Bright Lights, Big Christmas(7)

“Too much information,” Kerry said hastily.

“You did ask.”

“Hey, Mom, do you remember Lombardi’s?”

“The Italian restaurant on the corner? Of course. We used to eat dinner there every Saturday night. Is it still there?”

“Yeah. The granddaughter runs it with a cousin. Last night, I was sitting at the bar, eating soup, and I had this flashback to when I was a kid, and this nice old lady showed me how to twirl my spaghetti on the back of a spoon.”

“Anna. The owner. She spoiled you rotten, stuffing your pockets full of her amaretti cookies. And Matteo, her husband…”

Kerry was watching the activity across the street as her mother reminisced. The tall man in the puffer jacket was back.

“Gotta go, Mom,” she said, disconnecting.

She sprinted across the street, dodging traffic.

Puffer Coat Man was now sitting in the car, talking on the phone.

“Excuse me,” she said, pounding on the driver’s side window with her fist. He glanced over at her and raised one finger, like, Hang on. Unlike you, I’m a super-busy self-important CEO-slash-rock-star-secret-agent man of mystery.

“Hey!” she hollered. “Are you gonna move this car, or just use it as a phone booth?”

His eyes narrowed and he lowered the phone, and then the window.

“Is there a problem?”

“Hell yeah, there’s a problem. I’ve been waiting for this parking spot since yesterday. I’ve already gotten two tickets and been propositioned by some skeevy dude who seems to think I’m turning tricks from my trailer. I’m living on stale Doritos and deli coffee, so my blood sugar’s low and my bladder is full, and I’ve really, really gotta pee, so I need you to move this car. Like, now.”

Mercedes Man removed his mirrored aviator glasses and looked her up and down.

It wasn’t a pretty picture, Kerry knew. Her long brown hair was greasy, so she’d shoved it up under a trucker hat she’d found in the trailer. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she’d been wearing the same grubby clothes—for the past two days.

Naturally, Mercedes Man had blue eyes the color of the Caribbean and the perfect amount of chin stubble and those Bambi eyelashes God always wasted on men who already had too much going in their favor.

“Find another parking spot, why don’t you? The city’s full of ’em.” The window started to slide upward, and he returned to his secret agent phone call with a dismissive nod in her direction.

Kerry was not proud of what happened next. She pounded on the hood of the car with her fists and kicked the tires. “I. Need. This. Space,” she shrieked, her fury boiling over like a pent-up stream. She started slapping at the driver’s side window, but suddenly, she felt a thick arm wrap around her waist and physically lift her off the pavement.

“Whoa! Whoa, little sis!”

She turned her head. It was Murphy, who’d heard the ruckus.

“Calm down, Kerry,” Murphy was saying. He lowered her to the ground. “Get ahold of yourself, will ya?”

Mercedes Man was out of the car now. “Murph, do you know this lunatic?”

“Afraid so,” Murphy said. “Patrick McCaleb, meet my little sister, Kerry. She’s, uh, worked up because we’ve been waiting for this spot to open up. You know, because it’s where we always set up the trailer, in front of the tree stand.”

Patrick looked over at the tree stand, and then at the trailer. He slapped his forehead. “Oh, man. Sorry. Of course you guys always park here. My bad. I wish you’d said something earlier. I feel awful.”

“I didn’t realize this car was yours, or I would have,” Murphy said. “But, uh, would you mind? We need to park the trailer here so we can run the power line from the café.”

“Moving it right now,” Patrick said. “And, uh, I do apologize.” He held out his hand, gloved in fine leather, to Kerry, whose fingertips were stained orange from the Doritos.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” Kerry said, wiping her hands on the back of her jeans. “Guess I kind of lost it there. Nice to meet you, Patrick.”

“Likewise,” Patrick said. He got in the Mercedes, started the engine, and pulled into the street.





chapter 5





Murphy made a fire in a steel drum trash can, feeding it with Christmas tree trimmings and a stash of firewood he’d brought along in his own truck. Kerry stood in front of the fire, extending her hands to the warmth.

“Okay, I’m hitting the sack now,” her brother announced. He handed her his phone and the credit card square attached to it. “Anyone wants their tree delivered, take down the address and phone number. Got it?”

Queenie thumped her feathery tail and moved beside Murphy, who held out his hand, palm down. “Stay, girl. Stay with Kerry.”

“Wait. You know that guy?”

Murphy yawned. “Which guy?”

“Patrick. Mercedes Man.”

“Yeah. He’s all right. Lives in the neighborhood. Does something in an office.”

“I saw him with a boy earlier. Is that his son?”

“Yeah. Austin. Okay, I’m out. Wake me up at nine and I’ll take the night shift.”