by Kyra Davis
Amelia’s mouth twitched at the corner and she gave Dena’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better. Remember to keep thinking those happy, healing thoughts.”
“Yeah.” Dena stiffened ever so slightly. “Thanks…for the rope and the company.”
Amelia nodded again and gave me a quick hello/goodbye hug before leaving the room.
I stepped over the gift baskets and took Amelia’s abandoned chair. “So you stood in physical therapy.”
Dena sighed. “It was nuts. I mean I was able to support my own weight for…I think it was four seconds. And then…well, it’s like I told you, we did lots of exercises with all this funky equipment. You would have thought I was competing in a fucking triathlon. It was that hard. How can just moving my legs be that fucking hard, Sophie?”
The faint note of pleading that tinged her words scared me. Dena didn’t plead. I tried to take her hand but she pulled it away and stared out the window. “They say I should be able to leave in another two or three days,” she whispered.
“You get to go home?”
“That’s not what I said. I said I get to leave. But I can’t go home. It’s not wheelchair accessible.” She said the last words as if they were particularly vile to pronounce.
“But couldn’t we make it wheelchair accessible?”
“My place?” Dena laughed. “Sophie, think about it. I live on a hill that’s practically at a ninety-degree angle. There are seven steps that you need to take just to get to my front door. Every room is angular and…” Dena took a deep breath “…and I’m scared.”
“You’re scared?”
“Someone shot me, Sophie. I’m here in this hospital bed bragging about four seconds worth of standing but I still can’t walk and it’s all because of what someone did to me and now I…I don’t feel safe anymore.” She whipped her head in my direction. “If you tell anyone I said I was scared I will hunt you down and kill you.”
“Come on, Dena, why would I tell anyone that?”
She smiled slightly and then turned back to the window.
“Besides,” I said slowly, “I’m scared, too.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, seriously, I am. You and I have had our fair share of close calls and we’ve gotten through them all without a scratch. I was beginning to think we were invincible.”
“We’re not,” Dena said simply.
“Yeah, I get that now.” I rested my elbow on a stack of Susie Bright novels. “It’s scary not being invincible.”
“So what do we do?”
“Well, if you were feeling better you’d tell me to suck it up and deal.”
“That does sound like me.” Dena tugged gently on the edges of her pillow. “Sophie, I asked you to come over here because I’m going to need to stay with someone for a little while and I was sort of hoping you and Anatoly would be up for taking on a disabled houseguest.”
I paused for a moment. “Is disabled the PC word right now because I thought—”
“Don’t even fucking start with me.”
“Right. Well, let’s put it this way then. I’d love to have you stay with us and I know Anatoly would be open to it, too. You can hang out until you get back on your feet.”
“No pun intended.”
“No pun intended at all. I was speaking literally. You will be back up on your feet.” There was a scraping sound as I scooted my chair a little closer to her bed. “In the interim we’ll work together to find out who did this so we can make her scared of us.”
“And then we’ll feel invincible again?”
“Maybe.”
Dena was quiet for a moment and then, slowly her brow began to lower and the delicate wrinkles in her forehead made themselves known. “Did you just say we were going to make her scared of us? What makes you think the person who did this to me is a her?”
“Well…okay, I…I need to talk to you about Chrissie and Tim Powell.”
Dena let out a short, harsh laugh. “Why do you want to know about Adam and Eve?”
“Adam and Eve?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s Eve, she’s Adam. She keeps telling him not to eat from the apple tree and he keeps reaching for the apples, consequences be damned. Problem is, she sees me as the snake.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’re not? Don’t tell me you see yourself as one of the angels.”
Dena laughed again, this time less bitterly. “No, not an angel or a demon. I’m not really part of the story. I’m not luring him into the path of temptation but I’m not trying to throw him out of the garden either. He keeps coming into my store. I’ll condescend to talk to him and tell him about any new merchandise I’ve gotten in. Occasionally he buys something but mostly he just wants to hang out and pretend that his life is a little more dangerous than it is.”
“He doesn’t try to put the moves on you or anything?”
“Sometimes he does but he’s married now and even if he wasn’t I’m not interested. I slept with him a total of three or four times altogether. I can’t even remember the exact number. What does that tell you?”
Not much. Dena remembering every single time she’s had sex would be like me remembering every single time I went to the grocery store. At some point it all starts running together.
“We never went on an actual date,” she went on. “He’s a sophomoric, conflicted, weird little man.”
“Then why did you hook up with him at all?”
“I met him at a bar and he showed me all these weird tricks he can do with his tongue and I figured, what the hell, could be fun. The guy has an extremely flexible tongue.”
I stared up at the pale beige ceiling. “Did you know he was engaged when you slept with him?”
“Didn’t have a clue. I’m guessing Chrissie doesn’t believe that otherwise her frigid little posse would stop picketing my store. Not that I’m complaining. You know what those protests do for my sales.”
“You never told me that MAAP’s quarrel against Guilty Pleasures was the result of a personal vendetta.”
“I just found out a few weeks ago. Tim let it slip last time he came into the store. He’s not very bright. Why are you asking me about…”
Her voice trailed off and she struggled to shift her body so she was turned toward me. “Was it her?”
“I don’t know…could be. Could be him.”
Dena shook her head. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Sophie, I’ve blindfolded him and spanked him with a paddle.”
“So?”
“Okay, the thing about those kinds of sex games is that you sort of get to know where your partner’s limits are and when you know how far someone will go in the bedroom you know how far they’ll go in all the other areas of their life. Tim has an edge but he’s not out of control. But Chrissie?” Dena shook her head. “That bitch is so sexually repressed it would be a miracle if she didn’t start shooting people.”
As soon as the words came out of Dena’s mouth her expression changed. She forced herself up on her forearm. “I made a joke about it!”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Is that progress?”
“I don’t know…do you feel cleansed?”
“I’m not sure…I don’t think so.” She dropped back down. “Still…I made a joke about it,” she said again.
I smiled and resisted the urge to stroke her hair. It was mussed and sticking out in all sorts of strange ways, but somehow the mess made her look more playful and less wounded. “Tim told me that he hit Chrissie.”
Dena gave me a funny look. “Bullshit.”
“That’s what he said. And Chrissie’s told the police that he’s hit her, too. He’s out on bail right now.”
“He was arrested for hitting his wife?” Dena asked skeptically. “Does she have any bruises?”
“Um…a couple.” Now it was my turn to become absorbed in the penis pasta. “I know the bruises didn’t come from him though.”
<
br /> “How do you know that? Did you spank him, too?”
“No, but… Okay.” I took a deep breath. “I found out that she had it in for you and I thought she might be the one who shot you so I went over to see her and then she said some really horrible things about you and I got mad so I punched her and she fell and now she’s saying that it’s Tim who really punched her and the police believe her because he confessed and he says he confessed because he did hit her a month ago so now it’s all a big mess.” I paused just long enough to breathe again. “By the way, the police think Chrissie’s a suspect, too, so they’ve probably got her under surveillance or something.”
Dena stared at me for a beat. “Did you punch her hard?”
“Yeah, pretty hard.”
“Good.”
At that moment the door swung open and there before us was Tim. Sweaty and exuberant.
“I found you!” he exclaimed. “The girl in the paisley dress was right, this is your room!”
I squeezed my eyes closed. Amelia. I really should have warned her not to give Dena’s room number out to sweaty guys with talented tongues.
He glanced down at all the gift baskets and the flush in his cheeks became a little brighter. Then, slowly, his eyes moved up to Dena. “You look…beautiful.”
“Don’t try to flatter me, Tim.”
“It’s true!” he insisted. He grabbed the chair by the window and, clearing the gift baskets away with his foot, pulled it over to the other side of the bed. “You always had this really powerful beauty but now that you’ve survived this it’s like…it’s like you’re one of those superhot girls from the X-Men movies! You’re…you’re…”
“Invincible?” I supplied.
“Yeah.” Tim nodded. “Invincible.”
“I’m not invincible,” Dena snapped. “And I’m not a superhot girl. I’m a superhot woman. Can you say that, Tim? Superhot woman.”
“Superhot woman,” he repeated dutifully.
“Better,” Dena said, slightly mollified.
Tim scooted his chair a little closer. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m angry.”
Tim swallowed hard and reached for the edge of the cheap cotton sheets. “Do you want to take it out on someone?” he asked almost hopefully. He leaned closer in as if this would keep me from hearing their conversation. “I don’t mind being a whipping boy for you if that’s what you need. I could even wear a ball gag. I’ve never worn a ball gag before.”
“Are you kidding me?” Dena hissed. “I’m not going to put a ball gag in your mouth, you idiot! I need you to talk!”
Again the color in Tim’s face went up a notch.
“Did she do this to me?” Dena asked.
“Chrissie?” he said, seemingly surprised although it wasn’t as if he had needed three guesses to figure out who she was talking about. He fell back into his chair. “No. No way.”
“Why? Because she’s such a kindhearted soul? She did just set you up on a domestic violence charge, right?”
Tim looked up, suddenly becoming very absorbed in the television screen mounted in the corner of the room. The act might have been more believable if the television had actually been on. “She sort of set me up,” he said slowly, “and she sort of didn’t.”
“Yeah, Sophie told me that you said you hit her once before. I have a hard time believing that, Tim.”
“Well, I did,” he said, finally pulling his eyes away from the black screen. “But I didn’t mean to! I just got too excited, you know!” He leaned forward again so I was forced to stare at the thinning hair on the top of his head. “She was finally letting me get experimental. Remember those tips you gave me about how to sort of lure her into some moderate kinkiness! Well, it almost worked!”
“Almost?”
“Well, I got her to talk dirty in bed. ’Course there are some words that she just won’t say like penis and fuck but I got her to yell out things like ‘I love your really big thingy!’ And ‘Work it!’”
Dena stared at him for a beat. “You have a very sad life.”
“But it was progress!” Tim insisted. “And then she even agreed to some role playing! At first she was the restless housewife and I was the pool boy. Sometimes I played the handyman. It was really working for us so I figured I’d up the ante with some real role reversal!”
“Explain,” Dena pressed.
“Okay, I suggested that we play French maid and mean boss. The mean boss would order around the French maid who would be really feisty and put up a bit of a fight. Of course the maid would be sort of slutty underneath the cool demeanor so it wouldn’t be too much of a fight. Just a slap or two. And I said we’d dress up and everything!”
“Okay,” Dena said with a nod. “I’m with you so far. Did she have a problem with that?”
“Well, she didn’t until I came out of the bathroom wearing the French maid uniform. I guess she thought she was going to be the maid or something.”
Dena pressed her lips together as she struggled to suppress a smile. “It’s really important that you give your lover a heads-up before you bring cross-dressing into the bedroom. It’s not something you want to spring on someone.”
“I didn’t think I was springing anything on her! Every time we role played I always played the part of the help! Why would she have thought this time was going to be any different?”
“Tim, do you know what the difference is between a handyman and a French maid? A handyman has certain…equipment and the maid rubs the equipment down. See how that works?”
“I guess,” Tim said sullenly.
“Besides, what does this have to do with the domestic violence charge?”
“Right, well, she started screaming and I was really in the moment, like I was in full method-actor mode so I just assumed that she was, too. I thought the boss was screaming at the maid so I slapped her…I guess I slapped her too hard though because she sort of stumbled and then she tripped over my gym bag that I had left in the middle of the floor. She didn’t bruise or anything but she did twist her ankle…” He shook his head. “Dena, it was awful. I felt so guilty and the worst thing was she said she was going to call the police!”
“Because you slapped her.”
Tim nodded. He looked miserable. “She had the phone in her hand and she said that she would call them and I wouldn’t even have time to get out of my maid’s uniform before they got there and if I did get out of it I’d be naked or only have my briefs on or something and they’d take me to the station like that. She said she’d tell all my friends and coworkers…. It was just supposed to be a game! I didn’t mean to hurt her!”
Dena lifted her chin slightly. “She sounds vicious.”
“Exactly,” I agreed and then quickly clenched my teeth. If I was going to get any information about Chrissie out of Tim it was probably best to let Dena do all the talking. He trusted her, not me.
“Tim,” Dena said in a tone that suggested she was speaking to a child (and I was beginning to suspect that there was a reason for that), “Chrissie has made it clear over and over again that she has a thing for revenge. And from what you’re telling me I’m guessing that she not only blames me for stealing your affections but she may also incorrectly credit me for getting you into drag. Am I right?”
“She may have mentioned it.”
“Tim, your wife shot me in the back.”
“No, that’s the thing. She couldn’t have.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a really bad shot. It’s a sore spot for her seeing that she’s from Texas and everything. She’s even a member of the NRA but…” He shook his head sadly. “She’s never gonna be Annie Oakley. You know those amusement park games where you’re supposed to shoot the water into the clown’s mouth? She never gets it in the mouth. She rarely even hits the clown. There was at least one time that she accidently soaked the guy manning the booth and he wasn’t anywhere near that clown. I think that’s why she won’t go to amusement parks anymore. Too man
y bad memories of dry clowns.”
Dena and I looked at each other. Dena sighed and patted his hand reassuringly. “Tim, let’s just say for argument’s sake that the person who shot me wanted to kill me.”
“Right,” Tim said. “We’ll assume that.”
“Don’t you think that someone with that goal in mind would aim for my head?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it I think they probably would.” He then put his hand on her leg and exhaled loudly. “I’m so glad they didn’t, Dena. God, if you had died I…I…”
“You would have found someone else to fantasize about,” Dena said with a cool smile. “Eventually. But what you’re not understanding is that the person who shot me may have been aiming for my head and missed. Maybe he…or she is a bad shot.”
“I know Chrissie can be cruel but I promise you, she didn’t do this.”
“Tim,” I ventured, finally deciding the time to speak up had come, “Chrissie has a motive and from what I understand she had opportunity. I still think there’s a good chance your wife is the shooter.”
Tim shook his head. “She can’t say penis,” he said. “She can’t slap me across the face even when I ask her to. And when you play those kinds of bedroom games with a person—”
“You know what they are and aren’t capable of,” Dena finished. She sighed. “I taught you that.”
“Yeah, you did,” Tim agreed. “Dena, I would do anything to help you. What happened…it was worse than horrible. When I found out about it I threw up five times in a row. You can ask Chrissie about that…actually maybe you shouldn’t. She wasn’t very happy about it. But the thing is she wasn’t happy about any of it.”
“She seemed pretty happy about it when she talked to me,” I said.
“Yeah, but that’s what she does. She tries to frame things in a way that she can live with but it takes about a day for her to do that. But when the police came by to ask us some questions and they told us what was going on…well, she kept it together in front of them but as soon as we were alone she fell apart. It takes a lot for Chrissie to fall apart but this did it.”