"Having fun," she whispered back.
Josh broke the hug.
"It's so good to see you," Bell said.
"I think you've done enough meeting and greeting for awhile. You deserve a reward. Why don't you see Mommy?" Josh told his daughter.
Abby ran off toward her mother, weaving in and out of the crowd like a wide receiver making a run for the end zone.
"That's a lovely girl you've got there, Josh, so pretty, so innocent, so trusting. I would hate to think what it would be like for her if her heart were broken. It would be hard to see that pretty face through those tears. I bet you'd do anything to prevent that."
"I would kill if necessary," Josh said.
"Would you now?" Bell smirked at Josh's poor show of strength. "Let's hope you're never put to the test."
"Yeah, let's hope so."
"Could I have a drink?"
Josh and Bell walked toward the drinks table and Bell slipped an arm into his. Josh shot her a look of rage.
"Now, now, Josh. Play it cool, we have an image to portray. You don't want these good people to suspect anything."
Josh poured her a white wine.
"It's Belinda Wong, isn't it?" Kate said, walking over to them from the barbecue.
"Yes it is, Kate. How are you?"
Josh stood stone still with the bottle of wine in his hands. Don't say anything, please. He sent telepathic messages to Bell, hoping she wouldn't blow the whistle on him. Fear prevented him from producing a smile.
"I thought you were in San Diego," Kate said.
"I was, but I've come back." Bell turned her head to Josh, smiled cruelly, then looked back at Kate. "I miss my old friends."
"Have you got a job?"
"No, but I was hoping that Josh could help me."
"Well, I'm sure he could put in a good word for you."
"Yeah, but like I was telling Bell, there aren't any open jobs at the moment, so she'll have to keep looking."
He managed to make his words sound strong and convincing. Not a hint of his fear showed.
"Josh, I can't believe you didn't mention Bell was back. You always said she was your best secretary."
Kate winked at Bell.
Bell grinned at the embarrassment Kate brought to her husband.
It was obscene, watching his wife playacting with his ex-mistress. Watching the macabre play was excruciating, but relief was soon to come. "I've only just found out myself."
"Kate, have you got a minute? Sorry to interrupt." A woman's voice called from a group of people nearby.
Kate excused herself and left, attending to the woman's needs.
"At least someone is happy to see me," Bell said, watching Kate go.
"Are you going now that you've had your fun?" Josh asked.
"No, of course not. The night is young. I think I'll mingle for awhile if you don't mind."
"I do mind."
She snorted. "Well, I don't care. Don't worry, I'm not going to tell on you. Your money bought my silence for now."
Bell refreshed her glass. Josh watched her turn on her heel and strike up a conversation with a group of his friends. What does she have in store for me? All he knew was that it wasn't going to be good.
It was a small room, poorly furnished with an eclectic combination of bargain basement purchases and long held possessions now in a state of disrepair. The room smelled of musty neglect. The telephone rang on the small table next to the armchair in the living room.
The old woman shuffled in from the kitchen. Even this small exertion resulted in wheezing. She mumbled "Hold your horses," to the ringing phone before collapsing into the chair and picking up the receiver.
She hit the Mute button on the television remote.
"Hello?"
"Is this Margaret Macey?"
"Yes, it is."
"Hi, I represent Mutual Life, Mrs. Macey. I was wondering if I could speak to you about life insurance for senior citizens."
Margaret got as far as, "I'm not really--"
"Good, I'll only take a few minutes of your time,"
he said, ignoring her.
"Mrs. Macey, our records show you are a senior citizen.
You must think about having to make provisions for others when your time comes."
"No, not really."
"Do you have children, Mrs. Macey?"
"Yes, I have a daughter in New York."
"Do you know the average cost of a funeral nowadays?"
"No,
I don't."
"It's over three thousand dollars." The telemarketer's voice rose two octaves to drive the point home. "Now, does that seem a fair price to burden your loved one with? Does it?" the terminally happy telemarketer asked.
"Well, no, but--"
"No buts, Mrs. Macey. Now this is where Mutual Life Insurance comes in. We will provide for you a low cost life insurance that will serve as a lasting reminder to your family of your generosity."
The pitch was made and Margaret imagined the telemarketer's toothpaste advertisement smile shining into the telephone.
"I'm not really interested."
"Oh, come on, Margaret. Can I call you Margaret?
It's only ten dollars a month. I'm sure it's not a lot to ask for peace of mind, is it now, eh, Margaret?"
"I don't really have ten dollars to spare."
"Oh, Margaret. I think you could afford ten bucks. I don't think anyone would miss ten bucks. What do you say, Margaret? Can I put you down? We can do the paperwork over the phone, right now. Come on, Margaret, what do you say? What do you say?"
The telemarketer offended her by trying to manipulate her just for the sake of his commission. Surely these people are answerable to some government department, she thought. She had a good mind to contact someone.
"No, I'm sorry, I'm not interested," Margaret said, her tone abrupt.
"Not interested? Not interested! You selfish bitch."
Bile replaced the telemarketer's sickly sweet demeanor.
Her breath caught in her throat. It took a moment before she could speak again. "What?"
"No wonder your daughter lives in New York. She probably can't stand being near a twisted old bitch like you. Why don't you just die? You'd be doing the planet a favor. You're only taking up oxygen good people like me need to breathe."
The vile words burned the inside of Margaret's head.
People didn't speak to people like this. She wanted to hang up, but her shock kept the phone pressed to her ear.
"How dare you talk to me like that. I'll report you to your superiors." Margaret's voice broke and tears built up behind her eyes.
"Oh, but I do dare, Margaret," he said, his voice controlled and level. "I've been watching you, Margaret.
Oh, yes, I've been watching you for awhile now.
You live in that shitty little house of yours. God knows what you find to do in there. You only ever go out to go to the store. I've seen you waiting for the bus, hunched up against the bus stop. Have you ever noticed how the people on the bus look at you? They see you and they think, Christ, I hope I never get to be like that. I hope someone will kill me first."
"That's not true." Margaret struggled to speak through the sobs that shook her body. She wanted to put the phone down, but she was too frightened of what the telemarketer would do if she hung up.
"How's that heart of yours? When's it going to give out? I do hope it's soon."
"Who are you?"
"Maybe you should be asking where am I?" He let that sink in before he broke into laughter.
Margaret leapt from the chair and tottered over to the window, receiver in hand. The telephone cord stretched to its full limit, sending the table with the phone on it crashing to the floor.
"Was that you, Margaret?"
She sniffed. "No, I'm still here."
"What a shame. I'll be coming to see you. I want to see the look on your face when you die."
"I'm going to call the police."
"I wouldn't do t
hat if I were you. I'll know when they come and I'll take action if you do."
"What action?"
"Deadly."
Josh crossed the yard to where Bob stood. His overweight friend was the center of attention in a circle of five people. He'd tried to talk to Bob right after Bell left him, but two colleagues interrupted him to introduce their wives.
Josh arrived to find Bob at the tail end of one of his jokes. He was a good joke teller, although not all of them were in good taste. In his hands were the weapons of a good partygoer--a beer and a burger.
Bob gesticulated with the booze and food to enhance his performance.
"When I go down, I go down in flames," Bob said in a bad French accent.
The group laughed loudly at the joke. Josh smiled.
He'd heard that one before. He placed his hands on Bob's fleshy shoulders. "Can I relieve you of this very funny man?"
The people agreed on the condition that he brought him back. Before he could take Bob away, the group engaged him about his recent accident. Josh underplayed the magnitude of the event and the fear he had experienced. He didn't want to talk to them. He had bigger problems with which to deal.
As they walked away from the crowd, Bob asked, "What did Bell want?"
"She wants to mess with my head. A little reminder of what will happen if I don't play by her rules."
They stood against the fence and watched the people enjoying the party.
"Jesus, what a mess," Josh said.
Bob felt Josh's despair spread across his friend like an approaching storm front. He wanted to tell Josh everything was going to be okay. But he wasn't sure that was the case.
"Let me talk to her," Bob said.
"There's no point."
"There isn't if you talk to her. She's knows exactly how to yank your chain. It's not like that with me."
"I don't think you'll get anywhere."
"That's my problem. You go out there and talk to your friends. This is meant to be your party."
Josh looked at the crowd. It didn't feel like a birthday.
Well, not a good one at least. He wasn't much in the mood for fun.
"Put on a good show for everyone. Let them know everything is cool and show that bitch she isn't getting to you."
"You're a good friend, Bob."
"That's nice. Now get out there, tell some jokes and for God's sake, cheer up." Bob shoved Josh in the back with both hands.
Bob watched Kate and her friends welcome Josh and draw him into their discussion. He scanned the partygoers for the blackmailer. Alone at the drinks table, she was pouring herself a glass of wine. Bob appeared at Belinda Wong's side and cracked open another beer.
"Hi there," Bob said.
"Hello," Bell replied.
"I'm Bob Deuce, a good friend of Josh Michaels, and of Kate and Abby, of course." Bob smiled and offered a hand.
"Of course. I'm Belinda Wong. A pleasure to meet you, Bob."
Bob saw the coldness in her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure."
"Josh has mentioned you before."
"Yeah, I think we met a long time ago. You used to work for Josh."
A middle-aged couple arrived at the drinks table to interrupt Bob's conversation. Bob and Bell moved out of their way.
"Shall we?" Bob indicated they should move on with a swing of his arm, bottle in hand. He needed to get Bell alone. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Yes, it's a nice party, and you?" Bell gave him a hint of a smile, but her eyes were filled with suspicion.
Bob took a swig from the bottle. "I wasn't talking about the party."
Bell narrowed her eyes. "I don't know what you mean."
"About you ... coming here . .. uninvited. I know about you and Josh, and the money you extorted." Bob gestured with the bottle.
The coldness in her eyes bled into her expression and her words. "And what the hell has it got to do with you?"
"Josh is my best friend and I stand by him. I don't condone what he did. Personally, I think he was an asshole to have an affair, no offense to you. I want you to leave Josh and his family alone."
Bell's features tightened into an angry knot. "Did that spineless bastard send you to speak to me?"
"No, he didn't. I came because I'm a friend. You have enough money from this. What more do you want?"
"I want to see him suffer."
"You hate him that much?"
"I love him that much." She paused for a moment.
"You have no idea how hard it was to watch him leave me and go back to his wife and his daughter."
Bell's sincerity frightened Bob. She wouldn't leave Josh voluntarily. She'd go kicking and screaming. He couldn't see Josh surviving this one.
"He'll never be yours if you destroy what he has now.
"I know, but if I can't have him then no one will."
"Assholes!" Bell poured herself another drink. Anger prevented accuracy and she slopped most of it over the table and her hand.
"Who are?" James Mitchell said, joining the table.
"Men," she said.
Mitchell took the bottle from her hand and finished the job she'd started. He poured himself some wine.
"I'm afraid I fall into that category." He gave her a bemused smile. "Who particularly is an asshole?"
"Our lovely host."
"Josh Michaels?"
"Yes. Are you one of his cronies?"
"No, I only met him tonight. I'm an acquaintance of a friend of his."
"That makes you part asshole?" She took a big gulp from her glass.
Mitchell blurted a laugh. "Quite probably. Would you like to talk about it?"
It was a relief when Bob removed Josh from another discussion about his accident. It was the sixth time Josh had recounted the events of the incident. He kept his belief that someone was trying to kill him to himself. With every new telling the event seemed more and more like the incident happened to someone else.
"Josh, I spoke to her." Bob was grave.
"And what happened?"
"She is pretty fucked-up over you. She's not going to go away. This one's going down to the wire."
"Where is she now?"
"She's talking to Mitchell." Bob nodded to Bell and Mitchell over by the drink table.
Josh turned to see. "Do you think she's telling him?"
"No. She's angry, but she isn't ready to throw you to the wolves. Honestly, I don't think she knows what to do. She still loves you, did you know that?"
"No. No, I didn't." Josh's eyes were still fixed on Bell talking happily to James Mitchell.
The rest of the birthday party went without incident. It was the picture of respectability and mediocrity. No one got too drunk, the music wasn't too loud and the neighbors didn't complain too much. People left as the food and alcohol disappeared. The designated drivers were called to duty to perform their role.
Around eleven o'clock, Kate found Abby under a pic 82
nic table curled up in a ball with Wiener at her side.
Kate put her to bed and discovered Wiener smelled of alcohol. She had no idea who had given the dog a drink. She mused that she'd never seen a dog with a hangover.
It was well after midnight when Josh decided to call it a night and send the party hyenas on their way. He climbed onto the picnic table and surveyed the stragglers.
Bell was gone. He hadn't seen her go or whether she was with anyone when she had left. That worried him; she had drunk more than the legal limit and he hoped she hadn't spilled her guts to someone. Mark Keegan had left around ten-thirty. His flying partner wanted an early night since he and Josh were flying the next morning. Bob, of course, was still there with his colleague. Bob wouldn't leave until every plate was licked clean.
"Can I have everyone's attention," Josh called to the bleary-eyed congregation.
Dulled by alcohol and fatigue, they turned toward him.
"I would just like to say thanks to everyone who came, especially those who had the decency to have left already."
A titter of laughter came from the ensemble.
"But the party's over. There's no more alcohol left."
The surviving party revelers expressed a cry of sad comic despair.
Josh smiled. "So you'll have to go home now."
"I don't wanna go home," Bob said.
"I didn't want you to come. So that makes two of us disappointed tonight," he said and got another laugh.
Josh jumped down from the table and everybody took it as their cue to go. Josh, with Kate's help, ushered the party stragglers out. They watched their friends leave from the front yard.
Josh surveyed the battlefield of discarded bottles, plates, paper cups, glasses and other victims that fell during the festive clash in the backyard. "I think we'll leave everything tonight and clear up tomorrow."
"Yeah, I don't want to deal with it tonight," Kate said.
"Thanks for coming everyone." Hiding a smile, Josh ignored his wife and focused on his friends' departures.
After a moment, he looked at Kate and winked.
"You bastard." She grinned. "You're flying tomorrow."
He
put an arm around her and pulled her tight. "I probably won't go, anyway."
"Why?"
"I drank too much and I don't really feel like it." Although he had drunk too much, he hid his real feelings.
Bell's arrival had taken the shine off his party and sapped his desire to enjoy himself.
"Now that everyone's gone, I thought we could play, maybe?" Kate said seductively. She made little circles with her finger on his chest.
"What--Scrabble, Twister, that sort of thing?"
"You know what I mean."
"Oh, you mean sex." He pretended to think for a moment. "I think I could manage that."
A car horn tooted as a vehicle went by. Josh waved.
He spotted Bob and Mitchell talking animatedly, fueled by alcohol. The topic: basketball and who would make it to the playoffs. Nancy tried to ignore her husband and his colleague.
Then Josh's life changed dramatically, wiping the smile clean off his face as if it had been a smudge. In response to Bob's question, would the Sacramento Kings make it to the playoffs, Mitchell stuck his arm out straight with his thumb up. Slowly, the Pinnacle Investments representative twisted his arm until his thumb pointed down.
There was no mistaking the thumbs-down gesture.
James Mitchell was the man from the bridge.
Simon Wood Page 7
