Page 50 of Gin & Trouble

In the grand scheme of things, my slightly smelly clothes weren’t that big of a deal. The fact Iris hadn’t come into work or called out sick was a big deal. A very big deal as in the size of a small planet.

Iris never missed work, and she had a slight compulsion about answering her phone and texts. Her radio silence scared me.

I dialed her number for the hundredth time and prayed she’d answer. But the call went straight to voicemail. Since I couldn’t imagine why she’d be avoiding me, I assumed her phone had died. And of course, my sleep deprived brain conjured up all sorts of horrid scenarios—all of which ended with Iris hurt, gravely ill, or worse.

Focus, Frankie.

Working on my third cup of coffee, I logged into Dante’s program and downloaded the latest security videos from the Lakeshore Airport. Call me crazy, but I wanted to see Tommaso getting on that plane for myself.

While the file loaded, I called the lab and pressed seven to speak to a representative. I couldn’t understand the hold up. I’d sent them enough of Enzo’s blood to run a million tests.

A pleasant female voice answered, “New Orleans Diagnostic.”

“I would like to check the status of my lab results.”

“Of course. I need to ask you a few questions first.”

I went through the process of confirming my name, address, date of birth, test number, and password. Seriously, I’d opened credit cards with less information.

She said, “I show the report was mailed Wednesday of last week.”

“I haven’t received them. Is there any way you can tell me the results over the phone?” I doubted it was legal or ethical or whatever, but it was worth a shot.

“Unfortunately, no.” The sound of typing filled the silence. “I’m afraid you’ll need to wait for a duplicate report to be mailed.”

And have it get lost again?

Every day of waiting for the United States Postal Service to come through was a day closer to Valentina’s sham of a wedding. I couldn’t wait. “What if I come in person?”

“We can print your results immediately. Be sure you bring two forms of identification including one with a photo.”

“Thank you. I’ll stop by today or tomorrow.” I disconnected and hunkered down to get some work done.

The status bar on the file transfer had stalled at twelve percent. I cancelled the download, backed out, and tried again.

What else can go wrong today?

Mia called.

I should have known better than to tempt fate. “Hello.”

Her voice filled the line the second I pressed answer. “I understand you’re living with Dante Marchionni.”

“Hi Mia. So good to hear from you bright and early on a Monday morning.” If I had to guess, she’d waited until she knew I’d be at my desk to start a telephone version of the Spanish Inquisition.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she snapped.

I didn’t hear a question.

“Since you know where I slept last night. I assume you’ve spoken to Sophia?” It was far too early for this conversation.

“Yes. She said you staying with Dante was her horrible idea. Honestly, Frankie, where is your head at these days? I thought you were the smart sister?”

Once I managed to switch my brain from English to Italian, I couldn’t argue with her logic. I really should have known better than to listen to Sophia. “You’re right. It’s a horrible idea.”

“She tells me you have feelings for him?” Mia made a tsking sound.

I drew a deep calming breath, but it did nothing to settle my temper. I did not appreciate her condescending tone or her butting into my personal life. “Is there an actual reason for this call?”

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