by Brian Deer
He slumped on his back and squeezed his nuts as his erection began to soften. Then he rolled onto his chest, hammered the mattress, rolled back, and sat up.
“Idea.”
“Best idea now is go take a shower. Must clean this place up and get to work.”
“You bet. Shower together.” He chattered his teeth. “But how about this? Why don’t we do this? We could skip the center and hang out today? Nobody needs us for anything now.”
Not feasible. Impossible. She must think of Hiroshi. He’d not even fired her a WhatsApp. “I’d like to do that. Really, I would. But I’ve got clinic all day, and I’ve a great deal of work to get on with.”
“Yeah, but Doc Mayr would agree to practically anything now. We could say we need to see more people, do home visits, or whatnot. It’s all in the protocol, as you said.”
“I’d like to. I really would. But I’m actually very busy.” She lied. “I’ve got volunteers coming in for counseling all day. And there’s Hiroshi to think of. I’d like to, of course, but I can’t.”
“Could go sick.” He lifted the mug by the clock. “Or I could tell Doc Mayr how you’ve still got doubts. She’ll be totally, like, fazed. Don’t you think? That would freak her right out. Or, how about saying you gotta check back on that Ramirez case, or something?”
“Honestly, I can’t be dishonest, can I? If I lie, that makes me as bad as him, doesn’t it? I’d be a hypocrite.”
“Yeah, but it’s not a big lie, or anything. I mean, it’s not a strategic lie. It’s only a tactical lie, and that’s not so bad. Everybody does it all the time.” He drank from the mug and slid it among the condom wrappers. “I mean, it’s gonna be a great day out there today. And, if I’ve got nothing doing, they’ll send me back to Atlanta. I know it.”
“Ben, I can’t. Honestly. Time’s getting on. I’d love to, really, but I can’t.”
Now they both raised the coffees and gazed at the walls in the longest silence they’d shared while awake.
“Hey. Come here.” His tone sounded businesslike. “Come here for a second and let me look at that list. It’s all totally professional and everything.”
“No, it’s a trick.”
“Course it’s not a trick. Trust me.”
“Only if it’s actually for real.”
“Totally.”
She retightened her robe and sat on the bed’s edge as he relieved her of the envelope, turned the flap downward, and shook out a purple paper flyer.
FROM BEDROOM TO BATHROOM
HOMECARE TO HARDWARE
OAKLAND & FRESNO
PETER GLINSKI
“This’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
“I’ll call him.”
“No, you won’t. What for? There’s no possible reason. That’s all done with.”
She reached for the flyer, but he held it in the air, lifted his butt, and sat on it.
“Ben, that’s stupid. What’s the point?”
“Because, look, if this works, I can definitely swing another day on my assignment. Maybe the whole weekend. Which would be great. This is a good one. Honestly. You don’t have to do anything. I pledge your integrity won’t be compromised in any way. It’s perfect. Otherwise, I’ll be back on the plane this afternoon.”
He slumped on his belly, wriggled toward the clock, and pulled his Samsung from behind it.
“Ben, it’s twenty past seven.”
“Dude’ll be cool. Trust me on this. I know what makes him happy in the morning.”
“Don’t.”
“Hey, sweetheart, gimme a chance here. I don’t want to go home. Relax.”
He tapped out the number Glinski wrote on the flyer and fixed the cheesiest smile.
“Hey, Peter? Yeah? Ben Louviere… Yeah, I know it is. Sorry… You know, Ben? From the hospital? We met yesterday…”
Silence.
He punched up a pillow against the bed’s headboard. “That’s nice of you to say so, but…”
Silence.
“Cool. Yeah, well, as my colleague said, we’re working this survey thing we’re doing, which is pretty dull…”
A longer silence.
“About four times a week, if that’s relevant. Weights, mostly. Some cardio. And I run. Look…”
Silence.
“Yeah. Okay. I got that part. And I was wondering, like, if you could give us your sister-in-law’s number, just so I can fill in this form thing here we got?”
Sumiko watched, suspicious, but helpless. She pointed at the clock and whispered, “The time.”
But he’d seized the initiative and now multitasked, reaching with a foot toward her bathrobe. As he talked, his toes nudged a gap in the yellow flannel, exposing her thigh to his gaze. “Oh, yeah, sorry… We do… Tell me about it… Yeah, very early.”
Silence.
He scrunched his nose and clicked his fingers. “Hang on, my screen’s frozen. I need a writing implement.”
Sumiko shook her head.
He clicked again.
What choice did she have? Or they’d be here all morning. She reached for a ballpoint and passed it.
“Sir… I think, sir, you jest with me. Tell me thou art joking.”
Silence.
He held the pen to his leg.
She watched him, conflicted. This phone call was wrong, but his body was perfect. Not a blemish. He was fit: that was obvious. But not over-the-top. The proportions of each muscle group were perfect. His hair was perfect: raven black, facial stubble, thickening at his chest, thinning to his navel, and a bush not excessively trimmed.
“Yeah, well, that’s a pretty unconventional arrangement, man…”
Silence.
“You’re not serious… Okay, okay… You’re sick, you know that? But then that’s it. Yeah?”
Silence.
“Okay, Calvins… White… Yeah, yeah, right… You got it man… Definitely. You better believe it… Now the info?”
As Glinski talked, Ben’s toes rubbed her thigh. She made a tent over his foot in the flannel.
“Okay… Gennifer Heusch. Gennifer with two ns and one f… Heusch. H-e-u-s-c-h.”
He inked the name above his knee.
“And she’s… Oh, man, gimme a break… Look man, I’m straight.”
Silence.
“Well, if I wasn’t a seriously nice guy and everything, the words ‘sexual harassment’ might come to mind… Does the name ‘Harvey Weinstein’ mean anything to you? Yeah, well okay… But you better stick with the deal now, or I’m hanging up. And what you got then, uhh? You’ll be all alone with your dick in your hand.”
Silence.
“You said… Okay, okay… Seven and threequarters… Yeah, nearly eight, if you prefer… Yeah. Sure… I think accuracy is important… Yeah… Correctamundo… And rock hard for you man. That do it?”
Silence.
“I’m hanging up.”
Silence.
“Alright. You first. Then I will… No… I will… Solemn pledge.”
Glinski talked.
“Okay? Good… Right. Garberville. G-a-r-b-e-r-ville. Humboldt County… Cool. Now the number… Oh, right, sure, what a surprise.”
He pursed his lips, slid onto his back, and held the phone squeezed against the pillow. “Yeah… Okay, they’re off.”
Where could he have learned such behavior?
“You insist on that specific vocabulary?”
Silence.
“Okay man, take this where it feels good.”
He breathed into the phone, as his foot teased her robe, flipping it open to her crotch. “Oh, man… Yeah… Right, yeah… Wow… Now gimme the number. Just gimme the fucking number… Okay?”
Glinski talked more, Ben raised his knee, wrote a number, and read it aloud.
And he still wasn’t done. He’d gotten what he asked for. But instead of hanging up, he stroked his belly. “Yeah right, I’m a good guy�
�� Like I said… Okay, okay. So, what are you wearing then, huh?” He ran his fingers through the hair on his chest. “Oh sure, that’s cool, I’d imagine.”
Silence.
This was nothing she’d be part of. This was shocking, outrageous. But she couldn't simply get up and leave.
“That so? I’m impressed.”
Now his eyes snared hers and, together, they looked. They stared at his seven-and-threequarters. She tried to break away, but her secret sisters were agreed: what they saw was like north to a compass.
“Okay, take it… Yeah.” He was speaking to her. “Come on, you know how I like it.”
She’d made up her mind: she was not going to do it. He’d gotten all of that he was getting. But she smiled, couldn’t help it. She shook her head.
Again, he snagged her eyes and dragged them down.
“No,” she whispered. “Definitely not.”
She leaned forward on her hands and licked his cock.
He widened his legs, put a palm behind her head, and moaned a response, “Suck me… yeah.”
He breathed heavy, thrusting, then clambered from the bed. His heels hit the floor: tricky maneuver. He moved and stood behind her, turned her and pressed her backward till her shoulders met the mattress with a bounce. He stooped, crouched, and ran his cheeks between her legs, his stubble rubbing harsh in her groin. He pulled away the robe and buried his face. She felt his phone—cool—on her skin.
Silence.
She threw out her arms and lay spreadeagled. He rose and dragged her onto her side.
“Yeah, I think you need this pretty bad…”
Silence. Plenty of silence.
He rolled her face down. Her toes left the floor, and he threw the robe over her head.
She felt his knees bend as he pushed between her legs, resting his phone between her shoulder blades. “Okay, you’re gonna get it now. You can take this baby…”
And take that baby she did.
Thirty-three
SHE RAISED her left foot and eased it into the panty. Her knee popped like a trodden-on twig. Then she raised her right foot—only succeeding second try—and nearly fell off the edge of the bed. She dragged up the undergarment, pushed her palms against the mattress, and hauled herself upright. Unsteady. She tugged on elastic till it snugged her waist.
Phase one of getting dressed was complete.
On the twenty-seventh floor of the Grand Hyatt, San Francisco, Trudy Mayr pinched the skin around her navel. She watched her flesh sink like an oven-ready turkey. She sucked in her belly, and creases hooped her midriff. Nasty. She was getting so thin.
She must have slept in a thousand hotel rooms like this one: brown recliner armchair, lightwood desk, and art picked to blend with the carpet. Once upon a time, she’d have reveled in the minibar, room service, overnight laundry. But this morning her soul ached only to be done with it. A week from today, she’d be free.
A clock beside the bed said 09:27. She’d lain awake half the night, worrying. Ben Louviere hadn’t returned to the hotel, as he should have. And she’d been fuming over an email from Atlanta. She’d phoned Marcia Gelding to report on Murayama. And a fat lot of good it had done. The CEO was busy on an investors’ call, apparently, and Mark Damerich, her assistant, took a message. She told him what was wrong, but nobody seemed to care. His reply was a slap in the face.
Dr. Mayr: Ms. Gelding is tied up this afternoon but has asked me to let you know Mr. Hoffman will look into this matter and contact you directly. Meanwhile, Ms. Gelding says please adhere to the agreed arrangements. Thankx. M.
She reached for a bra, wrestled its hook-and-eye fasteners, and maneuvered her arms through the holes. The packaging was labeled “moonlight white,” but it looked more rinsewater gray. She leaned forward to coordinate her breasts into position, but a shoulder strap slipped. Try again. She recovered, gripped the cups, and gave them a shake.
That was as good as it gets.
After donning a fresh dress, it would be Friday’s first Doral.
Then she heard a slam in the corridor outside.
WHEN HE opened the door, Doc Mayr gushed in as if escaping third class on the Titanic. “Where were you last night?” she growled. “Now don’t be trying to fool me. You’ve been consorting with that girl, now haven’t you?”
He dodged from her path as she flooded toward the windows, eddied like a whirlpool, and drained. She paused to steady herself, rocking left and right. A cigarette pack bobbed in her hand.
Lying was futile. He’d been pissing when she knocked. He hadn’t even opened the curtains. The bed wasn’t slept in, a sheet corner was folded back, and the counterpane removed to a closet.
“Hey, good morning. I was about to call you. Mr. Hoffman said I should take her to dinner.”
“Then I hope you enjoyed it.” She shook out a cancer stick. “Because the next thing you’re doing is calling Delta.”
“What, we’re leaving?”
She raised the cigarette. “No, we’re not leaving. You’re leaving.”
“I’m leaving? Oh, right.”
This was tricky: she didn’t know his assignment. She thought he was here to help her.
As instructed, he hadn’t called the general counsel since yesterday, so there was still last night to report on. Driving north across the city from Potrero Hill, his head was all Sumiko: the feel of her body, her warmth, intelligence, style. Then he’d called the Glinski sister, soft-soaped her with a story, and asked if he could stop by later.
He lifted a book of matches from the vaccine chief’s fingers, tore one, and struck a light. Fizzzz. “But you know, ma’am, I promised to pick something up for Dr. Honda. Says it’s what’ll finally reassure her about Wilson, the trial, and everything.”
“Well, whatever it is, I can pick it up myself. You’re done here, finished. And that’s that.”
“But she’s asking—I mean insisting, really—for me to see someone. It’s a relative of a lost to follow-up case. Says it’s all in the SPIRE protocol.”
“SPIRE’s nothing to do with her, and if anything needs doing, I’ll do it myself.” The cigarette wagged. “You’re never even helping half the time.”
He opened the closet, lifted his navy suit, and ripped away a polythene wrapper. “Sorry. I really am. I apologize. But Mr. Hoffman specifically asked me to keep an eye on her. And on Dr. Murayama as well. Kind of confidentially. That’s what I was doing in the restaurant.”
She exhaled a cloud. “Theodore Hoffman can keep his nose out of it. This is a clinical research matter. If I can’t get whatever we need on the phone, I’ll catch a taxi.”
“Two hundred miles.”
“What is?”
“The relative.”
“Damn it, I can talk with them on the phone.”
“Wants to give me a document.”
“What?”
“Her sister’s death certificate.”
“We don’t need death certificates. That’s disproportionate.”
“I wondered about that, but I think Dr. Honda feels it’s important.”
“Then they can email it.”
“Hasn’t got a scanner.”
“Alright, they can take a picture of it then.”
“Asked about that, and they haven’t got a smartphone.”
“For God’s sake, they can read it me then.”
“She said it wasn’t appropriate. Said we could be anybody. Patient confidentiality. Deep State. All that, you know?”
“Mr. Louviere, nobody’s driving two hundred miles. Not for any reason. You can give me her number before you leave, and I’ll get the certificate online next week if we need it, which I doubt.”
“It’s only Dr. Honda thinks we should review it before you sign off on the data verification dialogue. For completeness. She’s very professional, you know, and I think she might be coming round to your thinking.”
Doc Mayr sighed like she was coming
round herself.
He pulled up a leg of his shorts. “Place called Garberville. I’ve got the number here, see? But I’m not sure about me leaving. I mean, with respect, I’m really not. I think I’d better check with Mr. Hoffman.”
“Listen, you’re here to help me. That’s the only reason you’re here at all. You have no business consorting with those people. First, it’s Murayama, and now it’s that girl. Young man, if you think I’m seeing this situation we have here jeopardized by such behavior, then you’re badly mistaken.”
This was looking tricky. She was out of the loop. It wasn’t as if he lacked authorization. He was expressly instructed by BerneWerner’s general counsel to fuck the complainant and/or buy her dinner. “Well, with respect ma’am, I did tell Mr. Hoffman on the phone how I was getting friendly with her. He thought that might be extremely useful to the company at a time like this.”
“Now look, damn it. Just how long have you been with us?”
“Fifty-four days, including weekends.”
“And you’re so far out of your depth you’ll drown us all here. It’s not your concern. You’ve no business fooling around with someone complaining about clinical trial procedures.”
“But, with respect, ma’am, don’t you see? Think about it. We know Murayama’s in town. Right? She hasn’t told him about anything at the center, or what you’re doing here, she says. Yet. So, we best keep her away from him. Am I wrong? Best way to do that is what I was doing. Maybe everything depends on it.”
“Well, what I want to know is why that Sanomo snake’s in town, and what you were doing with him at all.”
“He invited me to lunch. I was trying to find out myself, for Mr. Hoffman. You can check. He wanted to know that too. He told me to go to lunch. Approved it, officially from the Legal Department. But some of it’s got to do with Sumiko, Dr. Honda. You’re not gonna believe this, but I’ve found out something that could be pretty big.”
“What?”
“It’s confidential.”
“What is?”
“What I found out.”
“What did you find out?”
“Says he’s asked her to go live with him in Japan.”
The vaccine chief dropped the cigarette. “What?”