Sizzling (11 page)

* * *

"I LOVE EVERYTHING about this house except the lack of a
dishwasher," Madeline said when they'd finished dinner and
cleared the table. She'd sent Lori off to rest and Reid had offered
to help with the cleanup.
"It's original," Madeline
continued. "Very forties. She bought that old stove from a place
that restores them. She'll let me keep a microwave on the counter,
but heaven forbid one of the precious cabinets be taken out to make
room for a dishwasher."
He looked around at the brightly
colored kitchen. The walls were yellow, the cabinets white, the tiles
red and white with splashes of yellow.
"This suits her,"
he said.
"I agree."
He reached for a dish
cloth and grabbed the first plate she put in the rack. "I
thought you'd look different."
"Sick, you mean?"
she asked.
"Something like that."
"That
will come. Right now most of the symptoms aren't visible. I have some
bruising on my torso— a sign that my liver isn't working well.
I'll look worse as the disease progresses."
"Should
I not be asking about this?"
"I don't mind talking
about it," she told him. "It's a part of my life now."
And
her death. He'd never known anyone who was dying before. Gloria was
old and had come close to death, but this was different. Madeline was
still in her early thirties.
"You seem calm," he
said.
"Some days."
"I don't think I'd be
calm."
She smiled. "You never know what you're
capable of until it happens. I was in shock and didn't know what to
do. Lori handled pretty much everything. She came to the doctor with
me, asked all the right questions. My husband left and she's the one
who bullied the attorney to make sure I didn't get screwed."
"He
left because of you getting sick?"
"Oh, yeah. It was
charming."
"I'm sorry," Reid said, feeling
awkward.
"Me, too. At least we didn't have kids. Leaving
me when things got tough was bad enough, but leaving them…"
She rinsed a glass. "Okay, this is officially time to change the
subject. Let's talk about something happy."
Just then
Lori stepped into the kitchen. "I can help," she
said.
Madeline sighed. "No, you can't. You cooked dinner.
We're cleaning up. Go rest."
"I'm not tired."
"Then
watch TV. Read a book. Contemplate the ever expanding
universe."
"I'm going," Lori muttered and
left.
Reid stared after her. "She's acting weird, even
for her."
Madeline smiled as if she knew a secret. "It
will pass." She rinsed another plate and handed it to him. "Lori
is really special."
"I agree."
"I
wouldn't want to see her get hurt."
Okay, so he wasn't as
quick on the uptake as he could have been. Madeline wasn't making
conversation. She was probing and warning.
Normally that sort
of thing made him want to run into the night, but now he found
himself willing to have the conversation. Why was that?
He
supposed some of it was that he liked Lori. He liked talking with
her, annoying her, even kissing her. The kissing had been really
good. Better than good. Under other circumstances he would have taken
things further.
Need filled him. It had been a hell of a long
time since he'd gotten laid. Under the circumstances, it was going to
be a while longer. After that damn article, he wasn't exactly eager
to be with anyone. Not when he knew what the woman in question would
be thinking. But Lori was different. She was…
He became
aware of Madeline staring at him.
"Sorry," he said.
"What was the question?"
"I didn't ask
one."
"Right. You were going to warn me to stay away
from Lori."
"Now why would I do a thing like that?"
She began rinsing flatware. "I'm the oldest. It wasn't easy for
Lori when we were kids. I was smarter, prettier, more popular."
She paused and wrinkled her nose. "Gee, that makes me sound like
an egotistical bitch. But it's true. Mom was drunk all the time, Dad
was gone. He ran off while she was pregnant with Lori. We didn't have
any money and it was hard. Add to that the fact that Lori grew up in
my shadow. It's no surprise that she can't decide if she loves me or
hates me."
Reid stared at her. "Lori doesn't hate
you."
"I know. That's what's so great about her. She
could and no one would blame her. Least of all me. But she doesn't.
She invited me to come live with her as soon as she found out about
my disease. When I hesitated, she physically packed all my stuff
herself and hired the movers. She's my rock."
She reached
for a pot. "This has got to be so hard on her. I'm the reason
her childhood sucked, she loves me more than anyone in the world and
I'm dying. How on earth is she supposed to reconcile that?"
Reid
didn't know what to do with all the information Madeline had dumped
on him, but he didn't doubt it was true. He could feel it in his
gut.
"How did you figure all this out?" he asked.
"Lori didn't tell you."
"Of course not. She
wouldn't want to burden me with what she wrestles with. But I watch
and listen. She's so much more than she believes she can be."
"I
know."
She looked at him. "I thought you might. So
what are you going to do about her?"
"I have no
idea."
Lori wasn't his type. She wasn't the kind of woman
to enjoy a hot night and move on. He wasn't good for anything else.
Which meant avoiding her was the best solution for both of them.
Yet
he found himself wanting to be with her. Not just in bed, but out of
it as well.
"You'll figure it out," Madeline told
him. "Just try not to hurt her. She's more fragile than she
looks."
He thought Lori was a rock, but maybe there was
more to her than just sarcasm and being everyone's source of
strength. Maybe there were sides of her no one saw.
"I
don't know what's going to happen," he admitted. "This
isn't the sort of thing I'm any good at."
"Then
maybe it's time you learned."

* * *

REID SAT IN HIS OFFICE at the sports bar and went through
invoices. He generally passed any paperwork to the three assistant
managers who really ran the place, but today, for some reason, he
wanted to feel useful.
He sorted the paperwork by vendor, then
went onto his computer and compared this month's bills with those
from the previous three months. He wasn't sure what he was looking
for but it seemed a logical way to figure out if anyone was trying to
hide kickbacks or stealing.
He heard footsteps in the
hallway.
"I swear, I saw him," a woman said as she
and her friend walked past his office on the way to the restrooms.
"He's so good-looking. And I don't care what that bitch reporter
said. He was great in bed."
"I thought so, too. It
could have been a little longer, but then it always could have been a
little longer."
They laughed. The sound was cut off when
the bathroom door swung shut behind them.
Reid turned his
attention back to the computer, but his concentration was shot.
He
had no idea who those women were or when he might have slept with
them. For all he knew, they'd had a threesome. At least they hadn't
been complaining about his technique.
But that wasn't much
comfort. He turned off his computer and left the paperwork on the
desk. Nothing felt right anymore, he thought as he grabbed his jacket
and headed out. He needed something to do with his day—
something that mattered. Pretending to run the sports bar and hiding
out at Gloria's didn't cut it.
He drove east, crossing Lake
Washington, then turned aimlessly through Bellevue. He stopped in
front of a large sporting goods store and stared at the display. God,
he missed baseball. Sports had always been a way for him to escape.
They had given him purpose and a goal.
He grabbed his cell
phone and dialed a familiar number.
"What's up?" he
said when Cal answered.
"Not much. Where are you?"
"Not
at the sports bar," Reid told him. "Is there a place in
Seattle where kids need sports equipment? Like a school in a poor
part of town or a club or something?"
"Sure. Hold
on." Reid heard typing, then Cal continued, "There are a
couple of after-school places where poor kids go. They probably need
supplies and equipment. Why?"
"I gotta do something.
You got an address?"
Cal read it off, along with a phone
number. After Reid hung up with Cal, he called and asked to speak to
the director. A woman got on the phone.
"Do you have a
yard there where kids play?" he asked.
"Yes."
She sounded cautious.
"How's the equipment situation? I'd
like to send over some balls and bats and other stuff. You could use
it?"
"Of course. Always. Who is this?"
He
hung up.
Two hours later he was parked across the street from
a beat-up old building. About thirty kids gathered around the large
delivery truck. They cheered when the equipment was unloaded.
"I
don't understand," an older woman was saying. "This man
just called and asked if we needed it. Are you sure it's
free?"
"Everything's been paid for," the
delivery guy said. "Just sign that you received it and we're
good."
The woman smiled, then signed.
Reid shifted
into first and drove away.

CHAPTER
NINE

REID ARRIVED back at Gloria's house to find Lori waiting for
him. It was after four and her shift had officially ended. Sandy's
car was parked in the large circular drive, which meant Lori had no
reason to stay.
Except to see him.
Watching those kids
with their new sports equipment had gone a long way to making him
feel less like a loser. Having Lori hanging around to see him
cemented his good feelings.
"You stayed," he said as
he smiled at her.
"I have to talk to you. Privately."
He
liked the sound of that. For reasons he couldn't explain he kept
remembering that kiss. He'd wanted to repeat it, but had never found
the right opportunity.
He followed Lori to the back of the
house. There was a small den, with a television and stereo equipment
on one wall.
Lori shut the door behind him. He moved toward
her expectantly. She stopped him with a single sentence.
"Some
TV producer called here, looking for you," she said.
His
desire froze and disappeared.
"What did you tell
him?"
She pressed her lips together. "Her. I lied. I
said I didn't know who you were and that I had no idea what she was
talking about."
"Thanks."
"Not
thanks. I don't want to have to do that sort of thing. The reporter
looking to ambush someone was bad enough. Now this."
"I
can't stop them. What do you want me to do?"
"Not be
this way. I don't get it. I can't begin to understand who or what you
are. On the one hand, you have moments of kindness and intelligence.
On the other hand, you seem willing to have sex with most women in
this country. Or any country, I'm guessing. None of this makes
sense."
Her energy went beyond annoyance. She seemed as
much confused as frustrated.
She put her hands on her hips as
she faced him. "How can you be so interested in volume? How can
you not care about the person inside?"
"Because for
you it's all about the person inside," he said.
"Of
course. I want to have a relationship to go with my sexual encounter.
That probably sounds really backwards to you."
"It
doesn't," he said as he wondered about the men in her life. Who
were they and why wasn't she married? Had she been the one to resist
or hadn't anyone asked?
"Are you seeing anyone?" he
asked.
"What? No, but that isn't the point."
"I
get the point. I was just curious."
She folded her arms
over her chest. "We're not talking about me. Explain the thought
process, Reid," she said. "Why on earth do you act this
way?"
There were a hundred different answers he could
give. Slick lines he'd used before. But he didn't want to share any
of them with Lori, so he settled for the truth.
"I'm not
the kind of guy women marry," he said. "I'm not the kind of
guy women get serious with."
Lori waited a few seconds,
opened her mouth, then closed it. "That's it? You're a dog when
it comes to women because it's not your fault?"
"I'm
not a dog. I'm very clear on what's going to happen and what isn't. I
tell the truth."
"You're right. I'm sorry." She
crossed to the leather sofa and sat down. "You're saying you act
this way because the world has low expectations and you've chosen to
live down to them?"
Not exactly how he would have phrased
it, he thought, feeling uncomfortable. How had they gotten onto this
topic to begin with?
He crossed the room and sat at the other
end of the sofa.
"You don't think very much of me,"
he said.
"You don't give me reason to think better."
She
was right. Most of the time he didn't care what women thought of him.
Enough worshiped him that he didn't give a damn about the rest. But
for some reason Lori was different.
He drew in a breath.
"There was a girl," he said slowly. "Jenny. I met her
when I was drafted into a farm team."
He looked at Lori.
"That's a minor league baseball team. All the major league teams
have farm teams to groom players."
She smiled and even
with her glasses, he could see the corner of her eyes crinkle. "I
know what a farm team is," she told him. "I'm not a huge
fan, but I'm not totally ignorant."
"Good. So I met
Jenny and it was amazing from the beginning. She was pretty and smart
and funny and I was crazy about her."
Lori shifted on the
sofa. Her mouth twisted slightly, then she said. "So you were
normal once."
"More than that. I was in love."
He
didn't like remembering how it had been back then. The good times
with Jenny had been the best, but the crash…he'd wondered if
he would ever recover.
Lori's hazel eyes darkened slightly. "I
can't imagine you in love. You mean like being faithful and wanting a
future in love?"
Her voice sounded tight. He wanted to
believe that was about envy or something, but he had a feeling it was
just a whole load of disbelief.
"I asked her to marry
me."
Lori's breath caught. "I didn't know."
"No
one does." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs
and stared at the ground. Without wanting to, he remembered
everything about that night. It had been warm, but raining. The rain
was the reason he hadn't been playing. A three-day soaker had trashed
the field. He could smell the dampness in the air and someone's
cooking a couple of apartments over. He and Jenny had been sitting on
the steps leading up to her place.
He remembered the feel of
her body so close to his, the way her long straight blond hair had
gleamed in the moonlight. He'd looked at her and known she was the
most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She was all he'd ever wanted—
someone he could love forever. So he'd asked her to marry him.
"She
said no." He spoke the words flatly, as if they had no meaning.
As if he couldn't remember what it had been like to hear her faint
giggle of surprise.
"I'm sorry," Lori said.
"Don't
be sorry yet, because that's only part of it. She said she wasn't
interested in marrying me. She thought I was a lot of fun and great
in bed, but marriage was out of the question. I wasn't the kind of
guy women married. She was actually seeing someone. He was going to
propose and she was going to say yes. I was the kind of guy women had
a last fling with, but not the kind anyone wanted to be with for the
long haul."