Claudine (8 page)

In spite of herself, Maria was flattered. When was the last time she’d been wooed or attended a concert or play off the clock? She needed a little fun to take her mind off her troubles.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“Great. Pick you up around seven?”

“Is seven thirty okay? I have a lot to cover here today.”

“Well then, don’t let me keep you. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.” He leaned over and briefly touched his lips to her cheek. She felt a tingle of pleasure, and after watching him pass by Claire’s desk, she turned back to her book.

From time to time she opened the cellophane and pressed her nose deep into a bloom, surrounding herself with scent that transported her far away from the marquis’s grotesque scenes. It wasn’t until much later when Andrei returned to pick her up that she realized Reed hadn’t asked for her address.

CHAPTER
8

“It’s about time you got a boyfriend.” Lillian raised her voice over the blow-dryer. The rush of hot air and pull of the brush felt good on Maria’s scalp. She closed her eyes. “You have all those men, night after night, but really, when it comes to love, you might as well be a nun.”

Maria smiled, glad to see Lillian back to her bossy, outspoken self.

“I’d make a good nun, Lil. I say my Hail Marys often enough.”

Lillian shut off the dryer and set down the brush, plumped up Maria’s blond tresses with her fingers and used a comb to smooth the strays. Maria stood. “What should I wear—black? I can’t make up my mind.”

“Black is too severe. White, for spring. That one with those tiny straps.”

“White’s intimidating. The red Christian Lacroix cocktail dress maybe. Red is more passionate.”

Lillian helped her into the red dress, which hugged her body without looking vulgar. She patted Maria’s tummy. “Don’t eat too much or the seams will stretch.”

“Thanks. The one time I’m taken out for dinner and you tell me not to eat!”

“You dine almost every night with Andrei.” She cast a critical eye over the dress. “Wear a different bra. That one looks like it’s pinching you.”

“With Andrei, it’s work,” she said, shrugging the straps down and unfastening her bra. “That’s different. Half the time I just have salad anyway. Tonight, I’m going to indulge.” She selected an ivory silk bra, put it on and pulled up her dress. Lillian nodded appreciatively and went to straighten the closet.

Maria opened one of the drawers in her dressing table and brought out a pink box. Designed as a little girl’s traveling case and decorated with princesses wearing Cinderella gowns, it had solid brass hinges and a leather handle. Her nanny had given it to her for her first Christmas in America. Inside, she kept a few treasures from her childhood in Providence. Three stones she’d gathered from the seashore and painted with her secret lucky symbols, her first ballet shoes, pink satin with the toes and soles marked and stubbed, a necklace of tiny fake gold links with a heart pendant from her first “boyfriend” in fourth grade, and a box containing vials of little girl’s perfume in scents of lavender, rose, lilac and lily of the valley. Last, a little golden cage that held a small porcelain nightingale on a perch. To make the nightingale sing, you turned the key at the bottom of the cage. A present from a neighbor of her parents’ in Romania, an old
woman who kept a real nightingale. As a girl, she’d loved to feed the bird and listen to it sing. She dabbed some of the lily of the valley perfume behind each ear. It was a silly superstition but on special nights, she liked to use a little of the scent for good luck. The rose fragrance was strictly for work nights.

She’d just slipped on her heels when the doorman phoned up to announce Reed’s arrival. She took her silk shawl and called over her shoulder on her way out the door, “Tell him I’ll come down, Lil. There’s no need for him to traipse all the way up here.”

For a man who was always on a charm offensive, firmly in control of any social situation, Reed seemed at a loss for words when he set eyes on her. “You look lovely, Maria.”

A taxi waited outside. He opened the door for her and slid in beside her. “Great building,” he said as they pulled away, straightening his crisp white cuffs. He wore a custom-made gray suit, diamond cuff links and gray silk tie.

“I’m bunking with a friend for the time being. I’m in between apartments.” The lie slipped easily from her lips. Lies were easy to tell to mere acquaintances or the men she serviced. She tailored them to fit the roles she found herself playing at any given time. But they became messy in longer-term relationships, which was precisely why she rarely allowed those entanglements to form in the first place. It got so she couldn’t always remember the first lie she’d told, making the second and third much riskier.

“By the way,” she said, “how did you know my address? You never asked for it.”

“I asked your thesis supervisor—hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no. Just curious.”

Golden light poured through the five massive contemporary arches at the front of the Lincoln Center. Her excitement mounted as she climbed the steps hand in hand with Reed. The lobby hummed with people and she was pleased when Reed stopped to introduce her to some of his distinguished acquaintances. For the first time since the detectives had walked in her door, her fears slipped away and she was able to enjoy herself. As she sat in the plush expanse of the Met with the lights dimmed, a thrill raced through her body when Reed’s warm hand caressed her hip.

Maria never drank alcohol before her performances, but that night at dinner she made up for it and consumed more than she had in a long time. Amused by Reed’s jokes, she felt the anxiety of the last few days tumble away. Reed insisted on ordering champagne, a sublime Veuve Clicquot, to celebrate their renewed acquaintance. Their talk turned to contemporary erotica and she confessed she’d been unable to finish
Story of O
, it had chilled her so. She far preferred Joseph Kessel’s
Belle de Jour
.

“You’re very sensitive,” Reed said, laughing. “There’s very little actual description of sex in
Belle de Jour
. I’m beginning to think you’ve chosen the wrong field of study.”

“But it’s all stunningly inferred. You get such a vivid picture. To me that’s more erotic.”

When he leaned forward to emphasize his next point, she got a sudden flash, a mental picture of him in a board room or lecture hall, all eyes trained on him, hanging on his every word. It had been Maria’s good fortune that he offered to be her mentor. And if it led to a more permanent relationship, it was hard to see how she could find a better match. He was cultured, attractive
and fit for a man in his late forties. They were definitely on the same wavelength.

After they ordered double espressos to help them sober up before heading home, Reed leaned back in his chair and gave her a long look.

“What?” She giggled. The champagne bubbles had gone to her head.

“I have a proposition to make.” One look from those eyes, she thought, would have you panting for him or quaking in your boots. “I seem to remember from your undergrad years that you liked to perform—right?”

“Excuse me?” Suddenly she felt very sober and she squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.

“You remember the play I mentioned that will run at my theater—the Genet?

“Yes, of course. The one you hired the hookers for.”

Reed grinned. “I should never have told you that. The show’s shaping up wonderfully and I want you to see a rehearsal. I’d be interested in your opinion.”

As if a freezing wind had suddenly blown up, she tugged her silk shawl off the back of her chair and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“The central role is the madam, an older woman,” Reed continued. “We’ve got a top-notch actor for that part. All the same, the scene needs more heat. It takes place in a brothel, after all. A fresh pair of eyes would help immeasurably.”

Her blood pounded in her ears. Did he know? Did he think a professional’s take on prostitutes would help the production? The whole evening suddenly turned to ashes. She blurted out
the first thought that came into her head, “I couldn’t possibly do it. I don’t have time.”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “You have no worries on the academic front, I can assure you. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

She wouldn’t budge, but he carried on relentlessly. “Frankly, Maria, I’m surprised at you. I thought you’d jump at the chance. It dovetails so beautifully with your interests.”

“Which are?” she said, barely suppressing her temper.

“Theater and the erotic canon, of course. What’s gotten into you?”

She threw back the rest of the champagne in her glass. It tasted yeasty on her tongue. “Let me think about it,” she said flatly. “I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll consider that a yes.”

Maria forced a smile. “Well, that might leave you disappointed.” Of course, I’d be the perfect choice to give advice, she thought.

The restaurant wasn’t far from her home so they decided to walk back through the park. Other couples sauntered past, hand in hand or arm in arm. Reed folded his arm around her and diverted her along a small path secluded by high shrubs and bushes. He pulled her to him and gave her a deep kiss, his tongue wetting her lips, moving inside, probing her mouth. He pulled down the wide strap of her dress and slipped his hand underneath the fabric, felt for the silk cups of her bra, ran his fingers over her breasts. Her nipples tightened instantly.

“You want to do it right here, don’t you,” Reed whispered in her ear. He moved his lips over her throat.

“Reed.” Maria tried to tug his hand away, but he was
forceful. She wasn’t able to move it an inch. He turned her so she was in front of him and his back was to the walkway so no one passing by could see. He pushed down the bra cups, exposing her breasts, and rolled his tongue over her nipples. He unzipped his fly, took her hand and held it against his cock, hard as bone. His hand traveled provocatively up her thigh and beneath the edge of her panties to fondle her sex, already slick and wet.

“I’ll stop now—yes?” he asked, his tone playful.

“No—keep going.” The lingering effect of the champagne and the touch of his fingers proved irresistible.

“Are you sure?

“Yes, yes . . . keep going. Don’t tease me.”

“Thought so.” He gave her a smile and slid first one finger, then two inside her; her pussy clenched and he gave her nub the lightest of touches. Sensations flooded, one on top of the other. She pressed her lips to his shirt to muffle her cry as she came.

He zipped up, gave her a quick kiss and grinned. “You owe me one, lady.”

“Lovers never owe each other anything,” she said.

CHAPTER
9

They climbed the rise to Central Park West and Seventy-second Street. When they arrived at her building, Maria offered him her most dazzlingly apologetic smile. “Afraid I can’t ask you in. My friend and I have an agreement. No guys staying over.” The statement sounded absurd after nearly having sex in the park, but she could think of nothing else to say.

“Feels like high school all over again,” he quipped. “Kinda nice in a way.” He kissed her again, this time lightly, without demanding anything in return. “I loved spending the time with you tonight. I want to see you again—very soon.”

Upstairs, Lillian had stayed up. She could hardly get her words out fast enough. “How was it? How was
he
? Tell me everything.”

Maria tossed her shawl and bag on the hall credenza. Ran her fingers through her hair. “The show was fantastic, the restaurant divine, but . . . I’m certain he knows.”

Lillian wrinkled her brow. “Knows what?”

“That I’m Claudine. He didn’t actually come out and say it, but . . .” Her voice trailed off. She suddenly felt very tired.

“So what? Most men would think you were even more of a prize.”

“Not in his case. Can’t say I’m surprised. A lot of men in his circles know me as Claudine. It’s not destined to go anywhere, Lillian. Just as well I found out early on. You should have heard him talk about the hookers acting in a play he’s staging in SoHo.”

“You mean streetwalkers?” Lillian screwed up her nose in mock horror. “How could he compare you to them?”

“He didn’t. Not overtly. But what’s the difference, really?” she said cynically. “We’re all in the same game, aren’t we?” She gave Lillian a hug to show her feelings weren’t hurt. “Let’s just forget about it tonight. We’ve got a lot to do to get ready for tomorrow’s trip. I’m going to bed.”

“Before we leave, you should contact Detective Trainor. He left a message for you. Wants you to return his call.”

Maria nodded. “Sure.”

Her doctor had given her a new prescription. She got the sleeping pills from the bathroom and drank them down with water from the tap. She stripped off her dress and underwear, kicked off her shoes, climbed naked between the cool sheets and waited for the drug to work its magic.

She stared into space, wide-awake for a long time. Thanks to Andrei’s connection, she knew what Trainor’s news would be: the girl was a prostitute and her killing was a message. An overwhelming sadness engulfed her. She’d never felt so alone. Every aspect of her life was turning against her. Reed either knew or
suspected that she was a high-class prostitute, and the police would figure that out before long too. She was being stalked by a murderer, and the sanctity of her home had been invaded.

A dream catcher she’d bought years ago at a Chippewa craft store hung on the wall over her bed. It was a large round hoop of braided sweetgrass with an elaborate net of strings knotted together like a spiderweb inside. At its center a bird carved from shell flew with outstretched wings. Her totem, the craft store manager had said. Long wild goose feathers hung from the bottom of the hoop fastened by strings of colored beads. Maria wondered why she kept it. It gave her neither sweet dreams nor restful sleep.

Her mind went back to her teenage years when her adoptive mother, Jewel, moved the family household from Providence to New York. They’d never got on well, but by the time Maria entered prep school in New York, their differences had turned into full combat. Although she naturally excelled at art, music and literature, she failed math and science dismally. Jewel filled Maria’s after-school hours with tutors and stopped her from seeing her friends in a bid to ensure that she would reach top of the class in every subject. At fourteen she rebelled, sneaking out at night to go clubbing, coming home drunk and reeking of weed. She danced the night away and slept with men in their twenties. Jewel found a few tabs of ecstasy and a package of birth control pills in Maria’s purse one day and threw a tantrum right on the spot. The battle lines had been drawn. At seventeen Maria declared war, fired off her missiles and moved out. Jewel cut her off without a cent.