Fifth Ave 02 - Running of the Bulls (57 page)

"It's me," he said.
 
"You up for company?
 
I could grab a cab, stop by the market and get the fixings for a roasted tomato, basil and garlic soup.
 
Let me know soon--I know you're probably writing and haven’t eaten.
 
The soup would do you good."

He severed the connection and she looked back at the screen.
 
She tried to concentrate, but it was difficult.
 
He was making every effort to win her back.
 
What still surprised her is that he even had to try.
 
If she had been told the night she found him alive in that safe house that there would be any question they'd be back together again, she would have scoffed.
 

But then Mark went to Wolfhagen's funeral and when he did, a part of her saw him in a different light.
 
Regardless of what Wolfhagen had done to her and to the millions of people whose financial lives he ruined in the stock market crash he helped to create, Mark still revered the man, which she couldn’t accept or understand.

When she confronted him with it, he shrugged it off--Wolfhagen once meant a lot to him.
 
He taught him what he knew today.
 
He forgave him for what he'd done in the past.
 
She should, too.
 
After all, he'd done his time.
 
He wasn't responsible for anything Carra and Ira did.
 
It was healthy to move on.

But for Maggie, that wasn't the case--her scar wasn’t just emotional, it was physical.
 
And how could Mark overlook the fact that Wolfhagen tried to shoot her?

She dropped Mark then.
 
Months passed without a word.
 
And then, two weeks ago, he called with an apology and asked if they could work this out.
 
He told her that he loved her.
 
He said that he missed her.
 
He wanted them to be together.
 
But in spite of the fact that a part of her still loved him, another part of her wondered if she was for him.
 
Not knowing, she built up roadblocks.
 
She still hadn't agreed to see him.

Words on the screen.
 
She read them again and added a sentence.
 
He was pulling out all the stops with that soup.
 
He knew it was her favorite.
 
And the weather was perfect for it.
 
She typed a line of dialogue, screwed up her face when she read it and then deleted it.
 
Words on the screen.
 
She stared at them so long, they went out of focus.
 
For a moment, they could have been ghosts.

And then she knew exactly who to call.
 

She reached for the telephone and, holding it between her head and her shoulder, she opened her computer's browser, searched for a number, got it and dialed.
 
Given the heavy snow, she was surprised that the line was answered.

"Tarot Cafe."

"Roberta?"

"Lotta."

"Is Roberta there?"

"She's in a trance."

"Oh.
 
Is it rude to break her from it?"

"Depends on what she's seeing.
 
Hold on and let me read her face."

Maggie waited.
 

"I'm seeing a darkness."

"Maybe we should interrupt."

"This important?"

"It's critical."

"Hold on."
 

It was a moment before Roberta came to the phone.
 
And when she did, her voice was reduced to a hush.
 
"Is this you?"

"Excuse me?"

"It is you.
 
Why are you calling me?
 
Did you cross over?
 
You must have crossed over.
 
But why?
 
You weren't supposed to do so until tomorrow at six."

"Roberta, it's Maggie Cain."

"Who?"

"It's Maggie."

"Maggie?
 
Why the hell didn't you tell me it was you?
 
I thought you were someone...else.
 
What's up, cookie?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"A question!
 
Well, it's about time.
 
The non-believer is now a believer."

Maggie laughed.
 
"That’s right."

"What's your question?"

"This is going to sound stupid."

"Everybody says that.”

She felt like an idiot.
 
"I want to know if I should be with Mark Andrews?"

And when Roberta spoke, she changed the course of Maggie’s life.
 
"No," she said gently.
 
"Mark isn't the one for you, sweetie.
 
It's not in the cards.
 
I saw it when you stopped by to visit a couple of months ago.
 
I saw something else in your future.
 
Someone else.
 
It wasn't Mark."

"Who was it?"

"The one,” she said.
 
“Give it some time.
 
Give it till summer.
 
Then come and introduce me to the man you’ll be marrying.
 
We've already met on another plane, but I'd like to meet him in person."

*
 
*
 
*

LAS VEGAS

Jennifer Barnes fed a twenty into the machine, cracked her knuckles and hit the button marked "Maximum Bet."
 
Four cards appeared on the screen.
 
She was at the Wynn playing an aggressive game of Black Jack.
 
A martini was in one hand.
 
A lit cigarette was clenched between her teeth.

The game was aggressive because she was losing--big time.
 
This twenty was it for her, which she’d said to herself about two hundred dollars ago.
 
But this really was it.
 
She swore to herself that if she didn’t win now, she'd walk away.

As the cards revealed themselves, she smiled.
 

On the left side of the screen was her hand--an Ace and an eight, giving her nineteen.
 
On the right side of the screen was half of the computer's hand--a four.
 
The other card was hidden.
 
Still, with a four, the odds were in her favor.
 

There was only one way to play this.
 
She held on nineteen, hit a button, took a sip of her martini and watched.
 
The computer’s hidden card was a seven, which gave it a eleven points.
 
Her stomach sank when the next card was revealed--a Queen, which totaled twenty-one points, meaning she lost again.

Tight-ass motherfucking machine.

She downed the martini, snuffed out her cigarette, checked the time on her watch and saw that it was past two, though the casino was still packed.
 
She walked through the perfumed air, had an itch to play something else as she walked past the inviting machines with their inviting sounds, but she kept on course.
 
She was calling it a night.
 
She walked across the floor, showed security her room key as she breezed past them to the elevators at her left, and then zipped up to one of the penthouses.

She entered her room and, in the wall of windows opposite her, was met with a grand view of the Strip.
 
It was beautiful.
 

To the right of the windows was Marty.
 
He was sitting at a desk, his face bathed in the light of his laptop.
 
He looked up at her as she stepped in.
 
“Win big, kid?”

“You’re funny.”

“Lose big, kid?”

“You could say that.
 
And I assume by this 'kid' business that you watched 'Casablanca' while I was out?”

He started typing.
 
"Just out on Blu.
 
Looked amazing.
 
While you were throwing money at Steve Wynn's feet, it was just me and Bogie.”

“How’s the review going?”

“I've actually moved on to ‘Hamlet’.”

“Doesn’t everyone die in that?”

“That’s generally the case with Shakespeare.”

She walked behind him and put her arms around his chest.
 
“And here I thought you’d be writing about happy movies with happy endings, if only to strike a balance given the year we've had.”
 
She leaned down to look at the screen.
 
“Which version of the movie are you reviewing?”

“The Gibson one.
 
Also just out on Blu.”

“In this case, I'm glad Hamlet dies.”

"I’m conflicted."

“Oh, please.”

“The man gave us ‘Mad Max’.”

“Are you forgetting ‘The Beaver’?”

“For every ‘Beaver’ there’s a ‘Lethal Weapon’.”

“Sort of like his mouth.”

She took off her shirt and walked across the space to their walk-in closet.
 
She looked over her shoulder and wondered if he needed a distraction.
 
He was healthy now.
 
In the months that had past since Maggie Cain accidentally shot him, he had fully recovered, but had yet to take another job, even though offers came in.
 
In the meantime, Jennifer took a leave from her own job, which she would return to in the next few weeks.
 
For awhile, this would be their last vacation.
 
Each knew they needed to get back to work or they'd never move forward.

But were they ready for work?
 
She thought he was ready, but she wasn't sure about herself.
 
When the explosives ignited two blocks over on 77th, she grabbed Hines and pleaded with him to tell her what Marty wouldn't--that he was going to a safe house on the city's West side because there was a chance that Mark Andrews might be alive.
 

Convinced that this was the core of the story, she left the scene with the sense that she was exchanging one nightmare for another.
 
Six months passed and still she couldn't shake that night, what that man and woman did to her, and that she nearly lost Marty.

But she had to try.

She slipped into the closet and opened one of the drawers.
 
She found something see-through and sexy, and put it on.
 
Moving quickly so he couldn't see her, she dipped into the bathroom, brushed her hair and her teeth, grabbed a bottle of perfume, sprayed it into the air and walked through the mist.
 

She stepped out of the room and looked across at him.
 
She loved him.
 
Better yet, she was married to him.
 
No fuss--just a quick trip to the Wynn’s wedding salon.
 
When he proposed to her on the plane, he gave her a four-carat diamond solitaire and told her that she meant everything to him.
 
The next day at Cartier, they bought their rings.
 
And then, within hours, it was official.
 
She was Jennifer Spellman.
 
To her surprise, when Marty told the girls, Gloria sent flowers and a note to Jennifer.
 
“Dinner when you return.
 
The kids are eager to meet you.
 
So is Jack.
 
We’re a family now.
 
Brace yourself.”