An Accidental Affair (21 page)

And outside those windows, dark skies were becoming lighter.

With daylight came clarity. Lucidity was rarely the best friend of intense emotions.

Then, as she vanished, leaving with her jewelry still off so as not to make a sound, with her shoes in one hand and car keys in the other, he jerked awake, jerked as if his life support had been taken away, its power abruptly cut off. He reached for her and woke up to an empty bed.

The disappointment on his face made me shake my head.

Hazel was right. Revisionist history would not give me a better reality.

I was in search of tea and sympathy, looking at dead days past.

We get what we deserve.

At this point in my life, I wished that my choice, if I had a choice, had been the opposite way, Hazel, not Regina. I would have been with a woman whom the world hadn’t seen naked, a woman whom magazines hadn’t dissected and chopped up into sensual body parts, a woman whom only a few men had seen in special, intimate ways. It would have been nice to be with a woman whom I could take to dinner without someone interrupting us, could accompany to Jamba Juice without someone rudely barging into our conversation and asking for autographs, running up to us and snapping photos without so much as a hello, seeing us talking and intruding as if I were the invisible man, or even worse, the insignificant man.

It would be nice to be with a woman who, when it went wrong, if we went into a death spiral, it wasn’t on radio, television, billboards, and every news and gossip page and blog online.

I growled. “Johnny Handsome.”

Pulling my wet clothing from my aching body, I knew that I would have to pay.

The problem with having means was that even when you were being done wrong and retaliated, people who did you wrong had the
right to sue for getting their just due. It was a life’s savings for an eye, never an eye for an eye. Johnny Bergs had been a burglar and burglars had more rights than homeowners in this country. A man could break into your home and he had to be facing you and armed for you to shoot him and get away with blowing his brains into the wall.

“Thicke?”

“Driver. What’s going on?”

“I went by. The gray car is gone. I went by there off and on. It never came back.”

“Think they changed cars?”

“I took photos of all cars parked near your gates. Got shots of license plates.”

“Wait. Any word on Baptiste?”

“She’s vanished off the face of the earth. She never came back to the estate.”

I paused. “You think the guys in the gray car did something to her?”

“I’d say they were waiting on you. But people are crazy, so I have no idea.”

“I should take my gun, drive up there and have a conversation.”

“Bad idea. Sit tight until I can take you. The owner at Wolfe Classic Limousine sent me on a job. Heading to San Diego. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and make it back up this way.”

“I’ll handle it, Driver.”

“Thicke, sit your butt down. Don’t do like you did the night you beat Johnny Bergs in the streets. That night, if you had waited on me, I could’ve been your buffer. Stay where you are.”

I looked across the room at my .38. “I’ll do my best to wait on you.”

“Varg? Varg? Hey, Varg.”

Hours later, I was in the musty hallway on the first floor, right outside of the laundry room, back against the wall, head down, hands in fists as I washed my water-soaked workout clothes.

“Varg, what are you up to?”

I didn’t look up. Hearing
Varg
didn’t click. My conversation with Hazel Tamana Bijou had left me numb. And my wife remained heavy on my mind. That video of her and Johnny Handsome had been reactivated, was playing inside my head. And Bobby Holland’s phone calls and threats were there too. Plus there were the other noises that were outside of my head. On one side, I heard a vacuum cleaner, on the other I heard an argument, and from yet another direction, I heard televisions and laughter as half the floor watched
Jerry Springer
.

“Varg, don’t act like you can’t hear me. Something must be heavy on your mind.”

When I caught on, I turned around. Vera-Anne and her two kids came down the hallway, passed by a Mexican family, an Asian woman, and seven preteen children who were roaming about unsupervised. VeraAnne had on a tight white skirt and black fitted top, low heels, and nice silver jewelry. She smiled and came into the laundry room.

She said, “You’re doing laundry again? I’ll bet that you’d make a good husband.”

“Have to beat the crowd. Half of the machines don’t work.”

She chuckled. “Poppa was looking for you this morning.”

“Was he? What was it about?”

“His daughter, of course. Are you going with him to meet her later?”

“I had forgotten about that. That’s this evening. Are you going?”

“I’d have to take the kids. Too much trouble. And then the bill for dinner would be a lot higher too. His daughter is older than me, you know. Might be too creepy.”

Vera-Anne made small talk for a moment, small talk and intense eye contact.

She said, “You have a girlfriend? Somebody up there enjoying your nice art with you?”

“Are you trying to hook me up with one of your friends?”

“Oh, hell no. I wouldn’t do that. Then I might get jealous. Know what I mean? I’ve been cooking and feeding you and I would hate to fatten frog for snake. That wouldn’t be right.”

I smiled a cautious smile in return, one that was meant to correct her course.

She said, “I’m making pea soup and dough for lunch.”

“Never had that before.”

“Then you really should come by and let me feed you. I make mine with turkey meat.”

“Will Mr. Holder be there?”

“He’ll be gone all day. He’s in L.A. getting a haircut and shopping for a new suit.”

“The kids?”

“It’s their nap time. Come by. I haven’t had a chance to have you to myself. We can get better acquainted and talk without Poppa or Isabel being in the room. Wouldn’t you like that?”

She was standing a few feet away, but her scent was all over me. She watched me, her stare electric and sordid as she waited for my response to her indecent proposal.

I said, “Your cooking is great, but I’ll have to pass on lunch.”

“I am interested in knowing you. If you ever want to hang out, sneak away to a museum or an art show, that would be cool. Would be nice to go with somebody who understands me.”

“All I need to understand is that Mr. Holder would not appreciate that.”

“He doesn’t appreciate art. I need to connect with a man who appreciates art.”

“He appreciates you. You really need to be grateful for a man who appreciates you.”

She grinned a disenchanted grin, her perfume and sexy dress all gone to waste. She nodded, and they headed down the hallway, her ass wagging, as her kids kept chattering away.

Then she left her kids down the hallway, paused, shook her head, tapped her foot a dozen times, took off her eyeglasses, put her hand on her hip, and gradually walked back to me. She let her pink hair fall down, hand combed it free, then undid two buttons on her blouse.

In a much stronger voice she said, “Is it because of Poppa?”

“Your kids are standing right behind you, Vera-Anne.”

“Is it because of my kids? Do you have something against single mothers?”

I said, “Mr. Holder is taking care of you and your kids.”

“
He’s not my husband
. He’s
never
going to ask me to marry him.”

I said, “Real talk. Not many men would do that, take in a woman and two kids.”

“I’m not asking you to take care of me and my kids. You’re probably as broke as everybody else around here. If you live here, you must not be doing so good yourself.”

“You’re a smart woman, at least you seem to be.”

“I am smart. I’m very smart. And I’m very ambitious.”

“I’m just an angry man who has no love for overly
ambitious
women
right now. And in this case, the word
ambitious
is a very kind euphemism for a much stronger, unfriendly word.”

“Okay, I’m having a blond moment. What’s a euphemism?”

“What you’re doing, not cool. Be as good to Mr. Holder as he is to you. Only dogs move from dog to dog and only a female dog will stand still while male dogs line up to take their turn. You have two kids. Shut down the ride. If that’s what you’re doing, shut down the ride.”

Her smile lessened. This impromptu audition for the part of leading lady wasn’t going the way she wanted. And just like that, tears streamed out of her eyes and her chest heaved.

Her children played behind her, oblivious to their mother’s situation. I thought she wanted to run away from me, but she didn’t want her kids to see her face. She leaned into me and I put my arms around, held her until she calmed down. When I pulled away, she didn’t let me go. Her body was too warm, her breasts were too soft, her breathing too hot, and she held me too close. I eased her away from me. She wiped her tears away and then apologized.

I asked, “Are you okay?”

She looked up at me, pulled me to her as she tiptoed and kissed me, and then she rushed her tongue deep inside of my mouth. I pushed her away from me and shook my head.

“Vera-Anne, that was wrong on so many levels.”

“It didn’t feel wrong.”

“Most wrongs don’t feel wrong. Especially when they taste like grape bubblegum.”

“You look like you have a lot of potential. I mean, I know you’re not rich, but you seem to be smart, almost as smart as I am, a metrosexual with good taste, so I know you’re not going to stay in a dump like this for sixteen years. All of that art that you have, I don’t care how you got it. I don’t care where you stole it from. We could help each other in so
many ways. Poppa has been here for
sixteen
years. Since I was in the first grade. He’s a nice man, but he’s a loser.”

“Damn. That’s how you see me? That’s what you think of Mr. Holder?”

“It’s more than that. Poppa is twice my age. His daughter is older than I am.”

“You knew that before the first kiss, right? You knew it before you had sex with him.”

“I knew it. But damn. He lectures me all the time. It gets on my nerves after a while. He lectures me when we go to bed together. That’s not right. It’s like he’s my daddy one minute and then the next he’s ready to dick me half the night. I can’t stand living with him most of the time.”

I took a deep breath and said, “Have a good rest of the day, Vera-Anne.”

“And by the way, if you ever change your mind before I change mine, I’m fixed.”

“Never said you were broken.”

“You know what I mean. You wouldn’t have anything to worry about, if you’re worried.”

“That’s not letting the ride shut down.”

“Not shutting down the ride. This is a damn good ride. More fun than all the rides down at Disneyland and Magic Mountain combined. I just have to pick better passengers.”

She put her glasses back on, buttoned her blouse, and went back to her kids.

On the second floor of building E, Mrs. Patrice Evans lingered impatiently near my apartment door. Her arms were folded underneath her breasts, back against the wall.

No high gates. No guards. No Dobermans. Too much access to my front door.

She met me at my door and snapped, “Who’s the bitch you were with by the pool yesterday?”

“Misty. She lives upstairs.”

“Has that bitch been over here?”

“You better leave, Mrs. Evans. Get off my floor. Time to go back to Mr. Ted Evans.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just take that attitude and leave.”

“Can I come inside for a few minutes?”

I took a breath and said, “Just to talk.”

“Just to talk. Nothing else. I only have twenty minutes anyway.”

She followed me inside my apartment and before I could put the basket of clothes down in the living room, she was naked on my comfy bed, beckoning for me to come to her.

“Varg, Varg, oh my God, Varg. Shit.”

Patrice’s leg trembled. Then her entire body did the same.

“Oh my God you’re angry oh my God I pissed you the fuck off oh my God I love this.”

Then I heard rapid applause. Someone was clapping for us to continue.

I looked up and frowned. The noise that I heard wasn’t a standing ovation.

Someone banged at my door like the Gestapo was coming to take us away.

I held her mouth, muffled her screams, and held her like she was my hostage.

I cursed; then in a frantic whisper I asked, “Ted follow you here?”

She couldn’t answer. Drowning people couldn’t hear anything, not
even their own cries. Again I looked toward the door. Then I looked at the dresser, where I kept my gun.

She swallowed, continued struggling to breathe, and panted, “Who…who was that?”

Chest rising and falling, I panted, “What have you gotten me into, Patrice?”

Patrice jumped up from the bed and hurried to the front door, still naked. She held her breasts, opened the door and looked out, then slammed the door, made sure it was locked.

“
Are you fucking insane
?”

“I’ve had enough. And if Ted was out there, he would’ve known that I’ve had enough.”

I looked toward the door, listened for a lunatic, but she pulled my face back to hers.

She said, “It’s too late now. What’s done is done.”

She pulled at me and I gave in, mounted her and she took me inside her.

Patrice whispered, “Don’t stop. This is my time. This is my twenty-minute vacation.”

I looked toward the door, listened for her husband, but she pulled my face back to hers.

“This is my time. Give me some more Norway loving.”

I moved with her, resumed that fast pace and felt that sensation pick up from where it had left off, felt it coming at me too fast. She whispered and begged me, sounded like a woman desperate to please a man so she could feel like a woman.

My muscles strained and my toes curled. Orgasm pulled me into its current, into its momentum, and I fought against its power, but it turned me primal, pulled me into its gravity.