I laughed. She stopped rubbing and smiled up at me. I looked down. The “88” was gone.
“Looks like the baking soda’s good enough. Let me see your other arm.”
I held it out to her and she got to work again, gently rubbing. I watched her, trying to sort through the flood of emotions that threatened to overcome me.
She set the rag down and squeezed some lotion onto her hands. She rubbed it into my forearms. Oh, God.
“All right, done. Thank God. That was bad ju-ju.”
She stood and gathered up her cleaning materials.
“So, are you hungry?”
I could only look at her and everything I was feeling must’ve been naked on my face because she suddenly leaned down and pressed her lips to my cheek, just out of reach of my mouth. She let her lips linger there and I closed my eyes, leaning into her kiss. She pulled away and looked at me, searching.
What she saw made her grin wickedly and her whole face light up. “I still have some of that wine left. You want to help me finish off the tikka masala?”
“Please.” I followed her into the house. She had already put it on the stove and it was bubbling when we entered the kitchen. She checked on the rice then retrieved plates from the cabinet.
“Where’s Jeff?”
“Oh, probably at Robin’s. This chick he’s been dating off and on. She’s one of those flaky art girls.
She’s nice, but he might as well try dating wind.” She pointed to the cabinet where I’d find wine glasses and I removed two. The bottle of wine stood on the counter and I divided what was left between the two of us, about a half-glass each.
“He just wants to get laid and Robin puts out,”
Sage said matter-of-factly. She carried the plates to the table and sat down. I joined her, noticing she had the candles burning again and some soft Latin American music playing in the background. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she said, looking at me with a cryptic expression. “But I think he actually wants something longer-term and he keeps hoping Robin will meet him on that. I told him he’s wasting his time but he keeps hoping. I thought maybe he’d hit it off with Megan, but no deal. She was too busy with Cody.”
“Speaking of which.” And I quickly filled her in on what had happened.
“Fucking hell.” She stared at me when I was finished. “Do you realize what could have happened if Chris wasn’t there?” She sounded upset.
“Yes. I do. And Chris was there and it worked out and I feel like shit about it and it freaked me out.” I stared at my plate and we sat in silence for a bit until I felt Sage’s hand on my forearm.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I was berating you. I just...” She squeezed my arm gently and I looked up at her. “The thought of something happening to you is not one I ever want to contemplate. So what’d you think of Mr.
Assmuncher?” She took a bite, trying to alleviate the tension.
I smiled back at her. “I can see how he could appeal to some women. And I can see that he’s very good at finding weaknesses. I think I confused him.
His standard lines weren’t working on me.”
“Hell, I have something in common with him. My standard lines aren’t working on you, either.” She arched an eyebrow and reached for her glass.
I chuckled. “Not true. They work all too well.”
“Oh, really?” She looked at me, somewhat surprised. “So you’re the strong, silent type when someone comes on to you?”
“Depends on the context. Stick around and I guess you’ll find out whether I’m silent. Or strong.” I took a sip of my wine. “Or both.” I preferred this line of conversation to the other.
Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight and another mysterious smile played at the corners of her mouth.
“So did he believe that you’re a supporter of the movement?” She jumped back to Cody.
“Maybe. Maybe not. His friends obviously didn’t.
Still, he invited me to the next meeting. He said he’d text me the time and address on Thursday.”
“Is the meeting at that house in Edgewood?”
“Yes. Megan called again and she confirmed it.”
Sage stopped chewing and watched my face.
“And Chris is making some contacts to see what the police can do. She’ll probably have to bring the Sheriff’s Department in on it since Edgewood is in Santa Fe County. She’ll let me know.”
“Does Megan want to leave?”
“She said she did. It sounded pretty genuine.”
Sage chewed, swallowed. “Are you going to the meeting?”
I finished the thought silently. “Even after today?”
I shook my head. “I’ll pretend I am. But at this point, Chris will either set up an arrest of sorts and get Megan out of there or she might just arrange to get Megan out.” I saw concern flash in Sage’s eyes but she didn’t say anything. “I don’t know if Chris will let me go at all on Thursday. I think I should because I think Megan might need to have me there. But Chris has the final say.”
“She’s good people,” Sage said, reaching for her wine. “She cares about you very, very much. And if she says you shouldn’t go, it’s because you shouldn’t go.”We talked briefly about what the Desert Rats might be up to. I told Sage what Megan had said about them planning something that might involve blowing something up.
“Figures,” she said with disgust. “But if assmuncher thinks he’ll get anywhere with that fuckhead Timmy as back-up, he’s more of a moron than I thought. And if he’s having a male ego problem with Roy, then they’re about as organized as a roughneck rodeo on meth.”
I stared at her, then started laughing. “That is a hell of an image. You should write books or something. The stories of your life are amazing.”
She looked down, embarrassed. “Everybody’s life is amazing. Even the dumb-asses.”
“And there’s your title.” I lifted my glass in a toast.
She laughed and clinked her glass with mine. We finished off the wine and I helped her clean up. We went back to the living room and took seats on the couch, this time with cups of decaf into which Sage had put cinnamon sticks. I told her stories about my childhood in northern Arizona. My folks had moved to Tucson about five years ago, which I didn’t like as much as Flagstaff, but they were tired of the snow.
Both had been college professors—my dad in religious studies and my mom in anthropology.
Sage exhaled sharply. “Fontero. Of course. I thought that name was familiar. I’ve read your folks’
stuff.” She grinned. “Your mom hyphenates, though.
Fontero-Skidmore.”
I looked at her, surprised. “Yeah. Sounds pretentious, doesn’t it?” I had slipped my Birks off and I was leaning against one arm of the couch facing Sage, who was against the other end.
“I think it sounds authoritative. Your mom wrote that cool book on trancing among Mesoamerican indigenous cultures. I spent six months in Guatemala after I finished my BA and your mom’s book opened all kinds of creative energies in me. I found one of those tribes and they let me photograph one of their ceremonies. I never published those images.” She stopped suddenly, looked at me. “Hey, do you think your mom would like to see them?”
I held her gaze with mine, blown away. “Oh, my God. Sage, she would love that. You’re completely—
wow.”
“I’ve read your stuff, too. When Megan told me your last name I looked you up online.” She smiled, sheepish. “I had been up in Idaho and reading your stuff made that shit clearer to me though it’s still pretty much a load of shit.” She stopped. When Sage was animated and relaxed, she cussed a lot and incorporated all kinds of colorful expressions into her speech. I found it really endearing. “So why those guys?” she asked. “Why did you get so fascinated with them?”
The quintessential question. “I don’t really know.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I guess I’ve always been interested in dark and
scary things—the seedy underbelly of culture. And what taps into those seedy seams more than white supremacy? Of course, they would take offense to my describing them as ‘seedy,’
but from my perspective, spending so much time living on hate twists you inside somehow. It takes a lot of time and energy to carry a grudge like that.” I reached for my coffee cup. “And living on hate, which requires you to spew and absorb negative crap all the time, eats you up. So your energy becomes seedy.
Unhealthy and nasty.”
“Why sociology?”
“I don’t know. I just got interested in what drives people to join movements like that. And when I give lectures, I make it clear that it could happen to anyone in a weak moment. All you need is a charismatic leader who sees your weaknesses and exploits them and maybe a vague feeling that you’re getting screwed somehow. And before you know it, you’re in. I work to demystify it. It’s a hard life, living on hate.”
Sage watched me. “That sounds kind of like what might have happened to Megan.”
I nodded and turned my attention to my coffee cup.“Your trip here—it’s been tough on you in some ways. Why did you come?”
Her question took me by surprise, and not just because Melissa had asked, too. “I had to. I know how these groups work and I know what sources to access to find them. I still have connections here. It made sense for me to come. Why have knowledge like that and not use it?” I sipped my coffee. “Melissa drove down in person to ask me. It took a lot for her to do that. She could have just called or e-mailed. But she came down.”
“Then it was also time for you to deal with what happened between you two,” Sage said matter-of-factly.
I lifted my right shoulder in a shrug. “It was time for both of us. And maybe I felt that I wasn’t the support I should have been with Megan. Maybe this is my attempt to make that up to her. I don’t know. I just knew I had to come.”
She sipped her coffee. Once again, I wanted to be the beverage container. I watched her and cleared my throat nervously. “Um.” I stopped, wondering if maybe I should reconsider what I wanted to ask her.
No. I wanted to know. “What did you mean Sunday night when you said that you had waited this long for me, so waiting a bit longer wasn’t a problem?”
A slow grin made her radiant again. “Some people get weird when I talk about certain things. But you asked.” She set her coffee cup down. “I went over to Megan’s about two weeks after she had moved in. She was kind of messed up—I mean, not using or anything, but just kind of down—about something. So I asked her what was going on and she said that she was feeling a little bummed about her sister’s ex. It was in May, a few days before her birthday. And she said that her sister’s ex always remembered her birthday. Even when she—Megan—was going through bad times.” Sage picked up her cup and took a drink and I hid my wince behind my own cup. I hadn’t sent Megan birthday cards since I left.
“Well,” Sage continued, “I had seen Melissa a few times already because she helped Megan move in but Megan didn’t mention anything one way or the other about Melissa’s personal life until that day I went over. I asked her about the ex and Megan’s face just lit up. She said, ‘K.C. is the coolest woman on the planet.
And I can’t stand that she’s gone.’ And she told me the whole story. How you’d met Melissa and that you two were friends for a couple of years before hooking up. How you were so nice to Megan and always willing to help her with anything though you maintained good boundaries. In some ways, I think Megan considered you more of a sister than Melissa because Melissa could get so caught up in Megan’s shit. I think Megan knew that on some level.”
Sage was right. She adjusted her position, stretched her legs out on the couch so that her feet were between mine. I felt her body heat even though she wasn’t touching me.
“I asked what your name was and Megan said
‘K.C. The letter K and the letter C. Her last name’s Fontero. She researches white supremacist freaks.’ ”
Sage frowned. “Famous last words, huh?” She took another drink from her cup. “And she said that it always surprised her, that that’s what you worked on because you were the sweetest, most gentle person she’d ever met. She told me that day that I would have liked you but I already knew that. As soon as she said she was bummed about Melissa’s ex, I had a feeling. So I asked her questions when you came up in conversation and the more Megan told me, the more I knew that sooner or later, I’d meet you.”
She stopped then, watched me for a little bit.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?”
Given my experience up to that point with Sage, it made perfect sense. “No. I think I’m honored.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And the day I saw your picture, I knew it was a matter of time. I had a feeling about you. I really hope that doesn’t freak you out.
Sometimes I say stuff and people look at me like I have six heads. But I get these feelings and they’re generally never wrong. In the meantime, I looked you up online. I didn’t try to contact you because the universe provides when it’s ready. And maybe I wasn’t going to meet you this time around. I considered that possibility. But I let it go and decided that things would happen as they would.” She leaned forward and put her cup down on the coffee table before continuing. “So last week, I taught a couple of workshops and checked some stuff in the lab. I’m putting together an exhibition—did I tell you that?”
I shook my head.
“Well, you’re invited. Anyway, I had just gotten home and Jeff was here and we were hanging out and Melissa came by. She had always been cordial to us but it was a little weird that she came by. She stayed out on the porch and told us that Megan was taking some summer courses out of state and that someone would be staying in her place for a little bit and she just wanted us to know so we wouldn’t freak out. She said that the person coming was really nice and very responsible and wouldn’t cause any problems. Jeff asked for your name and Melissa said—I will never forget this as long as I live—‘K.C. Fontero. K period C
period. You’ll like her.’ ”
She stopped for a moment. “I didn’t sleep that night. I could not believe what was happening. I mean, I knew there was no guarantee you’d like me. I know there’s no guarantee of anything. But you were coming. And I was going to meet you. After two years of wondering what it would be like to do just that.”
She flushed suddenly. “Shit, that does sound crazy, doesn’t it? Fuck, no wonder people think I’m from another planet. I’m sorry. I don’t want to freak you out.” She pulled her legs back to her side of the couch and folded her arms over her chest.
My breath compressed in my chest. Don’t analyze, my little voice told me. Some things are not meant for that. “Come here,” I said quietly. She looked up at me, questions in her eyes. I shook my head and reached over with my left hand so I could gently grasp her right. I pulled her toward me. She allowed me to bring her into my arms and I held on to her for dear life. She wrapped her arms around me and stretched the full length of her body along mine. She rested her head on my shoulder and I stroked her hair, lost in the feel of her, lost in what she had said and the forces that had brought me to this night, this moment.
“I’m so glad you waited,” I said softly against her forehead. “Now please, just let me hold you. Two years is a lot to catch up with.” She clung to me and I stroked her back, her arms, her hair, her face. We didn’t say anything. We didn’t need to. And I don’t know when, but at some point we fell asleep like that.
The last thing I remember was the feel of her against me and the stirring of a dream between us.
Chapter Eighteen
I WOKE UP stretched out on Sage’s couch, a blanket over me. Sunlight filtered through the side windows and splashed across the floor. I smelled coffee and chile and I heard Sage softly singing in the kitchen. I looked at my watch. Ten o’ clock. Holy crap.
I sat up and on cue, Sage appeared in the doorway holding a cup of coffe
e. “Good morning,” she said, her smile as bright as the daylight. She crossed the floor and put the cup on the coffee table in front of me. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
I reached for the coffee as she returned to the kitchen, singing a Sarah McLachlan song. Sage had a nice voice. I sipped and sleep began to retreat from the heavy pockets in my head. I stood and made my way to the bathroom, still carrying my coffee. When I finally made it to the kitchen my cup was almost empty. Sage was at the stove, working on omelets. I set my cup on the counter and hugged her from behind. I kissed her neck. “Good morning to you,” I murmured as I traced the contour of her right ear with my lips. I grinned when I heard her gasp and moved my hands to her shoulders. I kissed the back of her head. “I thought you had to be on campus.”
“Not until twelve,” she said softly. “Go sit down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I refilled my coffee cup and went to the dining room. Breakfast was delicious. Green chile, avocado, and havarti cheese omelets. Papas fritas with a little bit of ranchera sauce on each rounded breakfast out.
“So what’s your schedule today?” she asked.
“Nothing. Waiting. I’ve done about all I can do.
Chris will let me know what’s happening.”
“If you want to do some laundry, go ahead. We’ve got stuff here or Megan has detergent and dryer stuff at her place. I think it’s in her closet. She does her laundry here.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that. You need me to do anything else around here? Anything need fixing?”
She laughed, a delightful sound in the morning.
“No, but I’ll keep you in mind. Jeff’ll probably be around to shower. He has to work tonight and he might actually sleep a bit.”
I finished eating about the same time Sage did. I stood first. “Go shower. I’ve got this.” She looked up at me, an odd expression on her face that dissolved into a grin. I smiled back. “We sure do that a lot, don’t we?” I said as I collected her plate.
“What?”
“Smile. But I just can’t help myself around you.” I retreated to the kitchen and began cleaning up. The faint sound of water running in the bathroom floated through my consciousness. Twenty minutes later, I finished the dishes and Sage appeared in the doorway, dressed in a cute pair of baggy shorts and a loose sleeveless shirt. She wore her sport sandals, as usual. Her hair was still damp and she smelled like lavender and cloves.
Land of Entrapment Page 25