“What can I do for you?” she asked, throwing the same attitude right back at him.
Eddie pointed to his cold, untouched food. “I’m going to need that to go,” he said. “And I’d really appreciate it if you could do it now.”
Chapter 14
Ring, ring, ring. Ring. Voice mail. Goddaaaaammmnnniiitttt.
Cooper pushed “end” on his cell phone and then “1,” “7,” and “send.” He had the bitch on speed dial. So fucking stupid. Who had a psychic on speed dial? Well, in fact a lot of fucking people did. Hello, the Psychic Hotline?
Not the same.
Ringing, then more voice mail. Fuck her. Seriously. Cooper picked up his house phone and hit “1” and “7.” It took a while for him to realize that nothing was happening because there was no speed dial on this phone and he had to punch in the actual phone number. It took even longer to coordinate between his cell phone and cordless because, like everyone else in the world, he had electronic-device-induced ADD, which meant he couldn’t remember phone numbers anymore, only the prompts attached to them. Finally, he got it all together only to listen again to the ringing followed by her voice-mail message. He’d almost believed that dialing from his house phone, which had a blocked caller ID, was going to fool her into picking up. His reflexes were pretty slow, so it was a second or two after the tone that he managed to leave a message. He kept his voice low and hissy, disguised. “You there, bitch? We need to…have…a little…talk.” He hung up quickly. Had he really just prank called her?
Cooper giggled and slid farther down in his leather butterfly chair so that his head lolled off the side. It was getting too heavy to hold up any longer. Don’t drink and dial. How many times had he heard that or said it himself? Well, it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t fucking drinking. Although…Cooper grasped at the prescription bottles that had fallen into the thick shag pile of his carpet. He was in his retro room, which was designed to look like some kind of mad Brady Bunch acid trip. Fun for parties. Fun for this. It was good, he decided. The combination of Xanax and Vicodin was just right. Really hit the spot. Took the edge off. Floated his boat. Got him through the night. Chapped his hide. No, wait, that last one was wrong. Hide, hide, hide. The word bounced around in Cooper’s head and he laughed again. It was funny—Max thought he could hide.
“Thinggen,” Cooper said out loud. Well, that didn’t sound right. He’d meant to say Think again. Whatever. Nobody around to hear him anyway. But the point was…the point…He couldn’t hide, that was the point. Oh, Max. Why why why why?
This wasn’t anything like their other breakups. This time it had the flavor of a real ending. Cooper felt an ache somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. He’d have to take another one of these pills. They were supposed to stop pain, after all. If he could just pick up that bottle off the floor.
He wondered what she looked like. A dozen different possibilities came to mind. Blond, skinny, fat, brunette, short, tall, thick, leggy, masculine…Yeah, masculine, that would probably suit Max fine. Cooper tried to picture a tall, masculine woman and came up with an internal picture of himself—which would have been funny if it weren’t so ridiculous and sad. No, of course she wouldn’t look like that. Max would want a woman—a woman!—who was very feminine, the furthest possible thing from Cooper he could find. Not that he would admit that to Cooper or even tell him who it was. It could be anyone. Cooper’s cell phone slipped from his hand and fell into the plush pile of the carpet. He stared down at the small screen, which displayed Marina’s number, cued up and ready to send. Could even be Marina, Cooper thought. Now that was funny. And then not so funny.
All at once, Cooper felt his mood shift and slide into anger—toward Marina. Those little sessions of theirs might as well have taken place on any clichéd psychiatrist’s couch. She knew the score as well as—no, better than—anyone. Come to think of it, it wasn’t such a bizarre idea to think that Max was somehow involved with Marina. All that false concern Max had for him. He was probably in touch with Marina—probably shared some of that deep concern with her. No, that wasn’t so far off at all. And then they’d both dumped him. Max for some woman and Marina for—well, who knew what for? He hadn’t been able to get hold of her for a while now. Ever since…Wasn’t the last time he’d spoken to her the very day that Max had tossed him out on his sorry ass? Cooper’s sense of time was a bit fuzzy, like the rest of him, but it seemed right. The two events were linked in his mind in any case. And now she wouldn’t answer her phone. He was pissed off. If you couldn’t count on your damn psychic for a little support, who could you rely on? He pushed “redial” on his house phone. When had those rings gotten so looooong? Finally, the beep.
“Biiiiittchhhh,” he growled into the phone and clicked off. What the hell was wrong with him? But, no, fuck her for abandoning him.
He should just get up and go over there was what he should do. Unfortunately, movement of any kind seemed totally out of the realm of possibility at that moment. Even his arm, reaching for the phone or the pill bottle, whatever he could get hold of first, seemed way too heavy to move. And it was at the wrong angle, too. Cooper realized he was looking up at the ceiling instead of down at the carpet. When had he gotten out of his chair? It was better here on the floor, no question, but also more difficult to move. Maybe he didn’t need another pill after all. On the other hand, maybe he did. He was still awake and thoughts were shimmying around in his brain. He wanted to sleep without dreaming or be conscious without having to think. Or maybe what he wanted was just to get her on the phone. Sooner or later she had to answer, and he was going to keep trying until she did. As soon as he could reach the phone, which now looked like it was lying a mile away from him, buried deep in the carpet. He needed a minute. Just one minute to rest his eyes and then he’d try again.
Chapter 15
Nighttime. The sky is pinholed by stars that offer no light. There is no moon, no bright patches anywhere. She is on the Coast Highway, walking. There are no cars and the air is still, heavy with the sweet scent of roses. He is walking several yards ahead, hands in his pockets, looking down at the road. She is following, but her feet are bare and there are sharp little rocks pressing into the flesh of her heels, and she can’t keep up. She needs to move faster. She needs to warn him. He turns, heading away from the ocean, and quickens his pace. She tries to run, but her feet stick to the road. The smell of roses becomes stronger, along with something new—the smell of smoke. She calls to him, but no sound comes from her throat. He stops walking. Why is he stopping? She has to tell him now before it is too late. Suddenly, she is right there, right behind him. They are in a parking lot. She knows this place, but it is too dark to make out the details. She is gagging from the smell of roses and now she realizes why. Her mouth is stuffed full of soft petals and she cannot speak. He starts to turn around. There is a flash of light and everything explodes. Then there is only darkness.
Marina woke from her dream with a feeling of déjà vu. It was a repeating coda, always the same and always the last one she had before opening her eyes to consciousness. Every morning for the last two months, she’d woken up trying to speak through the roses in her mouth, trying to get the man to turn around. She never saw his face, but she knew that the man was Gideon. The first time she’d had the dream was the November night she’d met him, and she’d had it every night since. But even though there was so much anxiety within the dream itself, Marina never woke up feeling frightened by it. If anything she awoke, as she did now, with a feeling of inevitability, as if the end of the dream and whatever it meant were predestined.
Closing her eyes and burying her head deeper in her warm down pillow, Marina let her thoughts linger on Gideon. Their romance, which to this point had been an updated version of a Victorian love story, was about to take a turn into wilder territory. For weeks, they’d been exploring their physical attraction to each other, getting closer but never naked, nor fully horizontal. Marina knew that was going to change tonight, and she
was as excited as any bodice-ripper heroine. He’d implied that something special was planned for their date later, although he wouldn’t elaborate beyond that. The whole evening was meant to be a surprise, but Marina suspected they would go to Lucky, the Chinese restaurant where they’d had their first date, if date could be considered an appropriate term. Like her dream, that moment had a feeling of inevitability about it. Marina summoned the memory again, examining it for details she might have missed and for clues as to what was in store.
He’d come to see her because he’d lost something and he wanted her to help him find it. At least, that’s what he’d told her. Marina had assumed at first that it was some kind of object that had gone missing, but soon after it occurred to her that he could have been talking about a person or even a feeling. At any rate, he didn’t tell her what it was and she didn’t get a chance to ask. After he’d flagged her down in the parking lot, she’d taken him inside her office and made an appointment for the following day. She’d thought about scheduling him later in the week, even later in the month, so that he wouldn’t think she was completely available (and therefore subpar), but there was something different about Gideon from the beginning, and she didn’t bother with the usual pretense. It was only the first of her own rules she would break.
The second happened as soon as the following morning, when she spent half an hour in front of the mirror, checking her clothing and makeup and searching for lipstick. Wanting to look pretty for a client was a mistake and a bad place to go. Marina hadn’t worn lipstick for so long that the only tube she could find was the pink glittery lip color she’d pocketed on the long-ago night of Madeline’s party. Marina didn’t know why she’d kept it all this time, nor did she understand why she was using it now, when she could just as easily pick up something fresh, cheap and unused at the Rite Aid down the street. Marina could still see the angry pout on Naked Sushi Girl’s face as she applied the girl’s color to her own lips.
Marina had told Gideon to come by at midmorning, but when she arrived at her office at nine o’clock he was already waiting for her.
“You must think I’m a little crazy,” he told her. “Here all day yesterday and now I show up early. But I have a good excuse.”
“Not necessary,” she told him and smiled to soften the clipped sound of her words. Her painted lips felt heavy and sticky and had he not been standing in front of her she would have wiped them clean. He looked less imposing in broad daylight, although still big and solid. He was wearing a dark gray T-shirt and faded jeans. Clean and casual, Marina thought. Appropriate for the occasion, unlike her made-up face and color-coordinated outfit.
“Why don’t we get started?” Marina asked him and led him to her table. The office still smelled vaguely of Cooper’s cologne and the sandalwood candles she’d burned the day before, and Marina wondered if Gideon was bothered by the lingering scents. Finally, she had a chance to study him as he sat down and made himself comfortable in the chair opposite her.
She figured him to be about her age, or maybe a few years older. He wore his dark blond hair a little longer than was fashionable, but it was thick and full and men past their twenties with that much hair tended to advertise their good fortune even if, like Gideon, they had some scattered white showing through. He smiled often, emphasizing the well-worn laugh lines in his face, but his eyes remained serious and guarded. There was something there she couldn’t see and he wasn’t showing her, even though dark eyes were usually the easiest for her to read. There was no wedding ring on his finger and no telltale white band of skin showing where one might have been recently removed.
His body language confused her. He leaned back in his chair, showing he was at ease, but kept his arms loosely folded in front of him, closing himself off. He was waiting for something, Marina thought, but it wasn’t a reading. And then she realized what was different about him. He was studying her in the same assessing way she was studying him. Marina was used to being visually searched and evaluated, both personally and professionally. But this man wasn’t studying her in a sexual way, nor was he gauging her psychic abilities. There was something else he was after entirely, and it set her off balance.
“Is there anything you need before we get started?” Marina asked him. “Would you like water or…”
“Or?” Gideon sounded amused, although there was still no yielding in his eyes. He seemed in no hurry for his reading, yet there was a sense of urgency about him.
“I don’t know,” Marina answered. “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”
“Sure,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“Well, then, I think we should start with your question; the reason you’re here.”
Gideon formed a steeple with the fingers of his hands and looked down at them for a moment before lifting his head and staring right into her eyes. “I’ve lost something,” he said. “I think you can help me find it.” For the first time, Marina saw something she recognized in his eyes: a hint of doubt. She waited, but that was all he was willing to offer for the moment.
“Okay,” she said. He was going to be difficult, offering no details, and she was going to have to go begging for clues. She could have moved it along right there—could have come out and asked him what it was he had lost and why he was being so elliptical about describing it, but Marina had a stubborn streak. Even in the face of this oddly unreadable and increasingly attractive man, she was determined to earn her fee through skill. She’d never been one to avoid a challenge.
“Have you seen these before?” she asked, holding up her deck of tarot cards. “Most people are familiar with a couple of the images, but I sense that this is a very new experience for you, isn’t it?”
“Mm-hmm, yes, you could say that.” He never broke eye contact with her, not even when she fanned the cards out on the table. Usually, Marina’s clients would look down and their eyes would gravitate to the card that most closely represented what they were thinking about. But Gideon didn’t shift his eyes to the table, and it was just as well, because Marina’s fingers stuck to the Magician and when she lifted her hand, the card came up with it. She had to pull it free and then it stuck to her thumb. Flustered, she shook her hand to get it free and watched it fall to the table. Gideon’s eyes never left her face.
“This isn’t what I expected,” he said.
Still ruffled from her sloppy performance, Marina smiled and tried to wipe her hands on her skirt without being noticed. “What isn’t?” she asked. “The cards? Because I—”
“No, not the cards. You.” He tipped his head slightly to the side as if another angle would give him a better view.
“Well, what were you expecting?” she asked him.
He paused. “That’s a fair question,” he said. “I’m just not sure how to answer it. I suppose I thought you’d be older, for a start. And then, I guess I just assumed that this”—he gestured to the room—“wouldn’t be so ordinary.”
“Did you think I’d have a crystal ball and some chicken bones lying around?” she asked. “Maybe you were expecting some kind of lair?” She smiled so he wouldn’t think she was angry, but she could feel her face flushing with heat. A brief, unpleasant memory of Florida flashed before her: the dead snake and the sweltering humidity.
“Maybe I did,” he said. “Like I told you, I’ve never done this before. I suppose I have some preconceived notions about what you…your…about what you do.”
Marina felt another uncomfortable wave. “Are you a cop?” she asked.
“Would it matter if I was?”
Marina bit her lip and tasted the sweet chemical flavor of another woman’s lipstick on her mouth. She gathered the tarot cards and once again they refused to cooperate, falling out of the stack and sticking to her fingers as if her hands were covered in honey. “What is it you want?” she asked, trying unsuccessfully to separate the Lovers from Judgment. “You didn’t come here for a reading, did you?”
“I’m sorry,” Gideon said. “I’ve upset y
ou. I didn’t mean to do that.” He reached across the table and touched one of her hands with his. Marina felt the same heated charge as when he’d shook her hand the night before, but this time it was accompanied by a wavering in the air and then what seemed to be a dimming of the light in the room. Had it not been broad daylight, Marina would have sworn they were in the middle of a brownout. There was no rational accounting for the feeling—unless the man himself was giving off sparks like some sort of electric eel. Gideon felt her tremble and removed his hand as quickly as he’d put it out.
“I really did come here for a reading,” he said. “And I’m not trying to make fun of you.”
Marina’s hand tingled where he’d touched it. She found herself wishing that Gideon did have an ulterior motive, because she didn’t know if she could give him a reading that would pass muster. She’d never been so badly betrayed by her own powers of observation. It wasn’t even as if he was trying to hide something; she could always tell what people were trying not to give away. It felt instead as if he were holding up a reflective barrier so that all she could see was how badly she was stumbling. It had been stupid to ask him if he was a cop, and she didn’t know what had possessed her to say it. She wasn’t doing anything illegal, but something in his manner implied that she was. Now that he’d claimed he did want a reading, she didn’t know how to proceed. She was going to have to busk it, throw out a little song and dance and buy some time.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked him. He’d already told her that in the parking lot, of course, but she didn’t think he’d remember.
Gideon smiled, seemed pleased that she’d gone down that road, although Marina couldn’t understand why. “No, I’m not,” he said. “I haven’t been here long at all. Is it that obvious?”
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