Free Jersey Angel by Beth Ann Bauman Page B

dinner?”
    Dad rescues me and steers me out the room. “What a nuthouse, huh? Come have my ravioli. I insist,” he whispers.
    “I’m good,” I say, beelining for the door and grabbing my jacket and bag. “Maybe we can hang out soon?”
    “Sure thing.” He wraps me in a hug and kisses my forehead. “Where are you off to tonight?”
    “A party?”
    “I remember parties,” he says. “Then you get old and go to bed at nine-thirty.”
    “Dad, you seriously need to have fun.”
    “
You
need to have fun. You’re young.”
    “Angel, I just love spaghetti,” Abby calls from her booster chair.
    “Me too, Ab,” I say, craning my neck to see her. She smiles sweetly, her mouth ringed with red gravy, and gives me a little wave.

chapter 10
    They are cozy, Joey and Carmella. Here we are on the couch at the party’s end with most everyone clearing out or already gone. I’m slumped at one end, Carmella is asleep and curled on Joey’s lap in the middle, and pregnant Sherry is asleep at the other end, her head tilted back against the cushions.
    Joey shifts Carmella’s weight. “My shoulder fell asleep,” he says. I grab her bag and jacket and hold them on my lap. She looks so trusting sprawled out against him, her dark hair falling across her cheek and her mouth sort of open. Her shirt is scrunched down a bit in the front and her bra strap shows. It’s satiny blue. I fix her top, and she stirs a little but goes right on sleeping in Joey’s arms.
    “Taking off soon?” he asks.
    I nod, but I’m not ready to wrap it up. “How’s the fancy cheese these days?”
    “I’m addicted,” he says, shaking his head. “And getting a gut.”
    “Get out. And since when are you vain?”
    “A gut, Angel. A gut!”
    Inggy and Cork walk through the living room, Inggy hanging on Cork’s shoulder. Cork barely looks at me, but Ing turns and yawns, waving goodbye. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
    “Yup,” I say.
    Joey gives Carmella a little jostle but she doesn’t wake.
    “Too gentle,” I tell him. “Give her a poke.”
    “She’ll get up,” he says, giving her another jiggle.
    “Oh, you
like
her,” I tease.
    “And who do you like these days?”
    “Well, Sardi, I’ll tell you how it is. I’m in between adventures. There’s a definite lull.”
    “Someday,” he whispers. “You’ll fall for somebody.”
    “Maybe I fell for you,” I say, growing warm all over.
    He shakes his head. “I didn’t feel it.”
    “You know how I would know if I was loved?” Sherry says from the other end of the couch. She sits up, rubs her eyes, and settles her hands on her big stomach. “If a guy carried me over a puddle. I saw that once in a movie. This girl is a skinny little thing all decked out in fierce heels, and there’s this huge puddle. Her guy picks her up like she’s a delicate flower and carries her over and places her down as fine as can be on the curb. To me that speaks of love.” She takes a sip of Diet Coke, heaves herself off the couch, and waddles away.
    Carmella stirs and yawns, gives her hair a tousle, jingling all her silver bracelets.
    “You should have woke me,” she says.
    “It’s okay,” Joeys says. I hand her her bag and jacket and off they go, hand in hand.
    Kipper Coleman plops down on the couch right next to me and pats my leg. “How about me and you go get a hamburger.” He has good breath, like he was just eating an apple.
    “What’s open?”
    He looks at his watch. “Shoot. Probably nothing. Not even the greasy spoon.”
    “I could eat a hamburger,” I say.
    “Oh, I wish I could make you a hamburger.” He looks at me longingly. “Let me check out the fridge and I’ll report back.” He leaps up and sprints into the kitchen and returns a minute later with an individually wrapped slice of yellow cheese and a dill pickle on a plate. “It was the best I could do.” I open the cheese and take a bite and hold it out to him but he shakes his head and says, “For you.” So I