The Weight of Gravity (13 page)

Max struggled to dig the keys from his pockets.  “Someone glued them in there,” he mumbled, then handed her
the keys.  “Who’s Nicole?” Max saw the bartender finger waving at him.  “That’s another thing, Doris.  What’s with all the finger waving?  Pet names and finger waving ... got to be regional idioms.  Gonna put those things in my next novel.”  Max smiled at Nicole.  “Would you like to be in my new novel, Sweetheart?”

“Great pick-up line, Max,” Doris said, and stepped down from the stool.  “Call me when he’s ready to quit, or falls on the floor, whichever happens first, Nicole.”

“You got it, Ms. Rosen.”

Max didn’t see Doris slip into a booth in the corner, near the door.

“Beer, Sweetheart … you were going to bring me another?”  Max smiled at the waitress.

“Hey, Cochise … how’re ya doin?”

Max struggled to focus on a dark figure sitting at the end of the bar.  He wore a bandana on his head and a sleeveless leather vest.  Tattoos ran shoulder-to-wrist on both arms. 

“You look like you got money.  Buy me a drink, will ya?”

“Sure.  Who are you?”

“I’m Tommy ... Tommy Five O’clock.  I’m Irish.”

“Say what?” Max asked.

“His name is ‘Tommy Chavez.’” 

Max turned and saw Mel, sitting where Doris had been moments before.  He smiled, and she smiled back. 
Damn, she looks nice.

“Hey, doll, I’m Native American and Irish, okay?  Buy me a drink, Geronimo,” Tommy said.

“See, there it is again ... pet names.” Max turned toward Tommy.  “I like Tommy Five O’clock better than Tommy Chavez.  Gonna put that in my next novel.”  He held his drink up to toast Tommy, and then put it to his lips.

“Fine, just buy me a drink.”

“Why did he say he was Tommy Five O’clock?” Max asked, his head swiveling around to Mel. 
She REALLY looks nice!

“He thinks he’s Mescalero Apache.”

“Half Apache ... half Mexican, and half Irish,” Tommy said.

Mel rested her chin on Max’s shoulder.  “Story goes, his momma told him, ‘Son, mustn’t ever drink before five o’clock.’  So, when the battery ran out on his watch one night at the
Fox & Hound
, he set it on that hour, and never bought a new battery.  That way, he could drink anytime he wanted, ... and he does.  He’s a regular all over town.”

“Damn, that is so cool.”  Max’s head spun back to Tommy.  “Be my pleasure to buy you a drink, Chief.”  He turned back to Mel.  “I’m gettin’ the hang of this name-calling thing.  Who do you want to be ... Foxy Lady, maybe?  Nicole’s already taken by our friend back there.”  Max finger waved to the bartender.
  She waved back and laughed.

“I’m Mel and I’m taking you home ... again.” She pulled Max off the stool and started toward the door.

“Doris is coming back for me,” he said.

“I’ll call Doris and tell her I took you home.”

“Catch ya later, Tommy,” Max called over his shoulder as he stumbled toward the door.

From the corner booth, Doris gave Nicole an I-got-the-tab look, and then waited until Max and Mel were out the door before she moved toward the bar.

Mel helped Max into the truck, then went around and climbed in.

“This is a very nice truck you have, Ms. Kristoffersen.”

“So, you know who I am,” she said, turning out of the parking lot.

“I knew your dad and your older brother ... and I even danced with your older sister, Sarah Michele, at the prom,” Max said.  “I liked that name back then ... Sarah Michele.”  Max’s head began to swim, so he turned his face toward the open window.

“Well, we’re practically family, then,” Mel said.

“Zackly ... zackgery ... actcapercery ...  Hell, Mel, you know what I mean.”

“Do you need me to pull over, Max, so you can paint the highway with the contents of your stomach?”

“Maybe, just take me somewhere where I won’t be seen,” he said, suddenly serious about his growing sickness.  The world was spinning so fast that Max couldn’t focus.  It felt like centrifugal force would, at any minute, pull him through the window and throw him onto the highway.  The air was refreshing, but there wasn’t enough
of it.  He wanted to be alone, but that wasn’t possible either.

He looked at Mel, but imagined his smile was warped, and that he might be drooling. 
Damn, this is not how it’s supposed to be.  Control ... my life is about controlling everything, and I’m out of control at the moment.  I’m at the mercy of an attractive woman who knows I’m drunk, at best, and probably thinks I’m an idiot, as well.
 

Mel drove to a service road by the tracks, past the lumberyard – well outside of town.  She stopped the truck by the side of the road, got out, and went to help him climb down.  Max knew he was leaning on her shoulders too much, but couldn’t help himself.  He finally pulled away and rushed to the support stays of a water tower.  Clutching the metal frame, Max hung his head, and the world came pouring out of him.  It was the most retching feeling he could ever recall.  Embarrassed, sick, his eyes watering, his vision blurred,
repulsed by the taste in his mouth, and his legs and arms functioning no better than rubber noodles -- it was a new kind of hell for him.

“You going to be all right?” he heard a voice ask.  It was Mel, and she had kindly stayed back by the truck, saving him a modicum of humility.

“Give me another minute.  I’ll be fine in a moment,” he said, semi-articulately.

Somehow, Max was back in the truck, his head hanging halfway out the window, and they were flying down the highway.  It was dark, and the air assaulting his face was edgy and damp, but his senses were clearing.  The next thing he knew, Mel was helping him to walk through a threshold, into a large entryway and down a hall.  He felt himself drop onto an incredibly soft bed, and then nothing more.

              “Max Rosen?  You’re kidding me. Why in hell would he come back here?  His daddy’s dead, Doris owns all the land and buildings.  Nothing left for Mr. Big-City-Author, is there? 

Out of the corner of her eye Erika watched Garner walk from around his massive desk – his “place o
f power,” he called it, to throw himself onto the leather loveseat by the window.  She’d already helped herself to Jack-over-rocks from his private bar. 

“A little early for that, don’t you think?” Garner laughed.  “Seeing ole Max didn’t rattle your cage, did it?”

              “Hell, no.  And it’s after five, Garn.  Been a long day,” she said.

             
“Playing a ditty at the bookstore and getting your nails clipped can be exhausting.”

             
Erika knew Garner never meant to be cruel, not in the beginning anyway.  What must have been playful teasing at first had somehow deteriorated over the years into something catty and mean-spirited. Their conversations now were sparing contests rather than a genuine interest in each other.  She didn’t have his gift of cruel either, as she thought of it, so his words often hurt, but she was never able to rattle him.  That may have been the reason the affair with Darrell lasted so long.  It was the only way she could get back at Garner for his ugly behavior toward her.

 
              “What did he want?” Garner asked.

             
“He said he was searching for himself, or something like that,” she told him.  Erika didn’t want to talk about her brief conversation with Max, but she also knew that Garner would explode with anger if he found out from someone else that they’d run into each other at the bookstore.

             
“Did he look in that fucking penthouse of his in New York City?  That’s where
People Magazine
said he hangs out.  Make me one of those, will you, babe?”

             
Erika took down another tumbler and poured the drink.  She carried it to the loveseat, but put it on the table next to Garner rather than hand it to him.

             
“Have a seat, babe.” Garner padded the cushion next to him.

             
“I can’t stay.  I have errands to run before dinner.”

             
“Like what?”

             
“Jay needs his dress jacket from the cleaners for the dance next week.  I also want to pick up the proofs for his yearbook picture.”

             
“How much is that gonna cost me?”

             
“Smallest package is at least two hundred,” she told him.

             
“Good god.  You couldn’t shoot his picture with that new digital camera I gave you last year?  It’s a hell of a good camera.”

             
“Get real, Garn.”  She set her empty glass on the bar.  “It’s not like you can’t afford a couple hundred for your only child’s school pictures.”

             
“So, Mr. Bestseller came to see you.  Did he beg you to take him back?” Garner asked, dropping his tumbler on the table, then picking it up and dropping it again, as if it didn’t make enough noise the first time.

“Why are you so shitty about Max Rosen coming back to Cottonwood?  You guys were close friends once.”

              “We were never close.  He was way too weird for our group.”

             
“What group was that, Garn, the pseudo-intellectual, bound-for-legal-glory pin heads?”

             
“That’s clever.” Garner emptied his glass.  “What say, E?  You ... me ... a nice dinner and movie tonight?”

             
“And Jay?”

             
“Jay has his own friends,” Garner stood and moved toward her.  “We could use a little time alone.  It’s been a while.”

             
You’re telling me!
  Where was this coming from, she wondered?  Maybe having Max Rosen around inspired Garner to be more affectionate. 
A little competition and jealousy are healthy in a relationship.  Too little, too late ... too bad, Garn!
  

             
“Yo, Boss!  We on for tonight?” Darrell asked, coming through the door.  There was an awkward stillness when he saw Erika.  “Hey, Erika.”

             
“Darrell.”  She turned away to retrieve her purse from the chair.

             
“You wanted to discuss strategy on the Galloway case over dinner?”

             
“Listen, Darrell, the wife and I have plans tonight,” Garner told him.

             
“No, we don’t.  Nothing that can’t be postponed ‘til another night, anyway,” she said, moving toward the door.  Darrell stepped aside, but not far enough for her to avoid him leaning over to brush her shoulder. 
Asshole!

             
“Well, the little woman has spoken, Darrell.  Guess we’ll tackle Galloway tonight,” she heard Garner say as the door closed behind her.

One eye opened, but the other was inextricably glued shut.  Lace curtains billowed gently from an open window.  There was a canopy over the bed and the air was surprisingly cool.  A pillow was covering half his head.  He could smell bath soap, lotion … maybe, and something else incredibly sweet.  He could hear water running somewhere behind him.  The water stopped and Max closed his one good eye.  When he opened it a moment later he was staring at the most beautiful ass he’d ever seen.  Her waist was small, her hips defined, and her butt cheeks were firm and provocatively sprinkled with goose bumps.  He watched her pull the towel across her shoulders while standing in front of the curtains.

“Too bad you can’t get the other eye open.  Then the view would be three dimensional,” she said, not bothering to turn around.

Max closed his eye again.  “Sorry,” he tried to say, but it came out a raspy breath of air.  He swallowed and tried again.  “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“You didn’t have time to stare, but don’t insult me by saying you wouldn’t if you could.”

“Why am I ...” he tried to sit up, but his head felt like concrete.  “How did I get here?”  His one good eye opened instinctively, but he closed it quickly.  She had finished drying off and was standing in the doorway of the walk-in closet. 
Good grief, that’s a beautiful ass! 
“Did we...”

“Screw?  No.  Sleep together?  Uh huh.  I slept at the end of the hall.  You should feel privileged to have used my personal bed.  You were ripping logs, and I didn’t want you in the spare room where you’d wake my grandmother.”

“She probably wouldn’t appreciate me sleeping in your room.”

“She wouldn’t give a damn.”

“So, why are you...”

“Naked?  I didn’t mind sleeping in one of the other rooms, but I wanted to use my own shower and bathroom.”