by Traci Hall
The car idled. Joe had calmed down some, his color back to normal instead of angry red along his cheeks and throat. It seemed neither of them were ready to say good-bye.
“So how long were you watching me run for?”
K buried her face, embarrassed. “A few minutes. You looked,” gorgeous, edible, delectable, “like you found your stride there toward the end with that sprint.”
“I think being barefoot among the elements helps with the nature/spirit connection. Just imagine if we could run naked.”
K burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t want to watch most people run naked.” Him? Oh, yeah.
He leaned over and caught her by the chin. “I’d watch you run naked any day of the week.” He put his hand on her leg, caressing the skin on her inner thigh just beneath her shorts. Her skin heated. “Just so I could catch you and have my wicked way with you. In the sand. In the water.”
She smoothed the tip of her ponytail. “As fantasies go, that’s probably not going to happen.” She hated the ocean, would never get naked in public, and sex in the sea chafed—she knew that one from experience. “Besides, aren’t you sworn off sex?”
“That’s why it’s a fantasy, I guess.” He traced the inside of her leg to her knee, then slowly took his hand back. “You make it hard to leave. Can I pick you up for lunch?”
“Don’t you work?”
“Yes, the night shift. 5 to 2.”
She wanted to see Rita, to get an idea of when the woman would be coming home. Maybe she could ask him to pick her up for lunch, but stop by the hospital first.
“I know you don’t want to talk about what this is between us.” He gestured from him to her and back again.
“It’s nothing,” she said, quickly denying her unjustifiable attraction. “That’s why I don’t want to talk about it.”
“People have long-distance relationships all the time.”
“It’s a recipe for disaster.” Cheating, galore. No boundaries.
“Chicago is a three hour flight from here,” he said. “I Googled it.”
She put her hand to her forehead. “Why?”
“Never mind. I have the best argument to give over sandwiches from LaSpadas. We can eat in the park. But right now I need a shower and a change of clothes.”
“And to call the police.” K peeked at his lean body, wishing he’d get over his idea that they couldn’t just have some fun. Sex was better than running for blowing off steam. “I’ll kick your ass in the argument department. I’m a professional.”
He lifted a finger. “I am no amateur, Ms. Aneko. Give me an hour or so. Before we eat we can stop at the hospital, just to save you a trip with a cab. I know you probably want to check on Rita.”
He still didn’t realize she had no money, and she wanted it to stay that way. It was important that he view her as a successful, independent woman. It was her persona to the world. She was just faking until she made it to the top. “What a great idea.” K got out of the car with a wave, jogging toward the building.
She felt his eyes on her and she turned around. Sure enough, he was leaning out the passenger side door window, watching her ass.
“Joe!” she said, slightly self-conscious.
“Naked.” He rolled up the window, put on his shades and drove down the road.
K looked around, realizing that a few people walking the sidewalk had heard his comment. She blushed and ran up the stairs. She’d been in such a rush to find Joe and give him water after drooling over his incredible self as he ran on the beach that she’d forgotten her phone in the apartment.
Two missed calls. One from New York, the same one as yesterday, but there was no message. The other one was from the hospital. The nurse left a perky message. “Rita is awake and asking that you visit her this morning. The doctor will be here at ten, so any time after that would be good.”
Princey greeted her as if she’d been gone for days rather than an hour. So much had changed in sixty minutes, including how she viewed Joe. A threat to someone’s life put things in perspective.
He’d put his life on the line—literally—and was now being hunted for his bravery. He’d survived and taken out drug lords to keep the school kids safe. He seemed to be searching for the balance of soul, mind and body.
In a karmic sense, if she went there, he was earning good fortune for the rest of his life, and possibly the next. Karma. The eternal cycle.
All through school, she’d resented her name. It wasn’t until college that she realized the true meaning wasn’t so heavy a handle. Once she got past the foo-foo part, she accepted that cause and effect were relatable things.
She loved her parents. Honored them for having her, and even forgave them (eventually) for her name. But they’d dropped the freaking ball, acting as if she’d somehow just sprout up without any care or boundaries at all.
Would Joe be careful with her heart? Trust wasn’t something she gave easily. She’d been let down every time.
Speaking of trust, she sent a text to Jamal, asking if he’d done his math. It wasn’t his favorite, but she ruthlessly bribed him with a cheese pizza on five dollar pizza Tuesday at the small joint on the corner of fifth.
Working on it. Coming home today?
Probably not. Maybe tomorrow.
He sent an icon of a pencil and an eraser getting in a fight.
That doesn’t look like math.
He didn’t text back.
She hopped in the shower, taking extra time to shave her legs and condition her hair. Joe was picking her up for lunch, and who knew where that might lead? Temptation wasn’t a bad thing, she thought, closing her eyes to whisper a wish for his safety.
Towel wrapped around her body, she got out of the shower and looked at her options. Pajamas, or jeans and the fancy top she wore yesterday. Nothing else to wear, no money to buy anything.
Rita’s closet beckoned.
She felt a little guilty, going through the older woman’s things. She wasn’t the type to open the medicine cabinet at a stranger’s house. Even a friend’s house.
K believed in privacy.
She didn’t believe in public nudity, which meant swiping something from Rita’s closet.
Just to borrow. She hoped Rita would understand.
Opening the closet doors, both at the same time, K breathed in the scent of money. Furs, silks, cashmere, linen. They lived harmoniously in wait. Someday my closet will be like this, she thought with a sigh.
K ran her fingers over the groupings by color. Sweaters, blouses, skirts, slacks, dresses, jackets. She finally settled on a simple navy blue sheath. Linen. But was she going to go barefoot, or wear her sneakers? Her Louboutins were still pouting after being in the sand, and Princey ate one of her vintage heels.
What size foot did Rita have?
She left the closet with the dress over her arm and wandered into the guest room closet. She opened the door and it was as if the heavenly choir of angels sang. Row upon row of gorgeous shoes…K closed her eyes, then checked the size.
She dropped to her knees in gratitude. 7. Thank all of the gods, Rita Hartley wore a size seven shoe.
It would take hours, maybe days, to appreciate each of the designer heels. Boots, flats, they were all represented in the guest closet.
“I knew we had something in common,” she muttered.
She chose a pair of Chinese Laundry navy blue flats and a cute white short sleeved sweater. The clothes were two sizes too big, but a dress and sweater could be pulled off. It was better than pajama pants, anyway.
K shook her phone, wondering if it was broken. Joe hadn’t called. She hoped he wasn’t out driving the streets looking for that Lincoln. She caught her breath then exhaled. He’ll call.
She checked her emails, talked to the bird about self-esteem issues, and took Princey out back for a quick constitutional. Luis waved, as did Marge, but neither called her out on her borrowed wardrobe.
Kay went back upstairs and paced, waiting for Joe to call.
She ran downstairs, waiting for Joe even though he hadn’t called or texted. Yet he pulled up in front of the building as soon as she came down. “Perfect timing,” she said, so glad to see that he was in one piece.
He leaned across the console to open her door from the inside.
“Thanks,” she said, getting in. Joe, freshly showered and shave, smelled like citrus and sandalwood. He looked laid back in a black t-shirt, cargo shorts and flip flops.
“Hey.” He looked over his shades at her. “You look awesome.”
“You think so?”
“I think you know how to pack,” Joe commented.
K kept her mouth shut about the clothes. “The nurse called. By the time we get there, Rita will have seen the doctor. We’ll know when she can come home.”
“Good.” He nodded and pulled out into the shaded street.
“Joe, what did they say at the department about the shooting?”
He clenched his jaw, but his hands on the steering wheel were relaxed. “I have to fill out a report when I go in. No plate, so no way to trace the Lincoln.”
She looked at his open back window. “How’s the air conditioning in this thing?’
“Superb.” He tapped his thumb against the wheel and slouched down in his seat. “It’s almost like having a convertible.”
That was one way to look at it, she supposed. His therapist must be a miracle worker.
“Hey, Kay. Are you K A Y, or K, the initial? I’ve been thinking KAY, but really, the one letter, in bold, suits you.”
“That’s it,” she said, absurdly pleased. “I decided after I graduated college to just go by my first initial. It was more professional that Karma.”
“I like it.” They stopped at a red light. He looked at her as she was looking at him, and the next thing she knew, he’d leaned across the console to kiss her. “I like you.”
K giggled, a sound she made with surprise. “I like you too, Joe.”
“I just want a chance to get to know you better.”
K looked out the window with a smile. “Before you get in my pants?”
“Yeah. The fact that you’re wearing a dress makes it that much easier.”
The light turned green and Joe continued driving. She noticed he was vigilant while appearing almost lackadaisical. Constant monitoring of the mirrors, of the traffic. She tensed as a black SUV passed by.
“We’re both adults,” K said, determined to be fearless, or at least act like it. “I find you very attractive, so it’s going to be pretty damn easy no matter what I’m wearing. So long as you don’t go talking about emotions, we’ll be fine. No grandiose plans for the future, besides you and me, in your bed.”
“My bed?”
“Yes. I realized when I came back to Rita’s last night that everyone would know. It isn’t the right thing to do.”
“Making love?”
“Sex. You. Me. No strings. Just not at Rita’s.” It would have been a mistake, so in retrospect she was glad he’d said no—so long as the no was temporary.
“You have a phobia against relationships,” Joe observed. “Most women, from what I understand, are dying to get married.”
“I’m a divorce lawyer. The last thing I believe in is happily ever after.”
He pulled into the parking garage at the hospital, perching his shades on top of his head as they entered the building. “I aim to change your mind.”
They walked so close to one another that they could have held hands, but they didn’t. He opened the door to the hospital and she slipped inside first. A blast of arctic air made her grateful for the sweater.
“Do you mind waiting again?”
“No. But one day I’ll meet your Rita.”
“Preferably when she’s had her hair done and wearing furs.”
Joe smiled and plopped down into a hard plastic chair to wait.
She went to the nurse’s station. The same nurse was there as yesterday, so she was waved forward. “The doctor is in with Rita now. It might be a good idea for you to join them.”
K walked down the corridor, knocking once before opening Rita’s door.
She could tell right away that Rita had been crying. Leftover make-up and red rimmed eyes gave her away.
The doctor took one look at her designer casual attire and greeted her with his hand out. “I’m Dr. Lazar.”
“K Aneko. Ms. Hartley’s attorney. What’s going on?” She looked to Rita, but the older woman was playing possum. Eyes shut tight, lips clamped together. “I have to return to Chicago soon for a court hearing on Monday.”
She saw Rita’s hands clench the covers but the older woman didn’t make a sound.
“Ms. Aneko. Pleasure to meet you,” the doctor said. Mid-forties, salt and pepper hair, strong, smooth jaw. His hand shake was solid, giving off the vibe that he dealt with things head-on.
“And you,” she said with a slight smile. She looked toward the bed. “How is Rita?” she asked. “She looks very pale.”
“We’ve been giving her an IV of fluids, vitamin B too. Seems she wasn’t hydrated. That can happen,” the doctor said with a tap on the clipboard. “But I also see some liver damage. At Ms. Hartley’s age, there should be some signs of aging but this is, well, the liver of a drinker.”
Rita’s left hand clutched the blankets and K knew she wasn’t so asleep after all.
“And?” K asked.
“I’ve talked with Ms. Hartley and she’s advised me to be frank with you.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry that I prescribed the anti-depressant. I didn’t realize how much she was drinking. I believe that Ms. Hartley has a severe addiction and if she doesn’t seek treatment, her next attempt at suicide just might be successful.”
Rita turned the color of her sheet.
K didn’t have the heart to oust her. Instead, she was all business. “What do you recommend?”
“Five days detox here. We have a suite of rooms for our patients and there just happens to be an opening. Then daily meetings. She can regain her strength. Of both body and mind, I think. But I just can’t release her in the condition she’s in now.”
He pointed to the bed, where Rita was out. Medication, or stress, either way, K’s compassion warred with her need to get back home.
Rita in the hospital for five more days?
“I understand.” She nodded, hiding her turmoil beneath smooth professionalism. All the while she was inwardly screaming with frustration. They’d waited two months for Jamal’s court date. As it stood at this moment, she was going to miss it, which could put Jamal in jail.
Chapter Ten
She left the hospital room after signing the paperwork for Rita to be in a five day detox/rehab program, where they wanted to monitor her heart and nervous system after pulling her off of decades of pills and booze.
No money. No money. Now she had to wait for Rita to be coherent enough to sign a check.
K met Joe’s sympathetic gaze and her eyes blurred. She hadn’t had an ally in so long it felt surreal. But she knew that Joe was on her side. He stood, took her elbow, and guided her out to the car parked in the garage.
Once she was seated, she leaned forward in her seat. The garage was dark, though sunlight filtered in through the cracks of the cement. “She has to be in a program for five days. Rehab. Pills and booze.”
Joe snickered. “How Hollywood.”
She knew it wasn’t his fault. He cracked jokes all the time—but this was her life they were talking about. “Not funny Joe.”
He immediately looked contrite. “Right. Sorry.”
“I have to go to Chicago.” How could she manage it?
“What’s so important it can’t wait for a week? Another high-society divorce
e?”
“I have a client who needs me.” Remembering how scared and thin Jamal had been when she’d taken him under wing, how eager he’d been to embrace change, made her all the more twisted up inside. Like her, Jamal had grown up in neglect. His stormy island happened to be the Chicago back alleys.
“Reschedule.” Joe started the car.
“It isn’t that easy.” She rubbed the headache beginning at her temples. It had taken months, waiting for the court date. Getting just the right judge who had a soft spot for teens in trouble.
“Have you tried?”
She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I’ll handle it.”
“Try. Trust me. I think you are supposed to be here, for Rita.”
“Wrong. I need to be in Chicago for Jamal.”
“Jamal?”
“He’s a kid that, well, he tried to steal my wallet.” She quickly explained the circumstances and Joe laughed.
“You were taken, K. Fleeced by a champion.”
“I was not. Jamal is in the Foster Center doing math as we speak.”
“He’s a con artist.”
“At sixteen?”
“It’s a matter of survival.”
“I know about survival,” she said, affronted.
“This is a different sort of jungle. I lived it for far longer than any teenager should have to. Believe me, he will let you down.”
“I won’t believe such a thing.” Her back stiffened and her jaw clenched. How could he be so callous? Oh yes. He had every reason.
“Okay. Don’t,” Joe said. “But you will get your heart broken.”
“My heart has been broken so many times it can’t break anymore.” She patted her chest and smoothed Rita’s pearls around her throat. “Bound by scar tissue.”
“Liar. You have a big soft heart hiding beneath that super body of yours and I intend to find it.”
“You’re back in your fantasy land,” K said with a reluctant smile.
“It’s not a bad place to be. You should come over to my zip code. We were meant to be together.”
“I don’t believe it. There is no Fate. No grand destiny.”