Page 101 of Hot Momosa

Leo

I setthe worn copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar on the dresser and stared down at the sleeping child. It’d taken two stories, but I’d managed to get him to take a nap without a tantrum.

And then…my phone rang.

I fumbled to get the damned thing out of my pocket.

Gunnar sat upright and glared at me as if I’d tricked him—which I suppose I had.

“Marchionni.”

“This is Artie, Artie Guzman. There’s a problem with Eugene. He’s refusing to eat.” His nasally voice drilled into my ear.

That’s odd.

Normally, Eugene had the biggest appetite of all the poodles. I’d sworn the pup would eat until he fell over if given the chance. “Did you follow the recipe I sent you?”

“Yes, of course.” He sighed. “I think he misses you. Can I bring the Three Poodle-teers to your place for dinner?”

“Sure. I’ll be here. If not, you have the key and the alarm code.” I’d questioned my sanity when I’d given him access to my condo, but he’d insisted on taking over dog-walking responsibilities on my nights with the dogs.

“Very good. Very good, indeed. See you tonight.” He hung up.

The phone rang again.

“Artie, did you forget something?”

Sirens wailed in the background, but Stuart’s voice came through loud and clear. “Enzo and Dahlia were shot. They were taken to Tulane Medical Center an hour ago.”

My brain misfired.

Shot? An hour? What the fuck?

“I would have called sooner, but my phone was in the SUV when the police arrived.”

Nothing he said made any sense, but I didn’t give a rat’s ass where he’d left his phone. I grabbed the shiny blanket and Gunnar and headed for the door. “How bad?”

“I didn’t get a good look at the wounds. Enzo was in bad shape.” Stuart took a deep breath. “Dahlia was bleeding from her side, but conscious. Shanna went with her in the ambulance.”

I grabbed my keys from the counter and ran to the elevator. “Not with Enzo?”

“They didn’t give her the option.”

I could barely hear him over Gunnar’s cries. “Where are you?”

“Following Dahlia’s ambulance.”

“How did this happen? Did you see who did this?” I tucked Gunnar close and barreled out of the building. I had to run the gauntlet of reporters, some of whom had learned of the shooting before me. “Forget it. We’ll talk when I get there.”

“I’ll call Marco. Someone should speak to your mother.”

Oh God. Ma. She’s going to flip.

“Thank you.” I pressed the key fob to unlock my car, buckled Gunnar in, and damned near plowed down a reporter or two as I sped toward the hospital.

“It’s okay, Gunnar. Please stop crying.” I’d longed for the day I could tell my mother he was my son since before he’d been born, but I’d never imagined it would happen like this.

Dahlia and I had been through more shit than any two people should have to endure. We loved, we’d split, and we’d found each other again. We were so fucking close I could taste the happily-ever-after on her lips.

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