“You never shoot anyone anyway. Well, okay, maybe once.”
“You think Joyce Barnhardt has purple shoes?”
“I happen to know Joyce Barnhardt has size ten feet and would look like a cow in these shoes.”
I walked over to the mirror at the end of the shoe department and admired the shoes. Eat your heart out, Joyce Barnhardt.
I turned to look at them from the back and slammed into Kenny Mancuso.
He had my arms in an iron grip, and he yanked me flat to his chest. “Surprised to see me?”
I was speechless.
“You're a real pain in the ass,” he said. “You think I didn't see you sneaking around in the bushes at Julia's house? You think I don't know about you telling her I fucked Denise Barkolowsky?” He gave me a shake that made my teeth clack together. “And now you've got this cozy deal going with Spiro, don't you? The two of you think you're both so smart.”
“You should let me take you back to court. If Vinnie assigns another bounty hunter he might not be gentle about bringing you in.”
“Haven't you heard? I'm special. I don't feel pain. Probably I'm freaking immortal.”
Oh boy.
He flicked his hand, and a knife appeared. “I keep sending you messages, but you aren't listening,” he said. “Maybe I should cut off your ear. Would that get your attention?”
“You don't scare me. You're a coward. You can't even face up to a judge.” I'd tried this tack before on belligerent FTAs and found it helpful.
“Of course I scare you,” Kenny said. “I'm a scary guy.” The knife flashed out and slashed into my sleeve. “Now your ear,” Kenny said, hanging tight to my jacket.
My pocketbook, with my bounty hunter paraphernalia, was on the seat beside Mary Lou, so I did what any intelligent, unarmed woman would do. I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs, startling Kenny enough to screw up his aim, so that I lost some hair but kept my ear.
“Jesus,” Kenny said. “You're freaking embarrassing me.” He shoved me into a shoe display, gave a backward skip, and took off.
I scrambled to my feet and charged after him, blasting through handbags and junior wear, operating on a surplus of adrenaline and a shortage of common sense. I could hear Mary Lou and the shoe clerk running hard behind me. I was swearing at Kenny and bitching about being in pursuit in goddamn platform heels when I slammed into an old lady at the cosmetics counter and almost knocked her on her ass.
“Jeez,” I yelled at her. “I'm sorry!”
“Go!” Mary Lou shouted at me from junior wear. “Catch that sonnovabitch!”
I reeled off the old lady and barreled into two other women. One of the women was Joyce Barnhardt in her makeover smock. We all went down in a heap on the floor, grunting and thrashing.
Mary Lou and the shoe clerk waded in to separate us, and somehow in the confusion of the moment, Mary Lou gave Joyce a good hard kick in the back of her knee. Joyce rolled away, howling in pain, and the shoe clerk quickly hoisted me to my feet.
I looked for Kenny, but he was long gone.
“Holy crap,” Mary Lou said. “Was that Kenny Mancuso?”
I nodded my head yes while I struggled for air.
“What'd he say to you?”
“Asked me for a date. Said he liked the shoes.”
Mary Lou snorted.
The shoe clerk was smiling. “You'd have caught him if you'd been trying on sneakers.”
In all honesty I wasn't sure what I would have done if I'd caught him. He had a knife, and all I had were sexy shoes.
“I'm calling my lawyer,” Joyce said, pulling herself up. “You attacked me! I'm going to sue the shit out of you.”