“Roddy, what aren’t you telling me?” Now she was suspecting she had been kept in the dark about something.
“You focus on work. Zack will come around. I see how he look at you. He will come around. The car wait for you.”
“Is there something you’re keeping from me? Roddy? If it concerns me then you need to tell me. How can I focus if I’m worrying about Zack? I can’t concentrate on work with all this. Tell me.” She stood and faced him. She was inches taller. With her hand on her hips and makeup only half cleaned off she gave him a look that told him she meant business.
“You focus just fine tonight. Keep it up. I just guess about Zack. Don’t you see he want something else. He live with being cop. For his own reason. But he need to be in the world. He want more. I just guess of course. That my feeling only.” Roddy dragged his hand over his disheveled comb over. He was tired. Everything had been a lot on him too. There was trouble in his marriage, at least Mo had guessed.
“You look exhausted. Why don’t you go back and send the car back over. Lu’s waiting for you. The boys are right outside. I’ll be a few minutes.” Mo hugged Roddy and kissed him on the cheek. She watched him turn reluctantly and go. Her mind turned as she cleansed the rest of the makeup off her face.
She looked at Lourdes Garcia with a smile. The woman was not a fool but she had no reason to mistrust Mo. “I left my check in Roddy’s office,” Mo said with a touch of contrition. “Do you mind?” Meese rolled his eyes. He was ready for his day to be done. “I’ve got to get it in the mail, rent’s due, ya know?”
“Know the feeling.” Garcia fished out her keys and led the way. The coliseum was deserted. She heard Meese give a huff of impatience. Zack had said these were crack people so he must have something going for him. The security guard unlocked the door and flipped on a switch. The florescent light buzzed. Mo went around Roddy’s desk. It was just a hunch but didn’t cops work off of hunches all the time. She smiled at Garcia.
“Must be here somewhere.” She rifled through some stacks and wished she could think of an excuse to get on Roddy’s computer. Just as she felt that it had been too long she saw it. “Oh, that’s right. Roddy said he left it in with my new insurance policy.” She pressed a large thick envelope to her breast. It simply said ‘Burnham’ in red marker.
Lourdes Garcia locked the office just as the driver came in looking for Mo. She was ready to be off her shift too. “Goodnight, Ms. Whitman.”
“Goodnight Ms. Garcia, thank you.” Meese and the driver escorted her to the car.
The excitement over the photograph had caused a minor delay in plans. The coliseum was crawling with cops and security. He had not been able to make the final arrangements. He had to admit that he had been regretting the way things had to be. She had been so beautiful, so triumphant. But, he soothed himself; his plan would make her as immortal as Persephone herself. He watched her leave with Meese and the driver. The only time she wasn’t protected was in the air. Her final flight would be soon. She would have to thank him for the eternal fame he was going to give her. She would beg for it before he was through.
So the clown had left a nude picture of himself. Zack shook his head in disgust. He had created quite a hubbub but Mo was okay. Vince Smith had taken him back to the hotel after he’d made sure she was alright, though he hadn’t seen her. He thought about his last encounter with Mo as he lay in pain. Refusing to take more pain killers, his wounds hurt like hell but his headache had subsided. What an idiot. He had been unreasonable, he could see it now. She probably never wanted to see him again and he didn’t blame her. He had overreacted to her keeping the incident at his condo from him. He’d realized it as soon as his head cleared a little. But he knew the score from the look in her eyes. She had been filled with revulsion and fear at the sight of him. She had enjoyed a body that had been unblemished. Now he looked like a road map. He’d seen her reaction and could tell that she had almost thrown up at the sight of him. Now he was scarred and might never be able to use his arm normally again.
He had heard good news but it seemed almost entirely meaningless now. Smith had said it was in the paper he was supposed to not only be completely exonerated in Ray’s death but was also going to receive a commendation for the bust of Bull Shaughnessy. Along with Duke Washington. Though he was glad Shaughnessy was off the force and the street, a woman had been killed. He drew in a sad breath and felt his life rolling hopelessly down its glum path. It had shone for a short time. Mo had breathed the desire for another kind of life into him. She didn’t want him now. She’d only felt sorry for him after he’d been hurt. He didn’t want her pity though now thinking of her he felt a hundred times worse. What a fool he’d made of himself. But regret did nothing to alter the facts. She had been repulsed by seeing the extent of his wounds. She could find herself a pretty boy with a snap of her fingers. He had never questioned her attraction for him having been so caught up in his for her. It had just been the circumstances. Extreme circumstances for each of them. They’d been thrown together and found comfort with each other for a brief time.
He would have liked to think they might have found a way to be together. The more he’d thought about Roddy’s offer, the better he’d liked it. A whole new life. Travel. Money that, while nowhere near equal to Mo’s would be a much better balance. He wouldn’t feel like a hobo next to her. Not that she had judged him that way. Or had she? Was it just sex all along? Maybe she got herself a lover in every city. No. There was too much of the discoverer in her. She’d had some experience but she hadn’t known true passion. Or he was a bigger fool than he thought. Could she have fooled him completely? He’d known her for so short a time. Yet he had discovered things about himself as well because of her. Had he ever known true passion? Had he ever felt like his life would be nothing if he never saw a woman again? Had his head ever been so completely filled with every look or laugh or sigh? What was the difference between love and lust? He’d lusted plenty of times. It usually lost its appeal pretty quickly upon fulfillment. But he had been no lothario. He had been looking for the one. Even as he walked her down the aisle he knew Chelsey wasn’t the one. But he’d gone through the motions for a woman who could not be made happy. Her persistent dissatisfaction had already taken its toll. Their divorce began as soon as he slid the ring on her finger.
Patricia. She had been more like a sister. Their shy and inexperienced loving had been bereft of passion. Their kisses familial. He may as well have patted her on the head when they were done.
Mo had brought him something that altered his view of life. They had come together out of those strange, sad circumstances and he had found the passion he had searched for. Perhaps love was, after all, self delusion. Maybe he had deluded himself about her. Maybe he’d just had gotten starry eyed over an amazing and beautiful woman. Maybe he was just star struck like some stupid kid.
Well, he’d find out. She was through with him and he’d been an ass and handed her a convenient excuse. He was better off. And he’d know it as soon as he stopped hurting so damned bad. The physical pain was nothing to the blade run through his heart. He’d never known this kind of pain. Maybe he’d be laughing about it in a month when he realized he could not be in love with a woman he’d known for weeks. Like in the romance novels his mom had always read. Not that he blamed her for reading them. It was a miracle she hadn’t killed herself a lot sooner, living with the old man. And she’d known him for years before they got married. Married. Been there done that. Mo married. To him. Now that’s a ridiculous thought. She sure wasn’t the type for the domestic scene. But he wasn’t interested in June Cleaver. She was a star. More importantly to her, an artist. Her focus was on her work as it should be. Everything else was a distraction. And distractions could be fatal.
Zack wondered if Mo was in her room yet. Claude wouldn’t be wasting any time once he was out of the picture. Perfect looking Claude with his perfect body. He’d heard he was trying to get a date with Lourdes Garcia but he knew the French trapeze artist still
wanted Mo. Why on earth would she want someone who might not be able to use his arm right again. He had been an interlude. He was forever blemished. Claude would be in hot pursuit in no time.
The thought angered Zack. It filled him with heated jealousy. He wanted to hit something. He couldn’t even reach a pillow to throw it. He lay with his thoughts swirling in his head. He wanted to see her. Apologize. He’d beg for her forgiveness if he hadn’t seen the look on her face. Too late. She didn’t want him. She didn’t love him. She had used information about his father to anger him and drive him away. She couldn’t have hurt him any more if she’d been a hot bullet piercing his flesh. And she had been right on target.
Mo curled up against the fat white pillows with the envelope. Thank god Meese was off duty. Les Moore was in the other bedroom. He was stiffly polite but at least lacked the smug demeanor of Meese. He had the air of a college grad destined for great things who had gone for good money in a field far beneath him. But he was smart, and he knew his job. Zack had told her he’d been Secret Service but schedule and travel had almost wrecked his marriage so he’d come home to Chicago. He kept a picture of three beautiful little mocha skinned girls taped to his laptop. He wore a Mickey Mouse watch. Zack had also told her he had been a Navy Seal. She felt like she was in good hands but she was wondering if she wouldn’t feel more comfortable with a woman in the other room. She knew she really wanted Zack.
She turned her attention to the envelope. Mo opened it and slid out the contents. It looked like company business which she didn’t usually pay attention to. It was a proposal. She looked more closely. A plan for creating an in-house security department unfolded itself. It all seemed reasonable as she read on. A very good plan. She set the first page aside. “’Security department to be headed by Zachary Burnham… if he accepts the position… as per Rodrigo D’Mario’s request. Compensation and Insurance benefits… will make all security personnel decisions…start date as soon as possible pending recovery from present illness.’ And he accused me of keeping him in the dark. A solution to everything. A chance to be together, work together; and he didn’t tell me. She threw down the papers jumping up and pacing. Son of a bitch!” She wrapped her arms around herself.
“Ms. Whitman?” Moore’s quiet voice asked as he lightly knocked.
“I’m… I’m okay. Stubbed my toe,” she lied. Oh so he wanted out. Fine! He could take his double standard and shove it up his… Could it have all been a show? Could a man make love to a woman the way he had then just cut himself off cold? Had men wondered the same thing about her? She excelled at the cutting it off part. Her job had always enabled her when it came to having to deal it the hurt party. Hadn’t she always made it clear in her few brief encounters that it was short term? The job came first. Dedication to the show paramount. She’d never said, “God, I love you!” Liar. He lied to me too. Oh, that self righteous... She struggled for a word. Hurt blinded her to the reality of their short acquaintance. She didn’t wonder how he could need to consider the long term before committing her to having to deal with him beyond the present circumstances. She just felt betrayed by a hypocrite whose double standards were a glaring red flag. Now she knew. It was just as well. In another week they’d be gone and she’d get over him. How did one do that? Cling to the anger. That was the only way.
Mo turned off the light and stared at the ceiling. Instead of clinging to her anger she put her hand out to the empty space beside her and imagined Zack breathing there until she fell asleep.
The next day she had to keep reminding herself that she was angry as she looked for Zack to appear. Why would he? He was finished and had only been cajoled to return to Greendale to begin with. Misha grasped her ankles, his strong hands holding her securely. “I don’t see Detective Burnham around, he okay?”
“He’s finished with this job. Guess he’s back where he belongs.” She did a triple to Claude.
“Where is your policeman, eh?” Claude threw her off to meet the empty trapeze thrown out by Deb.
“How’s Zack? I hope he’s feeling better.” Deb inquired with a sympathetic tone.
Mo’s eyes flared. “Can we concentrate on work?” Deb shrunk back. Uh oh. Mo raised her eyes to the ceiling of the coliseum for some support. Support from that quarter evaded her.
“What you do up there, Momo? Time for a break? Need a nap? Want me to read you a bedtime story?” Mo gritted her teeth in tightly sealed lips. She was off the platform in a second and on her way down the silk rope.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the new security plan, Roddy?” His Chihuahua eyes popped wide. He nervously smoothed a mustache.
“Company business. You no have need to know until implement.” He started to shout a direction at Goldstein and was cut off.
“You didn’t think I should know you offered Zack a job? Didn’t think that affected me?” Mo’s eyes shot flames of anger at the diminutive manager.
“How you know? Zack say he think about it. Why tell you unless he accept? He no accept. He call today and say no. We find someone else. Clear all up? Back to work.” Roddy shoved his nose up toward Mo’s face having regained a sense of authority. It wasn’t good to coddle the star in front of the company. Or let her get away with having a tantrum.
“He called. He said ‘No’”? Mo stood as if paralyzed but her lip quivered. “Good. What about Les Moore? He’s no halfwit, and he’s probably more qualified. Her tone was sharp but her large eyes watered. “Zack Burnham is a hypocrite and a liar and you’re a liar and all men are liars! And idiots!” She stomped off toward her dressing room as Roddy sadly watched.
Damn him. Damn him. Why did she feel this way? Angry. Yes she was angry at Zack and Roddy and the whole lot of their nasty, lying, double standarded, sex. If she didn’t see Zack soon she was going to go insane. Well, he was long gone. Maybe Cherrie Something was nursing his wounds for him. Oh, Zack. How was he? Why had he become so angry with her? Well she’d seen enough of that temper hadn’t she. And the notch comment? Who was really carving the notch on their bedpost? He’d seemed so sincere. Mo took a deep breath. Well that’s it. She’d never see him again. Their little dream world had been crushed under reality’s brutal heel. She knew it would be so why the surprise. She had suspended her innate realism for a taste of unrestrained hope. If she could spit her heart out on the floor she’d squash it underfoot if it would just stop the pain of no longer having that hope. Hell with it. Work is all there is. How many people did she know of that were truly happy, anyway? Refuge? What a joke.
Enough of the pity party. She turned toward the door. She would work and she would triumph and she would produce her Egyptian show and he could read about it in the papers. She braced herself for the future and went back to work.
Fourteen
Zack woke up before dawn with a pillow clutched to his chest with his good arm. He’d fallen asleep with the lamp on. In the dim light the blank ceiling was like a mirror of the blankness he felt inside. Suddenly everything rushed in and the blank ceiling was a screen on which he projected every minute he’d had with Mo. He felt pinned to the bed by a weight on his chest. His breath came in gasps as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He had let go emotionally and found himself in the worst pain of his life. It made no sense. He could reason himself out of this. He was stronger than this. When he went to move the pain in his clavicle shot through him. It was a welcome distraction. His side ached like a choir of sons a bitches. Nothing, nothing like the ache in his chest. He tossed the pillow away.
He had gotten himself into this and he would have to deal with it. He could deal with it. He managed to rise and looked around the small single room. Gingerly he made coffee. All the exercise he had given his wounds was making him pay. But he wasn’t bleeding. That was something. His head was getting clearer as he thought about the next steps to take. The clearer his head got the more his chest ached. He poured a cup with a shaky hand.
First things first. Call Dino to come get his ass. Call Roddy and
turn down the job. Cut it off cold. It’s what she would want. Being the ‘work comes first’ type. Being the perfection of the body type. Sure, physical perfection was part of her business. The biggest part. They were athletes first. Their artistry was built on that foundation. If she couldn’t handle a man who’d been sewn together like a Frankenstein monster, who could blame her. If she didn’t want a man who may have lost perfect function of his body, came with the territory. He just didn’t want to believe it, that was all.
“After what I saw last night…” Well you saw it and it’s today’s reality and tomorrow’s and forever’s. She was done with him. He’d been such a jerk anyway. Didn’t he deserve it for the way he’d talked to her? Yeah, she’s gonna jump right on the cranky freak who insults her. If only he could apologize. Not that it would change anything. But could she at least forgive him for being a jerk when he’d been doped up and in pain? Would she understand that he had been angry out of fear for her? He had been lucky to have any chance at all with her. Lucky him. He knew things couldn’t last but he had told himself, “somehow, somehow.” Then the offer from the company. Well, she didn’t know about that. At least he hadn’t committed himself to something he’d have to backpedal on. Roddy should offer the job to someone more experienced anyway. Not someone his star was personally involved with.
She was probably at the coliseum striving for the perfection that consumed her. The old lady had certainly pounded that into her head. Perfection. No less. He had deluded himself that there was room for him in her life. He had been a distraction from the get go. From grief and fear and pain. Then he’d been on a little holiday. He’d cut that short himself the day he went with Al to bust Bull Shaughnessy.
He couldn’t regret what he’d done. He could only regret the hope for something deeper and more permanent. He’d never allow himself that again. Even if she came begging, he’d never let go like that again. It hurt too damn much. Well that was easy to say, he told himself, when he knew damn well she wasn’t going to come begging.
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