Hand Tossed Read online

  “That’s very sad, and very beautiful.”

  I’ve encountered many people who thought my mom’s choice of name was morbid. Many more people thought it was inappropriate since the rest of the women in the family have “C” names. Our grandmother thought Mom was marking me for some kind of doom. Looking back on the wreckage of my life so far? Grandma was not wrong.

  I am indeed marked for doom. Or chaos, at best.

  Leo’s kind words make me feel cautiously comfortable as I sit with him. “Thank you, I agree.”

  We share a silence that’s not quite awkward but not quite cozy, either. I think I know what’s happening here. He already knows I lied on my application, and he’s trying to make me feel better about not giving me the job.

  Leo stands without another word, goes to a cardboard box stacked against the wall, and pulls out a ball cap emblazoned with a lion logo and the words “Leo’s Pizzeria.”

  “You start now,” he says.

  My jaw drops. “Really?”

  “You’re surprised.” It’s not a question.

  “I just thought you’d figured out—”

  He looks at me curiously, and I say nothing more about what he might have or have not figured out.

  “Never mind. Awesome. Thank you so much!”

  “No, thank you, Diana.”

  Moments later, my bewildered and lucky self is back in my car, on my way to my first delivery.

  I don’t have GPS on this piece of crap car, of course, so I tap the directions into my phone and make my way to the west side of town.

  The drive is uneventful and just long enough to allow me to calm my nerves. I deliver the pizza to a nice older woman who gives me a modest tip, and then I make my way to the second stop on the opposite side of town. By this time, I’ve got the windows cracked, and I’m singing along to my favorite song on the radio, telling myself this is easy. I don’t know what I was worried about.

  When I arrive at the Main Street address and walk up to the pleasant suburban oak front door, I have no idea what could be waiting for me on the other side. The middle-aged man with a nondescript face looks me up and down.

  I force a smile and say, “Medium pepperoni and mushroom?”

  He pauses his gaze at my chest, and I wish I hadn’t worn this tight tee-shirt with the words stretched across my boobs. But it was the only one clean, and I don’t even have money to do laundry right now. My mountaintop mood begins to teeter on the edge of a landslide. It’s that pause, combined with a widening of the eyes, the moistening of the lips. I recognize it, and I don’t like it. It’s the harbinger of unpleasant things about to happen.

  “I ordered a pizza, all right,” he says, adding, “I didn’t know it came with a side of pretty girl.”

  Oh, no.

  I stammer and clear my throat. “Just the p-pizza.”

  He smirks at me and says, “Hold on, I’ve got your tip in here.” The man holds the door wide and invites me to come inside to wait.

  “No thanks, I’ll just wait right here,” I say.

  He’s already turned away, so he looks at me over his shoulder, “There’s no need to wait out there in the heat. Come on in and have a sweet tea?”

  He phrases it like a question, but I can see the strange look on his face, like he will be very pissed off if I don’t come in.

  The desperate part of me wants to nudge me along. Just go in and get your tip, Diana. You need every dollar you can get.

  Thank god for the still small voice instilled by my parents and older sisters to counteract every one of my terrible instincts. Sure, you’ll have your tip. But no one will ever find your body.

  Thinking quickly, I say, “No, I’m sorry. It’s company policy that I do not come inside. I’ll wait for my tip right here, thanks.”

  The man visibly deflates, and then his ears redden with low-boiling anger as he walks away. Meanwhile, I’m still standing here with the pizza in this giant, heavy, insulated sleeve. He makes me wait; it must be five minutes before he returns with a fistful of cash.

  “It’s really not necessary to tip,” I say.

  Abruptly, he grabs the pizza before I’ve even removed it entirely from the sleeve, and shoots me a look as if I’ve crossed him somehow.

  “No, honey. Here you go. You take your tip and run along. May I suggest you buy some modest clothes with it.”

  He crams the stack of bills into my hand. I want to refuse and throw them back at him, but he’s already slammed the door in my face.

  My hands shaking, I motor back to Leo’s Pizzeria in a fog. This was a terrible idea. This was supposed to be my last-resort job, and I can’t even manage to not piss people off doing a straightforward task. Then again, fuck that guy. None of his business what clothes I wear. Maybe the service industry is not for me if this is how the general public behaves.

  When I arrive back at Leo’s, the manager, Toby, is waiting for me by the register with a sour look on his face.

  “I thought you said you’d done this before,” he says.

  I open my mouth, ready to defend myself, but I know I have no leg to stand on. He’s caught me in a lie. “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “You look at the orders and take as many as you can,” he says, showing me the tickets. “You could have taken these three, then on your way back across town, you would have picked up this fourth order because it’s on the way to the third one.”

  Relieved that he has not, in fact, found me out in a lie, I start to defend myself, but a commanding voice cuts across the dining room.

  “Diana? Come with me, please.”

  Again?

  Good lord, that man knows how to put me on edge.

  As I follow him back to his office for a second time today, I have to ask myself: am I nervous in a dreading kind of way, or is this an excited-to-be-alone-with-him kind of way?

  Having just returned from that pretty disgusting interaction with that pizza customer, I can’t trust myself to know the difference at the moment.

  Chapter Four

  Leo

  I don’t like how spooked Diana looks when she comes back from her first delivery.

  She looks only slightly less pale now, back in my office.

  “Why do you look so freaked out? What happened?”

  “This was all a mistake.” She proceeds to tell me about a truly horrifying interaction on her second delivery. By the time she’s finished her story, my blood boils and my rage pours off me.

  “You won’t ever have to worry about delivering pizza again to that guy’s house.”

  She protests, “I don’t want to piss off the rest of the staff. I can handle him.”

  I hold up my hand and say, “I’m cutting him off. He’s not getting any more food from me. He can keep his money.”

  Her jaw drops. “I’m costing you money on my first day. This can’t be good for business.”

  “I do what I have to do to protect my staff,” I say.

  Diana’s face is full of regret, and I hate that I’ve played any role in making her feel that way. “This always happens,” she says. “I’m always the centerpiece to whatever drama is going on, and I hate that. I don’t want to cause trouble. I just want to pay my bills and be a good person.”

  I don’t know where her feelings of negativity come from, but I intend to find out as soon as possible. I want to know every single thing about this woman.

  I stand up and cross over to her, workplace protocols be damned. I sit down next to her and say, “Hold up. You were just doing your job. A customer caused a problem, and I’m fixing it.”

  She shakes her head and stares at her shoes. “You’re more than fixing it. This is above and beyond.”

  My feelings are all over the place. Anger at that idiot customer. Annoyance at Toby. Curiosity at why she’s beating herself up. But I’m determined to make her feel better about what’s happening. “I’m responsible for you, Diana.”

  Her eyes widen, and she finally meets my eyes. I see a tear forming
in the corner, and it feels like a punch in the gut. “Be-because I’m your employee? I’m just a delivery driver, and it’s my first day. You don’t even know me.”

  “That, and because I can tell something else is going on with you. And I want you to know, I’m gonna take care of everything. Whatever drama you think you’re the cause of? You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  Diana blurts out a sudden, unexpected laugh, then looks at me skeptically. “You’re going to take care of everything? First of all, you have no idea what you’re talking about. And second, I appreciate you being a decent employer, but I don’t need a man to take care of me and my personal problems.”

  Against all propriety, I lean in closer, careful not to touch her. But oh man, do I want to touch. I’d love to wrap her up in my arms and inhale her sweet and spicy scent of ginger and dark chocolate. But I can’t do that; I shouldn’t even be thinking it unless I want to get slapped with a lawsuit. And yet, I can’t keep my eyes off those pouty lips, imagining myself catching that full bottom lip in a distracting kiss. At the moment I’d settle for wiping away her tears if that were allowed. I hand her a box of tissues. She takes one out and thanks me. “When I say not to worry about anything, I mean anything. Not ever again. Now, I’ll take the hat back, please.”

  Diana’s gray-blue eyes blink in shock at my outstretched hand. “Oh no. I’m being fired. That’s what this is about.” She’s dabbing tears away while her lovely eyes well up some more.

  “Sweetheart. I’m going to teach you how to make pizza.”

  She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. I brace myself for the punch, or the scolding, for calling her “sweetheart.” I would deserve it.

  “But your sign said you were hiring drivers and wait staff,” she points out.

  Before I can stop myself, I blurt it all out. “I have to keep my eye on you, Diana. No customers are speaking to you ever again. That’s how angry I am at that guy. That’s what this is about, okay?”

  For a moment, she looks at me like I’m suffering from delusions, then shakes her head in disbelief. “I’m not fired?”

  I laugh. “No. You’ve been promoted.”

  Chapter Five

  Diana

  I watch in amazement as Leo hands over the rest of the deliveries to the other drivers, as well as an ashen-looking Toby.

  And then he insists that I go home and rest up for tomorrow. “Big day. You’re going to learn all about how to make pizza, starting with the dough.”

  He holds open the door, and to my surprise, follows me to my car. He really meant what he said about protecting me. I imagine tomorrow this will wear off after he sees what a disaster I am in the kitchen. My sisters Cara and Cherise know their way around an oven. Me? I’m like I am with everything else—a mess.

  Still, tomorrow should be fun while it lasts. I’ve seen the way this man with his veiny forearms handles dough. My family has visited this restaurant several times over the years, and this man makes theater out of tossing dough in the air. It’s like watching a magician.

  “You don’t need to escort me to my car,” I say.

  “Yes. I do.”

  “It’s 8 p.m., and it’s not dark out.”

  “So?”

  “So I think I’m taking up too much of your time, Leo.”

  “Wrong,” he says, leveling me with a look that sends shivers down my spine as he leans against my car. As I unlock it, I marvel at how much space he takes up. He’s not huge or tall, but the way he stands, leans with his whole arm outstretched over the window frame, he looks imposing nonetheless. He’s sturdy and thick in all the right places. His scent of woodsmoke and fresh bread makes me feel both hungry and intoxicated.

  Before I close the door and drive away, he leans in a little too close to me and says, “You’re not taking up nearly enough of my time, Diana.”

  In my rearview mirror, I watch his reflection shrink as I leave Leo’s Pizzeria and head out down the street toward home. What is his deal?

  It hits me like a bolt of lightning as I sit at the stoplight. “Oh, Diana. He likes you. You incredible dummy!”

  It took me a minute to notice this because I’m too used to creeps being so blatant about hitting on me that I don’t discern when a genuinely decent guy shows an interest.

  But is he a decent guy? His energy is so dominant and mysterious. And he’s your boss? Isn’t my boss supposed to avoid favoritism?

  Hell, it’s nice to be the favorite for once. God, Diana. Middle child, much?

  Should I be entertaining this thought, though? Based on my experience, better to err on the side of extreme caution. But I’m alone at the moment, so I set aside caution and enjoy this feeling.

  This man, this bona fide artist, finds me attractive and would knock someone’s lights out for calling me a slut. That’s enough to make me enjoy the rest of my evening.

  But my enjoyment is soon destroyed, once again, by an unwelcome presence: red and blue lights reflecting against my windshield.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  I pull over and try to breathe. In and out. It’s going to be okay, Diana. You just gotta own up to your mess and explain how you’re going to fix it.

  Maybe the cops have a payment plan this time instead of a massive fine? Perhaps the jail is full. Ha.

  One can always hope.

  Chapter Six

  Leo

  I go against everything I stand for when I hop into my car to follow her home.

  For the record, I don’t do this. I don’t follow women home without them knowing about it.

  Diana has brought out a beast inside of me that I don’t recognize. When she told me what that guy said to her, I wanted to go to his house and punch him in the face. I mean, I want to hit every asshole in the face, but right now, I literally feel ready to fight that douchebag. I could burn his house down and blow up his car, and holy shit…I’m no better than the riff-raff my Pops hangs out with at this point.

  I forget about all the things that are wrong with me following her home, and I just go with my instincts. Being close to her, I feel settled. Calm. Centered.

  It feels wrong when she’s away from me.

  What is this? Is it love? Do I actually love this woman who I can see bopping along to the radio three cars ahead of me with the window open, her blue-black hair flailing around?

  When we cross the intersection, a city police car has sidled up right behind Diana’s Fiesta and bleats its warning siren.

  “Oh shit.”

  My hackles go up, and I park down the block to watch this play out. What in the world could they be pulling her over for?

  I watch as she rolls down her window and gives the officer a hesitant smile. I know that look. She thinks she’s guilty of something. She’s talking with her hands, and the officer is looking at her driver’s license. He gestures at her with it, waving it around in the air, and then heads back to his patrol car, I assume to call it in.

  This looks at first like a routine traffic stop, but it’s now turned into something else. Diana covers her face with her hands and leans forward against the steering wheel.

  She’s in trouble.

  My brain has left the station; all that’s left to manage the tracks is every nerve in my body. I have to close the physical distance between Diana and myself: that’s all I know. I have to help her and be close to her. Instinct, passion, feelings have taken over. I’m utterly unregulated.

  Leaving my Jeep at the side of the road, I approach the patrol car. This goes against all sound judgment, but there’s nothing left upon seeing Diana look troubled.

  “That’s my employee,” I say to the officer. “Is there something I can help with here?”

  The officer looks over at me sideways. “Yeah, pal, you could not interfere with police business,” the officer says. I read his badge.

  “Sgt. Bernard, I’d like to help in any way I can. My employee seems to be down on her luck.”

  He glances up at me. “You might want to ret
hink hiring her. She’s wanted for missing a court date and has a suspended license from a drunk driving charge.”

  I said I wanted to get to know Diana; I just didn’t think I’d be learning about her through a law enforcement source. Still, there has to be more to this story.

  “Are you sure you’ve got the right girl?”

  “Girl,” he snickers. “This young lady has been a thorn in the side of this precinct since she was a juvenile. Although the juvie stuff is officially sealed, blah, blah, blah.” He uses air quotes around the word “sealed.” I do not like that one bit; it implies he and his buddies jaw about everyone’s juvenile records.

  Suddenly, the police officer’s face changes as he studies me. “Wait a minute. You’re the pizza guy!”

  I nod my head. “Leo,” I say, holding out my hand. “I know you; I see you back there in the kitchen, doing your thing….”

  What follows is a conversation I have around town every time I’m not in my house or in my work kitchen. Everybody recognizes me as the guy tossing around the pizza dough, and everyone wants to have a conversation about it. And this is why I rarely leave the house.

  It’s not that I’m a jerk. If I didn’t like people, I wouldn’t be in the food business. I’m just quickly drained by a lot of people’s energy.

  Diana is different. I don’t feel drained around her. I feel energized. That’s why I need to protect her at all costs.

  I’m not proud of what happens next. But it’s my only option to keep her out of jail.

  Namedropping Frank Parisi, my ex-cop brother-turned-security guru has bought Diana some time.

  The offer of free pizza for a year doesn’t hurt, either.

  When the officer drives away, Diana sees me.

  Her eyes go wide, her mouth drops open, and she hightails it back to my car.

  I can’t tell from the look on her face if she’s hopping mad or grateful.

  She has every right to be whatever emotion she picks.