Prayers for the Dying (Pam of Babylon Book Four) (10 page)

Jack’s life was starting to get complicated and he wasn’t going to allow any drama to infuse it. But the day was only half over and he still needed to get fucked. Then he remembered his old friend, Dale. She was better than nothing.

Dale lived five blocks west of Ashton’s apartment. Where Ashton looked at river views, Dale saw parkland from each of her windows. Twenty years older than Jack, she’d taught Jack mathematics at New York University. She was a mentor of sorts, someone who would advise him regarding the next semester’s class requirements. She’d also helped Jack formulate exactly what it was that he wanted to do to make a living. He’d chosen demographics; his father’s business, too. A competitor was looking for a partner and Peter and Jack came together to approach old man Lane about joining the firm. Harold thought it was great because then the competition would be family.

Dale was in love with Jack. She fell for him while he was a student and then after he graduated, she allowed herself to begin a fantasy life in which they would get married and spend the rest of their lives together, reading by the wood fire in the coziness of her two-bedroom co-op. But the reality was that she never knew when he would show up. Now that he wasn’t at NYU anymore, she didn’t see him every day and there was no chance for spontaneity. He’d married someone else and was starting a family. She was lonely for him, longing to be able to pick up the phone and invite him for coffee or a movie. But they didn’t have that sort of relationship. She didn’t even know his number.

After Jack left Ashton’s unfulfilled, he sprinted to Dale’s apartment, hoping she was home. The brass intercom listed the names of the eleven tenants who lived at 1700 Park Avenue. He ran his finger down the list until it stopped at E.A.D; Elizabeth Abigail Dale. Pressing the buzzer, he heard the bell ringing off in the distance. “Yes?” A quiet voice from the speaker.

“It’s Jack, Dale. Buzz me in,” Jack said, grabbing the door handle. The lock clicked and when he pushed, the door opened to him. He ran up two flights of stairs to her door. She was waiting with a big smile for him; Dale with her straight bangs and simple hairstyle, no makeup but lipstick, and at any time of day, a Chanel suit. Jack had come to her house unannounced at all hours and she was always dressed like she was getting ready to go to tea. Her perfect white teeth and clear eyes belying her age; how old was Dale? Her face was unlined. The only evidence that she had aged at all in the fifteen years that he knew her was from a few extra strands of silver in her hair. She held the door open for him and he walked in, familiar with the space, and went to a wingback chair by the fireplace. He took his jacket off and loosened his tie. She stood in front of him with her hands folded at the level of her flat belly, nervous because she knew what was required of her. He unbuttoned his neck button and pulled his tie out further.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked her.

Dale’s face turned red, but she took two steps toward him and began to unbutton her jacket. She removed it gracefully, keeping her eyes on his nose, and placed the jacket on the floor. She’d found over the years that if she looked him in the eye she would either giggle nervously or lose courage. She reached to her side and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor and stepping out of it. Pulling the silk shell she wore under her jacket out of the elastic waist band of her slip, she grasped the edge and slowly pulled it up over her head. Jack liked her to stand in her bra and slip for a few moments. Her body was completely unlike Pam’s buff physique. Dale was a maiden lady, with thin arms and virginal breasts, the nipples beginning to atrophy as what little estrogen she had left was slowly depleted. She had no body fat to store estrogen, and it was silly to replace hormones when she wasn’t “sexually active.” Except for this.

Once Jack had his fill of the slip, he’d nod at her and she’d slip it off, stepping out of it one high-heeled shoe after the other. She handed him the slip and he put it to his nose where it would stay until she was finished. Now in just bra and full, old-lady panties with an old-fashioned garter belt, she turned her back to him when he motioned for her to do so and began the next, most exciting part of her performance. She did as he directed, and when she was facing the front windows of her apartment, she reached up under the garter belt for the band of her underpants and began to pull them down. She bent over at the waist and pulled them down over her knees, stepping out of them.

“Stay bent over,” he said, and a little thrill went to her chest. “Spread yourself apart.” She did as he asked, and then heard him drop to his knees behind her and go right to her with his mouth. He pushed her to the couch so that she lay across the seat, and then she heard his zipper and felt him push up against her.
If only all my old lady girlfriends could see me now
, she thought. She had her hands in front of her face and the thrill she got each time she heard him moan and grunt and push her deeper into the down-filled sofa cushions, well, it was better than anything, except maybe the orgasm. She could do it for herself, but it would never, ever feel as good as when he did it for her.

.

11

S
andra finished having breakfast with Tom and when he left for his mother’s, decided she would make the call to Pam. It had been several weeks since they had spoken, and longer since she had seen Pam. Pam answered on the first ring.

“I’m thinking of selling my half of the business,” Sandra said right after they exchanged pleasantries. “You get first right of refusal, according to Jack’s will, so I’m bothering you on a Saturday morning. With Peter hanging around, I’m never sure if my calls are private in that office.”

“Wow, already?” Pam asked, surprised that Sandra would come to this decision so soon. “I guess I can see how that place might drive a person away.”

“It is pretty hairy there,” Sandra said, not sure if she should confess the real reason, and then decided that being honest was the best policy; it wasn’t the company that was forcing the decision on her. “But that’s not why I’m selling out. It’s a great company, well run, thanks to Peter now, but it’s my personal life. I’m afraid Tom must feel threatened by it. He won’t admit it, but I’m smart enough to see that my owning a multimillion dollar company that was left to me might be intimidating.” She left out
by my former lover
.

But Pam wasn’t stupid. She knew right away what Sandra was getting at and although she didn’t voice it, Pam thought that it was small-minded of Tom to expect Sandra to conduct her life so that he wasn’t threatened. Their days of having opinions about each other’s lives were over, and Pam was glad of it. But she wasn’t going to give Sandra an answer today about the business.

“You must have thought long and hard about it. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision to come to. Send me your proposal, okay? I will take it to the attorney and talk to Brent and Lisa about it. Jack was pretty specific about what was to happen if you didn’t want the business. I don’t remember exactly what was stipulated, but it should make an exchange fairly easy,” Pam said. She remembered exactly what the will said, and it would make any transactions work in her favor. The problem was that she didn’t know if she wanted the company, and if she didn’t, Sandra would have a devil of a time unloading it unless Peter wanted it, because half the profits would always go to Pam. The generous draw would have to be enough to entice any potential buyers. Pam was confident Peter would want it if Brent didn’t.

“I’ll talk to the company attorney on Monday,” Sandra answered, thinking,
it will be a relief to be out from under that burden. But would Tom still have a problem if I continued to work there?
Unless she was allowed to stay on as an employee, she would need to find another job if she sold Lane, Smith and Romney. Another problem was that, although she had only been collecting the draw since June, she’d gotten used to no longer having money concerns. Going back to a researcher’s salary worried her. Tom’s police detective salary certainly wouldn’t support them both. Maybe she should play the money card as a way to get him to work on his feelings of inferiority and pride, which she was sure were at the root of the problems they were having. “I wish things had been different between us, Pam,” Sandra admitted sadly. “I guess there is just too much baggage for us to get past.”

“For us, and for Tom,” Pam reminded her. “If I can forget, you’d think he could.” It was uncharacteristic of Pam to brandish self-righteousness, but she had had it with Tom and Sandra. Because of his pride, Tom would pout until a woman he’d known only for a few months to change her life dramatically so that he felt more loved and secure. It made Pam angry, but she had said enough. “Anyway, enjoy your weekend! Are you going to do anything fun?” Pam didn’t really care, but she didn’t want their conversation to end on a sour note.

“Not really,” Sandra answered, still pondering Pam’s veiled insult about Tom’s character. Should she call her on it? A strong feeling of loyalty toward Tom was growing, and she wanted to address it with Pam now, before its importance diminished. “But before we hang up, I’m feeling uncomfortable about your comment about Tom. Do you think I am making a mistake trying to eliminate the things that are troubling him?” She was trying to weigh her words so they weren’t overtly challenging.

“It’s not my business and I am sorry I let that comment slip,” Pam said.

“Well, it is your business in many ways; I wish you would elaborate, please Pam.” Sandra was feeling more and more uncertain about her decision now; would Tom ever be satisfied? She had stopped talking to Pam and Marie, no longer went to the beach, miscarried Jack’s baby, and now was thinking of selling his business, too. What if her relationship with Tom ended? Then she wouldn’t even have a job. It would appear she was getting rid of every last connection to Jack. What guarantee would there be that he would feel secure when the business was gone? “You know what, Pam? Never mind. Thank you, though. I really mean it. I just saw things clearly, thanks to you. Please don’t stop being honest with me, okay? I need that in my life.” She didn’t say anymore and Pam didn’t question her. They said good-bye and hung up the phones.

Pam felt strangely empty after the call. She could only trust Sandra to be honest with her after all they had been through. If she was okay with Pam’s character evaluation of Tom, then Pam had to believe it to be so. She walked into her bedroom to put her workout clothes on. Snow or no snow, she was headed to the gym. Then she would go to the store and see Dave for a moment or two. Hopefully, Marion and Jean, the deli clerks, would be there. Since Pam had filed a lawsuit against Jean’s sister, the ER nurse who told Jean about Pam’s AIDS diagnosis, she loved being the pot-stirrer and made a point of cheerfully greeting the deli clerks on the frequent occasions she went into Organic Bonanza. Their discomfort in her presence was palpable, but Pam was enjoying it. Until they complained to their attorney or Pam’s lawyer told her to knock it off, she was going to continue taunting the clerks. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a case that would hold up in a court of law because although the clerks had been rude to her, they never came out and said why to her face. Jean’s sister had been reprimanded, but she didn’t lose her job. Dave wanted to fire the clerks, but he needed more documentation of their behavior to customers and he was watching them like a hawk.

At the gym, Pam spent twenty minutes with a trainer going through the weight machines, and then got on the treadmill. As she was turning the speed up she felt a tap on her arm. It was Linda Potts, the woman with whom Pam had seen Andy at the hardware store after his hasty exit from her life. Pam turned the treadmill off.

“Sorry to interrupt your run, but can we talk?” Linda said.

Pam was thinking,
hell no
. But good manners forced her to step off the machine and be polite.

“I know you saw Andy and I together and I wanted to tell you that I felt awful and he did, too,” Linda said.

Pam had a fake smile on her face. “Linda, don’t give it another thought. Andy and I are friends, just friends. You have nothing to feel awful about and neither does he.” She turned to get back on the treadmill when Linda reached out for her arm again. Pam looked down at her hand but kept smiling.
What now
?

“I do feel awful, though. He told me about you having AIDS. He said that’s why you two broke up.” She was whispering now, playing the confidant. “I won’t tell a soul. But I have to ask you, did you sleep with him? Because there is no way in hell I am going to if you slept with him with AIDS.”

A burning sensation starting directly under her sternum made Pam feel that possibly she was having a heart attack; that maybe if she concentrated on breathing shallowly the pain would go away. She was uncertain what her next move should be. Should she get back on the treadmill and start running? Run until she collapsed, or should she just scream? She knew she was capable of it. She had not felt a response this physical to any but the worst of Jack’s betrayals. But then she had an epiphany. Almost without thinking, Pam began a charade. With a brief pause, Pam smiled and grabbed Linda’s forearm like a long lost friend.