The Shoal of Time

by J. M. Redmann

  She’d put on one of the robes provided by the hotel, but underneath was still wearing the black lace bra and panties.

  She blew me a kiss as she hung up.

  I handed her the frozen peas and the aspirin and its alternative. I got the ice bucket and went and filled it.

  “Thank you,” she said as I returned to the room.

  “No problem.”

  “I’m used to…dealing on my own. If you’re a woman in this business, you have to be tough. No crying. Or admitting to pain.”

  “Doesn’t seem right. Even big guys can feel pain.”

  “Right isn’t always how it works. My dad made my brother’s life hell because he wasn’t strong enough. We didn’t say it then, but he was clearly one of those boys who was going to grow up to be gay.”

  “Your dad didn’t like that, I’m guessing.” I wrapped ice in a towel and handed it to her to replace the unwrapped frozen peas. I put them back in the bucket of ice to keep everything cold.

  “Hated it. Hated it when any of us cried or acted what he called weak. I didn’t want to be my brother, so I learned never to look fragile or ask for anything.”

  I got her a glass of water. “That’s a hard way to grow up.”

  “It was harder on my brother. I was a girl, so I got a pass. My dad made it so hard on him and let the other kids beat him up as well, he finally gave up.” She stared down at her drink.

  I finally prompted her, “What did he do?”

  “Got drunk and jumped off a bridge.”

  “Did he survive?”

  “It was the middle of winter. He landed on ice. The cops called him a broken rag doll.”

  “I’m very sorry.”

  She took a sip of water, then brushed her hand across her face. “So I’m not used to someone running to the store when I have a bloody nose. It was always my responsibility to clean it up.”

  “Not when I’m around,” I said, angry for the little girl who had to clean her own cuts and had lost a brother because he didn’t fit in the proper male mold. I sat down next to her, on her uninjured side.

  She put her hand on my thigh and rested her head on my shoulder. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Don’t be too nice, otherwise I might get used to it.”

  “Get used to it. I’m not going anywhere.” I put my arm around her shoulder, holding her gently.

  She snuggled into me. “This isn’t the night I planned.”

  “Not your fault. I wish you hadn’t been hurt.”

  “It’s stupid, but I’m kind of glad I did. It showed me what kind of person you are. The kind who’s willing to fight for me. And take care of me afterward.” She slipped her free arm around my waist.

  “You’d do the same.”

  “I’d like to think I would. You’ve proven it.” She kissed me on the cheek and put the ice pack down, using that hand to cup my cheek.

  It was cold; I turned to kiss it, to warm her palm and fingers.

  She let me, then pulled my face to her, a deep, more intense kiss than we’d shared so far. Holding the kiss she moved on top of me, her knee between my legs. She undid the robe so it fell open.

  I let her kiss me, reveled in it. I finally said, “Hey, I’m enjoying this, but you need to take it easy. We don’t want you to start bleeding again.”

  She stroked my cheek. “Thank you for worrying, but this is what I need right now.”

  We were kissing again, her tongue exploring my lips, in my mouth.

  I wrapped my arms around her, underneath the robe, her skin hot under my hands. I let them roam, from her shoulders down to her thighs and back again.

  We kept kissing, lips, neck, cheeks, only avoiding her injured area.

  I slipped my hands under the hook of her bra, unfastening it.

  She whispered in my ear, “You are a bad girl, aren’t you? You have me mostly naked and you haven’t taken off a thing.”

  “We can change that.”

  “Let’s.”

  She stood up, flinging off the robe and her bra, leaving only her panties. She grabbed my hands and pulled me to standing, then started hastily pulling off my jacket to throw it on the pile of clothes. My sweater quickly followed, then my bra.

  We embraced and kissed, our breasts hard against each other.

  I kicked off my shoes and she quickly pulled both my pants and underwear off.

  “You are so beautiful,” she said as she looked at me. “My hero.”

  Then she was kissing, my neck, my throat, my breasts.

  The focus became our touch, everything went to the background.

  Soon we were on the bed, both naked.

  She was fierce in her passion, as if it had been a long time since anyone had touched her with caring and kindness.

  We made love once, then again and again, hands, mouths, bodies, touching and tasting, exploring as if the night would end too soon and we had to take in as much pleasure as we possibly could.

  Finally, exhausted, we fell into a sleep of twisted sheets and entwined bodies.

  I woke briefly at dawn, a faint morning light through the window. Ashley was lying next to me, one arm draped across my chest.

  This wasn’t a dream was my first thought. I lay awake, watching the sun rise, enjoying the feel of her against me. Remembering the night before. Her vivid green eyes as she leaned in to kiss me. Her moan of pleasure as I touched her, made her explode into orgasm. The softness of her breasts as my lips explored them. The way she held me, arms so tight as if she was afraid she might lose me. The way she took me, ardent, passionate, touching everything where she thought might give me pleasure.

  I gently kissed her forehead, not wanting to wake her, much as I wanted her company again.

  Somehow I fell asleep again.

  Chapter Twenty

  I woke again when Ashley stirred.

  “Wow, what time is it?” she asked as she rolled away from me.

  I looked at the bedside clock. “Around ten. In the morning.” I gave her a wicked smile.

  She smiled back, but got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

  I also got up; I needed that destination as well.

  “We’re going to take a shower together,” she announced when she was finished.

  She was already under the running water by the time I finished peeing.

  I joined her. It was partly a shower and mostly lovemaking.

  We paused long enough after the shower to order a room service brunch. Caffeine and food were necessary to keep the sex going.

  Which we did after eating. The bed was in a high state of disrepair by the time we were finished.

  “We need to let the maid in,” I pointed out after a second, more prosaic shower.

  She agreed and we got dressed.

  I was still in what I’d worn the night before, wrinkled and dirty from the wear and the fight. I stopped long enough at my house to get changed and grab an overnight bag with extras in case I didn’t make it back before tomorrow.

  We spent the day together the way people falling in love should. Lunch at a hole-in-the-wall barbeque joint. A drive across the lake to take advantage of the bright sunny day. We ambled around in the park up there, took a drive along the lake as the sun set. Had dinner at the Abita Brew Pub.

  We drove back across the lake, holding hands, the stars bright in the sky.

  As we got close to her hotel, I asked, “Do you want my company or should I drop you off?”

  “Are you getting tired of me?”

  “Not in the slightest. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “Not a chance,” she said, running her hand up my thigh to the V in my legs.

  “Careful, I’m driving,” I said.

  “Then we’d better get to my hotel room.”

  We did and again made love most of the night.

  Had Sunday in the same pattern, a lazy morning, brunch and the papers, a walk in Audubon Park, a late lunch up around there, followed by a drive up the river by the plantations.
She was here; she should at least get a glimpse. After that a nice dinner close to the hotel and back to her room for another night of lovemaking.

  I woke in the early dawn; Ashley snuggled beside me, her face relaxed in sleep. One cheek did have a big bruise, but the rest of her face was peaceful, happy. Or perhaps I wanted to see that.

  Maybe because I was happier than I had been in a long time. Maybe even happier than I ever thought I could be. Ashley appreciated me, seemed to see the person I wanted to be, could see enough of the good to forgive my sins. She had called me her hero, words I’d been yearning to hear for a long time, words that proved I could be better than I’d been.

  How could I have considered Emily with her distrust and hard questions? She was the past. I’d never kiss her again, or even consider it. This investigation would be over; she would learn that I wasn’t involved, indeed was on her side the entire time. But it would be too late.

  Even Cordelia was past. Now I had a future that didn’t include her, didn’t need her. Was wiped clean of the mistakes I’d made with her.

  Ashley stirred, sleepily leaned in and kissed my breast. She shook herself and said, “What time is it?”

  “Just before seven, the sun’s just coming up.”

  “Damn,” she said. “It’s Monday, isn’t it?”

  “Yep, sorry, but it is.”

  She rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. I gave her a few minutes, then went in to take care of my own needs.

  “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to work today,” she said.

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s the way life is. We can meet in the evening,” I said. “If you want.”

  “Of course I want.” She put her hand between my legs. Played just long enough to make me moan when she pulled away. “I’ll finish that tonight,” she said with a playful grin.

  After that we behaved; I’d only brought so many pairs of underwear, after all.

  She had a breakfast meeting at eight, so I left her to the workday and headed out to forage on my own, fortified only by one small cup of hotel room coffee.

  Since I knew there was nothing to eat at home, I did the necessary run to the grocery store, hitting the one in the CBD. It’s not as big as others but has enough to provide the necessities—coffee and enough food to get me through a few days.

  From there I went home and had a proper eggs and sausage breakfast with freshly ground and brewed coffee.

  It was also Monday for me, albeit a kinder, gentler Monday since I was my own boss and made my own hours. I would never be foolish enough to schedule a meeting for eight on a Monday morning.

  A little after ten, I left and headed to my office. This time I even remembered to bring a turkey sandwich for lunch.

  Ah, Monday, you cruel bitch, you.

  A small black car was parked outside my office. I considered driving past, but she’d clearly seen me, was getting out of the car before I’d even parked.

  My favorite FBI agent had a few more questions.

  The sight of her pretty much did in my post-sex high. You can get it back this evening, I reminded myself.

  “About time you showed up,” she said.

  “I work for myself, I can make my own hours. You can call and make an appointment, you know.”

  “I do know. That only works if you actually answer your phone.”

  Oh, yeah, I had turned it off, I remembered. To her I said, “Sorry, put it in my gym bag and forgot to take it out.”

  “So you didn’t answer your phone at all? And here I pictured you seeing it was me and throwing it across the room.”

  “Nope, not the case. There are very few people I’d destroy a cell phone for. You’re not one of them.”

  “Can we get out of the wind and go inside?”

  “Why? This is going to be a brief conversation. I told you everything on Thursday night.”

  “Did you talk to your source?”

  “My source?”

  “Yeah, the one who gave you the information about the delivery of the women. You know, that human trafficking thing.”

  “I did. And she—” Damn, I had slipped up. “And that person wasn’t willing to risk it. Sorry.” I moved to go past her.

  “She, huh?”

  Double damn, she had caught it.

  “Maybe. But she’s a transman, and I slipped and used the gender I used to know her by.”

  “Bullshit. Let’s go inside and talk about this.” She put her hand on my back, guiding me to the door.

  I tried to pull away from her, but she kept close.

  “Nice perfume,” she said as I put the key in my lock. “Didn’t think you could afford something like that.”

  Triple damn. Some of Ashley’s fragrance must have transferred to me in our passionate good-bye.

  “You must be mistaken. I’m not the kind of girl to wear perfume. A homeless person bumped into me outside the grocery store, and she had on what smelled like gallon-a-dollar toilet water.”

  I turned the key in the lock, opening the door. I had to let Emily through before I could close it, but I did what I could to keep her far enough away from the lingering scent of Ashley on me.

  “I know the fragrance,” she said as she followed me up the stairs. “My ex, the law partner, used it all the time.”

  “Maybe it’s you, then. Perhaps it’s lingering on your clothes.” I was hustling up the stairs trying to keep ahead of her. It wasn’t working very well, given how in shape she was.

  “Not a chance,” she said, “it was one of the bones of contention in our relationship—how much she’d spend on things like that. I grew to hate the smell.”

  I had to stop at my office door to unlock it.

  She easily caught up with me, leaned in, and took a good whiff of my hair. “Yes, definitely the same perfume. You been cheating on me with someone else?”

  I opened the door and strode into my office, crossing behind my desk before turning to her. “I’m not cheating on you because we’re not in a relationship. We both admitted it was a drunken moment of weakness. And it’s over.”

  She didn’t let her lips move, but her eyes held a smile. She’d intended to provoke me and she’d succeeded. I needed to be cool and calm and it was hard to do that with such recent memories of Ashley and my need to protect her—and us—from the criminals and the corrupt officers who abetted them.

  “Very true,” she said. “You’re allowed to come to work smelling like the woman you spent the night with.”

  “And you’re allowed to be bitter because the best you can do is manage a drunken one-night stand that we both regret.”

  That took the smile out of her eyes. She shot back, “Smells like the kind of perfume your friend Desiree Montaigne would wear. Is that where you spent the night? Getting paid in something other than money?”

  “Fuck you. I’m not the kind of girl who…” Who would sleep with a woman like that? Like sex workers are trash and I’m better than that? “I don’t pay for sex,” I finished.

  “Okay, so you got it for free. Desiree is not a bad-looking woman. She could probably teach you a few tricks.”

  Don’t go there. “What do you want, Harris? I have things I need to do.”

  “Trying to crack a case. As I’m sure you know, the boat disappeared into the night.”

  “I didn’t know that. Why would I?”

  “Anyone who’s part of the gang would.”

  “I’m not. I do know enough about the bayous to know how easy it is to hide in them. Which is why you needed a boat to chase them. Which you didn’t have.”

  “Where did you meet the Guidry brothers?”

  “I haven’t. Nor do I want to.”

  “Really? But you passed their name on to the cops.”

  “I investigated, like good private eyes do. Found out that was the name of the owner of the Eula May, the boat my source mentioned. That’s all I know about them.”

  “That so? You mean you had no clue they also owned the warehouse where you
so desperately needed to pee?”

  “What?” That was news. “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “Like you said, you grew up out there. Maybe you’re the connection between the city slickers and the bayou boys.”

  This was not going well. Given the evidence she was mounting against me, I might think I was guilty if I didn’t know myself so well.

  “No, that’s not what happened. I’m not involved, not the way you’re claiming.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’s a one-person operation like you have over fifty thousand in a bank account?”

  “My ex…had money. She left me some.” Cordelia had cleaned out all the accounts that were hers, even the ones that had my name on them so I could access them if I needed to. But the savings and checking account we shared, she’d divided in half. I’d just left the money sitting in the savings account. “You can check and see that it’s been there a long time.”

  “Trust me, I will.”

  She pulled a pair of handcuffs from her belt.

  “No,” I said. “Not unless you want to drag me down three flights of stairs.”

  “I might enjoy that. You’re looking pretty guilty to me. Enough to bring you in to ask you a lot more questions.”

  This day had gone from riches to rags all too quickly. I did not want to spend the afternoon, evening, day, or fates forbid, the entire night being questioned. The challenge was to finesse telling her enough to get her off my tail and not telling her anything that would reveal too much.

  “Okay,” I said. “I still do have to protect client confidentiality. Can you at least understand that?”

  “I understand it,” she said, crossing her arms, the handcuffs dangling in one hand.

  “I’m working with someone who knows something about this case through the ICE agents she knows.” She had to know all the agencies who were involved, so I didn’t think I was giving much away.

  But Emily looked perplexed. “ICE isn’t working on this. They’re not involved yet.”

  Of all the things you said you can’t tell me, Ashley, you could have told me this. I covered by saying, “Not that they’re working the case, but they’ve heard a few things. She—they mentioned it to my client. And my client is…worried about how this might affect her.”