Color of Love (42 page)

“Sooner or later we may have to sell the house. I don’t think I can manage it alone.”

Jason had a better idea.

It had begun forming since the visit to Pine Grove. Now it was forced into full realization with precise details. It seemed so clear and simple that Jason suddenly felt buoyant and his mind raced with plans and solutions.

“Don’t worry about the house for now. I think I know a way around having to sell it.”

“You do?”

“I also think it’s time you and I had a serious talk, Leah.”

When he heard the pause again, he knew that he’d knocked any further concerns about Gail and Allen right out of her consideration.

“What about?” she asked very quietly.

“Us,” he responded succinctly. “You and me.”

“Jason …” Leah began. There was a thread of apprehension in her tone.

He sat forward on his bed, totally focused and knowing what had to be done.

“Leah, it’s going to be okay. I promise. Everything will work out. What I have to say is very important, but I’m not going to go into it over the phone. I want us face to face. I want you right with me.”

“Are you coming over?”

“No, not now. It’s too late. I’ll be over tomorrow after work. We’ll sit down together, with no distractions, and I’ll tell you what’s on my mind.”

Jason began to feel excited because everything tumbling through his mind made so much sense. He chuckled to himself. It was so right, so simple.

“Can you wait until tomorrow? Is that all right?” He heard another deep sigh. It was resolved. Strong.

“I trust you. I can wait.”

Leah thought the day would last forever. She worked mechanically because she knew what she was doing. The galley sheets from the type house were checked for errors and photostats ordered. She had a solitary lunch because she didn’t feel like having company and was too distracted in any case. Her mind was on another plane, lost in dreams and possibilities.

She wanted to envision her and Jason together. In a world of so many other priorities, no one was going to care about the two of them. They could just become part of the mixed fabric of humanity; they could blend in and move along with everyone else. One of the first things Jill had told her that morning was that she’d met someone at the lobby art show. He was an insurance investigator, and they’d already had one date.

Maybe it was something in the air, Leah mused. Pollen or stardust that caused this sudden love among the mortals. New babies, and announcements of weddings … proposals and commitments. It was catching.

During the night of being alone, of having her anxiety reach nightmare proportions, of realizing that her fears were of her own making, Leah felt them all finally melt away. Suddenly the fear of ostracism from the rest of the world was not nearly as great a threat as the thought of losing Jason, of not having him to love. She would not become someone different because of his love or hers. She would not lose herself. There could never be less of her, only more. She had fought hard this last year, taking chances for what she wanted and had believed in. It had only made her stronger. She would
not
be annihilated by the intolerance of the rest of the world.

Leah left her office that afternoon feeling as if she’d just been set free. She was impatient with the trains, thinking she could have walked home faster. She counted the stops, one by one, not realizing that her trip home wasn’t really any longer than usual, it only seemed to be.

Leah changed trains at Chambers Street, not conscious of the crowds of people around her. She moved around and through them to get to her next train, not feeling there was any need to look behind her. She had discarded all of her fears, and with them went all of her caution.

The dream had receded. It had slipped into a corner of her mind where she’d shut the door on it. With Jason’s love had come less of the terror, fewer nightmares, and a healing of the memories. They were not altogether gone, but today, for the first time in months, she didn’t look behind her as she exited the station in Brooklyn.

Slack tried to keep at least two people between Leah and himself as they proceeded through the station to the exit. It was humid today, and he could feel rivulets of sweat running down the center of his back and under his arms. Some of it was due to the jacket he wore on this sweltering day. Some was from pure tension and from being keyed up.

Once, after he’d gotten out of that shithole upstate and was hungry and tired from running and dodging people, he thought of giving up. He was going to find Jason and see if the man could get him another deal. Anything so he wouldn’t have to go back to that place. But he’d hung out a block from the precinct house, and Jason was always with somebody else. That big dude, Joe, or other cops who would’ve cuffed him in a heartbeat. Or with that bitch Leah Downey.

Slack was sure Leah had told Jason lies about him, like he was no good and Jason shouldn’t even bother. He hated her. Thought she was better than him. It was all her fault Jason let him go upstate. If she hadn’t seen that jacket, if he hadn’t forgotten about it …

In a group of eight or nine people, which included himself and Leah, Slack exited the station. The sunlight was blinding, but he adjusted the beak of his leather cap so it shaded his face. He had to keep his eyes on her in case she changed directions or turned around and he had to move quickly out of sight. In the jacket pocket his right hand was closed damply around a small handgun that looked remarkably like a child’s toy.

She suddenly ran across the street, eluding him, as she just caught the changing of a light. A car horn blasted angrily at him as he made an attempt to follow and was forced back to the curb. He cursed at the driver and kicked at the rear fender of the passing car. Across the street ahead of him she had already started down the long block, walking faster than usual to get home. A space cleared in the traffic, and he jaywalked to the other side of the street. He trotted a little, unheard in his sneakers, until the distance was shortened between them. Now he quickly scanned the street and saw that almost no one was about. Up at the other corner a group of teenagers sat on brownstone steps but were half hidden by the row of cars and a tree in front of the house. They were laughing and joking and listening to music. Behind him there was a middle-aged couple just opening the front door of their building on the other side of the street.

Sweat ran down his back, into the waistband of his jeans, down his chest under his T-shirt. His heartbeat sped up as he realized this was it. He was going to do it.

Actually Slack hadn’t decided what, exactly, he’d do once he got Leah Downey inside her house. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He just wanted to get to her and see her scared. He wanted to look into her face and see if she’d still look right through him, or laugh at him. Well, she better not laugh …

He walked a little faster, shortening the distance. He tested his hand to make sure he could easily free the gun from his pocket. He unzipped the front so he had better movement. Several trails of perspiration ran from his hairline down his brown cheek to his chin. He didn’t notice. His most immediate thought now was that he was glad Jones had given him her ID with the address when he’d lifted her wallet.

Jason had been sitting for almost an hour at the wheel of his car. On the ground outside his car window were the results of his wait. Six cigarette butts. Even now, halfway through the seventh cigarette, his eyes were trained through his rearview mirror on the far corner nearest the subway as he waited for Leah. The muscles in his jaw worked convulsively between puffs, and only now as he realized he’d see Leah any minute did he suddenly feel nervous.

He’d gotten no sleep last night. Then he’d worked a full tour and several more hours in overtime. Even Joe must have sensed something because he had taken him out to lunch. Joe also had not asked any questions, for which Jason had been grateful. This act of understanding said more of Joe’s feelings now about Leah than it did about him. Joe had apparently accepted that Leah was good for him. Having food in his stomach helped to settle down his adrenaline, which was now in overdrive. He looked at his watch. It was 6:23.

He closed his eyes and conjured up a picture of Leah walking down the block toward the house. When he opened his eyes again and looked through the window to the corner, Leah was really there.

She was still just a toy figure off in the distance, but there was no doubt that it was her. She wore a slim skirt with a front slit. She wore high-heeled sandals and a beige silk blouse. Her sunglasses were atop her loosened hair like a headband, the dark lens reflecting sunlight. She was walking briskly and with a purpose.

There was a black teenager just behind her who would probably pass her on the sidewalk at any moment. He was walking aggressively like all the young blacks did, as though they owned the street and had to get someplace quickly. Jason put his hand on the car door and slowly began to open it.

His eyes followed Leah until she was almost to the Chens’ house. He could tell she’d spotted his car, and when she smiled in recognition, it was all the signal he needed. He got out of the car. He noticed that the teenager was now right behind Leah, but as Jason’s head cleared the top of the car, the growing smile on his face quickly faded and he stiffened alertly. Moving surely but not too fast, he stood on the sidewalk just as the boy closed the distance completely, grabbing Leah abruptly by the hair and putting a gun to her back. Jason went cold inside.

It was Slack.

She suddenly felt something catch her hair violently from behind, and something else hard and sharp was pushed into her back. It was cold through the silk blouse. Her sunglasses were shaken loose, fell, and were forgotten. Almost instantly Leah had flashes of a stocky black man who had had a knife in his hand and held her captive in a building stairwell. She was momentarily paralyzed with the shock of remembering and a sense of horror that it couldn’t be happening again. Her bag dropped to the ground.

Jason moved to the sidewalk in front of them and extended his right hand to stop Slack, or to calm him. His left hand was on his hip.

Slack looked panic-stricken for just a second. Jason knew he hadn’t expected him to be there.

“Shit! Back the fuck off, man,” Slack gritted through his teeth as Jason moved slowly forward.

“Slack … take it easy,” Jason said.

Slack didn’t want to show he was scared. But he didn’t have to be.
He
had the gun. He kept eye contact with Jason. The sweat dried on his skin and made him suddenly cold.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Why don’t you just put that down?” Jason advised.

Slack hated that Jason’s voice was so calm, like he was in charge.

“We can straighten this out. Just let her go.”

Slack watched Jason’s left hand make a slow journey behind his back. He jerked Leah’s hair. “I’ll kill the bitch. Keep away from me.”

“You’re messing up, man. I can still help. Put the gun down.”

For a second Slack thought about it. Maybe this was the only way out of this mess. But then he got angry, remembering why he was there. It was all the bitch’s fault anyway. He tightened his fist in Leah’s hair, and she emitted a grunt of pain.

With the hard tug on her hair Leah recovered from her stupor. She came back from a dark, narrow hallway into the light. She blinked rapidly and saw Jason just a few feet in front of her. The thing in her back was shoved hard under her shoulder blade, and the person behind her did not release the clutch on her hair. She began to struggle, twisting to swing around. Leah gasped when she caught a glimpse of Slack.

“Leah, don’t move,” she heard Jason order urgently, but she reached back instinctively to grab Slack’s wrist.

Jason pulled his gun and cocked it. “Put the gun down, Slack.
Right now …
” he ordered loudly.

Leah tried to break free. The hold tightened, restricting any movement. Her scalp tingled. She saw that Jason had his gun drawn and was taking aim at Slack.

“Jason,” Leah cried out. She reached behind, frantically grabbing at Slack.

“Leah, don’t!”

Suddenly there were two sharp retorts. Leah watched as Jason cringed and fell to one knee. He made a short grunting sound. A dark circle of moisture created an ever-widening stain on his shirt.

“Jason!” she screamed.

She broke free from Slack with a final painful wrenching of her head. She ran toward Jason as he doubled over.

Jason’s face tightened and grimaced in pain. He reached out and, with his arm, forcibly pushed her aside. “Get out of the way!”

He took aim at the slight figure fleeing erratically across the street. Another black kid from almost ten years ago flashed through Jason’s head, and kids in ’Nam, and every kid who’d ever come through his office. Jason fought to keep his hand steady. There was a sudden searing pain in his upper chest that seemed to grip the entire right side of his body. He was mildly aware of the warm flow of blood seeping through his shirt and making the cloth stick to his skin. He could feel blood oozing from the wound, slowly pulsing from his body. But his mind was on Slack running with the gun still held tightly in his hand.

Leah staggered to within a few feet of Jason and stared at his pointing gun. “No … Jay, please …” she pleaded.

Maybe she wanted to save his soul … someone’s life. But he thought of what that gun might have done to Leah, what it might still do to someone else. His hand began to shake. He took aim and fired.

Slack yelped, twisted, and dropped to the ground. His opportunity to escape was gone.

Jason gave way to the enveloping weakness and dizziness and fell the rest of the way to the ground. He started to cough and choke, feeling something bitter and warm running out of his mouth. Someone kept swaying in front of him, and it made him nauseous. He heard his name being cried plaintively, heard Leah’s voice slurred in tears. She was trying to hold him, but he just wanted everything to stop moving. His head was spinning and his right side was absolutely numb. Gentle hands touched him, held and stroked him. But he couldn’t respond, couldn’t even keep his eyes open. His right side felt like hot lead had been poured along its length, and he struggled to get away from it, finally succeeding by slipping into quiet darkness.