Читать книгу Manhattan Serenade: A Novel - Joseph Sinopoli Steven - Страница 13

CHAPTER 6

The slender woman with flashing dark eyes wore black Capri pants and a sleeveless silver top. It played well against her olive skin. She squirmed forward on the sofa, aimed the remote at the television set, and turned it off. Frank Hernandez seated next to her glowered. “Hey, what’re you doing, the ‘Double Jeopardy’ part of the show was about to start.”

Pilar Hernandez pulled back the silky black hair that flowed over her shoulders. “Don’t be mad,” she said. “I’m sorry I sprung the news on you during dinner, but I only found out this afternoon.”

Hernandez kept stoically silent, his gaze glued to the blank screen.

“I understand the idea of having another kid is scary,” Pilar went on. “Frankie, Jr. is just a year old, and I know we’re trying to save money for a house, but you gotta understand—” She stopped, folded her arms under her breasts and looked away.

Hernandez put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around. “Honey, all I’m asking is for time to adjust to the idea,” he said. He caressed her face and kissed her forehead. “You know how much I love you… but… well, I thought we decided to wait until I got my degree, passed the bar, and started making enough money to support another kid,” Hernandez said.

“Do you know the number of years you’re talking about? I’m almost thirty and I don’t want to be an old lady with teenage kids.”

Hernandez bolted to his feet. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m worried about repeating my father’s mistakes. He and my mother had me when they were more or less our ages, and when the pressure of working two jobs to make ends meet was too much for the bastard, he abandoned us and went back to Puerto Rico. I don’t want that kind of pressure on us. I still have a year to go in law school, and I’m worried about the expenses that another kid is going to bring.”

Pilar rose and faced Hernandez. “Why won’t you let me keep my job at the Criminal Courts Building? I’m making good money and the doctor said I was only two-and-a-half months pregnant. When the baby comes I’ll take maternity leave and then return to work.”

Hernandez shook his head vigorously. “No way am I risking something happening to you while you’re pregnant.”

“For crying out loud, Frank. That’s so old-fashioned. I feel fine. I’m only a court interpreter. It isn’t as if I lift heavy objects.”

The sergeant rubbed his face with the palms of his hands and gazed at Pilar. “Okay, fine. But when the baby comes, you stay home. If you go back to work after, it’ll mean your mother will move in with us to take care of Frankie and the baby. We’ll lose our privacy. Don’t you see that?”

Pilar stepped back and placed her hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed resentment. “You’re tellin’ me you don’t like my mother?” she said. “Oye amigo, mi madre es buena gente!” She took two steps toward Hernandez. The sergeant stepped back and extended his hands out in front of him. It was a bad omen whenever Pilar started to argue in Spanish.

“English, please,” he said. “I know your mother is a good person, I have nothing against Antonia. She’s great with Frankie, but remember the old proverb: Juntos pero no revueltos—close but not together. Too much intimacy always brings problems,” he said. He then put his arms around his wife. “Besides, you always complain that she puts too much garlic in her roast pork.”

Pilar giggled and stepped back. “You’re right about that,” she said.

Hernandez’s face relaxed—the storm had passed.

Pilar looked at her husband with a solemn expression. “One thing. Forget what your father did, he’s been dead for a long time. I know you. No way are you going to fall down on the job. Besides, I could work part-time, eh?” she cooed.

Hernandez smiled faintly. “We’ll see.” He checked his watch. “Oh-oh, have to run or I’ll be late for class.”

“Don’t worry about Jeopardy, Tivo’s taping it,” Pilar said.

Striking a mock dictatorial pose, Hernandez grinned and raised his forefinger. “Good, no beatings tonight.” He placed the open palm of his right hand against her stomach. “Take care of Frankie’s brother.”

“Could be a girl, you know.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” Hernandez said, but when he saw Pilar’s frown he added briskly, “Just kidding.”

Moments later Frank Hernandez walked out of the building. He came into the focus of a 250mm telephoto lens that was aimed at him from the half-opened tinted window of a late model black Mustang. It was parked in the shadows across the street.

Click, click, click, click… The shutter snapped several times as Hernandez walked to the corner and turned toward the rear parking area. When he disappeared, the lens was replaced by a hand that flicked a lit cigarette butt out the window. The Mustang’s engine then roared and sped into the night.