Free Mafia Chic by Erica Orloff Page B

suddenly started laughing loudly. “What are you talking about, Teddi?”
    “A hunch. Now, listen…when I count to three, we leave this restaurant like we suddenly realized the kitchen was on fire. And we see what Mr. Tall, Dark and Suspicious over there does. If he suddenly gets his check and makes a run for things, then we know he’s following us. And if he and his table mate—” I referred to the man whose back was to us, also with an amazingly perfect haircut “—don’t flinch, then it’s all a little serendipity. You got that?”
    “Got it. I love all this intrigue. I’m channeling my inner Pussy again.”
    “Don’t say that too loudly.”
    “All right…Octopussy.”
    “Okay, Bond girl, one…two…you have your purse and shawl ready?”
    “Ready.”
    I gently lifted my purse into my lap from the floor. “One…two…three!”
    We suddenly leapt from our chairs and hurriedly made our way to the door. No, we weren’t subtle, but we were out to the sidewalk in fifteen seconds.
    “Come on.” I grabbed Di’s arm and made a beeline for an ice cream shop three doors down and half pushed her inside. Peering out the glass at the street, I saw the two men from the bistro suddenly make their way out the door of the restaurant. They stood on the corner, looking first left then right. Next they made their way to an unmarked van and went around the back of it.
    Di gasped. “They were stalking us. Not just one, either. Two rotten little Peeping Toms. Maybe they’ve been spying on us through our bedroom windows.” Di shuddered. “It gives me the creeps. They’re pervs.”
    “You’re half-right, Di. It’s a ‘they’s talking us all right. But they’re not working alone.”
    “Not alone? I have the screaming abdabs!”
    “The what?”
    “I’m terrified! What is going on?”
    “They were feds.”
    “Feds? What the hell are feds? You know, I realize we both supposedly speak English, but I swear to heaven I don’t understand you half the time. More than half the time.”
    “Feds. FBI. They have been tailing my family since…well, since long before I was born. And that haircut and those shoes…the one was a dead ringer for a fed. The van clinched it.”
    “But you don’t have anything to do with the family business. You paid back your grandfather every red cent he lent you to start Teddi’s. You and Quinn. That anal-retentive little tight-butt of an accountant you use made sure of it. So why would these fed-people stalk you?”
    “I believe the FBI would call it surveillance, not stalking. And I don’t know why me. Not yet at least. But it pisses me off.”
    “Oh, God, no. You with a temper tantrum is truly frightening.”
    “Come on.” I grabbed her arm. We braved out into the nippy fall air. I started walking right for the dark blue van.
    “What are you going to do, Teddi?”
    “You’ll see.”
    When we arrived at the van, I went around back to the double doors at the rear. I started banging on them with all my might. “We saw you, you bastards! Open up!”
    There was no noise, no movement, no nothing from the van.
    “Maybe we’ve made a mistake,” Di offered. “Maybe they cut behind the van and then across the street. It is dark out.”
    “There was no mistake. The only thing missing from this guy was a bulletproof vest. And he probably had one on under his shirt.”
    “We know you’re in there!” I screamed, and pounded on the van again. Luckily, we were in the Big Apple, where it takes a lot more than this to attract attention.
    “We’re not leaving!” I screamed again. Turning to Di, I said, “Listen, we’re going to make it so they have to come out. You go to the front of the van and sit on the hood. Just climb right up on the bumper and sprawl back on the hood and front windshield. They’ll come out eventually because they can’t leave otherwise. And trust me, FBI agents drink a lot of fucking coffee. Mother Nature and sheer tiredness will work for us. They have no