Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(46)

“Thanks,” Aunt Barb said, heading to the stairwell with her mother.

“Frank, meet me in the kitchen, okay?” Judy headed for the kitchen, but when she looked back, he was heading back to the living room. “Frank, can you come with me a second?”

“Right now? The overtime’s about to start.”

“Please, it’s important.” Judy went ahead into the kitchen, which was a mess. Open takeout containers of Chinese food dotted the counter, dirty dishes sat stacked in the sink, and the entire room reeked of chicken curry.

“I’m going to clean it up, so don’t worry.” Frank hurried in with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t know you were coming home, and we didn’t get the chance. But don’t worry, you know I’m going to do it.”

“Why don’t you just clean it up as you go, Frank?” Judy couldn’t keep the irritability from her tone.

“The guys brought the takeout over for the first game, but now we’re on the third game. I’ll do it before we go to bed.”

“Also, please tell me you’re not chasing Percocets with beer.”

“I had one beer, and my wrist feels a hell of a lot better.”

“Forget it.” Judy knew she was giving him a hard time, but she couldn’t help it. She was still frazzled from the confrontation with Bennie. “I called you but you didn’t call back. I texted you, too.”

“Sorry, I forgot to plug in my phone and the battery wore down.” Frank glanced back to the living room, impatiently. “The commercial’s over. What is it you want to talk about?”

“It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? My mother, my aunt?” Judy gestured upstairs. “Remember, I told you today that my aunt is having a mastectomy tomorrow. I had to bring her in town to stay with us because tonight, at her house, there were two men—”

“FRANK, GET IN HERE!” Cartman hollered from the living room. “IT’S STARTING! YOU’RE GONNA MISS IT!”

“Babe, let me just go see what’s going on.”

“Penny, no!” Judy said, forgetting who she was talking to. “Frank, no. Don’t go. Wait a minute.”

“Can we talk when the game is over, honey?” Frank’s brown eyes turned pleading.

“No, because you can’t stay here until the game is over. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“What are you talking about? The game will be over any minute, as soon as somebody scores.”

“No it won’t. Football time is different from normal time.” Judy had learned the hard way that sports had its own time zone. “In football, two minutes means ten minutes, ten minutes means twenty minutes, and a single overtime can turn into double overtime, right?”

Frank’s eyes lit up. “Your lips to God’s ears.”

“No, that’s the problem. You have to leave the apartment. That’s what I would’ve told you if you’d called me back.” Judy skipped the part about her getting attacked, because evidently it wasn’t as important as a stupid football game. “My aunt needs to get to bed, and she’s going to stay with us. She and my mother have to sleep in our bed because that’s the nicest, and I am going to stay on the daybed. You have go to your grandfather’s for a few weeks. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped—”

“What, why?” Frank looked at her like she was crazy, and Judy was losing track of how often that had been happening lately.

“Because, randomly, her house isn’t safe. A friend of hers was stowing all this secret money in it, which we put in a safe at work. It’s an emergency, and I really need you to work with me on this.”

“On what?” Frank edged to the right so he could still see the TV, and Judy was beginning to lose patience.

“Are you listening to me? She has to be at the hospital at six in the morning, and she needs to get to bed. She obviously can’t sleep with this noise level. You guys have to go somewhere else to watch the game.”

“No way!” Frank’s eyes flew open. “We can’t leave now. We’ll miss the overtime.”

“Go to Cartman’s. He lives close.”

“But his car’s parked all the way over on Arch Street. He couldn’t get a space any closer. We’ll never make it in time.”

“Then go to that sports bar on Pine.”

“There’s no time for that either. What are we supposed to do, run?”

“I don’t know, DVR the end of the game and don’t watch it till tomorrow.”

“What are you, kidding? It’s not Glee, it’s a football game.” Frank snorted. “Let her go upstairs to bed. We’ll keep it down. We can be quiet.”

“FRANK YOU EFFING DOUCHE!” Cartman shouted, cackling. “GET IN HERE!”

“Like that?” Judy shot him a Meaningful Flare, but he didn’t speak the language. “Frank, it’s not even the Eagles, is it?”

“No, but we need to know who wins because we have a shot at the wild card and—”

“Forget it,” Judy snapped, cutting him off. She had long ago given up trying to understand the complexities of NFL playoffs, which made the United States Tax Code look like a cakewalk. “Can’t you work with me on this?”