First Class Killing (22 page)

I kept my eyes on the path in front of me. It was still dark, and I didn’t want to trip and fall down.

“Are you gun-shy? Is it because of the Logan thing?”

“I am not gun-shy. This is my choice.” I started to run faster. He caught up easily.

“Because that would be perfectly understandable if you needed a break.”

We made the turn at the Museum of Science, and I was running full out, setting the pace the way I had when we were kids and I had been the one with the longer legs. Jamie wasn’t even breathing hard, but I knew I was reaching my limit. I made it around the next corner and down to the boathouse before I gave out.

“I’m stopping.” I bent over, breathing hard, and put my hands on my knees. Sweat clung to the underarms of my running suit and dripped from my face. The cool morning air gave me a chill.

Jamie walked in circles, hands on his hips. He seemed to be winding himself tighter with every revolution.

I took a few more deep breaths and stood up. “Why are you being this way?”

“What way?”

“Why can’t you be excited for me, no matter what choice I make, and not make me feel ashamed for wanting something different from you? You’re just like Walter.” I paused to let that sink in. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. He crossed his arms, and his neck stiffened. “These past few years, Jamie, I feel around you exactly the way I used to feel around him. I expected it from him. I never expected it from you.”

“How do I make you feel?”

“Disappointing.”

With his arms still folded, he shifted his weight back and stared across the river at the gorgeous canvas of lights that lined the Cambridge side. He came back and leaned over the way I was. “I’m sorry. I’m not saying any of this right. I’d like to see you do what you want to do and not what you have to do.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Okay.” He put his hand on my back. “Are you all right? Getting too old for this?”

“Hey…” I stood up straight. “I’m a little out of shape is all. Give me two minutes.”

“Can I ask you one more thing?” He stared straight down the running path, even though there was nothing there to see. It was still too dark. “How can you afford to live in your neighborhood on what you make?”

That made me smile. It was probably the question he had been dying to ask all along. As with Walter, money and the things it could buy meant a lot to Jamie. “The owner of my unit is a trustee of the building. He hired me to do the condo association’s books every quarter, and it partially offsets my rent. I don’t have a lot of spare cash, but I’m doing fine.”

“If you need money, Za, will you ask me? Will you promise me that?”

If in his mind money equaled love, then I could take the offer as a good thing, and I did. “If I need help, I promise to ask you. Thank you.”

He stiffened his arms and clapped his hands together. “How far from here?”

“Half a mile back to the footbridge.”

“Do you think you can make it?”

“Let’s go.”

We took off again. Maybe I would wait until next time to tell him about my new career.

The run felt good. It had been a while since I’d run that far. Later in the morning, after I had come back from the grocery store, I had reason to feel even more pleased that I had gotten it in, because I was about to become very busy. Angel had called.

So doll, I have good news, and I have good news. You passed your test. Good for you, and I hope it
was
good for you. To celebrate, we’re taking you out for a shindig. Be ready at nine o’clock tonight. We’ll come and get you.

Chapter

25

I
FELT SILLY STANDING IN THE LOBBY OF MY
building in my party clothes, but I wanted to be ready to go when Angel rolled up. She had insisted on picking me up, and for some reason, I didn’t want any chance that she would come up to my apartment. I didn’t want her in my private space.

I’d been out that day shopping, looking for something appropriate to wear that I could afford. After several hours of fruitless searching, I gave up and went with expediency and my credit card. I bought a pair of low-rise black leather pants that felt as if they might slip down off my hipbones at any second and leave me mooning whoever was behind me. On top, I had a fuzzy little red boatneck sweater that looked good with a scarf but made me sneeze. The scarf was necessary to cover my still-healing bruises.

I was watching the cars go by on the street, trying to pick out Angel’s vehicle, which was why I didn’t notice Irene and Tristan sooner. They were up the steps and practically through the door before I realized it. They weren’t supposed to be there. They were out of uniform and out of context, and I was annoyed that I was going to have to make up a lie.

I walked out to join them on the front steps.

“Alexandra, you look fabulous. Yet another surprise from your closet. It’s racier than I would expect from you, but it’s only a dinner party. Why are you here? Why aren’t you—”

I blinked at them and offered a vague smile, trying hard to catch up to where they were. But I had no idea what he was talking about.

Tristan glanced at Irene. “Something tells me, Reenie, that she forgot all about my dinner party.”

“What dinner—” When I looked at his face, I heard his voice on my machine, and I remembered his message.
Is everything all right? I’m worried about you.
He had invited me to a dinner party. I had never even bothered to call him and acknowledge the invitation. When did I become
such
an asshole?

“Tristan, I am so sorry.”

“We were worried,” Irene said. “We just walked down to check on you. I’m glad you’re all right.”

“We called.” Tristan reached over to check out my scarf. “This is a new look for you. It’s nice.”

“I was in the shower.” I had seen the messages when I got out, seen who they were from, and ignored them. While I was doing my makeup, the phone had rung again. I had let it roll to voice mail. The fist of guilt tightened around my conscience. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say except
Please leave before Angel gets here.

“Where are you going? Tell me you have a big date, and all is forgiven. You must, because you look amazing.”

There was Tristan, filling in all the blanks for me. “Thank you. I am going out, and I feel terrible about not calling you. I…I screwed up my schedule. I just…I didn’t…” I saw the limo out of the corner of my eye. It was cruising up Beacon slowly, going at checking-addresses speed. Angel hadn’t said she would send a limo, but when I saw it, I had no doubt it was about to pull up in front of my building. The adrenaline gates opened. “I’m not firing on all cylinders right now.”

“It’s so hard to keep track of your schedule when you’re flying,” Irene said. “I forget things all the time.” She was trying to make me feel better, but that was a fib. She was a single mom with a thirteen-year-old. She never forgot anything.

Now Tristan caught sight of the limo, probably because I couldn’t tear my eyes from it. I felt the way you do when you see a traffic accident unfolding. He smiled with delight.

“Is that for you? Someone is taking you out in a limo? Why didn’t you tell me? Of course you can blow me off for a date in a limo. Can we meet him? Why didn’t you say something?”

The long black vehicle sailed up and anchored. The door opened, and the driver stepped out. If I were really lucky, he would be the only one to step out. “Miss Shanahan?”

“Yes, I’m coming.”

I folded my arms tightly across my chest. I was afraid if I didn’t, my friends would see my heart trying to beat its way out, right through my chest and that fuzzy red sweater. I sneezed.

“Are you all right?” Irene asked. “You look pale.”

“I’m just tired. Please, please give my apologies to Barry. I’ll make it up to you, Tristan.” I gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise. Irene, I’m sorry.”

Another fifteen seconds, and I would have made it. I would have been in and gone, and they never would have seen Angel, who was right then popping out through the limo’s back door. She was dressed to party and walking straight toward us.

“Oh. My. God.” Tristan lifted his nose in the air. “I wondered what that stench was. Greasy french fries and chicken gizzards. It could only be Miss Dairy Queen come to grace us with her skanky presence. What is she…what are you doing here?”

Angel smiled at him with supreme satisfaction. “Are you ready to go, doll?”

Tristan’s and Irene’s heads swung around so they could gape at me full on. I was humiliated down to my split ends. But then they sprang into action. Tristan swung around to my right side and Irene stood to my left, putting me right in the middle of a concern sandwich.

“This way, dear.” Tristan dropped his arm across my shoulders. “We have a place all set at the table for you.” He tried to guide me away, but my high-heeled boots were planted.

“Tristan, please. Angel and I—”

“No, Alexandra.” His tone was fatherly, but insistent. “I don’t know what’s been going on with you, but it stops now. Consider this your intervention.”

As gently as I could, I took his hand and removed it from my shoulder. It popped right back.

“He’s right about this,” Irene said, with palpable unease. “You should come with us.”

Angel addressed herself to Tristan, as though Irene wasn’t even there. “Why don’t you back off and let her make up her own mind?”

“I hate the sound of my name coming from your mouth, Angela, dear, because there is no way of knowing just what has been
in
your mouth.”

“That’s funny, coming from a sky fag like you.”

“Better a sky fag than a sky whore.”

Angel took her excoriation in stride, but I found myself looking around, hoping no one from my building wandered by. Tristan turned me to face him and put a hand on each shoulder. “Alexandra, I’m trying to help you.”

“I know.” I could feel his will pressing in on me. Irene’s, too, both trying to get me to walk away. I didn’t look at Angel, but I could feel her eyes on me and I had no doubt that this was the tipping point. Regardless of whether or not I had passed the test in Chicago, I had one more thing to do. I had to declare my allegiance in front of my friends. My real friends.

I looked at Tristan. “ ‘They may be hookers, but they’re our hookers.’ Isn’t that what you said?”

“Did you say that,
Trissy?”
I had never heard anyone else use Irene’s nickname for Tristan. Angel wielded it like a scalpel.

I made myself look directly into Tristan’s eyes. I wanted to signal somehow that I didn’t mean it, that this wasn’t me.

“If I get in trouble,” I said, “I hope you will defend me.”

But it was too late. A subtle shift in the currents had tilted the sidewalk from starboard to port, and I had let go of the railing and rolled across the deck.

Angel wasted no time moving in to claim her prize. “Let’s go, doll.” She looped her arm through mine. “We’ve got some serious celebrating to do tonight, and you’re the guest of honor.”

“Let’s go, T.” Irene was in full arbitration mode. “Alex, we’ll go out another time. Just call one of us when you’re feeling better. We’ll be…well, you know where we are.”

They were still on the curb staring when I settled into the limo with Angel and several of her crew. I took one last look at Tristan from behind the smoked glass. I could see him, but he couldn’t see me.

As it ever was.

I woke up the next morning sitting on my couch, fully clothed, blinking into bright sunshine. The blinds were all open. My window was wide open, and Jamie’s disembodied voice floated in from the kitchen, where the machine was recording his message. It must have been the phone that had finally pierced my thick skull and brought me back to life, such as it was. From the angle of the sun, I knew it was late. I knew something else, too. If I didn’t finish this case fast, I would need a stint in rehab.

I dragged myself out to the kitchen for some much-craved liquid refreshment, grabbed a carton of orange juice, and punched up Jamie’s message. The machine announced the time and date stamp for the call. That it was eleven-forty was alarming enough, but Jamie’s message was what made me really feel the pain.

I had promised him another run this morning. I’d completely blown him off, and he was worried. I’d have to call him back when I was coherent and make up an excuse. Maybe I would tell him that I overslept. That wasn’t a lie.

After threatening to fall down all night, the leather pants were ridiculously hard to peel off. They had molded to my body, which is apparently what happens when you leave them on too long. The red sweater was going right to Goodwill the second I had a free moment. It had made me sneeze all through dinner. After having promised me a party of my own, Angel had spent little time with me, leaving me to fend for myself with the exotic Sylvie. At twenty years old, she was the one I wished the most had never showed up on our radar screen. Last night, she had been the only one in the group with any time for me. She had wanted to know who had done my eyes, because I looked so good for my age. I considered that a compliment. I considered it sad and depressing that she was thinking of getting hers done.