Reilly 02 - Invasion of Privacy (11 page)

Scott took a long time to think it over, until Paul’s patience wore out. "Let me get you started. You ran for years. You’re still scared of someone, some female someone, who you think is crazy. The law fits in here somewhere, doesn’t it? You in trouble?"

"Not in the sense you mean."

"Maybe you could use some help getting this thing cleared up," Paul said. "It’s a hell of a life."

Scott rubbed his forehead, looking doubtful.

"Did you find somebody else here in Germany? Get married, buy a place, have kids?" Paul said.

"No. Nina was my last chance," he said. "I suppose it was ridiculous for me to hold on to a fantasy that someday I could return to her."

"Not gonna happen," Paul agreed. "She’s with me now.

"Yes, of course."

"So you don’t intend to return to Tahoe to try to see her?" He felt slightly guilty. The poor guy obviously had no idea about Bob. The tip of his tongue was adding, You’ve got a son, man, he needs you, go see him, but he couldn’t say the words. Nina would never forgive him. And that self-seeking bastard part of himself didn’t want Scott to go to Tahoe, at least until he had Nina in the bag.

"She’s moved to Tahoe?"

So much for being discreet. "Yeah," Paul said, kicking himself mentally, "as of last spring."

"This is horrible news."

"What is? What’s the problem here?"

"Stop," Scott said. He held his hand up to stop Paul’s questions. "I have to think."

"For chrissake ..."

Scott got up. "Give me a minute. I’ll be right back," he said, gesturing toward the rest room.

Paul drank his wine and waited for Nina’s old lover to take a leak, with one eye on the exits. Distracted by the waiter, he caught only a glimpse of Scott’s broad tuxedoed back heading out. He was one second too late getting out the door, where the cobbled streets and the half-timbered old houses told many a story, but not the one about where the freaked-out musician had run.

10

THE FOLLOWING WEEK, EXACTLY TEN DAYS AFTER Nina received Riesner’s Notice of Motion, Tahoe was digging itself out after a three-day avalanche of sticky, late March snow. Nina left the house early, shovel in hand, to free her tires and hit the dangerous roads at a stately pace. Terry she greeted quickly, taking her own place in the courtroom, feeling cold and out of sorts, but quite matter-of-fact. Familiarity had done its usual job of breeding contempt. She no longer heard imaginary guns going off in court. The imaginary bloodstains had disappeared once and for all. After several months the room had returned to the bland setting of yore.

Nobody wanted to go to court again on this matter, including her. She couldn’t wait to be through. She wanted to win, but she didn’t feel optimistic. Riesner had set her up for this, dodging her phone calls and intentionally picking a fight when he called so that they couldn’t resolve things simply.

"Sweet v. London," Milne said, adjusting his glasses and opening the file the clerk handed him, "again."

After the hearing, out in the hall, Nina moved Terry to a quiet spot, sat her down in a chair, and stood over her. Terry’s hair had fallen across one of her eyes, but she didn’t brush it away. Something sly slid through her eyes.

"We pushed too hard," Nina said. "The judge might have accepted a compromise."

"Screw them all. And screw you," Terry said. "You blew it."

"I know you’re disappointed. Riesner’s making a determined effort to delay the showing of your film on orders from Tam’s parents."

"You did a shitty job in there."

"I’m sorry you think so. But realistically we’re talking an additional delay of only one month. We get the wording on the order approved by all parties, and everyone leaves you in peace to show your film."

"You fucking loser."

"Terry, I urge you to sign that substitution of attorney form I sent you right away. I really can’t continue to represent you."

"You dump me, I’ll sue you for malpractice!" She stood up to face Nina, raising her voice. A number of people in the hallway cocked their heads to listen.

"I’m filing a motion to withdraw as your lawyer today," Nina said firmly, trying not to look into the yellow eyes, aware of the quiet in the hallway, and the eavesdroppers. Her ears burned. "I’ve done nothing wrong."

"Oh, that’s rich! Nothing wrong?" said Terry. She balled her hand into a fist and pulled back, taking aim at Nina, but Nina saw it coming. She ducked and ran as fast as she could for the exit, the clumping of Terry’s boots close on her heels.

A man in brown tweed came straight at her. He stopped, caught her eyes in his green ones, and held them. Nina, intent on her flight, glanced at him, continuing on her way.

She looked harder. She slowed down.

The man began to move toward her again. He stepped once, twice. And as suddenly as the moment began, it ended. Disgust or fear—Nina couldn’t tell what—swelled up to muddy the clear gaze of his eyes. For a moment he stood about fifteen feet away from her. In the next moment, he was gone.

Terry didn’t follow her into the parking lot. She had veered off in another direction.

Nina got into the Bronco, then got out. She had left her briefcase in the hall. She walked slowly back, looking anxiously around, trying to convince herself that she hadn’t seen what she saw.

"Did you happen to see a guy come out of here a couple of minutes ago? He was moving fast, almost running," she said to Deputy Kimura.

"Yeah. Not the first one I ever saw needing to run from the law," he cracked.

"Did you see where he went?"

"Out the main door is all I know."

She needed to give herself time to think, and even more, to explore this event, the look on his face when he saw her, the man before her older, but the same.

She could have sworn the man she had seen was Kurt Scott.

Back at the office, a letter in the bunch Sandy handed her caught her eye. Intrigued by the handwritten address and big red Personal marked across its face, she slit the envelope open with her finger.

"Dear Nina," the letter began. "I’ve thought of you many times." His firm, vertical script hadn’t changed. He wanted to meet her at seven the next morning on Pope Beach, where they could talk privately.

"Be careful," the note warned. "I’ll explain when I see you, but I’m afraid my arrival here may mean some real trouble for you."

A familiar signature at the bottom said "Kurt."

"Some guy dropped it off," Sandy said.

She went home early, thinking about the note. Before she had a chance to tackle the clean laundry awaiting folding on her bed, Paul called from Carmel. She was glad to hear his voice. "How was your trip? You took off so suddenly. Where did you go, anyway?"

"Oh, I visited with an old buddy for a couple of days and did a little business. I won’t bore you with the details. So how about it?" he asked. "I just happen to be in town."

"You’re here? Why?"

"I thought you might join me for supper and a spa."

She didn’t know what to say. She felt pleasantly surprised, and pressured at the same moment. He had come a long way....

"Everything okay?" Paul asked. "How’s Bob?"

"He’s trying hard to behave himself, though I don’t think he’s a real happy camper at the moment. Okay," she said. "What time?"

Right before Nina left to meet Paul, the phone rang again. Nina asked Bobby to get it. He and his cousins had the afternoon off from school. They were happily squandering their time planted in front of the tube. He talked for a few minutes in the kitchen and returned to his cartoon show.

"Who was that on the phone, honey? Paul?"

"Nobody."

"Well, it had to be somebody."

"They hung up. It was nobody."

Paul picked her up at seven and they had a quiet dinner at the main Caesars restaurant. She knew she seemed distracted, but the past kept snapping back up into her consciousness. Paul watched her, made silly jokes, and touched her hair. He was sweet, he really was. She put the note out of her mind, laughing and trying to relax and enjoy the flesh-and-blood man beside her. After dinner they changed into swimsuits in Paul’s room and took the elevator to the pool area, sliding into the luscious heat of the spa with a group of handsome young revelers.

"Just in time to avoid becoming one huge cramp." Nina breathed in the steaming air, leaning back against the smooth tub. She had tied her hair up in a rubber band.

"It’s almost as good as a back rub. Though there’s no substitute for a really good back rub."

On cue, the three other men in the tub heaved themselves up and out. Nina and Paul luxuriated in the silence and each other.

"Aren’t you going to say you know how to give really good back rubs?" Nina asked. The heated water covered them up to the neck; steam clouded their eyes. Nina was getting downright rosy. Her breasts floated in the bubbles. Paul was noticing.

He caught her by the wrist. He was sitting so close, he could rub thighs with her. He did. Then he took her hand and gently ran it into the line where their legs touched, so she could feel them both at the same time, up and down, while she remained riveted, unable to remove her hand.

Breaking a long silence, he said, "I want to show you how lovely you are, how much you mean to me. Come upstairs with me." He turned her to face him, lifting her onto his lap, and smoothed his slippery fingers along the line of her backbone. She wrapped her legs around his waist and put her arms around his neck, giving in to the silkiness of the water and this muscular person who had magnets in his skin.

He closed his eyes, and put his cheek next to hers, the only sound the bubbling of the water against the sides of the tub, and his soft breathing in her ear. He began on the side of her neck, low, below the hairline, and patiently worked his way around to her lips, kissing her gently, finally pulling away to take her by the hand and lead her out of the tub.

"Stand right there," he said. He took a white towel from the chair and rubbed her, caressing and fondling her as he went until she was reaching for him too, and a mist was coming up over her eyes....

They took the elevator up to his room.

She stood at the window to look at the dark, serrated outlines of pine boughs against the red neon sign below. He put his arms around her from behind, lifting her straps, kissing her neck, lowering her suit, scooping her butt up with his hands and pressing himself against her.

"Paul, I don’t—"

"Nina, you don’t have to be in love with me. Just love me."

"There are things I haven’t told you...."

"Shut up, woman...." He put a finger over her lips and she let it slip into her mouth, where she began to work on it. She let go of the doubts. She let the worries about him fade away. His damp hair smelled of chlorine and his kisses fell like a gentle waterfall all over her body, until she was moving with them, letting herself be urged down onto the fresh bed. She put her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

Nina came from the bathroom into the dark early morning of Paul’s room dressed only in her long slacks.

"You’re going?" Paul pushed the covers down, sitting up against the pillows, and smoothed the blond hair that stuck out from his head in all directions.

"Why, Paul, where are your jammies?"

He hopped out of bed, swaggering into the bathroom. "Can I order up some coffee? Aren’t you hungry for some breakfast? It’s still really early," he called above the sound of water in the sink.

"I’ll get something later." She put on her shirt and sweater. "I want to get home before Bobby gets up." It was an excuse, but this was not the moment to open a discussion about Kurt with Paul. Maybe she never would. She would see Kurt this once if only to satisfy her curiosity, and then decide where to take things from there. Maybe seeing him would help her to decide if she wanted more from Paul.

"I was hoping ..." Paul began.

Hunting for a sock, she picked up his baggy blue trunks from the floor and twirled them around one finger before tossing them onto a chair. "What?"

He came out of the bathroom and pulled them on. "Sit here for a minute," he said, patting the bed beside him.

"Oh, no. I fell for that once already."

"I promise I will not ravish you."

"I fell for that once already."

"This time I really mean it."

"I fell for that once already." She laughed, plopping down on the bed beside him to put on her socks.

"And here you go again," Paul said, grabbing her and rolling her over. "God, women are so gullible."

"I’ve really got to go." He was locked to her, every piece of him touching her somewhere, but she said weakly, "Really ..."

"Promise me something first."

"What?"

"That you’ll stay with me."

"Paul, you have to let me go."

"I’ll let you go in a minute. Maybe longer, if you stop wiggling so much."

She kept her appointment to meet Kurt on Pope Beach. She waited for a long time, watching the sun play with the color blue over the glassy surface of Lake Tahoe.

He never came.

Standing on the sand, she remembered another endless time waiting for him to come.

He had gone again, amorphous as fog.

Put him back where he belonged. He was the past. Erase him.