Heights of Desire (15 page)

Chapter 17

M
y entire body is buzzing and my limbs are on fire. Even the turmoil of the last twenty-four hours hasn’t sated my desire to see Jaylee, to hear his voice and to feel his touch. All of the anticipation that built in me the night before last is still reverberating throughout my body. I risked everything just to be able to see him and instead I got nothing. No glimpse, no breath, nothing.

My mind wanders to the hospital and the thought of him lying alone, in pain. Before I have time to rationalize, to mentally tell myself ‘no,’ my body is acting. Silently pulling back the covers, grabbing my discarded clothing, tiptoeing out of the bedroom. Robert is sleeping soundly, no doubt as worn out as I am from the whole ordeal. Sneaking away from him has become a recurring practice.

In the foyer, I pull my calf-high black leather boots on over my jeans and scribble a quick note to Robert, which I tape to the hallway mirror. I tell him that I’ve gone to see Janinie. It’s obviously a lie. I don’t for a second expect him to believe it, but somehow Janinie has become a buffer between us. The innocent lamb that we can both tend to while we ignore the lumbering elephant. I grab the keys to the Range Rover but then stop and think better of it. I’ll walk. I want to be as inconspicuous as possible.

On the short stretch to the hospital, my heart pounds recklessly in my chest, and the sound is so unsettling that I start to inhale in short, uneven gasps. I’m a junkie and the near miss of getting my fix before the arrest has me desperate with need. It’s escalated my sensory memory of him and I can almost taste him. His scent is branded deep within and the memory of it envelops me. He is everywhere, in my head and my heart and most insistently, in my body. The only way to make it stop is to feed it. My body and mind are unappeasable and drag my conscious behind them like a child in full tantrum. I need this drug like I’ve never needed anything.

Sweat forms in my cleavage and along my upper lip despite the fact that the night air is cold enough for my exhale to linger before me in short, uneven puffs. I’m not sure I’ll even be allowed to see him. He’s under arrest, after all, and I’m definitely not his lawyer. He’s likely to have a police officer keeping guard and might even be in a special wing of the hospital reserved for such things. I have no idea what my plan is. I’m just following my own body like a starving animal on a scent trail.

Kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner, I take my phone out to text Oscar. Jaylee added him to my contacts after he went through my phone and systematically deleted all of my male contacts – including my father, Robert’s brothers, and my colleagues. An act so childish it should have made me angry, but instead I found his possessiveness endeared him to me even more. He added Oscar’s number presumably because he’s one of the only men who he can trust. A pang of guilt hits my gut thinking that I may have torn an irreparable divide between them. Oscar is, or was, obviously, Jaylee’s confidant and best friend and I forced him to bend to my demands because I can’t control myself. I knew it could fracture their bond. Oscar even warned me. I prepare myself for both anger and rejection.

Oscar pings right back.

Kate, Jay’s on the 4
th
fl rm 408. Cop outside. No visits. Handcuffed to f-ing bed.

I respond

Flash, I’m going to try to see him now.

Did you bring your magic?

What magic?

Ur Husband – sorry bad joke- heard he got you sprung and repped Jay – good looking out.

I’m not answering that. The line-up of ambulances on 165th street signals my arrival and reminds me that Jaylee is here because he’s hurt. I put my glasses on, pull my hair into a low ponytail and cross my fingers in the pocket of my blazer. I’ll try to pull off reporter. They work all hours of the night.

The initial security at the entrance gives me a yawn and a pass with a hospital map and 4F scribbled on it. I sweat even more on the slowest four- floor elevator ride of my life. The doors open and I walk a few steps to a busy nurses’ station. From what I can tell, he’s being housed in a regular patient wing. He must not be considered that much of a threat.

My blood is slamming through my veins like a dam unleashed, rushing too fast and hard, but at the same time, feeling insufficient to meet my needs. I can’t even imagine how my face reads. My arms break out in gooseflesh and my arm hair stands on end. I’m so close to him now, and I swear I can feel the proximity. At least I’m in the optimal location for passing out.

“Can I help you?” A nurse, or possibly receptionist asks me. She’s maybe fifty, hair gone gray, bright fuchsia lipstick bleeding slightly into her wrinkles. She barely looks up from her paperwork. I notice she’s drinking coffee and it’s three o’clock in the morning.

“I’m from the Post. Wanted to get some names from the officer watching the Inoa case.” I push my glasses up my nose and try giving her my very best bored and unaffected face.

“Slow night?” she asks, again barely breaking eye contact with her paperwork.

“Seriously. How’s it been for you?” I smile at her and roll my eyes in commiseration.

“Soon as I say ‘yes’ I’ll jinx it and the crazy‘ll get started so I’ll just leave it at that.”

I laugh and add “I hear ya!” I might possibly be the world’s worst actor.

“Sign the log and I’ll need to see your press card.”

“Sure,” I say feeling the sweat and nerves instantaneously reappear.

I rummage through my purse intently and mutter “Shit!” under my breath, making sure it’s loud enough for her to hear. She looks up at me again, this time taking in my face, my hands, her eyes linger on my designer purse.

“It’s in the car. Right on the passenger’s seat. I can see it. Used it to park downtown. Forgot to put it back.”

“You need one of these,” she says lifting her photo ID off her chest and dangling it from the cord where it hangs around her neck.

I nod and hold my breath. She smiles and waves her hand at me tossing the sign-in log up onto the counter.

“Only because you missed the boat. About eight of your counterparts have been at him already. Story’s long gone bone dry.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” I say and snatch the pen that swings from the clipboard like a pendulum before my heart stops beating. I scribble something illegible and put the pen down gently.

Thank God for you Ms. Night Nurse. Story hasn’t dried up. In fact, it’s about to get a whole lot juicier.

I’m riding high on adrenaline and I let the heel of my leather boots clack against the floor. I beeline for the lone police officer perched on a cafeteria chair outside of what must be room 408. He’s engrossed in his phone and looks up when he hears my heels making contact with the laminate floor.

“I’m from the Post,” I say from halfway down the hall hoping that my distance will lend some authority to my truly pathetic ruse. I didn’t even bring a damn notebook. “Any chance of getting a few questions with Inoa?”

He stands and slips his iPhone into the pocket of his uniform. He gauges me, looking me up and down with what appears to be a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. It’s definitely amusement and something else too. If I weren’t in such a heightened state of awareness I might miss that he was checking me out, but no, it’s there. He’s amused
and
he’s checking me out. My heart sinks because I realize he knows something and my impromptu plan isn’t going to work. I just hope I can back out as easily as I walked in. He crosses his arms and smirks at me as I reach him.

“You’re Kate,” he says smugly.

I say nothing but can feel the surprise ripple across my face. I take him in, my eyes roaming all over him to try to assess the situation. Will he call it in? Have I broken the law? Is Robert going to have to bail me out again? The officer is young and handsome; he looks Italian. I know the papers didn’t get a good shot of my face.

“Who are you?” I demand.

“NYPD, Ma’am,” he scoffs, obviously affronted by my question.

My blood is surging around again and my ears are ringing. I know I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. The fainting feeling is back even stronger and I’m afraid I’m about to face-plant at his feet.

“Whoa!” he says and grabs me by the biceps, swinging me around to lower me into the chair he was sitting in.

I put my head between my legs.

“Is it that obvious?” I manage to squeak out.

“What? Oh, that you’re Kate? No. We’ve been talking. I’ve been sitting with him when he’s not sleeping. He told me what you looked like.”

“Talking to Jaylee?”

“Yeah. Not about the case. Can’t do that, but you know, about baseball and music, about working out.”

“Talking about working out?”

“Whatever makes the ten hour shift go by. And the kid can’t shut up about you. Christ! That’s how I knew it was you. Both got that same stressed out look in your eyes. Wouldn’t want to get in between the two of ya’s. Fucking Post reporter, Ha! Too classic.”

So he’s befriended Jaylee. I get the feeling that he likes him too. Maybe he’s sympathetic to our situation. Maybe the stars are aligning perfectly tonight.

“Does this mean you’ll let me see him?”

A lazy grin spreads up one side of his face.

“Fuck the both of ya’s. Romeo. Yeah, I guess. Nobody’s around.”

I’m on my feet and pulling him into a frenzied hug without even thinking that it could draw attention to us. My heart is doing flip-flops in my chest.

“Five minutes, ‘cause they check his vitals like every ten seconds. If anyone
does
come you better be a fucking Post reporter.

“Five minutes,” I say and flash my palm out to him with all five fingers flexed like a preschooler. Tonight I did bring the magic.

I push the door to his room open and step inside retreating to push it closed with my back. My hand automatically flutters to my heart when I see him.

The light is on but his eyes are closed. He’s not handcuffed to the bed like Oscar said but he’s hooked up to an IV and a monitor. He’s shirtless and the sheet rests low on his hips. He looks so breathtakingly beautiful that it hurts. So beautiful, my Jaylee. He’s changed since I’ve seen him. He’s bigger, his muscles are even more defined than before. His abs are tighter, every contour clearly delineated. His pectorals are more lifted and powerful, his biceps look huge. He’s been working out.
Like a maniac.
His virility, which before was already so overwhelming to me, has somehow increased. He’s now a magnified version of the man he was before. I wonder if the swagger has increased too, the confidence, the stamina . . . My eyes trail downward from his tapered waist and I inhale sharply remembering his stamina.

His eyes fly open.

It takes no less than controlling every millimeter of myself in order not to throw my body onto his. I don’t know how he feels about me anymore. We’ve had no contact in over six months. I don’t know if he’s angry, or even worse, over it. His eyes are dilated and darker, a burnt honey color. He looks confused. It must be from the pain medication for his hip. I bring my hand to my mouth in a lame attempt to stifle the tears that fall freely down my face. When he speaks his voice is raspy, a whisper.

“Get over here, criminal.”

Then his smile, the one that makes the floor fall out from beneath me, spreads slowly across his face. When it hits its full expression he reaches his arms out to me.

I run to him and crush his head to my chest. I want to kiss him, to tell him I love him, but all I can do is hold him to me and cry and laugh at the same time.

“You don’t return my calls or texts for six fucking months and then you go all Bonnie and Clyde on me, Kate? You a drug dealer now?”

I’m only laughing now, kissing him and running my hands through his hair and over his worked out chest. He pulls me easily up onto the hospital bed so that I’m cradled into his shoulder, sustained by his athletic arm.

“Which side?” I ask.

“Left,” he nods toward it and then lifts the sheet back to reveal a large area obscured by gauze and medical tape. He’s completely naked in the hospital bed and already erect just from kissing me.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

“Which?” he says laughing and pulls my mouth to him, kissing me deeply.

“I can’t stay, your friend, the guard, gave me five minutes.” My tears have wetted his face and I wipe them away with my fingers. I can’t make myself say goodbye to him . . . to us.

“Don’t apologize, Negra. I’m so fucking happy you came. You have no idea how happy.”

“I’m posting your bail. I just have to have some things arranged financially and I’ll have it taken care of.”

“No, baby. I’m fine. I don’t need your money.”

I shut him up with a kiss. I want to taste him so that I can always remember what he tastes like. I want to drink in his kiss, to lose myself in his arms, his smile, his scent. I want to say a thousand things to him and if he goes to jail I’ll never have the chance. I want to commit to memory the sound of his voice, his breath, his heartbeat. I’m completely undone, trembling and delirious in his arms.

“There’s nothing you can say to me, Jaylee. I won’t let them put you in jail. I can’t.”

“It’s not like I haven’t been there before. Bail’s gonna be like a million bucks. Just forget it, I’ll be fine.”

My mouth opens to refute but there’s a rap at the door and I spring off of the bed. I straighten my shirt and kiss my two fingers and touch them to his perfect lips. He grabs my wrist and presses his face into the palm of my hand.

“Can you stop acting crazy and try to keep yourself safe . . . for me?”

I nod and squeeze his fingertips.
What must be, shall be.

In the hallway two nurses are approaching with their mobile vital signs cart. Everything appears routine. Jaylee’s newfound accomplice is again perusing his phone. He looks up and gives me a thumbs up. I mouth the words ‘thank you’ and fight the impulse to hug him again. He’s just given me so much more than he’ll ever know. I square my shoulders and leave in the opposite direction of the oncoming nurses. My head and chest feel swollen with adrenaline and pure joy. This drug I’m so unbelievably high on is also called love.