The Barbed-Wire Kiss (21 page)

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“Something else too. This thing with Jimmy, it’s … I feel like I’m responsible. Staying around here, knowing that … I don’t think I could do it.”

“The only person responsible for Jimmy’s death was the one who killed him.”

“Maybe so, but I tell you, Harry, this whole situation has made me think a lot about where I was headed.”

“How so?”

“Dicking around, day after day, not caring what I was doing or where I was going. If it wasn’t for Janine, I’d be a fucking ghost. Until we got married, I’d never lived in the same place for more than a year, never had the same job for more than six months. Janine’s spent our whole marriage trying to help me grow up, you know? And I’ve been dragging my feet the entire time. Getting involved with Jimmy, with Fallon. That was all part of it.”

“I thought you told me it was the money.”

“That too. But it wasn’t the main thing. You want to know the truth? It felt good. When I went in on this with Jimmy, when we turned over that money, it was the most exciting thing I’d done in years. It sounds fucked up, but it’s true. Getting involved with this, it made me feel … younger, I guess. Thing is, after what’s happened, I feel older than ever.”

“You made a mistake. Put it behind you.”

“Is it that easy? It’s funny, almost. It’s like you stumble along, never knowing just where it is you’re going. Like you’re ignorant of yourself, of what you’re doing, of the life you’re leading. Then suddenly you get this moment of clarity. The whole thing—your life, your past, everything—comes into focus. And you know something? It’s those moments of clarity that put a gun in your hand.”

“You raised the money. You did the best you could. Once I turn it over to Fallon, that part of your life is over. You can do anything you want after that.”

He put the money into the bag, zipped it shut. Bobby pointed at it.

“Do you know what that is?” he said. “That’s not a debt. That’s ransom money.”

“How’s that?”

“Ransom money for my fucked-up life. I’m not paying it to Fallon because I owe it to him, I’m paying so that I can start again. But it takes more than money to start a new life, Harry. It takes luck. And you’re either born with it or you’re not.”

“Bullshit.”

“You look at it differently, I know. People make their own luck and all that, that’s the way you think. But maybe some of us are born into a hole. And we try and try to crawl out and we stand on anyone we can, but we still can’t do it. And you know why? Because the hole, that’s where we belong. And the only thing to look forward to is the day somebody finally gets around to shoveling the dirt in.”

“Shoot,” the voice on the phone said.

“This is Harry Rane. You remember me?”

“Rane, sure.”

“You know why I’m calling?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Tell Fallon I’m ready to close the deal. He’ll understand.”

“Sure. You’re ready to close a deal, I’ll tell him. I don’t know if I’m going to see him, though. You know, he don’t exactly come in every day, so …”

“Are you finished?”

“What?”

“Are you finished fucking with me? Because, to tell the truth, it’s getting a little old. Make sure he gets that message today. He knows how to get hold of me. I’ll let him decide how he wants to handle it.”

“Hey,
rilassare,
eh? Of course I’ll give him the message. Did I say I wouldn’t?”

“He has my number,” Harry said and hung up.

•  •  •

For dinner, he cooked ground beef in a skillet. He pushed it onto a plate, took a Corona from the refrigerator, and brought everything into the living room. He ate at the coffee table, watching the news, his concentration drifting. He could smell lilacs.

He had just finished eating when the phone rang. He caught it on the third ring.

“Ahead of schedule,” Mickey Dunleavy said.

“Things fell together. We can wrap this up whenever he’s ready.”

“Good. I’ve already talked to him. He appreciates the way you handled this. He asked me to thank you personally for helping to work things out.”

“When and where?”

“How about tomorrow night?”

“Where?”

“You know the Rip Tide?”

“In Sayreville?”

“That’s it.”

“Why all the way up there?”

“He’s going to be in North Jersey all day. It’ll be easier to meet there. There’s an office in the back, you can both have some privacy. Get there around closing time, one-thirty or so. They’ll let you in.”

“That’s late.”

“He’s going to the races. Meadowlands traffic and all, we won’t be out of there till eleven or so. Then we have to make one other stop. Trust me, if he could make it any earlier, he would.”

“I don’t know.”

“Listen, if it’s really bothering you, I’ll tell him no go, we’ll pick some other place. It’s all the same to me. He thought you wanted to wrap this up as quickly as possible. But if you say no, then it’s no.”

He gave that a moment and then said, “Never mind. I’ll be there.”

“Your friend coming?”

“No.”

“Whatever. Eddie said he’s welcome if you want to bring him along. We’ll all sit down, have a drink, shake hands on the whole thing. If it turns out you can’t make it, call back, let us know. We’ll make alternate arrangements.”

“No need. I’ll be there.”

“And Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Trust me on this. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He called Bobby later that night.

“Got your ticket?”

“There’s no arguing with you about this, is there?”

“No. Did you get it?”

“I got it. We’re on the same flight. Newark to Charlotte, seven-thirty. A friend of Janine’s is driving us to the airport.”

“Good. I talked to Fallon’s people. We’re setting something up.”

“When?”

“Soon. We haven’t worked out all the details yet.”

“I guess I shouldn’t ask for a receipt.”

“I’ll bring it up if you want me to.”

“Never mind. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. You want the Glock?”

“No. When we do meet, they’re likely to check me for a wire. If I have a weapon, they’ll just take it away. It won’t do any good and it might piss them off. A gun’s the last thing I need.”

“Okay, slick, you’re calling the play. Let me know what you need from me.”

“I just need you and Janine to be somewhere other than here.”

“You got that. Although I’m still having a problem with it.”

“Don’t. Call me when you get settled and I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

“I will. And Har …”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. I mean that. We need to have a few drinks and talk about this some night. After it’s over.”

“Count on it,” Harry said.

He woke sweating, pushed the sheets from his legs. He stumbled into the bathroom and showered with the water on full cold, felt himself begin to waken.

When he was done, he put on gym shorts and a T-shirt and went into the backyard. He stretched out on the grass and did push-ups, three sets of twenty-five, sweat pouring from his body. Sit-ups came next, two sets of forty, until the muscles in his stomach were knotted and aching, the blood singing in his ears.

He went back inside, still breathing heavily, dialed Cristina’s cell phone, let it ring twice, and hung up. Five minutes later she called back.

“Beach day,” he said.

“I have things to do.”

“Bag them. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you like. Ocean Grove?”

“No. Closer, I think. Avon maybe. What time?”

“It’s noon now. I have to make a trip to the bank, but I can be there by one-thirty. Can you?”

“I think so.”

“Where is he?”

“He left a little while ago for North Jersey. I think for the day.”

“Dunleavy go with him?”

“He drove. They took Lester too. I’m alone here except for the maid.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Meet me on the beach, near the lifeguard tower. That way neither of us has to wait around on the boardwalk. Anywhere near the tower, I’ll find you.”

“Wear a bikini this time.”

“I thought the idea was not to call attention to ourselves?”

“I don’t care. Wear it anyway.”

“Maybe you need to take a cold shower.”

“I did.”

“Then take another.”

“I can’t. There’s no more cold water. Why are you still on the phone?”

“You’re dangerous, you know that? Sometimes I think you really don’t care.”

“You holding that against me? I thought women liked spontaneity.”

“Spontaneity is one thing. But you scare me. Sometimes you’re all wrapped up and supercautious, other times you act like you’re out of your mind. You swing from one extreme to the other.”

“Is that the way it seems?”

“That’s the way it is. You just can’t see it.”

“It’s my nature,” he said. “I can’t help it. I’ll see you there.”

She wore the bikini after all.

“You’re late,” she said.

He sat in the sand beside her chair.

“Hello to you too,” he said. “You look beautiful. Black suits you. How’s the water?”

“Haven’t been in yet. I was waiting for you.”

He pulled off his sneakers, put his watch and keys inside them, tugged his T-shirt over his head. She touched the back of his neck, rubbed the muscles there. He kissed the outside of her thigh, flicked his tongue against it. Her skin was warm and salty.

“You’re giving me goose bumps,” she said.

“Good.”

“Your neck’s stiff.”

“That’s not all.”

“Don’t be crude.”

He leaned forward, letting her knead the muscles in his neck and shoulders. He felt the tension draining out of him.

“It’s all set up,” he said. “Tonight. Then it’s over.”

She took her hand away.

“I wanted you to know that.” He turned to look at her. “After tonight, it’s through.”

“Are you meeting him?”

“At the Rip Tide. I give him what Bobby owes him, we shake hands, and that’s it.”

“What about those two men? The ones you found?”

“They’re not my responsibility. It’s being investigated. It doesn’t concern me anymore.”

“What does this mean for us?”

“It means that, from now on, what happens between us is just that. There are no other factors.”

She put her hand back on his shoulder.

“Think about what we talked about,” he said. “About going away. After tonight I have no reason to stay. We could go anywhere we wanted. You could pick a place.”

“And then what? After we go, what happens then?”

“Then we’ll decide.”

“Right now I want to swim. Come in with me.”

He stood, put out his hand, and helped her up. They walked together to the water, the sand hot beneath their feet.

He waded out until the surf was chest deep, then dove. He moved underwater, pumping his legs, until he felt the burning in his lungs. When he broke the surface, she was ahead of him, swimming with a strong and steady stroke. He followed her.

They swam out past the breakers. When he stopped and looked around, they were alone. The water was calmer out here, lifting them on gentle swells. She rolled onto her back, floated, and he treaded water beside her.

“You’re a good swimmer,” he said. “Better than you used to be.”

She suddenly dove beneath him, and he felt her brush against his leg. She surfaced a few feet away.

“Do you think we’re out too far?” she said. “Is it dangerous?”

He shook his head. She swam slowly toward him, came in close, and put her arms around his neck, her lips over his. He kissed her, tasting her tongue, and her legs swung up to lock around his hips. He kicked slowly, keeping them afloat.

She nodded back toward the beach.

“Can they see us?” she said.

“Maybe.”

The water gently raised and lowered them. He shifted so that his back was toward the beach, let his hands slide over her buttocks.

“I wore the bikini,” she said.

“I noticed.”

“Do you like it?”

“Very much. Pull down your top.”

“What?”

“Pull down your top. Just a little.”

She hesitated a moment, then peeled a strap from her shoulder. The bikini top slid off her left breast, exposing the pebble-hard nipple. He took it into his mouth. She tightened her legs around him.

“We could drown out here,” she said.

He took his mouth away, gave the nipple a last flick with his tongue, felt her shudder. He eased her breast back into the cup and she tugged the strap into place. The nipple poked stiffly through the material.

“You’re hard, aren’t you?” she said. Her hand slid down the front of his cutoffs.

He nodded, slipped a hand beneath the elastic of her bikini bottom, cupped soft flesh.

“We could do it,” she said. “Right here. No one would know.” She kissed him again, unsnapped the button on his cutoffs, tugged at the zipper.

The lifeguard’s whistle screeched.

He swiveled to look back at the beach. The lifeguard was standing on the tower, gesturing to someone swimming too close to the jetty, far to their right.

Behind him there was splashing. He turned to see two boys, about ten years old, kicking their way toward them, trying to maneuver Styrofoam bodyboards past the breakers.

She smiled, let her legs drop.

“Maybe next time,” she said.

She kicked away from him, almost laughing now, and began to swim back toward shore. He fumbled with the snap of his cutoffs, trying to tread water, feeling foolish, watching her as she swam away.

Spring Lake was old money, Irish money. The streets were lined with elms and hundred-year-old houses, some with low stone walls bordering their property. Fallon’s house was newer, two stories, white with mahogany shutters. A wide driveway led to an attached two-car garage. The lawn was a lush green despite the heat of the last few weeks. Sprinklers circled slowly, the water making rainbows in the sun.

She pulled the BMW into the driveway, shifted into neutral, engine running.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said.

“You sure the maid’s left?”

“She parks on the street when she’s here. Her car’s gone.”