Stone Kiss (36 page)

“Jesus, you’re impossible!”

He attempted to lift up his shirt. When I tried to help, he slapped my hand away. He showed me his wound.

“I’m not taking off the bandage.”

“You should,” I said. “The wound is weeping through the gauze. Do you have any medication or replacement bandages or salves?”

He held out his hand in exasperation, then gave me a bag filled with medical material—tape, bandages, medicines, salves, ointments.
I went through the supplies, then wiped down my hands with a new bottle of Betadine. I started to take off the outer layer
of adhesive. He winced.

“I’m sorry. Hopefully, it won’t take long.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked me.

“Yes.”

His expression was dubious, but he stood still. I peeled back the layers. “Who dressed this? He did a good job.”

“She.”

I laughed. “God, I can’t believe what a sexist I am. Who’s she? Mrs. Decker?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Lieutenant Decker know about this?”

“Nope. Doesn’t know about his wife being here, doesn’t know that I’ve been shot. There’s a lot that Lieutenant Decker doesn’t
know.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s complicated.”

“My plane doesn’t take off for a while.”

He talked to me while I worked. His sentences were terse. I was getting the encapsulated version. Probably the sanitized version
as well. Twenty minutes later, I had patched him up. He sat down and took another swipe of booze.

“You shouldn’t drink and take painkillers at the same time,” I told him.

“I gave up cigarettes for you. Leave me alone.”

“I care. It’s not safe.”

“My system’s impervious to drugs. It’s a wonder I’m still alive.”

I took the bottle out of his hands, brushed my fingers over his grizzled face. “I’m glad you are.”

He regarded me, scrutinized me. A long time ago, his penetrating eyes made me nervous. Not anymore. Years of dealing with
Chris’s
unpredictability had hardened me. I needed him—as my son’s father, as my bank account. Initially, my grandparents had supported
my son and me. They are lovely people, and I knew we were a burden. After eighteen months, I assured them that I would be
fine and convinced them to move to a retirement community in Florida. Immediately, I was plunged into poverty. For almost
two years, I put myself through college while trying to put bread on the table. Debt took on a life of its own. I was drowning,
and Chris was watching. As I exhaled my last breath—a heartbeat away from eviction—Chris offered me a life preserver. I took
it and haven’t looked back, although someday I’m sure I will. It will not be a sterling moment in my moral history. Still,
being his courtesan was better than choosing between quitting med school or suffering through another frigid Chicago winter
without decent heat.

His hands went to my face. He kissed me… long and gentle. I could feel the ball of his tongue pierce as he swept through my
mouth. He loosened my hair from the ponytail holder and ran his fingers through my long tresses. He kissed me again and again.
“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Not true,” I told him. “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

“Yeah, you’d do it out of obligation.”

“You sell my affections short,” I said. “Don’t be nasty.” I let my hand travel down to his inner thigh. “Be nice.”

He placed it over his groin, and I felt him grow in my fingers. He closed his eyes, his breathing audible. He whispered, “I
keep forgetting what you do to me.” He gave me hungry eyes. “This is the safest place, Teresa. The only place where I feel
comfortable talking.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to talk.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his lips, then bit them gently. “Doesn’t matter, Chris.
Here’s fine. Anywhere’s fine.”

“You want a pillow or something?”

“Do you have something that’s clean?”

He made a face. “You’re very funny.”

“I’m dead serious. I don’t know who you bring in here.”

“No one. You know how meticulous I am.”

That he was.

“I have a stereo hooked up, too,” he said. “Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’?” A rare sort of smile graced his lips, one that shot
light into his eyes and showed how incredibly good-looking he could be. “Gipsy Kings?”

“You beast you.” I answered his smile in kind.

“I’ll be right back.”

His face had become suffused with little-boy excitement, like the first time I had given him a birthday gift. He put on the
music and brought in a big, fluffy pillow, placing it on top of the desk. I pushed it off, letting it fall to the ground.

I dropped to my knees.

A couple of hours later, I asked if there was a place where I could bathe. Though he claimed to use condoms assiduously, he
refused to use them when he was with me, saying it was the one time he could let his guard down. But it was more than that.
Anything less than full culmination implied my rejecting his basic being, so my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. I had had the
good sense to get an IUD when we became intimate again, but it did nothing for disease. The last time I had begged him to
wear protection, he became very angry—that silent, dreadful fury that sent waves of fear into my gut. He had this look—this
deadly look. He used it whenever he meant business. I had been on the receiving end of his wrath and revenge. There were some
things I just couldn’t push him on.

“I have a unit upstairs. I’ll come with you in a minute.” He took my hand and kissed my fingers one by one. Then he let go
and got dressed. He was still breathing hard when he sat down. “Let me rest for a moment. You gave me a workout, you animal.”

I got up from his desk and put on my clothes and clipped my hair back. I gulped down half the bottle of Evian, then gave it
to him. He took a big swallow, then closed his eyes. He was drenched with perspiration. He didn’t look well at all. I felt
his forehead. “You’re very hot.”

“It’s stuffy in here.”

“You’ve got a fever, Chris.”

“Any wonder after the calisthenics you put me through.”

“I’m concerned. Do you have a doctor I can talk to? You need Keflex.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Are you taking it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It upsets my stomach.”

“Christopher—”

“I’ll take it.” He finished up the bottle of water. “I’m probably just dehydrated. Stop nagging me.”

“I care.” I sat in his lap. “Please?”

“Yes, I will take Keflex.” He nibbled my upper lip, then kissed me. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

We began to kiss. Then he broke away.

“So who are you dating?” he asked me.

“No one.”

“Don’t lie to me, angel. Who are you dati—”

“No one,”

I insisted.

He pulled out a nutrition bar from a file cabinet, ate half, then offered it to me. I shook my head, so he finished it.

“Not dating anyone?”

“No, I am not dating anyone.”

“Then why’d you go to the Hilton with your classmate? What was his name? Michael Bonocelli? Did I pronounce it right?”

His eyes were dead, just waiting to pounce. I said, “Your spy wasn’t thorough. If he had been more watchful, he would have
seen me walk out as well as walk in.”

His face told me he was unconvinced.

“They have a very good Italian restaurant, Chris. When Mike invited me to go to dinner, I had no idea he meant room service.”

“You still went out with him.”

“We were working on a paper together—‘The Implications of Iatrogenic Causes in Radiation Deaths of Stage-Three Breast Cancer
Patients’—a subject that interests me since both of our mothers died from the disease. Thank God we had a son. The lead professor’s
name is Doctor Edwin Alvary. Mike offered me a dinner meeting, and I
took him up on it. Sue me. I get tired of mac and cheese or peanut butter every night.”

I pushed his face away from mine.

“I don’t date, Chris. When would I have time? Besides, the last thing I want is a parade of men going in and out of the apartment.
Gabe is
everything
to me. He is
not
going to grow up with a slut for a mother.”

“You wouldn’t be a slut if you had a toss now and then.”

“But I
don’t
! You know that cause you’re watching me all the time. I only sleep with you, and that’s different because you’re Gabe’s father.
In fact, you’re the only guy I’ve ever been with, period! For twenty-four years old, that is truly
pathetic
!”

“Not to me. I still get this incredible jolt every time I lay you down and spread your legs.”

Again I pushed him away. “Stop being crude.”

“That was a compliment, angel.”

I scrunched up my face. “That’s such a male perspective. I want to have sex with you, ergo you should feel honored!”

“Men are dogs.”

Stated without expression. I quickly remembered whom I was talking to. I kissed his cheek. “At least, you’re a very generous
dog.”

He took in my eyes. “How much?”

“That wasn’t a hint.”

He reached over to the second drawer of his file cabinet. Inside was a shoe box stacked with pictures of Ben Franklin. He
pinched some bills off the top, then folded them into a wad and offered it to me. Longing in my heart, but I held my ground.

“I
said
that wasn’t a hint.”

He counted them—eight hundred dollars. He added two more bills and then stuffed them in my hand. “Buy something nice for yourself
and the kid.”

“Thank you.” I kissed his cheek again. “It won’t go on forever, Christopher. I’ll be earning money in a few years.”

“I’m not complaining, Teresa.”

“You never do,” I told him. “I should marry some sugar daddy just to give you a break.”

“I
am
your sugar daddy. What do you need someone else for?”

I shrugged.

He gave me a stare. “Anyone specific in mind?”

“I’m talking theoretically.”

“You’re pissing me off!”

“Some good-looking, much older man who’ll baby me for the rest of my life. Someone who wouldn’t be much competition for you.”

“He wouldn’t be
any
competition for me because he’d be dead.”

“I mean much, much,
much
older, Chris. Like in his forties or fifties. That wouldn’t bother you, right?”

“Forties maybe. Fifties, probably not.” He raised his eyebrows. “Who would you go for, baby doll? Decker?”

“You’re
sick
!”

“Yeah, you’re right. No money.”

I faced him, suddenly turning serious. “So you two are working together?”

“Beats me.”

I didn’t like the attitude. I said, “Christopher Sean Whitman Donatti, I swear if you hurt that man I will never ever, ever
forgive
you for the rest of my life!”

Rudely, he pushed me off his lap. “What
is it
about that guy that inspires such loyalty?”

“Besides the fact that he got you out of prison? Besides the fact that he sent me money when no one else would? Besides the
fact that he is the only heterosexual male I’ve ever met who hasn’t tried to sleep with me?”

“You forgot your father.”

“I stand by the original statement, Chris!”

He jerked his head up, taking in my eyes. “What?
When?
”

I waved him off. “Before I met you. He wasn’t insistent. He wound up not doing anything.” My eyes watered. “He couldn’t. He
was too drunk.”

“What else is new?”

“Jean caught us—him. To her credit, she didn’t blame me. Didn’t support me, but didn’t…” I wiped the tears away. “Melissa’s
that age now. I call her nearly every day. I tell her over and over that if he tries something…” I didn’t dare finish my thought.

“You never told me.” He pulled me back onto his lap. “You should have said something, angel. I could have sympathized. I was
molested, you know. Joey, right after my mom died, he used to comb out my hair and make me give him blow jobs.”

“That’s
horrible
!” I meant it. I touched his face and kissed his lips. “Poor Chris.”

“Yeah, poor me.” He shook his head. “You know, I keep my mouth shut for years. Then I wind up telling two people about it
within twenty-four hours. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Who was the other person?”

“Rina Decker. I don’t know why I brought it up. She has this way of getting stuff out of you. She and the lieutenant are suited
to one another.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“Jesus, I can’t believe your old man actually—”

“It was over before it started.”

“I should pop him.”

“Chris—”

“I won’t, but I should.”

“Can we switch the subject? It’s so painful! Especially after making love.”

He brought me close to his chest. “Is that what you consider it? Making love?”

“Yes, of course.” I looked at him. “What do you consider it?”

“Making
beautiful
love.”

“So we’re in agreement.” I leaned against him, my head to his heart. “Does he know what he’s doing? Lieutenant Decker?”

“He’s no dummy, but New York’s different from Los Angeles. He’s in foreign territory, doesn’t really know what or who he’s
dealing with. On top of that, he’s not packing.”

I looked up. “He doesn’t have a gun?”

“I tried to give him one. He refused. The man is stubborn.”

“Who’s he up against?”

“I’ve got some definite ideas—amateurs trying to look like some pros we both know. That means they’re
stupid
. And stupid is dangerous. If I were his wife, I’d start looking at his life-insurance policy.”
He took another gulp of water. “It probably would be easier if someone popped him. More elbowroom for me. This problem has
got to be taken care of.”

My heart started skipping. He must have picked up on it. He stroked my back. His voice was low and soothing. “Baby doll, I
tried. But he told me to butt out. So I’m out. Tell you the truth, I haven’t been feeling well enough to do much of anything.
If he wants to duke it out solo, he can be my effing guest. I’m not the man’s nanny.”

Gently, I put my arms around his waist, being careful to avoid his gunshot wound. I barely spoke above a whisper. “Don’t let
him sink, Chris. Even if he doesn’t want it, help him.”