“She said you arranged it,” I tell Bobby, letting him hear the annoyance in my voice.
He closes his eyes like he’s trying to draw the patience necessary for handling this. He walks over to the stereo and turns off the music. “Get out.” He looks at Stacy and jerks his head toward the door.
“Bob-bee!” Stacy protests. “She’s into it. We were having a great time. Come and join in!”
I shoot him a look and shake my head.
Bobby takes a menacing step toward Stacy. “Lexi and I have plans tonight, and they don’t include you. Go on, get out.”
Stacy drops her act, anger flashing across her overly-made-up face.
“How did you get in, anyway?” I demand, my eyes narrowed. I definitely don’t want a repeat of this situation. “Do you still have a key?”
Stacy grins triumphantly. “Cleaning day. The maids still remember me.”
Bobby swears softly in Italian. “Stacy.” He sounds like he’s working to keep his voice level. “It’s over. I willneverpick things up with you again. Now get the fuck out of my apartment.” He reaches for her elbow, but she twists out of his grip and darts around behind the sofa with a squeal of delight. “Ooh, I’m misbehaving!” she calls out. “You’d better spank me!”
“Fanculo,” Bobby mutters. He glowers at her. “Stacy.” His voice is deadly. “You don’t want to cross me.”
She must get the message because she falters, the smile dropping away replaced by anger again. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do? Shoot me? Beat me?” She sends me a wild look. “He likes to hurt women, you know. He abused me.”
“Out.” Bobby uses icy authority. “I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to hear you spoke to Lexi again. You don’t come here, and you’d better not show your face at Swank. If you do, I’m going to send my boys over to take back every gift I ever gave you, plus interest, understand?”
She pales. Apparently Bobby’s found the best leverage on her: greed.
She looks over at me again. “He’ll get tired of you. Just like he got tired of me. Don’t get too comfortable in this fancy apartment because it won’t last!”
I feel sick, but I lift my chin. “Don’t compare yourself to me,” I say evenly. “We’re nothing alike.”
“That’s the truth,” Bobby says.
Stacy throws her wine glass at me. I dodge it, and it smashes into the wall next to me. One of the shards of glass embeds in my upper arm.
“Fuck you both,” Stacy spits, flipping me off.
I wince and pull the triangle of glass out of my arm, which produces a surprising amount of blood.
Bobby turns pale, staring at the blood, and then he snatches Stacy by the throat, pressing her against the wall. “You hurt her,” he growls.
“Bobby!” I cry out, remembering his story about the bloody nose and the gun. He’s not himself. I rush to his side and grab his arm. “Bobby, stop!”
He looks at me, and I don’t recognize the man. His eyes are dark and dead, his face is made of stone.
“Bobby,let her go.”
He looks back at Stacy then at me.
“Bobby.I’m okay.”
He blinks, then suddenly he transforms back to the man I know. He releases her abruptly and steps back. “Fuck.”
Stacy lurches away, snatches up her top then runs in her platform heels to grab her purse from the kitchen, leaving without another word or backward glance.
When Bobby turns his gaze back to me, his expression is wracked with horror.
* * *
Bobby