Sleeping in Flame (7 page)

"Would you like a drink?"

I must have said it in a strange voice, because she looked up quickly.

"Are you angry, Walker?"

Looking at the floor, I shook my head. "It's funny how you can be thirty years old and still embarrassed about things that happened when you were young. Things you didn't have anything to do with, but they still have their hooks in you.

"I was adopted, Maris. I was found in a garbage can outside a restaurant in Atlanta. A bum discovered me while looking for dinner one night. He's the closest I ever got to who my real parents were. But by the time I found out his name and where he lived, he'd been dead for years."

An expression of pain and great wonder spread across her face. "Is that true?"

"That is true. I have a great family. I love all of them very much, but I have no idea who the real ones were. And you want to know something?

Victoria always believed that's why I became an actor: so one day my real parents would see me up there on the screen and know their son. I don't know how they'd recognize me after thirty years, but she was sure that was one of the reasons why I worked so hard at succeeding in the business."

She came over and took my hand. "And that embarrasses you? It's like a German _Märchen_!"

"If it were a fairy tale it'd be all right, but it's a real life, Maris.

_My_ life!"

"It is not. It's the beginning of a life. What you've done since then is what matters. Look at all those people who were born with everything, but then muck it up completely. They're the ones who should feel guilty. From what little I've seen and you've told me, you're a decent man with a good supply of perception and sensitivity."

"And my divorce?"

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"Don't be silly. Something like 50 percent of adult Americans have been divorced at least once.

How did it happen?"

"We cheated on each other too many times."

"That's not so nice, but it's one of the dangers of living today.

Everything is open and easy, and you don't have to put much time in to get all those exciting things our parents told us came only after hard work and a lot of real love. I think our generation is still getting used to the fact that sex has been relegated from the main course to an appetizer on the menu. It's too bad, but it is. We just have to accept that and move on."

"But you said you're interested in me. Doesn't my being divorced make you skeptical about my staying power?"

She walked over and put her hands on my shoulders. "I'm skeptical, I'm scared, I'm excited. You don't get killed one day and then fall for someone

the next. But that's what's happened, isn't it, Walker? What can I do, put on a crash helmet and duck?"

I leaned forward and just barely kissed her lips. She kissed back, but then her body began to tremble all over. Her mouth moved into a smile beneath my own.

"I'm sorry I'm shaking. It's been so long since I did this. It's been so long since I _wanted_ to kiss someone."

I took her full into my arms and stopped the words with a real kiss. Her fingertips pushed on my shoulder blades. I could feel her breasts against my chest. I ran my tongue slowly down the line of her jaw to her throat. She shook harder, flattened both hands against my back. Her throat was soft and warm. When she swallowed, I felt her Adam's apple move beneath my tongue. She smelled of hours-old perfume and a human heat that made me want to shove my hands under her clothes, touch the skin it cooked from. Our kissing became less tender, more bold and wet.

She kept shaking, but it was all one with our moving then, so I ignored it.

I turned her so her back was to me. Kissing ears and hair, I slipped both hands under her sweater and ran them slowly up a slim rib cage to her breasts. She put her hands over mine, not so much to stop as join them on their first, tentative move across her body. Surprisingly, she began to hum.

It got louder the longer I touched her. Then she sang in a quiet, deep voice, "'Now is that gratitude, or is it really love?'"

"Is this passion, or are you giving a concert?"

She turned and faced me, smiling. "Do you know the rock group, Oingo Boingo? That's their song. It's exactly how I feel right now. What you're doing makes me so hot.

Is that because it feels good, or because _you're_

doing it?"

"Both, hopefully." I started pulling her sweater up and off. As soon as it was off and tossed on the floor, the quaking of her body increased. Looking me in the eye, she quickly shrugged off her undershirt. She wore no bra. Her breasts were large and I wanted to kiss them. But bared so quickly, I was suddenly afraid even to touch them. They didn't seem the same ones I'd held in my hands an instant before, when her black sweater and white shirt acted as stern chaperones.

Sitting down on the floor, she untied her shoes and took them off. "Come sit here with me."

As soon as I did, she started unbuttoning her pants. But before she could go further, I pressed her gently back onto the floor. The carpet was dark brown. It lit up her pale skin like a lamp. She smiled at me, put her arms up, and wiggled her fingers.

"Come hug me."

2.

Several hours later, Nicholas Sylvian called.

"Walker, where's Maris?"

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"Right here, Nicholas. What's the matter?"

"Good. Her asshole boyfriend Luc just called me. Said he knew she was in Vienna and wanted to know how to reach her."

"Christ! What'd you tell him?"

"I told him to fuck a bird. I don't know anything about where she is. Do you?"

"What'd he say to that?" Maris slid closer to me in bed. I turned the receiver so she could hear, too.

"That's the problem. He said he was coming to town tonight to find her.

Called me a shithead, and said if I didn't tell him where she was, he was going to _get_ me!" He laughed. I heard him light a cigarette and blow out

smoke.

"Where will he look?"

"I don't know. In the phonebook? Who cares. I just wanted to tell you what was happening. How is our beautiful friend?"

Maris took the phone from me. "Nicholas, don't be so cool about this!

Luc's crazy, and stupid enough to really try something bad. Maybe he'll do something to your family."

"Maris, remember that movie, _Babyskin_, I made with Weber Gregston as his assistant? When it was over, he gave me a Colt Python pistol as a present.

A crazy but very sweet _Geschenk_. If the little Frenchman comes, I'll shake it at him and tell him to go away."

She hit her head, exasperated. "You idiot! And what if he goes to your house when you're not there? Have you thought about that?"

"Yes, I have. Just enjoy yourself and stay close to Walker now. Let me talk to him again, please."

"I'm here, Nicholas. But she's got a good point, if he is as nuts as she says."

"Did I ever introduce you to Goldstar? The meanest man I ever met.

European boxing champion years ago, but now he works as a stunt man. Looks like Gorbachev.

He's at my house now and he'll stay there a couple of days. If Rambo comes, he'll have to shake hands with Goldie before he gets in.

Everything is taken care of, believe me.

"You want to go to dinner tonight? I made a reservation at Frascati for nine o'clock. Let's go eat some scampi, huh?

"Maris, if you're still there, stop listening."

Shaking her head, she rolled to the other side of the bed and started petting Orlando, who was perched on a pillow.

"Is she okay, Walker?"

"She's fine. We had a great day together."

"That's good. Let's finish it with a good meal."

Ristorante Frascati was one of the few gifts I'd ever been able to give Nicholas that he didn't frown about. The decor was a mixture of bad paintings of Venetian scenes and uncomfortable chairs. But the food was the best Italian in town, so it had become one of his regular hangouts.

Maris and I arrived a few minutes early and were chatting tiredly when he breezed in. Nicholas Sylvian was a celebrity in Vienna. When he entered a restaurant there was much fawning by waiters, whispers, and subtle pointing by pretty women and jealous men as he made his way across a room.

"I've already ordered a hundred scampi and two bottles of Orvieto for me. Maris, you look much happier today. Did you meet his cat? Only Walker would _buy_ a fucking blind cat!"

He looked around the room to see if he knew anyone. The artist Hrdlicka was sitting in a corner
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with a group of people. When he saw Nicholas, he made a funny face and tipped his glass our way.

Nicholas waved back. "I just bought a bronze figure from Hrdlicka that cost as much as a house.

It'll take five men to put it in my living room. Then

I'll never be able to get it out of there again. The greatest piece you ever saw, so I had to have it.

End of discussion. Where's the wine?"

"Did you hear anything more from Luc?"

"Nothing. He's just playing macho. What did you two do today?"

Maris told him about everything except her confrontation with the woman, and our time in my apartment. He watched closely and seemed to enjoy her company thoroughly. Her earlier fatigue disappeared and was replaced by a happy vibrancy and animated gestures.

Again it struck me that they had an important history together that I wasn't any part of. Fall hard in love, and immediately you want to know everything about them.

Whom did they love most before and why, what things delight them, where do you fit into their soul . . . Nicholas was probably the

best friend I had. He'd helped me survive some of the worst days I'd known when stumbling through my divorce and after. But in the restaurant that night he was a worry: a strong, fascinating man, who knew much more about this woman than I did. If we'd been alone, I'd have asked him questions about her I was hesitant to ask Maris directly. In bed, earlier, she'd told me many intimate things that showed she was willing to enter into a lovers' trust with me. But which of those intimate details did Nicholas know, too? Both said separately they'd never had an affair.

Yet despite those assertions, certain looks crossed the table between them that were as thick and voluptuous as whipped cream. Paranoia often rides into town right behind love and makes a beeline for all the same soft spots. Nicholas had "given" me Maris, and I felt enormous gratitude, but that was a long yesterday ago. Today I had to be the only one she wanted to steal horses with.

"Have you decided what you're going to do yet?"

"I think I'd better stay here awhile and think the whole thing over. You know?"

"I spoke with Uschi. She said you could stay with her as long as you like."

"That's kind of her. But I want to find an apartment as soon as I can.

Do you know of any place?"

He shrugged. "Not right now, but I'll ask around. There's always something. What about all your things in Munich? Are you going to get them?"

"Yes, but not soon. I know Luc will watch my house for a while if he's still there. So I'll wait a few weeks and go back in the middle of the night or something with a truck. Maybe I'll ask your friend Goldstar to go with me."

She got up to go to the bathroom, touching Nicholas on the shoulder as she passed. When she was gone, he pointed his fork at me and squinted.

"All right, tell me everything."

"She's the best."

"Did she calm down? Is she all right?"

"I think so. Hearing Luc might come made her nervous, but generally, she's okay."

"You've got to take care of her, Walker. Promise me you'll do it."

"That's easy. I haven't felt so good with a woman in a long time. It's really been a happy day."

"I noticed! When I came in, you two looked like little birds in a Walt Disney movie. You know, where they put their heads together and thousands of red hearts come rushing out?

"Did she tell you about the cities she builds? They're amazing. Like nothing you've ever seen.

Someone in Hollywood saw her show in Hamburg and asked her to design a whole space city
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for one of those _Star Wars_ movies."

"Really? Which one? She didn't say anything about it."

"Because she didn't do it! They offered her enough money to live on for a year, but she said those films are dumb."

"What's dumb?" Neither of us had seen her return.

"I was telling Walker why you didn't do that _Star Wars_ movie."

"Why? Because they make science and space look terrific. I hate that kind of propaganda! The whole idea they're projecting is, let science do whatever it wants and soon we'll be whizzing happily around in our very own rockets. Everybody'll get to wear a pink aluminum foil suit. Isn't that wonderful? I don't think kids should get excited about aluminum foil suits, or laser cannons, or stun guns. And I don't think science knows what the hell it's doing these days. It scares me."

"Hello, Nicholas, you asshole."

A blond woman in her early forties, overdressed in ten different designers' best, strode up next to his chair. She broadcast a thousand-watt look of anger, hurt, you-owe-me. Nicholas looked at her and smiled wanly.

"_Servus_, Evelyn. How are you?"

"Not so good, Nicholas. Could we talk a minute?"

He got up and walked with her toward the front of the restaurant. I looked at Maris to see what she made of it. She watched them go, then spoke quietly.

"There must be a lot of women in this town furious at Nicholas. He has a bad habit of making women fall in love with him and then forgetting about them."

"Does that bother you?"

"When I loved him romantically it tore my heart out. Now it just makes me sad for him. He wants so much for people to love him."

"What's wrong with that? I want people to love me, too."

She reached across the table and touched my hand. "That's not the same, and you know it. We're always trying to fit some name to our lonely: Winning people's love is Nicholas's. And that's okay, but not if you toss it aside once you've won it."

"What do you mean, 'fit a name to our lonely'?"