Plugged - Eoin Colfer [64]
I push her gently away, hearing the soft pop as the vacuum seal of our lips is broken.
‘W . . . wait,’ I stammer. ‘This is not right. I can’t . . . we can’t.’
There is a bruise of lipstick smeared across her upper lip. ‘Sure we can, baby. It’s not the first time. But let’s do it like it’s the last.’
What an invitation. You could sell a movie with a tag-line like that.
‘No, Sofia . . . Mrs Delano. This is not me. I mean, I am not Carmine.’
Then something unexpected. She slaps me in the face, hard. I actually rock back on my heels.
‘Pull yourself together, Carmine. How many lives do you think we get? I’m forty years old next summer, and this is my last second chance. You going to break my heart again?’
I can’t do it. I should, goddamn me, but I can’t find the strength. ‘Okay, Sofia.
Okay, I get it.’ I stroke her cheek tenderly. It’s easy to do. Natural. ‘No broken hearts tonight. I want to do it slow, take things easy. We got time, right?’
She blinks, uncertain, as though offering sex to this man Carmine is all she knows how to do.
‘Time?’
‘Yeah, time for romance?’
‘Ro-mance?’ The word hiccups in her throat. ‘You want romance?’
‘Sure. A man can change, can’t he?’
‘I . . . I guess.’
Whew. A reprieve, though a big, insistent part of me doesn’t want a reprieve.
‘Good. Great. So, Sofia, you got anything to drink?’
‘I got some cough syrup. And some coffee.’
I react to ‘coffee’ like it’s the holy grail. ‘Wow. Coffee, that would be awesome.’
Definite overkill. I use the word awesome about as much as I use the word bling.
Sofia stumbles to the kitchen on sea legs, a bewildered smile cutting through the lipstick.
‘Carmine Delano asking for coffee. My husband certainly has changed. Maybe you dumped some of that macho baggage you’ve been lugging around, along with the hair.’
‘It’s temporary,’ I blurt, wanting to please her now. ‘The hair. It’s growing back.’
Sofia pours two mugs from the machine. ‘Hair, no hair. Doesn’t bother me, baby. So long as I have you. It’s been hours since you left. I was starting to think I did something wrong.’
Hours? More like years.
‘I . . . uh . . . I had some business to take care of.’
Sofia pushes me gently to the settee, deep brown leather, squeaks when I sit. A man could get used to relaxing in a promo sofa like this. Smells of Italian food and perfume.
‘Business? Like that naked bitch downstairs? Same old Carmine.’
I absurdly defend myself. ‘That woman was a detective. She was trying to kill me.’
Sofia eyes me archly. ‘Uh-huh. I bet she had good reason. I know what you are, Carmine, all about your dalliances.’
Dalliances. First time I’ve heard that word since Ireland.
Drinking and dalliances. That’s you, isn’t it? That’s your entire goddamn life in a nutshell.
Mother shouting that at my father, and him laughing. Scratching his chin with one hand and swiping the air with the other, trying to catch an invisible fly.
‘Dalliances, eh?’ he’d twitter, then do a little mocking fairy dance. ‘Was this before or after the croquet?’
Back to here and now, but I’m shaking a little. ‘No, Sofia. No dalliances. It’s only you. You’re the only one for me.’
It’s easy to say and it would be easy to mean.
Sofia glows; she sweeps her blonde hair aside, eyes downcast like a twenty-year-old bride.
‘You mean it, baby? You mean it this time?’
‘I do.’ I take her hand and place it on my chest. ‘Feel my heart and tell me I’m lying.’
If my heart could speak, it would say that my every word is a lie. Her husband is gone and he better stay gone, because if he comes back I might just have to kill him.
Sofia places her cheek beside her slim fingers. ‘It’s a strong heart, Daniel. Strong enough to protect me.’
‘No one’s going to hurt you now, Sofia. That guy, the Keerist almighty guy, he’s gone for good.’
‘Kee-rist almighty beep,’ whispers Sofia, then falls asleep just like that.
Kee-rist almighty beep? says Ghost Zeb. What the hell does that