Killer Kisses

by Sharon Buchbinder

  ~*~

  A week later, arm in a blue sling, Levisa stood behind the counter at the clinic, reviewing her caseload for the morning. Holiday garlands of green, red, blue and silver decorated the crowded waiting room, and the scent of pine filled the air. Senior citizens played musical chairs with one another, each vying for a seat closer to the intake room.

  Levisa hummed, and headed for her office, juggling coffee and client files with her good hand. She was going to try to reach Sam again—this time through the Accounting Department. Maybe they’d know how to find him.

  “BMU Department of Accounting, how may I help you?”

  Mouth dry, she tried to sound businesslike. “Yes, I’m looking for a student in your department. His name is Sam—Sam Parker, I think. I’d like to return his jacket.”

  “Certainly. I’ll put you through to his office voicemail.”

  Office voicemail? For an undergraduate? How odd.

  “Hi! Yew’ve reached the voicemail of Sam Parker. I’m not available rate now. If yew are calling about tutoring, I have office hours Mondays and Wednesdays from two to four in the afternoon. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to yew.”

  “Sam, this is Levisa Harris.” She hoped she didn’t sound too anxious. “I’d like to return your jacket. Please call me at the clinic.” She placed the phone on the receiver, puzzled. He had an office—with voicemail. Only graduate students and faculty had those perks. And he tutored people. Sam Parker, Pigtown man of mystery.

  Mrs. Pierce stood in the doorway, her plump cheeks flushed.

  “There’s someone here to see you.”

  Levisa felt a surge of fear. “Chip?”

  “Heavens, no! I’d call the police if it was him.”

  “Does this one have a Pigtown accent?” Levisa held her breath, hoping for the answer she wanted, and the right man to go with it.

  “Oh, yes!” The receptionist smiled. “If he didn’t speak he’d be adorable. Puppy dog eyes…”

  “Sam!” Levisa exploded out of her chair and pushed past the daydreaming woman to the front desk. Sam stood at the counter, looking around as if he was in a foreign country.

  “Am I in the rate place?” Sam lowered his voice to a whisper. “What’s wif all dem old folks?”

  Levisa suppressed a smile. “Free hearing tests.” She pressed her good hand on the counter to keep it from trembling. No man had ever affected her this way before. Could he tell? “I was just trying to reach you. I have your jacket. Come around, so we can chat in private.” She led him to her office and handed him his coat.

  Their hands touched and a spark of static electricity flashed between them.

  “Ouch!” Levisa jumped back, caught herself, and laughed.

  Sam smiled and said, “Sorry ’bout dat. How’s yer arm?” He pointed to the sling, a worried look on his handsome face. “And head?”

  “Sprained. Mild concussion. It could have been worse. Thank you so much for all your help.” Her gaze traveled along his strong jaw to that oh-so-kissable scar. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Sam looked at the floor. “Yes.” He looked up and made direct eye contact. “Yew were rate.” I had an innerview at the Career Center. The guy didn’t unnerstand me. Told me ta get rid of my accent. I need your help.”

  Moved by his beseeching look, she fought back the urge to hug him and tell him everything would be all right. “First of all, you can probably reduce your accent, but I can’t promise you’ll be completely rid of it.”

  “Okay, I can live wif dat,” he nodded and a shock of black hair flopped into his eyes.

  “When do you want to start?” One-handed, she pulled out her phone to look at her calendar. If only her fingers would stop tingling, she could get the darn thing to work.

  “Now. I have an innerview wif Ernst and Young in April. He sighed. “I really want a job wif dem.”

  Levisa looked at his forlorn expression, and realized how hard it must have been for him to swallow his pride, and come to the clinic to ask for her help.

  “The good news is, if you’re willing to do the work, that’s half the battle.”

  He nodded.

  “The bad news is that we need to get you ready soon—it’s only four months away. Henry Higgins had six months to transform Eliza Doolittle. And she lived in his house, practicing twenty-four seven.” Unbidden, an image of Sam practicing his speech exercises while lying in bed with her flashed through Levisa’s mind. She ducked her head down, pretending to look closer at her calendar, and hid her smile. “Can you can meet with me three times a week, an hour each time? And are you willing to work on a computer program two hours a day on your own?”

  “I’m ready to work like a dog!” He gave her an enormous smile—then his face fell. “Is it expensive?”

  Levisa pounced on the opening. “Not if you agree to be in my study.”

  He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Tell me more.”

  Pulling a sheaf of papers out of the stack of folders, she slid them across her desk. Their fingertips touched, sending waves of longing up her arm, and Levisa became flustered. Tongue-tied, she headed for the safe territory of her research spiel. As always, she concluded with, “These are the informed consent forms, including a description of the research project. This study is completely voluntary, has been approved by the Human Subjects Protection Committee, and you can stop at any time. Any questions?”

  He transfixed her with a stare. “How old are yew?”

  Taken aback, she blushed and stammered, “Tw-twenty-three. Why?”

  “Talkin’ about your work, yew sounded older.” He cocked his head and grinned, showing perfect teeth—all except for a dear little crooked one on the bottom row. No expensive braces for him as a kid. “But we’re the same age.”

  She felt her pulse kick up a notch and took a deep shuddering breath. “May I ask you something personal?”

  He smiled and settled back in the visitor’s chair, long legs stretched out in front. “Fire away.”

  “Why do you have an office and voicemail in the accounting department?” She watched him swallow hard and lick his lips, his pink tongue darting in and out.

  “I’m workin’ on a big project. And I tutor students who’re havin’ trouble wif accounting.” He tapped his temple. “I told yew, I’m good wif numbers.”

  Not a full answer. He was hiding something, of that she was sure. But what?

  Claire sailed around the corner just as Sam was leaving the room with Levisa. “Well, hello!” Claire stood with a perfectly manicured hand on her hip, swaying back and forth. She twirled her hair with her other hand, in blatant flirt mode. “I see you found us.”

  “Yep.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other, brushing Levisa’s leg as he did so.

  Claire gave Levisa a sly look, and then turned to Sam. “Did she offer you private lessons?”

  Levisa glared at her friend and wished she could kick her in the shin. “Sam will be here three times a week for the next four months.” She had to remain cool and professional in front of Sam, or she’d never hear the end of it from Claire.

  “Oh, good!” the blonde replied. “I’m happy to hear that, Hon.”

  After Sam left, Levisa yanked Claire into her office. “Hon? What’s wrong with you?”

  Claire batted her eyes and fluffed her bangs. “Whatever do you mean?”

  She felt her face and neck get hot. “The guy is already mortified that he’s been told to ‘get rid’ of his accent, and you do that?”

  “I was just speaking his native tongue. Don’t get all bent out of shape.” Claire raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were sweet on the guy, hmm?”

  Levisa stepped back and shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m grateful to him, that’s all.” A swarm of butterflies flapped into formation in her stomach, spelling out the word: LIAR.

  “Methinks the lady protests too much!” Claire stepped closer to her friend. “You’re
blushing! I do believe Sammy Boy got through your intellectual armor!”

  Levisa put her hands up. “Stop! I have my work to think of—that’s all. He agreed to be in my study in exchange for free sessions.” Those beautiful eyes! Every time she thought of them, those butterflies spelled out much more interesting things…

  “Do you really think you can help him sound like an executive job candidate in four months?”

  A shadow of doubt crossed Levisa’s mind, and her stomach plummeted. Could she do it? Or was she being arrogant?

  “I bet a ‘Day of Beauty’ at Spa Du Jour that you can’t do it,” Claire challenged.

  Levisa stood up and straightened her shoulders. “You’re on.”

  ~*~

  “I know the National Anthem, Hon,” Sam protested, after the first month of sessions with Levisa.

  She smiled. “Yes, but do you know how to say it without Bawlamerese?”

  He began to sing. “Ao say can yew see by don’s early late…”

  “Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light?”

  “That’s what I said!” Sam glared at her.

  “Okay, let’s try this: Oh, oh, oh!”

  “Ao, ao, ao!”

  Levisa held her head in her hand, her temple throbbing. What was I thinking? I’ll never get him ready in time.

  He touched the back of her hand, setting off tremors in her legs, in spite of the fact that she was sitting down. “Are yew okay, Hon?”

  She looked up, fell into his eyes, and her headache receded. I am so much better than okay. She smiled. “I’m fine. Let’s try again.”

  ~*~

  I brought yew some chocolates.” Sam held out a heart-shaped satin box, looking like a little boy bringing his teacher a gift.

  Levisa stared at the gift, surprised and pleased at his thoughtfulness, her breathing unnervingly uneven, her heart doing a cha-cha. “Why?”

  He looked puzzled. “Didn’t yew look at the date?”

  She glanced at the calendar. “February—oh!” How had she forgotten, with all the cupids and hearts in the waiting room!

  An amused look crossed his face. “Balentine’s Day.”

  “Valentine’s Day.”

  “Just what I said.” Sam smiled.

  “Just what yew—you—said.” Levisa smiled back, feeling flushed and lightheaded. “Thanks, Sam. I think I need a piece of chocolate, right now.”

  ~*~

  “Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave, over the land of the free and the home of the brave! Play ball!”

  “Excellent! ‘I do believe you’ve got it!’ to quote Henry Higgins.” Levisa nearly crowed with delight. Sam was a quick study and had an excellent ear. She was going to win her bet with Claire, she just knew it. “How about the next one?”

  “I’m going to Bel Air to the library.”

  “Fantastic! Next one?” She decided he was her best student ever, but maybe she was just a teeny bit biased.

  He strutted around the little room, threw his chest back, and roared out the words, “Don’t open the window, it’s too humid.”

  Levisa clapped her hands and cheered. “Keep going, you’re doing great!”

  He stopped, turned and stepped close to her. “Do you know what day it is, Hon?”

  Confused, she looked down at her clipboard. “That’s not on our list, but good try. Don’t say ‘Hon’.”

  “Do you know what day it is?”

  Levisa glanced up from her notes. “You’re asking me a question?”

  He sighed. “Yes, I’m asking yew—you—a question.”

  She checked her watch. “April first.”

  “It’s a week before my big interview with Ernst and Young.” Sam reached for her hand and took it gently into his large warm one. “Will you go out to dinner with me? I’d like to thank you for all your hard work.”

  She stared at his fingers, wrapped so softly around hers. A thrill of electricity raced up her arm to her neck and she could feel herself blushing. She flashed onto Chip at the coffee shop and mentally compared his rough touch to Sam’s. She hadn’t seen the preppy, thank God, for months.

  His touch made her feel wired, as if she would jump out of her skin. “Yes! I’d like that.” Like it? I’d love it. She restrained herself from jumping up and hugging him. Slooow down, girl. Put a lid on your id, Levisa!

  “Good.” A look of relief was followed by a big grin. “Ah’ll—I’ll meet you at seven? Is the Rusty Bucket okay?”

  “Perfect.” After she closed the door behind him, she let loose with an unbridled happy dance, complete with arm waving.

  That evening, as Levisa locked the clinic door, she worried about Claire. Ever since Levisa’s fall and subsequent beginning of work with Sam, Claire had been distant and aloof toward her. Today, the blonde had spritzed herself with too much perfume, and then run out the door saying she was meeting someone for lunch. She hadn’t returned and didn’t answer her cell phone. Sometimes, she could be such a flake. Luckily, the threat of a snow squall had caused several patients to cancel their appointments, or Levisa and her coworkers would’ve never finished today.

  Loud music and laughter poured out of the Bucket as Levisa pulled into the parking lot. Jeez. What a zoo. Couples lined the entryway, waiting for tables and swigging bottled beer. She gave her name to the hostess, took a lighted pager, and joined the line. She couldn’t believe she was actually going out on a date with Sam. All these months of one-on-one sessions in close quarters with electrifying looks and tentative touches, and now here she was waiting for the man of her daydreams. She checked her watch and cell phone, looked up and down the line, and wondered where Sam was. What on earth is going on?

  “Levisa?” A man called to her, barely audible over the background noise of bar televisions and couples’ chatter.

  She turned, hoping Sam would be waving to her from the door, but instead it was Chip. She felt her smile freeze in place. Ugh. Of all the people she did not want to see.

  He pushed his way through the throng until he stood in front of her. “Sam sent me to tell you he changed his mind.”

  “What?” Was he standing her up?

  The preppy made a sad face, a messenger with bad news. “Yeah, he realized he’d made a mistake asking you out. I guess I’m your consolation prize.”

  Booby prize is more like it. How could he do this to me? And send Chip? Of all people! Furious, she thrust the pager into his hand. “Here, you won’t have long to wait.” As Levisa turned on her heel and headed for the exit, the crowd moved back to allow her to pass, and tisks of pity followed her.

  When she reached the dark parking lot, tears blurred her vision, and she leaned her head on the side of her car.

  “Hey, don’t cry, darling.” Chip grabbed her arm, whirled her around, and pressed her back against the car. “I’m here to show you a good time.”

  He shoved his hand between the lapels of her coat, pawed at her breasts, and planted a beery kiss on her lips. She struggled to get away from his groping fingers.

  “You are so hot! I love a girl who fights back!”

  “Get off me! Stop it!”

  She looked over Chip’s shoulder and saw Sam on the sidewalk, peering into The Rusty Bucket.

  “Sam? Help!” Her voice didn’t carry over the booming music. Sam headed into the restaurant.

  “You frigging cock tease! You’re just like that bitch Claire.”

  Fear jolted Levisa into action. She kneed him in the groin. When he yelped and grabbed his crotch, she kicked him in the shin—then ran like hell for the restaurant and Sam.

  The police responded to Levisa’s call in three minutes, but Chip was long gone. Holding Sam’s hand, she gave Chip’s description between sobs and gulps.

  “He lives in my building, one floor up,” Sam said. “I ran into him at the convenience store on the corner when I stopped on my way home to pick up some…” He paused and blushed. “He slapped me on the back, said, ‘Way to go!’ and took off without bu
ying anything. When I left the apartment to meet you, my car had a flat and my cell phone was missing. He must have picked it out of my holster in the store. I spent the last hour trying to get my tire fixed, and I had no way to reach you.”

  “Claire had a lunch date with someone—and never came back to the clinic.” Panic-stricken, her voice rose. “Tonight, he said I was a bitch—just like Claire. We’ve got to find her!”

  Sam reached out and stroked her cheek with trembling fingers, his warm touch soothing her jangled nerves. “We will, I promise.” He looked up at the police officers. “The apartment complex has a gym, but it’s not used much. Chip calls it his private play room.”

  Levisa put her head on Sam’s shoulder and broke into tears. As the squad cars peeled out of the parking lot with their lights going, she prayed they weren’t too late.

  ~*~

  Levisa stood at the side of Claire’s hospital bed, grateful that her friend was still alive, knowing full well that she herself could have been Chip’s next victim. She leaned into Sam and squeezed his hand. He pulled her close, his arm around her waist. She felt as if she’d known him all her life, not just four short months.

  “The police have him in custody,” Sam said. “You’re safe now.”

  “Aren’t I just the great judge of character?” Claire tried to smile through her swollen lips, but winced in pain. She had two black eyes but, amazingly, no broken bones. Speckles of dark-brown blood stood out on her champagne-blonde hair, telltale signs of her abuse.

  Levisa didn’t know what to say. She had told Claire she thought Chip was a creep. She reached for Claire’s hand—the one that wasn’t bandaged—and squeezed it.

  “I wanted someone who would adore me.” She shifted in the bed and groaned. “Dumb, dumb, dumb. I should have listened to you.” Tears shimmered in Claire’s blue eyes and Levisa handed her a tissue. “After I pretended to pass out, he was really pissed. He wanted me to fight back. He said he was going to find another playmate—you. I put you at risk.”

  “No! Don’t say that. Your quick thinking probably saved your life.”