by Randy Salem
Andrew popped across her vision, on his way to Maggie to kiss her resoundingly on the cheek.
"It's settled," he roared. "You're a lucky girl Margaret."
Lee glanced past Andrew's bulky shoulder to the pallor of Maggie's face. It was not a face that felt lucky.
Pieter came up behind Maggie's chair and dropped one big hand possessively on her shoulder. "It is I who am lucky," he said to Andrew. "Margaret will make a good wife."
It was probably the first time in his life that Pieter had had a good word to say about anyone. If it could be called that. And Lee smiled wryly, appreciating how a little money could oil a tongue.
Pieter turned suddenly to Trudel and put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close against him. "We are lucky, Trudel," he said, squeezing her arm.
"Yah," Trudel said.
Lee shot a glance at Kate. And for a change, saw an honest emotion cross her face. An undisguised, undiluted distaste. And for a moment, Lee paused, holding her breath. Then the expression was gone and Kate smiled into the chattering group.
Lee took a last look at Maggie.
Then quietly, she made her way to the French door and went outside.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lee took the back road driving home, needing the aggravation of traffic and red lights to keep her mind off Maggie. It was bad enough that she had lost the girl she loved. But even worse, she felt like a traitor. She had turned Maggie over to the wolves. And she had left without so much as a good bye. She hadn't fought, she hadn't argued. She had simply given in to Kate, as she always did. And even if she had kept Maggie's love, she had the lousy feeling that she had lost the girl's respect.
If Maggie had ever respected her...
And Lee sighed. It wasn't a pretty thought. It had never bothered her before what anyone might think of her. Certainly, respect had been the least of her worries. But it was different with Maggie. She wanted Maggie to feel proud of her, to believe that Lee had done the right thing. Yet she did not expect this from Maggie when she did not even feel it herself.
She crossed the river at Third Avenue and turned onto the East River Drive. It was barely seven o'clock. Time for dinner, time for an evening on the town. Time for... Just time. Years and years of it stretching out before her, empty, useless. Just time to sit and to think. To remember Maggie and know that she had done wrong.
And suddenly Lee knew that she could not go back to the house on Sixty-eighth Street. Knew that she would sit there in the empty house and listen for the sound of Maggie. And there would be no sound. Only the emptiness, the alcohol and the endless packs of cigarettes. She needed to be somewhere where she could forget, where she could think about...
She remembered that Cleo was expecting her. She had not told the girl when she would be back. She had not known. But Cleo would be waiting and Cleo would be wanting. Anything she wanted, Cleo could have, so long as she kept Lee from thinking...
She turned off the Drive at Ninety-third Street and sped crosstown cheating on the lights. She was in a hurry now, running from Maggie and running from herself. She parked the car too close to a fire plug and sprinted across the sidewalk to Cleo's house.
Cleo answered immediately, as though she had been standing beside the bell waiting for it to ring. Lee shoved open the door and hurried into the dark coolness of the downstairs hall.
Cleo's door was ajar when she reached it. But Cleo was nowhere in sight. Lee closed the door quietly behind her and stood for a moment, waiting.
"I am in here," Cleo called from the kitchen. "Come." It wasn't like Cleo to play the domestic bit. It would have made more sense if she had been sprawled naked across the bed. But Lee was in no humor to quibble. She lifted a bottle of scotch on her way past the liquor cabinet and carried it down the hall to the kitchen.
Cleo turned from the stove with a big spoon in her hand. When she saw Lee, a shadow passed behind her eyes and the spoon trembled.
Lee paused on the threshold, cautious suddenly. "You look surprised to see me," she said. "Were you expecting somebody else?"
Cleo recovered herself quickly. "Of course not." She smiled. "It is just that you are so early tonight. I have net yet had dinner."
"Well, neither have I," Lee said. She opened a cupboard door, then another, looking for a glass.
"Here," Cleo said, handing her one. "Are you on a liquid diet today, my friend?"
"Hmm," Lee grunted. She poured a triple shot, then swallowed it quickly. Almost instantly, she felt the fire creeping through her veins, stirring up the blood and warming her. It was just what she needed. She poured some more and tossed it off.
Cleo turned back to the stove. "This will do you more good," she said. "If you do not pass out before it is finished."
Lee sniffed. "Paella?"
Cleo smiled. "You like it?"
"I like it," Lee said. She finished her third drink and banged the glass down on the cupboard. "Got enough for two?"
"Enough for a dozen," Cleo said. "One never makes just enough paella for two."
Lee came up behind her and put her arms around Cleo's waist. She pressed her cheek to the thick black hair. "You smell almost good enough to eat yourself," she murmured.
Cleo turned in her arms. "We will see about that later," she said, her arms going around Lee's neck.
Lee pulled her tight and kissed her long and hard, trying to make herself feel something. Almost desperately, she clung to Cleo, demanding that the girl make her respond.
"Hmm," The tip of her tongue flicked out to caress the ear lobe. "You are lovely when you are like this."
Lee felt the handle of the big wooden spoon move down the middle of her back. Then Cleo's arms were around her hips and Cleo was tight against her, needing her. And she wanted to pick the girl up and carry her into the bedroom. Lie her naked and panting on the bed. Love her and make her feel. Kiss her and...
And she knew that she did not really want Cleo at all. Carefully she stepped back out of Cleo's grasp.
Cleo glanced at her sharply. "Something is wrong."
Lee shook her head. "It's just that I like paella. After dinner we'll... "
Cleo waver her away. "Then go and let me cook." Then she softened and her eyes smiled. "Like a man, you are just in the way here."
Lee took the bottle and the glass with her and went back into the living room. As she lowered herself to the couch, she noticed the round table in the corner set for two... complete with candles. Again, a feeling of caution ebbed through her. Cleo had not expected her for dinner. But almost as soon as it came, the feeling was gone. And she shrugged, stretching her legs out along the soft cushions and burrowing in with her spine. She had better things than Cleo to think about. Much better things…
Like Kate. Funny thing about Kate, the way she could show a soft spot now and then. Like this afternoon, all of a sudden sitting there and blinking away a tear. She had never seen Kate cry before. Not when her only child had died. Not when... Well, just not ever. But Kate, who called love a childish emotion... Kate could cry about love. Funny thing, Lee, that Kate could cry about love...
She heard the blithering going on inside her own head and knew that before very long she would be quite drunk. Stoned, blind, dead of feeling, dead of desire. And then she would put her head into Cleo's lap and Cleo would touch her temples and soothe her and she would sleep. And if she could just sleep, just for a little while, when she woke up it would be all better. She would go home and Maggie would be there, as she was there every morning. With hot coffee and a lecture about women who didn't feed her breakfast. And they would go up to the study as they did every day and there would be work to do, letters to write....
"Lee."
Cleo's hand touched her arm. Angrily, not wanting to lose the dream, Lee pulled away from her, burying her face against the couch.
"It must have been a very bad day," Cleo. Her fingertips went into the bristles on Lee's neck murmured
"Come, darling. You must eat and then we wil
l talk and you will feel better."
You wanna bet? Lee thought. But she only sighed and turned over, blinking up at Cleo, trying to bring her into focus.
Cleo kissed Lee lightly on the forehead. "Come," she said again. "It will be cold."
Lee allowed herself to be led to the table and sat down on the satin-covered chair. The table was beautiful and the paella and the wine. And squinting past the candles, she knew that Cleo was beautiful too. She couldn't have cared less. If she ate the spicy mess, she would be in the john in three seconds flat, hanging over the can and heaving her guts. If she tried to love the girl, the same thing would happen. Any way you looked at it...
She picked up a fork and jabbed at the food. Manfully, she shoveled it toward her mouth.
The first swallow went down smoothly. And the second. Then she reached for the glass of wine, knowing she'd had it.
"You are no fun to cook for," Cleo scolded. "You pick."
"I'm just not hungry," Lee said apologetically. She pushed the chair back from the table. "Besides, I don't feel too well. I... "
"You are drunk," Cleo said, but she was not angry. She came around and took Lee's hand. "Come. Lie on my bed and rest. When you feel better..."
Lee didn't remember how she got into the bedroom. Didn't remember falling asleep. Certainly didn't remember Cleo creeping in beside her and snuggling up. But she was aware suddenly of a cramped, creepy feeling in her right arm. Then of Cleo's legs, wrapped around hers like a strangling vine. Then of Cleo's nakedness, pressed sweatily against her.
She tried to move without disturbing the girl, needing to stretch. But Cleo was not asleep. Immediately Lee stirred, Cleo seemed to be on top of her and all around her and everywhere.
She put her arms and her legs around Cleo, wanting to roll the girl onto her back. Wanting to get away from her. Wanting to get out of the darned bed and run...
Stubbornly Cleo held her, her tongue darting to part Lee's lips, her hands touching Lee in all the places that left her weak. And slowly, Lee felt the resistance draining out of her. Felt her need for Maggie become merely an animal need. And she let Cleo's hands move over her body, touching her, caressing...
The sound from beyond the doorway was just barely audible, but it roared through Lee's brain like the blast of a cannon.
She held Cleo still and strained her senses toward the other room.
She heard it again. More clearly now. And recognizable.
She grabbed Cleo's hair and yanked her head back on her neck. "You lousy son of a bitch," she muttered.
Cleo's dark eyes were wide and terrified. "He made me do it," she whispered back.
Unconvinced, Lee shoved the girl angrily away from her. Without a sound, she sat up on the edge of the bed.
At least she had not been caught with her pants down. She glanced at her jacket, hung neatly over the back of a chair. And then at her wallet, as neatly placed on the dresser. And finally she glanced at Cleo, cowering against the pillows.
"It is Tony," Cleo whispered.
It figured, though she didn't quite know how. But she knew that she would have smelled the trap if she had not been so upset. For even in her anxiety she had realized that Cleo was expecting someone else. Cleo, with her paella and her table set for two. But then...
Cleo touched her arm. "He called today. I did not know where to reach you."
Lee peered for an instant into the terror-stricken eyes. And somehow she believed the girl. "It's okay," she said aloud. "It's not the first time."
She stood up then and stepped to the doorway.
Tony Amato turned from the window to face her. He was not much taller than Cleo, but stocky and somehow greasy looking. His hair was plastered flat to his head with a shiny goo she could smell from clear across the room. He had used the same stuff to polish the slim mustache. Still, he was an attractive man when he smiled, as he did now. And Lee could understand Cleo's romantic soul having fallen prey to him.
"So, you are awake," Tony said. He took a step toward her. "We can become acquainted."
He had the same way of rubbing his hands together that Uncle Andrew had, the same way of implying that everything had been arranged and she might just as well sign her name on the dotted line. But there was something shifty, almost cowardly about his eyes. And watching him, Lee smiled to herself.
"I am Tony Amato," he said. "Cleo's husband." He smiled again and his eyes became pinpoints of light. "You are Miss Lesley Van Tassel. Is that correct?"
She knew he had, by now, read everything in her wallet. And there was enough there to tell him plenty. She flicked her fingers impatiently. "Let's skip the preliminaries," she said brusquely. "How much do you want?"
Again Tony smiled and there was something almost benign about his expression. "Fifty thousand," he said evenly. "It is so little to ask."
Lee laughed harshly. "For what?" she said. "Your honor?"
"In my country," Tony said, not smiling now, "a man does not take his honor lightly. Many men have died defending honor."
"And in my country," Lee said quietly, "a man does not take his money lightly. Fifty thousand is a hell of a lot to ask for a couple of rolls with an old hand like Cleo. Even a high-class pimp..."
"I am not a pimp," Tony spat. "I am a husband. You have defiled my wife and my home."
Lee grinned. "Come off it, buddy. You know as well as I do what your wife is."
"Oh! You pig!" Cleo screamed behind her. "Tony, you know this is not true."
Curiously Lee glanced at Tony's face and watched the questions come and go behind his eyes. She could not believe that he did not know the story of Cleo's little hobby, wouldn't even believe she was the first sucker he had nailed in Cleo's bed. Yet...
Then she glanced back to Cleo and the whole scene began to make sense. For dear little Cleo had been planning a neat double-cross. Had planned to move out on Tony, go home with Lee and have the whole ripe plum to herself. Lee could see it in her eyes. Yet she could see too that Cleo was frightened, that she dared not let Tony discover what she had planned.
"Well," Lee said, talking directly to Cleo now, "it almost worked. I was going to take you home with me tonight." She laughed then and shrugged. "If you'd had sense enough to tell me he was coming, we could have been out of here before he arrived."
She watched Cleo's facade of rage begin to crumble. And she waited, knowing that the girl would betray herself.
"I did not believe you would do that," Cleo said. "You did not love me."
Lee knew then why Cleo had not warned her off. "But I needed you," she said. "If you had trusted me..."
"What the hell's going on here?" Tony said, moving to get between them. He grabbed his wife's arm. "You didn't tell me..."
Furiously, Cleo pulled away from him. "Let me go," she screamed. "I can't stand you to touch me."
And Lee smiled, watching the pendulum of Cleo's attention swing back to her. In a minute, Cleo would be begging Lee to take her away...
Tony's big hand shot out and caught Cleo full in the stomach. The girl went down in a heap, sobbing, tearing at the legs of his trousers.
Lee glanced down at her dispassionately, not caring if Cleo lived through it or died on the spot. At the moment, not really caring much about herself either. She had been a fool to mess around with a married woman. She had known it. Now, all she wanted was out. Any war she could get there.
"Fifty thousand," she said. "It'll take me a couple of days..."
Tony's right hand balled into a fist. "The price has gone up," he said. "I have been even more offended than I knew."
Lee kept an eye on the fist. "Collect the rest from Cleo," she said. "She's the one who owes you."
She ducked, but not fast enough. Tony's fist caught her cheek bone and spun her backwards. She felt her shoulder hit the windowsill and her head cracked into the wall.
She doubled over, clutching her shoulder against the barbs of pain. "Queer!" Tony came toward her, moving like a snow plow, ready to finish her.<
br />
And suddenly she was filled with a rage bigger than her fear and a hatred bigger than her guilt. She grabbed the foot arching toward her head and twisted it to the side. She wasn't heavy enough to throw him, but he was off-balance. Before he could charge again, she was on her feet and ready to kill.
It was the old one-two she had learned from a book. She had never tried it before. But she nailed him in the groin with one knee and slashed the side of her hand down on the back of his neck as he doubled over. The breath went out of him like a sigh. She leaned over him and grabbed hold of his lapel to roll him onto his back.
He blinked once, then closed bis eyes. She blinked back at him.
"He is dead," Cleo said from beside her shoulder.
Lee turned her head. "No," she said. She heard the surprise, the something like awe in her tone.
"You are very strong," Cleo said, her palm moving up the muscle of Lee's arm.
Lee caught Cleo's hand with her fingers. "No," she said again. "Just lucky." She shook her head. "I never would have believed it." She laughed. "But when you're a little squirt like me, it pays to know a couple of tricks."
Cleo put her forehead against Lee's shoulder. "I love you," she murmured.
Lee laughed. She jerked her head toward Tony. "For that?"
"No," Cleo said. "For you. I have loved you..."
Lee patted the hand Cleo had started roving along her thigh. "You'll get over it," she said.
"You do not believe me."
"No," Lee said. "I do not believe you."
She got up then and went into the bedroom. She glanced at her reflection in the dresser mirror and saw the lump beneath her right eye. Before long, she'd have a good shiner. It would go well with the ache in her head. She pulled on her jacket and stuffed her wallet into the pocket. Then she reached for the bottle of scotch and took one last swallow.
"Lee," Cleo wailed as she came back into the living room, "take me with you."
Tony had not moved. Lee gave him a shove with her foot. "Better see what you can do about him."