by C. T. Adams
“Bryan!” I was shocked, although come to think on it, I probably shouldn’t have been. My baby brother had many shining qualities, but his work ethic had never really been one of them. Coach Cooper had wielded a lot of influence in the school, and men’s varsity football had been huge with the alumni association.
Bryan hit the turn signal and pulled back onto the road at the first opening. “This bullshit is so like you, taking the blame for everything.” He kept his eyes on the road, but his expression was intense. “Joe was always the smart one—when he wasn’t acting like an idiot. You were the stubborn one … the athlete. You never quit. You don’t know how. You give everything you’ve got, everything you are, on the field.”
He slowed the car for a stoplight, and glanced at me across the seat. “The other night, when I said Joe and I went to a movie? I lied.”
I didn’t say anything, but I gave him a questioning look.
“Mary was pissed at Joe. She said he didn’t have a clue who you really are, that maybe if he took the time to really understand you, the two of you would get along better.”
I blinked rapidly as I tried to accept what he was telling me. Mary Connolly couldn’t possibly have stuck up for me. It would be a miracle if she didn’t blame me for Jake’s death as well. I couldn’t imagine why she would be trying to help me with my family problems. Of course, she could be trying to help Joe get his head back on straight. It was something she’d do … if she loved him.
“Anyway,” Bryan’s voice pulled me back to the present.
“She pulled out this old videocassette, slams it in the VCR, and hits play. It was your last volleyball match. The one where you got injured so badly, and still wouldn’t quit: wouldn’t give up. Your damned arm was almost totally useless. It hurt me just to watch you trying to use it. But you would not give up.”
The light changed, and he pulled the car forward in traffic. “The video crew had a camera focused on your huddle with your partner, and they’d turned up the sound as high as they could to try to catch what you could possibly be saying to each other.”
He switched lanes, hitting the signal to turn right onto the road that would lead to the lofts. “And I heard you say to your partner, ‘This is the last game of this tournament, my career, and my life. I am not going to fucking lose. So you had damned well be ready to fight.’”
I winced. I’d said it, and at the time I’d meant every word. Now it seemed a little … I dunno, melodramatic. “I wouldn’t have thought they’d let the profanity through on television.”
“They didn’t. They bleeped it, but Mary had the director’s cut.”
We rode in silence for almost a block. I wasn’t sure what to say. Looking back on it, what I’d done was probably … no, it just was idiotic, no probably about it. But I couldn’t have done any differently. It wasn’t in my nature.
“After we watched that Joe just sat on the couch, not saying a word. I left. I went down to Bernardo’s, shot pool against some guy named Leo. He said he was a friend of yours. Nice guy, and pours a mean rum and Coke. When I came back to the house, you were already in bed.”
He pulled the car up to the gate of the parking garage and typed in the code.
“Why are you telling me this, Bryan?” I shifted in my seat and looked away from him, staring out the window.
He didn’t answer until he pulled the car into Tom’s open spot and put it in park. He turned in the seat until he was facing me, but I still wouldn’t look at him. “Couple of reasons. I was pissed at both of you. I’m back and I wanted things to be back to normal for the three of us. But the two of you are just being complete assholes. It wasn’t like this before. So I talked to Mike. I figured if anybody could help with this mess he could.”
I swung my head around to meet his gaze. “What did he say?”
“He said that Joe doesn’t respect you, and that’s the one thing you can’t forgive.”
I flinched. It was a perfect one-sentence summation. “Did he have any suggestions?”
“He told me to pray.”
I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door enough to turn on the dome light. He turned to face me, his face half hidden by shadow. “What was the second thing?”
“You’ve spent so much time thinking of me as a kid that I needed to remind both of you I’m an adult. Hell, I was an adult before the Eden. I was nearly seventeen—ready to graduate and get my own place. I’m back to that person.” He reached out and touched my hand, took it in his and squeezed it. “You don’t have to be my keeper anymore, Kate. You get to live your own life.” He paused for effect. “It’s time to let go—of a lot of things.”
25
Tom’s alarm sounded and he groaned his way to wakefulness. His pulled his arm from around me and half rolled, half reached for the clock. “It’s morning.” He didn’t sound happy to be making the announcement. I wasn’t thrilled about it either. We’d stayed up very late the night before, talking. Mike was out of ICU, but still in critical condition. The werewolves were in shock over Jake’s loss. It was a small pack, and a very close-knit one. Losing a member was hitting them very hard. I couldn’t imagine how Tom was managing Jake’s loss, or why he hadn’t noticed anything wrong when Amanda had attacked. I’d never asked him how, or whether, the wolves were connected mentally. Maybe Mary was a better person to ask.
Tom scooted away, until he wasn’t spooning me any more, and climbed out from beneath the covers. I watched him cross the room and disappear into the bathroom. A moment later the shower was running. Closing my eyes, I dozed off. I didn’t wake again until he was bending over to kiss me good-bye.
The kiss was tender at first, almost tentative, but it grew in passion until it was a wild, hungry thing, devouring us both. We both needed a touchstone right now to start to heal the hurt.
Fierce, hot need poured through me, leaving me breathless. I was glad I was already laying in bed, because if I’d been standing my knees would’ve given out on me. He laughed. It was a confident, masculine sound that should have been annoying, but somehow wasn’t. “I love that I can do that to you, love the way your body reacts to mine.”
I smiled over at him. “If we had just a little more time I’d show you what my body can do to you. But you have to go to work.”
“Damn it anyway. Maybe if we hurry?”
“I am so not going to hurry.” I laughed. Tom needed to go to work and I needed some time alone. I loved him, but there were things I needed to do that just never seemed to get accomplished when he was around. “You’re just going to have to wait until you get off shift, knowing that I’m going to have three whole days to come up with all sorts of creative things to do to you.”
He gave me a long look. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
I sighed. Last night we’d talked about a lot of things, among them my problems with Joe and my worries about Mike. Only family was being allowed into ICU, so it wouldn’t even do any good to go to the hospital until he was in more stable condition. The nurses were being polite, but vague.
“I’m fine!” I assured him, mostly to hear myself say it. “Now git. Shoo! You don’t want to be late.”
He gave me one more quick kiss good-bye and left. I watched him go and felt a bit of relief when he was gone. I needed time alone to think about the things we’d talked about and to digest everything that had happened. Now that Amanda was gone, I was hoping I could live a little more normally, not be looking over my shoulder quite as much.
I cleaned up, then spent the morning working on my finances. Between one thing and another, I had enough to pay the worst of the bills, but that was it. The good news was that I would no longer have to pay for nursing care for Bryan, but if I didn’t get some serious income through the door soon I was going to lose everything. I couldn’t in good conscience accept disability any longer. My body was fine, or at least good enough to get back to business.
Working would also get me out of the house so I didn’t spend my days sitting around
moping.
I paced the apartment, trying to come up with a plan of attack. First, I needed to contact all of my old clients and see if I could win them back from whoever had been taking care of them during my absence. Next, I’d need to do something to get my name out there to potential new clients. A flyer would be cheapest and easiest. After all, Tom’s computer was right there on the desk, and he had an art program that I could probably figure out how to use. If I had to do actual advertising, I would. But the cost of ads is staggering, particularly in the kind of high-end publications that would appeal to a clientele that would use a bonded courier. At least my bond was safe. The not guilty verdict assured that, and I’d just mailed in the check for the annual fee.
I popped one of Tom’s packaged meals into the microwave and sat down with the telephone and my address book.
The first number I called was to Ramon and Celeste’s art gallery. She answered on the first ring.
“Tres Chic, how can I help you?”
“Hi, Celeste.”
“Kate!” She let out a squeal of delight. “Ramon, it’s Katie!” She didn’t cover the phone through any of this, and I had to hold the receiver back from my ear so as not to lose an ear drum. “Darling, it’s so good to hear from you! I’m so happy about your brother! Absolutely amazing. You must be ecstatic!”
I had to smile. Every sentence was uttered with breathless excitement. It was very, very Celeste.
“But oh dear, this latest thing … and the other, up in the mountains … Kate, you need to be careful. They are terrible enemies to have. I really do worry for you.” She would know all about that. She’d been enthralled by one of Monica’s old hosts. While I was pretty sure it was partially voluntary, I was happy to play stupid since Monica’s death had gotten her back together with Ramon. He’d been heartbroken to think she’d cheat on him, but forgave everything when he realized she’d been bitten. Sometimes love really is blind—and not terribly bright. Still, who was I to judge?
“Thanks Celeste, I appreciate that.”
I heard Ramon pick up the other extension. “Kate, sweetheart! It’s so good to hear from you. No doubt Celeste has told you how happy we are about Bryan.”
“Yes, she has, thank you.”
“To what do we owe this honor?”
I took a deep breath and steeled myself. I’ve always hated cold calls, and I wasn’t positive that Ramon wasn’t going to be pissed at me for what I’d charged him for serving papers on Celeste. I’d been ticked off at him, and charged him ten grand for a ten minute job. I felt like a heel spending the money, and couldn’t afford to repay him the difference. But whether or not I was back in his good graces was another thing entirely.
“Well, I’m fit to go back to work, so I thought I’d give you a call and see if you had anything for me.” The words came out a little rushed, but at least I didn’t sound as nervous as I felt.
“I hope you don’t intend to charge me as much as you did last time.” Ramon’s tone made it a joke—sort of. I could tell he was definitely not over being angry with me.
“Ramon!” Celeste scolded her husband.
“Kate knows I’m teasing, darling.” He tried to placate her. I knew no such thing.
“It’s Kate that saved me from those … things, Ramon.”
“And for that I am forever in her debt.” Ramon said suavely, and I had no doubt he bowed to her over the railing. They kept offices on different floors of their shop, even after they reunited, for reasons unknown to me. “And while we have been using someone else lately, I haven’t really been that happy with their level of service.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Darling, what about the Anderson statue?” Celeste was pushing him.
There was a long pause as Ramon considered his options. I had no idea what the Anderson statue was, but I wanted the job.
“Fine.” He agreed, but he didn’t sound entirely happy about it. “We have acquired a statue through the Anderson estate. Quite beautiful, really. We’re having it auctioned at Christie’s in London. Will Friday work for you? I assume you’ll want to make your own flight arrangements.”
I let out a breath that sounded just a bit like a squeak of delight. “Friday will be fine.”
“We’ll give you your usual fee. The man we’ve been using is a bit cheaper—” he let the phrase dangle for a few seconds, no doubt hoping that I would offer to reduce my rate. When I didn’t bite he sighed and continued. “But, as I say, we haven’t been entirely happy with him.”
We chatted for a few more minutes before ending the conversation. I took a break to eat, then came back to the phone and the next number on my call list.
I wanted to call Gerry Friedman, but it was too late because of the time difference. So I skipped his name and moved further down the list.
It took longer than I expected, but the results were gratifying. People had actually missed me. There was work to be had. Hallelujah!
At four thirty I stopped calling. I stood, stretching to relieve my stiff muscles. After a quick dinner of frozen pizza I sat down at Tom’s computer and went to work designing a business flyer.
I was completely immersed in the project, to the point where I was startled to look up at the clock and find it was already 10:00 P.M. I decided to finish the project in the morning and went upstairs for a hot bath before bed.
The sheets still smelled of Tom’s cologne and I snuggled against his pillow as I drifted off to sleep, warm and cozy.
The small wood-frame house was painted pale yellow. It had green shutters and bright white trim. A white picket fence enclosed the backyard. There was a flower bed along the fence. The bare stalks of rose bushes climbed upward, stark and black against the white of the pickets, made darker by the long shadows cast in the moonlight.
The moon rode high in a sky scattered with wispy clouds. There were stars, but only the brightest of them shone down. Every window in the neighborhood was dark. Only the occasional front porch light had been left on.
Behind the picket fence a dog started barking. I could tell it was a big dog. It had one of those deep, resonant, no-nonsense barks that makes you pause and worry about the amount of damage a dog that size can do. It was angry, frightened at the scent of something I could sense but couldn’t see. The barks grew more frantic.
A light came on in one corner of the house. I could hear a man grumbling about “checking on the damned dog.” He stumbled toward the back door. The back porch light came on. Through the screen door I heard him call “What is it, Brutus? What’s the matter boy?”
I knew that voice! Knew the face behind the screen door. It was Brooks standing there in a white tee-shirt and boxers. I scanned the area, looking for the source of the dog’s barking. She was here, somewhere. I knew it, and I knew who it was.
“What’s wrong, John?” A woman’s voice called from the house.
“Doesn’t look like anything’s wrong.”
“Well he doesn’t just bark over nothing. You’d better let him in before he wakes the neighbors.”
Brooks grumbled, but opened the screen door. As he bent down to unhook the dog’s chain there was a blur of movement, too fast for the eye to follow. A dark shape slammed into Brooks, driving him to the sidewalk with an impact that drove the breath from his lungs and smashed his head against the concrete.
Brutus the Rottweiler attacked, his full bulk lunging at the person riding his master’s body, fangs bared to tear out the intruder’s throat. The swing of a gloved fist sent the dog flying. His impact against the garage was loud enough that lights began coming on all over the neighborhood.
The dog rose painfully to its feet. Growling, it struggled to drag itself forward, using only its front legs.
A woman came to the doorway. She wore a flimsy red silk robe with nothing under it. She was beautiful, fierce, and proud. She held her husband’s gun in a teacup grip the way he had taught her and took aim …
I woke with a j
erk, sending Blank leaping from the bed with a startled meow. Rolling onto my side, I checked the clock on the nightstand. It was only 1:00 A.M. I groaned and tried to focus. What had I just dreamed about that had my heart racing so fast? Was it another nightmare? It seemed desperately important … like there was something I needed to do right away, but the details were just … gone. Damn it, I needed to sleep. These nightmares had to stop before I was too exhausted to handle another day.
I climbed from beneath the covers and padded over to the bathroom. If Tom found out what I was about to do he’d raise holy hell with me. But I was desperate and not stupid enough to tell him.
I opened the medicine chest and pulled out the bottle of muscle relaxants that had been prescribed for my shoulder. I didn’t need them for the pain any more, but I recalled that I’d slept like a dead thing every time I’d taken one.
I poured a single pill into my palm and popped it into my mouth. I washed it down with water from the sink held in my cupped palm. I dried my hands on the hand towel, crossed back to the bed, and curled up beneath the covers next to where the cat had snuggled into the warm spot I’d vacated. Within minutes I fell into a deep, sound, sleep.
I woke at 9:00 A.M. feeling utterly refreshed. I bounded downstairs to feed the cat and call Gerry Friedman. I knew their offices in Tel Aviv were closed, so I left a message, telling him I was back in business and asking him to call. That done, I sat down to finish work on the flyer and mailing list. When I finally had them printing I climbed back upstairs and pulled out a set of sweats and sports bra. I wanted coffee. Not coffeemaker coffee, either: the good stuff. I brushed my teeth, pulled my hair into a tight ponytail, wrapped my knee, and pulled on the exercise gear. In just less than ten minutes I was jogging up Seventeenth Street, my breath fogging in the chill morning air, my shoes beating a steady rhythm on the concrete sidewalk.
There’s a Starbucks on the first floor of one of the office towers on Seventeenth. It does a booming business pretty much all day long. I waited in line behind a bunch of executive types and one or two bicycle couriers. When I finally got to the front of the line I ordered the biggest cup of heaven I could get my hands on, along with a double-fudge brownie with walnuts baked in.
