by Hal Ross
“How am I acting?”
“Keeping secrets from me.”
Blair felt his pulse rise. “What secrets?”
“Mr. Innocent.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
“No. Of course, you’re not.”
“Jeremy—”
“Do you think, for one minute, that I didn’t notice the marks on your face? The lack of sleep in your eyes? But it’s okay.” He shrugged. “If you don’t have enough faith to confide in me, I’ll have to live with it. Just tell me what your plans are. I mean, for right now. You going home? Or is there something else on your mind?”
Blair realized that this was it. The moment to come clean. But Sandra’s fate was in the balance and he couldn’t take a chance. “I’m going home,” he said. “Or, I will be, after you agree to what I want.”
Jeremy’s expression softened. “Go get your things and check out,” he said. “I’ll drive you to the airport.”
Blair didn’t budge.
“Did you hear me?”
“I can’t leave yet, Jeremy.”
“I understand what you’re saying. Go pack. We’ll talk in the car.”
The first thing Blair did was ask the concierge to see if El Al had a seat available on the next flight to New York. Once he received confirmation, he took the elevator to his room to gather his things. He knew that if he didn’t get Jeremy to bend, he could always check back in.
On the drive to the airport, Jeremy was especially talkative. He mentioned a vacation he was planning in Australia and New Zealand. How he heard so much about both countries. How there was so much to see and do. “Apparently, they have some of the best golf courses in the world,” he said.
Blair finally told him that he could go on talking forever, if he wanted to, but he would not be diverted.
“Diverted from what?” Jeremy asked.
“You know what.”
Jeremy slapped his hand on the steering wheel. “Goddammit! Why is this so important?”
“I’ve already told you why. So if you’re not willing to bend, I need you to take me back to the hotel.”
“And you’ll do what? Stay in Israel until you drive me crazy?”
Blair held his tongue as they arrived at the terminal building.
Jeremy parked in the allotted area and shut the motor. He pulled out his wallet. “Here,” he said, handing over a crumpled piece of paper.
Blair went to unfold it.
Jeremy stopped him. “Put it away,” he instructed. “Somewhere safe. It’s a New York phone number. I don’t know what mess you’ve gotten yourself into. But if your situation should worsen, and you can’t reach me in time, you are to call that number.”
Blair was jolted. What situation was he talking about? Did he somehow know the truth?
“Goodbye, Blair. Have a good flight.”
“Wait a minute.”
“I’m listening.”
“Jeremy, I’m calling in a personal favor. Yes—based on our friendship. I’m sorry to have to put it this way. But it’s all I have left. Please…”
“Don’t beg.”
“I am begging.”
Jeremy glanced at him, then looked away. And he sighed. “If this goddamn production means so much to you, you can have it. The first one hundred thousand pieces will go to OTE. But that will be it, Blair. I mean it. I’m doing this against my better judgment. And I never want to hear you mention this subject again.”
The relief Blair felt almost brought him to tears.
“And whenever you’re ready to share your secret with me,” Jeremy continued, “I’ll be waiting.”
“There’s no secret,” he said, his throat constricting.
“Not another word, boychick. Just get your ass out of my car…”
CHAPTER 42
The return flight from Israel passed quickly. Blair even found the airline staff to be accommodating, including the crotchety women who posed as stewardesses.
“God bless you, everyone,” he wanted to proclaim.
The delay in getting his luggage in New York was a mere inconvenience. As was the long lineup for a cab.
Nothing bothered him.
Finally at home, Blair undressed and changed into pajamas. It was too late to call anyone—well past midnight—but he very much wanted to call everyone he knew.
He approached the window in his bedroom. The view revealed a portion of the Hudson River.
He used the remote to turn on his iPod. He caught the refrain of a Norah Jones song and he began to hum along.
Life was good, he decided.
He woke at seven. He had slept through the night for the first time in weeks. He showered and shaved. He was ready to leave for work, when his doorbell buzzed.
Castaway appeared as stunning as ever. Sexy, of course, in a black skirt and rose cardigan.
“Well, well,” Blair said. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
She seemed unsure of herself.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked. “I’ve spiked it with arsenic.”
“Arsenic?”
It dawned on him again that English was not her native language. “Where are you from, Rena?” he said. “Germany?”
She blushed ever so slightly. But it quickly dissolved.
Her training coming into play? Blair wondered.
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Every once in a while I detect an accent.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
“But I am a native American.”
“Sure you are,” Blair said. “Iroquois or Sioux?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Which tribe?”
She was stuck for an answer.
“Hold on a minute, Rena,” he said. “I have something for you.”
Hurrying into his bedroom, he dug into one of the bureau drawers and removed the statuette he had placed there long ago. It was something he had won at a golf tournament. It was tall enough and sufficiently abstract to resemble the Oscar.
He stepped back into the foyer and handed it to her. “Here,” he said.
“W…what is it?” She reluctantly took it in hand.
“Your Best Actress award. You deserve it.”
“Blair, what are you talking about?” As she spoke, she moved closer to him.
“About that drink,” he said. “Do you want one or not?”
“With arsenic?” she asked.
Maybe she wasn’t as dense as he thought, Blair surmised. “No,” he said. “No arsenic. You want a beer? Some wine?”
“This early in the morning?”
“Hey, as the song says, it’s five o’clock somewhere.”
“No, thank you.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re working.”
“Don’t make it sound like that,” she said. Then she deftly changed subjects. “What happened in Israel, Blair?”
He counter-questioned: “When can I have my daughter back, Rena?”
“After you tell me what happened.”
“Uh-uh. It’s not going to work that way. Not this time. You and your agency have put me through enough.”
Castaway hesitated. She removed her cell phone from her purse and told him she needed privacy.
He pointed to the bathroom.
“It would not be wise to listen in to my conversation,” she said. “Understood?”
“Of course,” he replied.
The minute she entered the bathroom, he crept forward and put his ear to the locked door.
The water taps had been turned on full. He couldn’t make out what she was saying. He moved back into the hallway and waited.
When Castaway came out, she seemed calmer. “I have to explain something,” she said. “As a precaution after John was murdered we moved your daughter out of state. We’ll need some time to bring her back.”
“How much time?”
“An extra day. You meet me tomorrow, say around the noon-hour. I’ll have Sandra with me then.”
“Where?” he quickly asked. “Where will we meet?”
She headed for the door and placed her hand on the knob. “You pick the spot.”
He tried to think of somewhere public. “On Broadway,” he said. “In front of the Toys ‘R’ Us store.”
“Fine,” she said. And she opened the door. “We’ll be there at noon.”
CHAPTER 43
Blair gathered his attaché case and walked out of his apartment. He was whistling to himself. A few minutes ago, Lisa had called to say she wanted to cook for him tonight. She was planning on something Italian. And she had hinted that dessert would be of a personal and exotic nature.
Downstairs, the first thing he did was stop and purchase eight lottery tickets, eight being a number the Chinese associated with good fortune and wealth.
He was feeling lucky. Lucky and relieved. He didn’t mind the subway ride. Despite the crowd, he was somehow unaffected by the noise and peculiar odors.
At his office, he invited his secretary to come in and have a seat. Andrea was wearing a tight lime-green dress that made her look even thinner than she was. Before leaving for Israel, Blair had given her a number of assignments, the most important of which was a meeting with Marianne Lattanzi at Target.
The retailer was the last piece of the puzzle he needed to have resolved. He already had Walmart and Toys ‘R’ Us on board. Target would round out the accounts he was hoping to have participate in Cyber-tech’s initial launch.
Marianne Lattanzi went against the Target mold. Middle-aged and Italian rather than a twenty-something Wasp, her down-to-earth nature appealed to Blair and the two had stayed in touch over the years
Now, Andrea’s voice warmed as she related her encounter with the Target buyer. “At first, she was disappointed you weren’t there,” she said. “But I won her over.”
“Used your charm, did you?”
“I didn’t have to. I did as you suggested. Just laid the sample in front of her and told her to try it.”
“And?”
“She flipped. She said it was the best thing she’d seen in a long while. She asked how many pieces she could have, how soon.”
“And you said?”
“What you told me to say. September launch. No advance release. Take it or leave it.”
“In those words?”
She laughed. “Not exactly. I’m paraphrasing. I know how to talk to buyers. You taught me well.”
“Good girl. Were you nervous?”
“Scared to death, if you want to know the truth.”
Blair told her he was proud of her. “You did a great job, Andrea,” he said.
CHAPTER 44
He remained at work until three o’clock. He was pleased about seeing Lisa tonight. And he was more than excited about being reunited with his daughter tomorrow. With the extra time on his hands, he decided to walk home. He stopped on his way to pick up a bottle of Moët & Chandon. Then he found a flower shop where he selected a single, long-stemmed rose.
Alone in his condo, Blair found it wonderful to have positive thoughts for a change. He sensed, with some certainty, that the bad mojo in his life was over.
He had faced adversity and survived.
Hallelujah!
The word popped into his head and stayed there. A sound of joy, melodically repeating itself: Hallelujah, hallelujah…
By six o’clock, unfortunately, a pessimistic refrain began to creep into his subconscious. He tried his best to ignore it. He spent extra time setting the dining room table. He hid the flower he had purchased for Lisa in a place she would never bother to look. Then he sprayed the kitchen and den with air freshener.
But his thoughts persisted. His conversation with Castaway earlier in the day replayed itself in his mind. It wasn’t like her to acquiesce so easily. She was the one to ask him to pick the place where they could meet tomorrow. And she had selected a time without hesitation.
What did it mean? Blair wondered.
He wanted tomorrow to go off without a hitch.
Now, it worried him.
Lisa arrived just after seven o’clock. Her white blouse was partially unbuttoned. Her dark-brown miniskirt bordered on risqué. When she asked about the bruises under his eyes, he told her she was seeing something that didn’t exist.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “You remember our pact about honesty, don’t you, Blair?”
He shrugged self-consciously. “If you’re seeing anything, it’s from the same injury of a while ago.”
“Oh, yeah? You mean the injury you never told me about?” She smiled. “What am I going to do with you?” She took him in her arms. Kissed him.
Blair led her into the den and said he would be right back. He took the champagne out of the fridge. He carried it into the den along with two glasses, popped the cork, and poured.
“What are we celebrating?” she asked.
He offered no reply. Instead, he moved to the television set. He reached behind it for the single rose he had hidden there earlier. Then he turned toward her.
“For me?” Lisa gushed.
He clicked her glass. “All for you,” he said. He was wishing he could relax. But he was unable to banish the demons in his head.
While Lisa prepared dinner, Blair opened and poured the wine. It was a Chianti Classico Riserva.
The meal consisted of breaded veal. There were two kinds of pasta—a tortellini in oil and garlic and fettuccini in a tomato sauce. It was all preceded by a Caesar salad.
“Where did you learn how to cook like this?” Blair couldn’t help asking.
“My mommy taught me well,” Lisa said.
“My God. It’s a wonder you’re not three hundred pounds.”
“I don’t eat like this every night. Only on special occasions.”
“Like now?”
“Exactly.”
He forked another mouthful. His appetite was gone and he knew he would have to fake it.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Lisa said.
He chewed, swallowed, took her hand in his. “I’m just glad that I met you,” he admitted.
“Why thank you, sir. I’m glad I met you, too.”
Blair asked if Lisa would like a coffee. She said no. He asked if he could tempt her with something sweet. She turned him down flat, reminding him of her promise of an “exotic” dessert. Standing from the table, she invited him to do the same. He began to clear the dishes. She stopped him.
There was no time to hang up his clothes or brush his teeth. In the bedroom, she playfully pushed until he tumbled onto the bed. She tugged at his shoes and socks. Then at his shirt, pants, and underwear.
When he tried to protest, she ignored him. Her eyes locked into his as she slowly undressed. She was being playful about it. She removed her garments deliberately. And she threw each piece into the air. Her blouse, then her skirt. Her pantyhose, and finally her bra.
“Come here.” He reached for her.
She pushed his hands away.
Meticulously, she pulled the spread to one side, then smoothed out the sheet.
He made another attempt to take hold of her.
She wouldn’t allow it.
Blair folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. The first thing he felt was the most delicate touch of her fingers. She began to massage his toes, one by one, followed by the soles of his feet.
Waves of pleasure soared through his body.
This was a different Lisa now. She kneaded his flesh with an extreme gentleness. From his ankles to his calves. The front and back of his knees. It felt as if a thousand butterflies were fluttering their wings.
Blair’s experience may not have been extensive. But he believed he was possibly above average in his desire to please. Experiencing what he was going through now was so vastly different for him. And he wished there was something he could do in return. Something to show he cared. But the worry on his mind interfered with Lisa’s ministrations, and he remained embarrassingly soft.
<
br /> Lisa obviously noticed but didn’t say anything. Instead, she stopped what she was doing. She pulled the covers over both their bodies and slipped into his arms.
Blair began to apologize.
She shushed him.
Just before daybreak, Lisa stirred awake as did Blair. She asked what was wrong.
“Just your imagination,” he said, grateful for the darkened room.
Blair wanted to confide in her. He wanted to tell her about his daughter. But reason prevailed. As did caution. There would be time to explain it all later, he decided. Once Sandra was released.
“Go back to sleep,” he told her. “I have never felt better in my life.”
CHAPTER 45
He stood on the corner of 44th and Broadway, next to the entrance to the Toys ‘R’ Us store. Blair remembered the first time he had come here and how impressed he had been. He wished every toy store could match this one in size and atmosphere. A fantasyland for the ages.
The noon-hour came and went.
It was a strain, searching out people in the crowd. Every time he spotted Castaway or his daughter, he’d get a closer look and realize his mistake. There were simply too many blond girls. And too many Castaway look-alikes.
He paced in front of the store.
At 12:30 he asked himself if he had gotten the time wrong. Then he wondered if he had misunderstood where they were to meet.
He gaped at his watch every few minutes.
By one o’clock, his mind began to contemplate various scenarios, not one of which was encouraging.
Blair arrived home at three o’clock. He tossed his BlackBerry onto the kitchen counter and took hold of the house phone.
There were no messages.
He dragged himself into the den. He was thinking of checking the news on television, to see if there was a major traffic problem somewhere in town. He took the clicker in hand. The doorbell rang. And this overbearing weight lifted from his shoulders.
Dope, he teased himself. Worrying for nothing.
He called his hello through the intercom. Then he hit the buzzer.
A few minutes later, a knock came on the door.
