Read Online Burning Midnight by Will McIntosh - Free Book Online Page A

It was below freezing, and would get even colder as the sun set.
    “It could be a lot of things,” Sully said.
    “Like what?”
    “Maybe her mother’s sick. Or her cat died.”
    They crossed the parking lot to Dom’s car, their heads down.
    “If it was something like that, she would have told us right up front. ‘I don’t feel like going out. My cat died.’ ” Dom raised a gloved finger. “But if you’re talking to people you don’t know well, you wouldn’t say, ‘I don’t feel like going out, because my boyfriend dumped me.’ It’s too personal.”
    He had a point. “We just got our fall grades,” Sully said. “Maybe she flunked something.”
    Dom burst out laughing. “She’s a brain. She probably got straight As.”
    As they pulled out, Sully said, “You’re probably right, then. She just broke up with her genius boyfriend.” Dom had pulled a C-plus, two Cs, and a D. To his surprise, Sully had managed all Bs except for a C in algebra. Pretty solid. No one on either side of his family had gone to college; he came from a line of mechanics, secretaries, and factory workers. Further back, to his great-grandparents’ generation, it was farmers and coal miners.
    Mandy lived in Scarsdale, six or seven miles away, but a thousand miles removed from Yonkers. Houses there were mansions, with lawns like golf courses.
    “There she is,” Dom said.
    Mandy was waiting at the end of her driveway wearing a big blue parka with fake fur lining the hood, and heeled boots that made her look freakishly tall. She seemed all legs. Her nostrils were red around the rims, her eyes bloodshot.
    “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, responding to their questioning looks as she climbed into the front passenger seat. “Let’s just have a good time.”
    As Dom headed for the Metro-North train station, Mandy looked back at Sully. “Who are you guys shopping for?”
    “I need to get something for a friend,” Sully said. “My sphere-hunting partner.”
    “Who Sully happens to be madly in love with,” Dom said. It was so obviously intended to signal that Sully was not available that Sully almost laughed.
    “Oh, really?” Mandy said. “Maybe I can help you pick something out.”
    “That’d be great. Although I don’t think she’s a jewelry or clothes person. Not your typical girlie girl.”
    Mandy tilted her head, gave him a look. “And I am?”
    “True.” Mandy was wearing a little mascara, but no other makeup. Her parka was something Sully could see Hunter wearing. “Yeah, you might be the perfect consultant for Hunter.”
    “I’ll take that as a compliment, given that you’re madly in love with her.”
    Sully started to say he wasn’t in love with her, but decided it wasn’t worth it. He was in something with her.
    On the train, Dom peppered Mandy with questions about where she hung out (at home, mostly), what music she liked (obscure indie stuff Sully had never heard of; she was hard-core organic—refused to listen to any singer who’d burned Slate Grays, which ruled out pretty much all Top 40 music). Sully was happy to let Dom carry the conversation as snow flurries melted against the train’s windows. He passed the time thinking about Christmas, imagining conversations he might have with Hunter while they relaxed on the couch.
    “What’s your last name?” Mandy asked Dom. “You sound like you’re Italian.”
    The question pulled Sully out of his reverie.
    “Cucuzza.” Dom said it with a well-practiced lightness. Sully knew that inside, he was dying.
    “Any relation to, you know?” Mandy asked.
    To the infamous Tony Cucuzza, she meant. Destroyer of 276 priceless works of art at the Met.
    “Nope,” Dom said, his tone still light.
    “So your family is Italian?” Mandy asked.
    “Yup. Third-generation American. My great-grandparents made the boat ride.”
    “I’m first generation. My parents were both kids when my grandparents brought them here from Korea.”
    Sully tuned out.