Worst Case - James Patterson [83]
The waiters were all over us in a way I’d never experienced before. French champagne glass after French champagne glass. Out of curiosity, I peeked at the menu and noticed that they were three- and four hundred dollars a bottle.
“What you did at the Exchange took guts, Emily,” I said, tossing back another thirty-dollar glass. “You really looked good in there.”
Veuve Clicquot suddenly sprayed from my nose as Parker found my thigh under the table.
“Isn’t that a coincidence?” she said, staring into my eyes as she knocked back her own glass. “You look good in here, Detective.”
Emily and I both sprinted through the dinner for some reason. Our spoons clacked on the tiramisu plates before most of the cops at our table had even started.
“Where are you guys going?” my boss asked as we said our quick good-byes. “You’re the stars of the party. Parrish and Mason haven’t even gotten here yet.”
“Uh,” I said, “Emily has to, uh . . .”
“Catch a flight,” she finished for me. “Got to get home tonight. Back down to DC. Boy, I can’t miss that plane.”
The taxi ride back to Emily’s hotel was hot and heavy and way too short. It consisted of what every perfect New York City evening is made—the swirling Times Square lights, silk, nylon, sharp red nails, a grinning, envious cabbie.
We almost knocked down a high school senior class from Missouri as we speed-walked to the hotel’s elevator. The elevator door was closing when I stuck out my arm at the last second. The door rolled back open.
“What the hell are you doing?” Emily said.
“I just remembered something,” I said tentatively.
“It’s the nanny, isn’t it?”
I didn’t say anything.
“It is, Mike. It’s definitely the nanny, whether you realize it or not. Oh, well.”
She kissed me for the last time then. She grabbed my lapel and slammed her lips into mine viciously. She seemed so warm this close. I wanted to get closer. I don’t think I can properly express how much I wanted to ride that elevator up.
Then Emily even more viciously shoved me away from her. She actually kicked me in the knee with a high heel to get me moving out of the elevator car.
“Your loss, cop,” she spat, extremely pissed and extremely hot with her blouse tails out, her flushed cheeks, and red hair mussed. “Your fucking loss, Bennett, you goddamn asshole.”
My breath went away as I watched the vision of Emily Parker erased by the elevator door.
My loss, I thought to myself.
“Damn fucking right,” I said to the doorman on my way out.
Chapter 99
I WAS STILL feeling no pain as I got home. There were streamers and a hallway full of balloons. An extra-large Carvel sheet cake was defrosting in the fridge. Seamus, master of ceremonies for MC’s surprise bash, held court in the kitchen, directing the decorating and food prep.
“But, Grandpa, if this is a party, who’s going to DJ?” Shawna said.
“Who do you think?” Seamus said, offended. “Sister Sheilah doesn’t call me ‘Father Two Turntables and a Microphone’ for nothing, you know.”
“What about the clown, Grandpa?” Chrissy, our baby, wanted to know. “And I don’t see any balloon animals.”
“It’s on the list, child. Please, have ye no faith?” Seamus said, lifting his clipboard. “Now, Julia. How close are we with the pigs in a blanket?”
When everything was ready, I called upstairs to Mary Catherine’s cell phone.
“Mary, I just got a call into work, and Seamus is nowhere to be found. Could you come down for emergency babysitting?”
“Give me five minutes, Mike,” she said sadly.
She was there in three.
“Hello?” Mary Catherine said as she stepped slowly into the darkened apartment.
I hit the lights.
“Surprise!” we yelled.
Mary Catherine started crying as all the kids lined up and handed her their gifts with a hug. There were a lot of Starbucks cards and World’s Best Teacher mugs. When Hallmark starts its World’s Best Nanny line, we’ll be the first customers. I thought MC was going to need resuscitation when Chrissy handed over her present: a