Armed and Dangerous (The IMA) Read Free Page A

were still on. They were probably awake then, but just in case I had brought the key my father had given me. As quietly as I could, I unlocked the front door and met the sound of a gravelly baritone in stereo that I recognized from the evening news. The two of them were sitting in his and hers matching armchairs, drinking tea.
    Dad jumped when I closed the door, his bald head gleaming in the blue backdrop of the weather screen. “Sweet Pea?” he said, turning to look over his shoulder while Em fussed with the tea he'd spilled on his shirt. “Is that you?”
    “Mm-hmm.”
    Em tossed her napkin — a cloth one, never paper — on the end table between their two chairs and said, “It's a little late.”
    “Yes, weren't you staying at your mother's this week?”
    “ Mamá was being horrid.”
    “ When isn't she?” Em muttered.
    “ Especially horrid, then.”
    “ Girls, please,” Dad interjected, looking a bit desperate. For obvious reasons, he tried to avoid talking about my mother as much as possible. Twenty-five years of marriage had left him paranoid.
    “ She had John over.”
    “ You might have called first,” Em said.
    “ I didn't know! I just thought — I mean, since I have my own key — I figured it would be okay.”
    “ You're always welcome here, Christina,” Dad said. “But it would be nice to get some advanced notice next time, if possible.”
    “ I'm sorry. I would have, but I didn't even know I was going to leave until she — oh my God , Dad, she was planning the TV adaption of her memoir at the dinner table.”
    “ What memoir?”
    I helped myself to some tea from the stove without asking because Em was an old fusspot, and because I knew it bothered her, and because I knew she was still too insecure about her relationship with my father to say so. “The memoir about her 'harrowing experiences.'”
    Dad looked genuinely ill. “That woman. I swear — ” He shook her head. “What is she thinking? No publisher will be able to touch that. Not without heavy censoring.”
    “ She's self-publishing.”
    Dad swore, violently and explosively. “She's going to get us all killed.”
    “That's exactly what I said. But no, she thinks she's Penelope Cruz.”
    “ Maybe if Penelope Cruz had no taste,” Em said stiffly, taking a sip of tea. Pinky extended. Pointedly so, it seemed. Does she have a sense of humor after all?
    “ I'll have Mr. Rosenzweig call your mother's lawyer about that book. It's good she's keeping busy but she shouldn't be dragging you into this. I'm sure we can work out some kind of arrangement — ”
    “ Fat chance of that. I don't understand why I have to see her at all. It's so blatantly obvious she doesn't want me there.”
    “ You know how your mother is when she gets upset.”
    “ Awful.”
    “ Her feelings get hurt very easily.”
    “ Because she acts like a child .” I paused. “And her new boyfriend — John — he does, too. He's twenty years younger than her , Dad. People think he's my brother.”
    Dad sighed. “Christina, please. It's one thing to talk about the book — because I do wish she would stop her fame-mongering, especially because of them — ”
    Em's lips went white. “Rubens,” she said warningly, looking around the room. As if the IMA had bugs in our house and were listening in on us right now.
    Actually — that wasn't as paranoid as it sounded. Em had good reason to be afraid of them. They had ears everywhere. “If they did do something, Mamá would be the pretext. Not the reason.”
    “You're too right. I wish you weren't.” Dad sighed, exchanging a long look with Em. “Well, you're certainly welcome to stay with us for as long as you want. I believe the guest room's clean, and since we aren't expecting anyone else that means it's all yours. You lucked out, kiddo.”
    “ I shouldn't be here for too long. School starts soon.”
    The undisguised relief on Em's face annoyed me. “You're starting college soon, aren't you?”
    “Yes, at