dated. I think he’d be open to it. I need your support not skepticism.”

  “Hey!” Susan grabbed Marcella by the sleeve and forced her to stop. “Look at me. I get that you’re driven. You’ve done a hell of a lot for Garrett and Garrison’s in three short years. The thing with Bailey will settle. You don’t have to do anything for
or with Richard if you don’t want to.”