“Yes. Well, yes, that’s right.” That still didn’t tell him how Rocco got his information, but if he wasn’t careful, he could see now that he was going to ruin the moment. After all, what did it matter anyway?
Leila smiled. “That’s what I thought.” She drained her glass.
“Another?” Dan said.
“No,” Leila said, “I prefer to go to my room.”
“Oh.”
She slid the room key across the table. Her eyes locked with his in a solitary stare. “Dan,” she said in a low voice, “get the check.”
Gabby had just ordered some bourbon on the rocks when she saw them. She spotted Dan at once, and of course, she knew Leila Bolivar. Who didn’t? In fact, and this was crazy, she’d even heard those wild rumors about that rich Dingwerth Designs guy and her having an affair, but come on now, what would she want with Giles Dingwerth? Until now, Gabby never cared enough to delve into the murky details, but now—oh, here was the waiter with her drink—now, she might do just that. She watched Dan and Leila disappear into the paneled hotel lobby. Looked to her like there was a juicy story there.
She yanked a ten-dollar bill from her wallet and laid it on the table next to her still brimming tumbler. She had to leave. Now. The crowd milled around the lounge, impeding her hot pursuit of that slimy jerk. After the mess he’d made, she couldn’t believe he hadn’t left the hotel, but a woman like Leila Bolivar could make a man forget his own name, or so Gabby been told…
She watched them as they strolled together into the waiting elevator, lost in the cocoon of their private Nirvana, oblivious to prying eyes. Vibes electrified the air; Gabby could feel the tension between them. The elevator doors closed, and there she stood, all alone. How could she get that guy’s name? She would have to be creative. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. And, she’d be willing to bet, he’d be upstairs for awhile this evening.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Bunny.” June Senior sat at her usual place at the massive dining room table, directly across from Giles, at the distant opposite end. As she had requested, Felicity had delivered the telephone on an ornate silver tray, and now, June turned to her husband in alarm.
“Giles, it’s Bunny.”
Giles stared at his gold-rimmed dinner plate and frowned. “I thought you said we were having chicken tonight, June.”
June pursed her thin lips in exasperation.
“We are. I mean, it is.”
“It’s what?”
“It’s chicken, Giles.”
“I thought you said it was bunny.”
“For heaven sakes, Giles, I’m talking to Bunny on the telephone. Now, eat your chicken.”
Felicity stifled a giggle. The ponderous tray rattled on her outstretched palm. June swirled the gray-brown gravy into her mashed potatoes with the tines of her silver fork.
“Well, didn’t he call? Nothing at all? For heaven sakes, have you tried to call him?”
She shoveled a forkful of beige-brown potatoes into her narrow mouth. “Odd. Very odd.”
Giles stabbed a crisp green snow pea with his fork. He sat with his hand poised in midair, gesturing with the loaded fork while he talked. “June, can’t this wait until we’re finished eating? Why isn’t Bunny eating?”
“Because Dan is missing.”
Giles munched his snow pea. He swallowed before he spoke. “He isn’t missing. He can’t be missing. He’s Vice-President in Charge of Something, don’t ask me what. But I do know he is not missing. Bunny just doesn’t know where to look, that’s all. Did she try to call him on his cell?”
“Of course, Giles. But missing persons don’t answer the phone.”
“What time is it?”
“It is seven-thirty, sir,” Felicity said. “Will you be having coffee this evening?”
“Yes, Felicity, we will,” Giles said. “June, tell Bunnykins—well here, hand me the blasted phone. Bunns? Stop crying, Bunns. I’m sure he’s fine. Well no, I didn’t see Daniel this afternoon, but I don’t always. You know how Fridays are. How are they? Well, they’re loose honey, they’re casual, they’re—”
“Giles, you’re not helping,” June Senior said. “Now, give me that phone.”
Felicity recognized that certain steel in Mrs. Dingwerth’s voice, that stuff reserved for the very special of special occasions. Oooh, she thought, her spindly arms aching to rest the silver tray on the polished cherry sideboard, a “special occasion” had arrived. Oooh la la.
“Now Bunny, you listen to me,” June said. “I don’t care what Daddy says. Daddy will find Dan for you. Of course he can. Daddy can do anything when Daddy decides to, isn’t that right, Giles? Giles, I said Giles, isn’t that right?”
Mr. Dingwerth nodded in submission. Felicity recalled another time she had seen that happen in her seventeen year employment with the Dingwerth household—the time Mrs. Dingwerth had decided Bunny needed a perfect larger house to go with her perfect larger diamond engagement ring. Well, Miss Bunny got the house and the diamond. She even got Dan Hunter for a while. Now, Mr. Dingwerth would find him and get him back, because Mrs. Dingwerth always got what she wanted. Of this, Felicity was certain.
She watched Mrs. Dingwerth place the telephone on the silver tray. Her petite frame flinched under the pressure. The tension in the room electrified, and Felicity embraced a reason to depart. Coffee. She would make the coffee. Tonight, the coffee would need some extra preparation time, to allow the Dingwerths some of their own. This, she would personally guarantee.
The door barely closed when Dan felt her arms encircle his waist. Her lips were on his, and he gasped. Somehow, he’d expected more banter, more booze, more time, but Leila didn’t waste one precious second. She seemed like a ravenous tigress, hunting for food. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the word echoed, resounded, and repeated. Food, food, food.
He’d never intended to cheat on Bunny. Had he? No, he assured himself, even as Leila slid her long, tender fingers under his red knit polo shirt, gripping the flesh of his back between her scarlet nails. Really, he had expected a little preliminary conversation before…
Before what? What was he saying? He’d expected to keep cool control no matter what. What a fool he’d been! Well, now, he reasoned, calm down a second. He hadn’t lost control of the situation yet; he could get it back anytime he wanted, and really, he hadn’t done anything to be that ashamed of—yet.
How the next two hours passed so quickly, Dan would never know. All he would ever remember for the rest of his life was the surreal euphoria, the driving sex that consumed him like a white hot heat, the wild hunger that fueled a fierce desire for more, more and still, more. He’d never experienced anyone-or anything-like Leila Bolivar. The more control he surrendered, the better he felt. Most of all, he liked who Leila made him—a man—not Bunny’s Dan, or Mr. Dingwerth’s slave. With her, he felt a virile identity that no one could reclaim. It was his to savor.
He sat up in the king-sized bed and checked his watch. 8:09. Leila lay beside him, bare-breasted, her cheeks flushed. She appeared to be asleep. Through the filmy sheer curtains, he studied the starless navy sky. He needed to get moving, he really did. It wouldn’t be long, he just knew it, before Bunny, or worse, June Senior, began searching for him. In fact, he was astonished it hadn’t happened yet.
He reached for his shirt, and she spoke. “Where are you going, darling?”
Darling. His body tingled at the sound of the words. “Leila, I need to…”
Brrring. The phone on the nightstand jingled. Dan’s mouth twitched, the way it always did when he grew agitated—like now. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he had been discovered. Leila would pick up that phone and the voice on the other end would be Bunny or June Senior, or even worse, Mr. Dingwerth.
Leila had actually been talking for a minute or so before he realized none of the formidable suspects were on the line. Even so, the sudden scare made relaxation impossible. Who was the caller?
“Yo
u shouldn’t call so late, Carlos,” Leila said. “Well, it is late here, and besides, I was asleep. Asleep. That’s right, asleep for a change. Well, aren’t you the fine one to talk, you with your little brats running around. No, you’re right. Let’s not mention your mistress. Carlos! I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to bed.” She slammed down the receiver and stared at Dan. Her dark eyes flashed with fury. “And you, you’re leaving.” She gestured toward the door. “Go on, you’ve had your fun.”
“Leila, I don’t want to leave. It’s just that Bunny…” Leila lit a cigarette and took a quick puff, blowing the smoke into the air in front of her.
“What bunny?”
“Bunny, my wife, she…”
“You’re married to a rabbit?” Leila’s voice exploded into ripples of laughter.
“No. Bunny is her nickname. Leila, please. Try to understand. I never meant for things to move so fast between us, if you know what I mean.”
Leila sucked another drag from her cigarette. “No, I don’t know what you mean. You mean that you’re sorry about us?”
“No—no, I never meant that. I…”
“You mean you don’t want to see me again? Is that it?”
“No.” This wasn’t going well at all. “It’s just that, well, you’re married, right? It’s just that I feel confused about all of this. Everything happened so fast. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not sorry about anything, and I absolutely want to see you again. I guess I just wasn’t ready for what happened.”
Slowly, the corners of Leila’s mouth turned up. She smiled. “Oh, you were ready for it. No mistake about that.” She patted the empty spot on the bed beside her. “Come back to bed, darling.”
“Well, Giles,” June Senior said, “what are you going to do? You can’t just sit there, not while Bunny’s in tears. Felicity, where are those dessert mints?”
“Now June, you know you shouldn’t have those,” Giles said. “Remember your diabetes.”
“I don’t need to.” She pecked the pink mints from the jumbled maze of pastel discs. “You seem to do a splendid job all by yourself. Besides, my doctor says my understanding of diabetes and my superb control of my condition is iron-clad. ‘Iron-clad’. Those were his exact words to me. Why, I can practically forget all about it, is what he said. Which is what I absolutely intend to do.”
Giles rose from the table. “Well, suit yourself, June. You usually do.”
“Where are you going?” June popped a green mint into her narrow mouth, and chewed it with her tiny, yellow teeth.
“I’m going to call Daniel.”
“Why do you have to leave to do that? Certainly you can make calls from right where you are.”
“No, June, I can’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
June pecked the mints with her bright geranium tinted talons. They almost sounded like a dish of marbles clacking together when they moved. “What? Why aren’t there more pink mints in this bowl? You know, they never put enough of the really good things in a mix like this, did you ever notice that, Giles? Let me tell you, the pink ones are the best, and they try to make up for skimping by putting lots of green and yellow ones in, but they simply cannot make me happy that way. You can’t substitute lots of something you don’t want for a little bit of the one thing you do want, isn’t that right?”
Her husband nodded. For once, he thought that maybe June was onto something. Now, he was thinking of Leila Bolivar. The one thing he really wanted, especially at this irritating, claustrophobic moment. “I really must go. Bunns must be simply terrified, and a father can’t allow that, not even for a moment. Stay right here, where I know I can reach you if I need to. You never know what I might find when I start asking questions.”
June didn’t hear a word he said. Actually, even as she picked through the multi-colored mints, she wasn’t feeling quite well, no, she wasn’t. Giles knew by the dazed look in her watery eyes that the candy had not agreed with her “condition.” Well, he’d told her so himself, hadn’t he?
It seemed like the perfect time to make his phone call—or calls, that is. He would do that right now.
“No, don’t leave!” Leila said. “It’s already late, Dan. Can’t you just call her and say your car broke down, or I don’t know, you got sick, or…”
“That I met someone?” Dan smiled. It was a sad, bittersweet grin. “How about the truth-that I’ve met someone unforgettable? Tell me, is that what I should say? By the way, I guess I don’t really have the right to ask, but who is Carlos—is he your husband?”
Again, the shrill brrring of the phone.
“Always the phone,” Leila said. “Sí, Carlos is my husband, who calls me all hours of the day and night.” She yanked the receiver from its cradle. “Carlos! What is it?” Her voice lowered. She turned away from Dan.
For a moment, he even thought he saw the color drain from her face. Bad news from home? Had someone died? He felt somewhat guilty, eavesdropping like this, yet, Leila suddenly sounded so somber.
“No Giles, I can’t see you now,” she said. “Meet you? I have to get up early in the morning. Don’t be crazy. It’s only been a little while. You, come here? Now?”
A quick glance over her shoulder at Dan, who was already tying his shoe. “Giles,” he’d heard her say. It couldn’t be, could it?
“Oh, alright, then. For a nightcap. See you soon.”
She turned to Dan. He stood and faced her, wondering how this could be, if it could be; if it could be, and it really could, should he ask? Yes, he decided, he should. He did. He tried not to flinch when he heard “Dingwerth.” No recognition in his voice or on his face, he was confident of that. But, on his way to the car, after Leila swore her absolute discretion, he wondered something else.
How much did Rocco know?
Six
Gabby waited downstairs in the lobby for hours. She’d even had dinner with that desk clerk, Marc Stephens. Marc had needed someone to talk to, now that he and his partner, Brock, were considering a separation; and, Gabby was more than anxious to listen. He and Brock had tried couples counseling, but sometimes, he told Gabby in a confidential tone, he just didn’t feel Brock was being totally honest. Gabby stabbed some leaves of fresh spinach with her fork and bit into the crispy greens, chewing in rapt attention. Now, Marc confessed that he was afraid that his worst fears had been realized.
Gabby’s eyes grew wide with intrigue. “Tell me.”
Marc’s eyes grew teary. “Gabby, don’t tell a soul…”
“You know I won’t.” She chewed slowly, her gaze never leaving his face. Finally, she swallowed.
“Oh, I know, but you know.” He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his eye. “People just don’t understand. I mean, I feel so alone. I hate to burden you. You must think I’m an awful bore.”
“Oh no, I don’t. When you get boring, I’ll tell you, how’s that?”
Marc stared at his shrimp cocktail, almost as if he thought it might provide some answers. “Oh all right, you’ve convinced me.” He snared a lemon wedge with his cocktail fork. “I guess our story isn’t all that unusual.”
“Tell me.”
Marc dipped the jumbo piece of shrimp into some tangy red cocktail sauce. He bit the end and closed his eyes. “A slice of heaven. Let me start at the beginning. I knew Brock was the one for me when he walked into the costume party last Halloween. I mean, I couldn’t see his face at first, but there I was, all decked out in my wicked little nurse uniform, and here comes Brock with a stethoscope around his neck!” Marc blushed. “He was wearing a nurse costume, too. Now tell me, Gabby, what were the chances?”
“Of what?”
“Of both of us wanting to be a nurse for Halloween?” Gabby shook her head.
“I wouldn’t even try to guess. But tell me, what went wrong? Marc, what is it?”
“I need more than five.” Now Gabby felt confused and insanely curious. Should she ask?
“Five what?”
�
�Shrimp. I mean, would you take a look at this? Eleven ninety-five for five shrimp. Big ones, but still…well, back to your question.” Again, a tear formed in the corner of his eye. “I just can’t believe it’s over. I mean, what did she have that I didn’t?”
“Who?”
“Angela. Angela Hart.”
“The doctor’s wife?” Gabby doubted she could keep this a secret for long. Angela Hart had acquired quite a few new enemies since her divorce, well-known people who wouldn’t mind trading secrets with Gabby Knowes.
“I can’t believe it, Gabby. I never thought Brock would leave me for a woman, especially one like Angela Hart. It’s just so, I don’t know, so not him.” He emptied two packets of Sweet ’n Low into his iced tea and stirred, shaking his head. “There’s simply something wrong with the picture. She’s not his type. She’s short, she’s plump, and she’s way over forty. That is definitely not Brock Edwards let me tell you. But, and this is what I think it really is, Angela Hart is loaded! That’s what she’s got that I haven’t—cash, and lots of it. Well, it’s time to get back to the old salt mines. -Gabby, what’s wrong? Oh, I have bored you, haven’t I?”
“It’s not you,” she said. “There’s somebody I have to catch up with.”
Marc watched her struggle through the revolving doors after the same guy that ruined her donuts. He guessed she wanted him to buy her another box. After all, what else would the nosiest gossip columnist in town want with a guy like that? Besides, thought Marc, if Gabby really wanted gossip, his story was much better. He was sure of that.
Luther was closing up for the night when he saw him. What a sight he was, too: rumpled shirt open at the collar, suit coat flapping in the wind, desperation written all over his dumb white face. That was the thing, man. This guy, whoever he was, whatever he’d just been going, whatever he was about to do, was desperate. Luther knew one thing about desperate people, and he was afraid of them, because…because, there was just no telling what they would do. That was the thing, man.
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