“Are you dying to ask me about Susan?”
“Well, I thought I’d get around to it eventually.”
“She called me.” Her expression and her voice tightened. “I sounded flip just a moment ago. I shouldn’t have. I’m really worried about her.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing new, really. But her tone of voice — really desperate. Something must have happened. This is just terrible for her. She’s so afraid that the press will find out about Bobby before she’s ready to talk to them about it. It doesn’t help that Natalie keeps trying to control everything. Natalie still believes she can contain this thing. That sure doesn’t help Susan any. I’ve told her that I can’t see how this will be such a terrible scandal. She put her boy up for adoption. She didn’t abort him. And he got a much better home environment than she could have given him at the time. I guess I don’t understand politics.”
The waitress appeared and asked us about dessert. Neither of us was interested. I asked for the check.
“It’s early yet,” I said. “Would you like to go someplace else?”
“Not really. I’d rather just go back to my house. Maybe watch TV. Hopefully with you along.”
“That sounds good. I just hope professional wrestling’s on tonight.”
She made a face. “Are you serious?”
“No,” I said.
“God, you do deadpan very well. I thought, This guy likes professional wrestling?”
“I mostly watch old movies and talk shows.”
“I get tired of all those talking heads. They think they’re so important.”
“You noticed that, huh?” I said as I signed the MasterCard form.
A few minutes later we were walking through the night to my rental. Jane leaned against me. I had my arm around her shoulders. The parking lot had been full, so we’d had to slide into the lone slot in the narrow drive of the business next door, right on the edge of the adjacent loading dock.
She’d tucked herself into me as we walked. Her head came just to my chest and I could smell clean hair and light perfume. She felt good there. Comfortable. I was looking forward to going back to her house. I didn’t think I’d be spending the night, but I was sure we’d know each other a lot better by the time I left. My daughter was always urging me to meet somebody. Maybe I had.
There was little light and that made it all the easier for him. As I leaned over to unlock her door, he ran at me and leapt on my back. I didn’t even have time to turn around. He honored the verities of an earlier era. He wore brass knuckles and he hit me hard enough and fast enough that I was on the ground before Jane could even start screaming. Elapsed time was seconds.
He stank of sweat, whiskey, and aftershave. As I twisted around I got a glimpse of red hair and a pair of insane blue eyes. I was aware of Jane trying to pull him off me. He somehow flung her away with such force that she fell over backward. I heard her crash on the concrete. She was still screaming.
I was on my hands and knees, trying to get my footing, fighting through the pain from the pounding my head had taken.
“Tell that bitch the price is double now, Conrad. I want another payment of the same amount by eight o’clock tomorrow night. You understand that?”
I found my rage. I came up off the ground so fast that I surprised him. I slammed into him with such force that he had to struggle to stay upright. I was all fists and fury. The biggest problem I had was my vision. All the brass punches had taken their toll. My vision was gauzy. I was still swinging at him, but he’d moved back and I was starting to stumble.
I heard Jane behind me. Running toward me. “He’s got a gun, Dev!”
And so he had. Later on it would have a strange humor for me. Brass knucks and a gun. Susan Cooper sure had picked a sweetie pie.
Between my failing eyesight and my pain, he didn’t need his gun to make sure I was no threat. He just lunged forward and shoved me. Not even rage could keep me upright. I slumped against the rental. I could hear him running away, but it was just sensory data. I was too weak to care.
I started to slide down the side of the rental. Then Jane had her arms around me. “I’m going to get you in the car, and then I’m driving us to the hospital.”
“No, no hospital.”
“What? He could’ve killed you!”
I was having a hard time swallowing. “Your place. Your place.”
I leaned away from the car so I could open the passenger door. I managed to crawl inside and lay my head back against the seat. I don’t know whether I passed out or just went to sleep. It didn’t matter. I was out.
Strange room, strange clothes, strange memories. Moonlight through a window, silver and shadowed. I lay on a bed in a pair of pajamas I’d never seen before. My own animal smells; my own animal contours as I stretched. There was pain, and with the pain came memories. The parking lot and the brass knuckles and the gun. Three bumps on the left side of my head. The impulse to get out of bed was slowed by the fact that I was dizzy. I had to move carefully. I didn’t even try to stand up at first. Just sat on the edge of the bed. I needed a bathroom and then I needed some coffee. A fragment of fantasy — me beating Craig Donovan to death. His face bloody, his eyes pleading as I sent him into the darkness.
The door opened. She was backlit and in silhouette. “I thought I heard you.”
“What time is it?”
“Just before four-thirty. You got about eight hours’ sleep, anyway. How’s your head feel?”
“How the hell did you get me into pajamas and then into bed?”
“I’m more resourceful than you realize.”
“You’d have to be.”
“But you didn’t answer my question. How’s your head?”
“Hurts. But I doubt it’s anything serious.”
“I went online and checked for the symptoms of a concussion. You didn’t seem to have them, so I put you to bed. There’s a bathroom right down the hall. I’ll heat up some coffee. You be all right?”
“Yeah. And thanks for taking care of me.”
“That’s the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. I’ve never seen anything like that before. I wanted to kill him. Even as mad as I get at my ex, I never seriously think about killing him. But this guy—”
“Believe me, I’ve been thinking the same thing. I hope I get a chance to pay him back.” Then: “I’ll be all right. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”
“You sure you don’t need help?”
“I’ll be fine.”
I knew I was feeling stronger. Something like pride was keeping me from telling her that I was dizzy. I was beginning to realize that Donovan had hurt my ego far more than he’d hurt my body. Even though I hated all the macho bullshit that burdens most men, I didn’t like the feeling of being helpless and at somebody else’s mercy. Jane had seen how weak I was. I didn’t want to stand up and fall down.
“You sure?” She didn’t sound sure.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”
After her silhouette vanished from the doorway, I stood up and stayed in place until the worst of the dizziness faded. Then I started the slow, careful process of getting to the bathroom. The cold water I splashed on my face brought me awake, the warm muzziness of the bed banished. I was pissed off. Oh, did I have plans for him. My anger overrode any pain I had. It was as if a TV minister had laid hands on me and I’d been reborn. I smiled at myself in the mirror for being such a clever bastard. At the moment my image of a TV minister seemed the wittiest thing I’d ever thought of. What a fine, swell, wonderful guy I was.