Smoke
A few months back, Mickey Finney made threats, veiled ones, but still threats. The idling car across the street from the restaurant seemed suspicious. So, imagine my shock when it wasn’t one of my enemies less-than-subtle kiss-asses, but a tired-looking woman with her head over the steering wheel and a screaming baby in her back seat.
She was tiny, waist that didn’t give away the fact that she’d squeezed out a kid. Her skin was a smooth light brown, those beautiful Latina features set in a face without a line on it. I was sure she was still young, but the world-weary look in her eyes told me she was no child.
The woman walked ahead of me, her arms around that baby with the massive black eyes, his hands buried in the front of the dingy uniform she wore. Couldn’t blame the kid. She had plenty up top I wouldn’t mind playing with myself.
Shit.
I winced, blinking away the stupid thought at the imagined flash of my father’s glare, accusing me of being a prick for checking out a nursing mother’s rack. Couldn’t be helped. I had a pulse, and this one was pretty.
“You got a man?” I asked her, leading her toward the restaurant, holding up my hand in apology when she shot me a frown. Pretty and a lot of fire. Couldn’t say I hated that. “No offense meant. Just wanted to know if there was someone I should call or have one of my boys pick up,” I said, steering her away from a slick spot of ice near a snow-covered drain. Iwasa nosy fuck, but I was about to bring her around my people. I had to know who I was dealing with. “I’m just saying, if it were me and I had a woman and a kid stranded in a place they clearly didn’t know, and some asshole comes around bringing them in from the cold, I’d want a heads-up.”
She relaxed, but only enough to ask a question. “You wouldn’t say thank you first?”
“First,” I said, shaking my head, “I’d wanna know his angle.”
“And when you knew it?” she asked.
She paused in front of the door when I grabbed the handle, one black eyebrow lifted like she couldn’t move until I gave her a good answer. So, I did my best. “If I like his angle, then I thank him. If I don’t, I teach the fucker a lesson.”
The eyebrow lowered, and there was no frown lingering on her face. I got that maybe she liked what I had to say. Maybe she liked the little possessive streak I had when it came to what I saw as mine. But the truth was, I made sure no woman was ever mine for long.
“You know, you shouldn’t curse so much around babies,” she told me.
That made me laugh, an honest burst of amusement I hadn’t felt in years. “You think he knows what I mean when I call someone a fucker?”
She grinned, glancing down at the boy in her arms. “I think he knows more than any of us realize.”
“All right then, Miss…whoever the hell you are. I promise not to curse around your kid…whoever the hellheis.”
“Fine,” she said, smiling for the first time since I’d gotten a good look at her.
One glance at that pretty smile had me thinking she should do that a hell of a lot more.
She moved her hair behind her ear, slipping her gaze to the door where I had my fingers curled around the handle. “You gonna open it, Mr…whoeveryouare?”
“Smoke,” I told her, waiting for the laugh I knew would come. Most women who didn’t know me, who knew nothing about meormy family, tended to laugh when they heard my name. I hadn’t met many of those, but it’d happened a time or two. “Smoke Carelli.”
The name didn’t make her frown, but there was obvious recognition in her features. “I’m guessing your mama didn’t name you Smoke.”
I shook my head. There wasn’t time for the long story of where I got that name. Besides, it was cold as hell out here.
She nodded again. “Okay, fine then. Smoke.” She stretched out a hand, curling her sleepy-looking baby closer to her chest as she offered it to me. “I’m Maggie Ramirez, and this—” she moved the kid, his head wobbling against her collarbone before he blinked up at me “—is my boy, Mateo.”
“Maggie and Mateo…Ramirez?” It was a question with a lot of meaning. If she had no man and the kid had her name, then there was no man at all and she was on her own. That explained the shitty uniform and shittier car.
“Yes,” she said, her voice quiet, but her chin lifted. “I don’t have a husband, and Mateo’s only got me.”
“Well, come on, Maggie.” I opened the door, exhaling as the warmth from inside the restaurant began to chip away at the tightness in my fingers. “Tonight, you’ve both got a big family that’s gonna get all in your business.”
“Really, that’s sweet, but I just need to borrow a phone to call mytía.” We moved through the lobby and were immediately drawn into a small crowd. My uncle Vinnie and cousin Leo were arguing about the Pats’ chances at the Super Bowl. Maggie didn’t need to hear that shit.
“Where is she?” I asked, holding her out of the way of a server who charged from the kitchen with a tray of shots.
“In the city.”
I nodded for her to follow me behind the waiter but stopped when she tugged on my arm. “What’s the problem?”
