Where There's Smoke (63 page)

At the sound of Bowie's voice she almost jumped out of her skin, but she gave no sign of it.
 
With the cool condescension of a Russian royal, she raised her head.
 
"Hello, Mr. Cato.
 
What can I do for you?"

He was standing in the doorway that connected the shop with the tiny office in its rear.
 
The ugly, ill-formed building was quiet and, except for the two of them, deserted.

Bowie had brought in with him the scent of outdoors.
 
The first hint of autumn was in the air, and she could smell it on his clothes.

His hair had been mashed flat by his hat, the brim of which he was nervously threading through his fingers.
 
His lips were chapped.
 
She looked at him with concealed yearning.

"I was just wondering if you'd heard anything from your brother and Dr.

Mallory?"

"No," she replied, feeling a pang of guilt.
 
It was selfish of her to be so wrapped up in her heartbreak over Bowie when their lives could be in danger.
 
Key had promised to call home if he was able, but there had been no communication from him since their departure three days ago.

Janellen was sick with worry, and, although her mother hadn't admitted it, she was, too.
 
She stayed in her bedroom except at mealtimes, when it seemed that even polite conversation was an effort.

"That's too bad," Bowie said.
 
"I was hoping they'd be on their way back by now."
 
He fiddled with a loose straw in the brim of his hat.

"Was there something else, Mr. Cato?"
 
yes, ma'am.
 
My paycheck.
 
It wasn't in my box this morning.

Any other week, I wouldn't bother you about it, but my rent's due tomorrow.

Knowing full well that he spoke the truth, she looked toward the empty pigeonhole labeled with his name.
 
"My goodness.
 
I apologize for the oversight, Mr.
 
Cato.
 
I must have left your paycheck in the safe."

The official company safe was a monstrosity that easily outweighed three pianos.
 
It dominated one corner of the cramped room.
 
The black steel facade was ornately trimmed with gold swirls and curlicues.
 
It dated back to the days when her grandfather had paid his roughnecks in cash.

As she moved toward it, Janellen felt Bowie's eyes on her, and it was unnerving.
 
Thankfully, the combination to the safe was second nature to her.
 
She opened it and withdrew his check from the drawer where she'd intentionally left it that morning.
 
Since he hadn't taken the initiative to approach her since the night they'd embraced in the kitchen, the night following Jody's seizure, she'd made it necessary for him to seek her out.

He'd fled during a thunderstorm, preferring the cold company of lightning and torrential rain to the warmth of her arms.
 
Bowie might have been disappointed in her kisses, might have been disgusted by her eager response to his caresses, but she was not going to let him simply ignore her and pretend that they hadn't shared some degree of intimacy.

"There you are, Mr. Cato."
 
As she handed him the check, she was careful not to let her fingers touch his.
 
"I'm sorry I overlooked it."

She resumed her seat behind the desk and returned to the paperwork she'd been doing when he came in.
 
Her heart was thudding so strongly and so loudly that she could count each beat against her eardrums.

Whatever happened next was up to him.
 
The next few moments were critical.
 
If he turned and left without another word, it would break her heart.
 
Her nonchalance was a pose she'd affected to hide her despair.
 
If that tempestuous kiss at her kitchen sink was the extent of their love affair, she'd just as soon stop breathing.

Ten seconds ticked by.
 
Twenty.
 
Thirty.

Bowie shuffled his feet.

Janellen waited, making small notations in red ink on the invoice while her entire future and self-image dangled by a thread.

"How, uh, how come you've stopped calling me Bowie?"

Janellen looked up, feigning surprise to find that he was still there.

She pretended to ponder her answer.
 
"I didn't think we were on a first-name basis any longer."

"Why's that?"

"When two people address each other by first names, it implies friendship.
 
Friends don't avoid each other.
 
Friends call, drop by, pass the time of day together, make a point to see each other.
 
Friends wave when they drive past; they don't turn their heads and pretend not to see."
 
This last referred to the day before.
 
He'd deliberately ignored her when they'd accidentally met on Texas Street.

"Now, Miss Janellen, I know you thought "Even former friends don't pretend that the other person no longer exists."
 
Her voice began to quaver and for that she hated herself.

Whatever the outcome, she had vowed not to cry in front of him.

"Friends don't act like they've never been .
 
. . friendly.
 
Like they've never .
 
. . Oh!"
 
To her mortification, tears filled her eyes.

She stood and turned her back to him, cramming a tissue beneath her nose.

"I'm no good at this," she said mournfully, blotting her eyes.
 
"I can't play games like other women.
 
That trick with your paycheck was stupid and juvenile.
 
I know you saw right through it.
 
I just didn't know any other way to force you to see me alone."

She turned to face him, knowing that she looked her worst.
 
She didn't cry prettily like the actresses in movies.
 
When she cried, the whites of her eyes turned pink, her nose turned red, and her complexion got blotchy.

"I'm sorry, Bowie.
 
I know this must be terribly embarrassing for you.

Feel free to go.
 
You don't have to stay.
 
I'm fine.
 
Honest."

But he didn't move.
 
In fact, if there was anything redeemable in the last couple of minutes, it was that he appeared as miserable as she.

"Truth is, Miss Janel\en, I'm the one who's sorry that I put you through a scene like this.

She reasoned that since she had already made a fool of herself and had nothing more to lose, she might as well get to the bottom of it.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

'Cause I didn't think you'd want to see me after Shit."

Mumbling the expletive, he turned his head away.
 
But when his gaze landed on a voluptuous calendar nude, he hastily looked back at Janellen.
 
"I didn't think you'd want to see me after what I did to you.

I didn't show you any respect, and I do respect you a hell of a lot."

Her cheeks grew warm as she recalled his hand moving beneath her skirt, clutching her bottom with what she'd thought was uncontrollable lust.

It had been shocking, yes, but thrilling.

"Well, I wasn't behaving very respectfully myself, was I?"
 
she asked a bit breathlessly.
 
"But I assumed that our respect for each other had been well established.
 
I thought that our friendship had moved to another level.
 
I thought you might want to, uh, maybe, you know, to fuck."

His hat landed on the top of the desk.
 
He dropped into the chair facing it and planted his elbows among the invoices, holding his head between his hands.
 
His cheeks puffed out, then his lips pursed as he blew out a gust of breath.

"I know that's the right word," Janellen said timidly.
 
"Key says it all the time to mean .
 
. . that."

"Yes, ma'am, it surely is the right word.
 
It gets the message acmss, all right."

"Well then?
 
Was I wrong?"

Bowie massaged the back of his neck.
 
After what seemed to Janellen an eternity, he raised his head.
 
"Fact of the matter is, it isn't the right word.
 
If that's what I wanted, we could have done it on your kitchen linoleum.
 
But I think too much of you to toss up your skirts and go at you like you're no better than a ten-dollar whore.
 
See, MissJanellen, you're quality and I'm trash, and nothing's ever going to change that."

"You're not trash!"

"Compared to you I am.
 
Besides which, I'm an ex-con."

"You served time for doing something that needed to be done.
 
In my opinion, the beast you assaulted deserved prison, not you."

He smiled indulgently at her vehemence.
 
"Unfortunately, the state of Texas didn't agree."
 
Turning serious again, he said, "Neither would the people of Eden Pass.
 
If you were to take up with me, how do you think folks would react?"

"I don't care."
 
She rounded the desk and knelt in front of the chair in which he sat, trustingly placing her hands on his thighs.

"Bowie, all my life I've lived according to what other people wanted for me.
 
I've done everything that was expected of me and nothing that would be looked upon with disfavor.
 
But not too long ago, Key reminded me that life is passing me by."
 
She inched closer.
 
"I didn't realize how right he was until you kissed me.
 
Then, for the first time in my life, I experienced a sense of bursting free.
 
I don't want to grow old and then discover that I missed the best things life has to offer because I was afraid of offending someone else.
 
For thirty-three years I've been the prim and proper Miss Janellen, and frankly I'm bored with her.
 
The only fun and excitement she's ever had was with you.

"So what if the hometown folks raise their eyebrows over us?

They've been tsking for years over my spinsterhood, pitying me because I didn't have any beaux.
 
Between pity and disapproval, I choose disapproval."
 
Taking a deep breath, she added, "If you like me even a little don't back off because you're afraid of damaging my reputation."

"If I like you even a little," he repeated, smiling his sad smile.
 
He pulled her up and settled her on his lap.
 
"I like you so much my heart goes to aching every time I think about you, which is all the time."

He took her hand and stroked the back of it, his touch light, as though he feared breaking the fragile bones.
 
"Folks aren't going to cotton to us being a pair, Janellen.
 
You stand to lose so much.
 
Me, I got nothing to lose.
 
No money, no name, no family or friends or a position in the community.
 
But you could be hurt bad."

She laid her fingers against his lips.
 
"I won't be hurt, Bowie."

"Yes, you would.
 
I'd hurt you, and I can't hardly bear to think about it."

Their faces were very close.
 
His eyes were dark and intense, and she knew that he was no longer referring to the effect that their being together would have on her social standing.
 
He was talking about the physical pain their coupling would cause her.

She whispered, "I wish for that hurt.
 
I wish for it right now."

She fell against him softly.
 
A low moan escaped her as his arms enfolded her.
 
She tilted her head back against his biceps and welcomed his urgent kiss.
 
They kissed hotly and hungrily, their mouths melding.

He stroked the side of her face, trailed a finger along the line of her jaw, touched her neck.
 
Between fervent kisses Janellen whispered encouragement.
 
When his hand moved to her breast and gingerly covered it, she lovingly murmured his name.