Thugs and Kisses (4 page)

I jumped out of bed and made a dash for the bathroom. By the time I had brushed my teeth and hair, I heard Greg entering downstairs, soon followed by an awkward galloping sound as Wainwright, his enthusiastic golden retriever, bounded up the stairs to greet me. After receiving hugs and kisses from me, the dog bounced into the bedroom, where he found Seamus once again back on the bed.

When Greg and I started dating, Wainwright had fallen in love with Seamus immediately. The affection, however, was not returned, and there had been several one-sided battles between the friendly dog and the irascible feline. Now they get along fine, though I suspect it’s more tolerance on the side of Seamus than warm fuzzy feelings. When I returned to my bedroom, Wainwright was standing with his front paws on the bed, licking Seamus’s ears. The cat withstood the slobbering with stoic patience.

I was about to head downstairs when I noticed myself in the full-length mirror affixed to the closet door. Yikes! The only things bright and shiny about me were my teeth—not even my hair had improved with the brushing. The old, stained flannel nightshirt I was wearing had one torn shoulder seam, and the bags under my eyes looked like unmatched luggage, what with one eye marked with faded shades of green, yellow, and purple. I didn’t know if Greg was going to break up with me in the next few minutes or just lecture me, but either way I could not let him see me like this. I had to take my medicine in style.

I was about to call down to Greg that I’d be just a few more minutes when another thought occurred to me. Maybe I should play the sympathy card. I looked and felt like road kill, so why not let him see that I’d had a bad night? If I cleaned up, he might think I had a high old time the night before and not cut me any slack.

Decisions. Decisions.

I looked to the animals for some assistance. Wainwright had stopped smooching Seamus and was curled up on the floor at the foot of my bed. Seamus was in the same position above him on the bed. Both watched me with expectation, as if waiting to see my next move.

For a minute or so, I paced in front of the mirror while twirling a strand of my greasy hair around my right index finger. What I really wanted to do was crawl back into bed and pretend nothing had happened the night before. Even better, rewind the whole last week, starting with the incident in the grocery store.

I was contemplating tying a note to Wainwright’s collar and sending him downstairs to his master with my apologies when I caught a whiff of something wonderful. It was coffee, fresh coffee being brewed in my very own kitchen. The promise of tasty caffeine prompted a decision. I would take the road well traveled, that of compromise.

After calling down the stairwell that I’d be just a few more minutes, I took a very quick shower and shampooed my hair. I combed my clean, wet hair back off my face but didn’t put on any makeup. Then I donned a cute and comfortable caftan. I would face Greg clean and tidy, but leave some traces of the stress from the night before.

When I entered the kitchen, with Wainwright and Seamus on my heels, Greg was sitting in his wheelchair at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading the Sunday paper. He didn’t look up when I came in, letting me know he was really angry. I hesitated, wondering if I should go straight to the coffee pot or say something first. When stressed, I have a bad habit of babbling like an idiot. Right now I wanted to chatter nonstop, declaring my innocence with every mindless word.

Instead, I walked over to Greg and kissed his forehead. It was slightly warm, and his breathing was a little raspy. His cold seemed a bit better than it had been yesterday, but it was still bad. He was dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans and smelled of soap. I was glad I had taken the time to shower myself. Greg tensed under my touch but didn’t move away. I poured myself a mug of coffee and returned to sit across from him at the table.

“Thanks for making coffee, Greg.”

“No problem.” He still didn’t look up from the newspaper.

“Is there anything in the paper about Donny Oliver?”

“No, probably too late to make the Sunday edition.”

I was about to say something when the phone rang. I didn’t want to talk to anyone except Greg right now. In spite of my cowardice, I knew we had to get this out into the open if we were to survive as a couple. The phone rang again.

“You should get that,” Greg said. I looked at him, and he raised his face to meet my eyes. His face was pale and his nose slightly red, but his eyes were not hard. I breathed easier. “Go ahead, Odelia.
I don’t mind.”

I gave him a weak smile and reached for the cordless phone, noting at the same time that my message light was blinking.

“Did you call earlier, Greg?”

He nodded but said nothing.

On the fourth ring, I punched the answer button. “Hello.”

I listened, said a few words, and told the caller I’d get back to him. Then I ended the call and turned my attention back to Greg.

“That was my father. He saw the news about the reunion on TV and was worried.”

“Seems the only one not worried is you.” He looked up again. This time his hazel eyes bore into me. “I called Dev Frye this morning.”

“You called Dev?”

He nodded. “I first heard about the reunion on the early news. I was worried and called you, both here and on your cell. When I got no answer, I called Dev’s cell. According to the news, he was at the reunion. According to him, he was there with you. By the way, he wanted to make sure I looked in on you this morning.” Greg made the last comment with a slight
humph
.

I looked down into my coffee mug briefly, then back up at Greg. “I took him instead of Zee to the reunion.”

“So it seems.”

“I guess I should have told you.”

“Bingo!” He slammed his hand down on the table, making our mugs jump. Coffee sloshed out of my full cup onto the table. The animals, curled in a corner, went on alert.

Grabbing a nearby dishcloth, I wiped up the spilled coffee. I kept my eyes down. I didn’t know what to say. He was right, I should have told him.

“I thought we were in a serious relationship, Odelia. I thought it was exclusive.” His voice was tense, as was his jaw.

I still didn’t say anything. I was too busy keeping my tears in check.

“I had hoped that once you put that shooting mess behind you, you would finally want to marry me. But obviously, I was wrong.”

“No, Greg,” I said in a hurry. “You’re not wrong. I do want to marry you. I want that more than anything. I just didn’t want to go to that silly reunion without a—” I stopped abruptly, knowing that I was about to set off yet another land mine.

“Without a
date
, Odelia? Is that what you were going to say?” Greg raised his voice a notch more, something he seldom did. “People in exclusive relationships do not date other people. Hence, the definition of
exclusive
.”

I looked down at the soggy cloth in my hand, barely able to contain my tears, then back up at him. “Dev wasn’t a date, Greg. He knows that. I know that. And you need to understand that. He escorted me to the reunion, nothing more.” Suddenly, I thought about Johnette and Victor Morales and wondered if maybe they should be having such a pow-wow.

Greg sighed. “I do believe you, Odelia. I’ve never doubted your love. I just doubt your decisions from time to time. You seem to make some of them for silly reasons, without thinking about the consequences. Even after all this time, you still think about how something affects you, not how it affects
us
. I need to be in an
us
relationship.”

He picked up his coffee mug and turned his chair toward the counter and the coffee maker. I stopped him and got up myself.
I retrieved the pot, poured a second cup for him, and placed it on the table on a hot pad.

“You don’t understand, Greg. I couldn’t go to that reunion alone last night, or with Zee. I know I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to feel obligated to go. You were so sick.” I took a long drag from my mug, hardly tasting it. “I shouldn’t have gone at all.”

“Now I wish I hadn’t urged you to go.” He took a sip of his own coffee. The two of us sat at the table a few minutes, both lost in our thoughts and our mugs. Although Greg had quieted down, I knew he was still very angry. Maybe it was the vein bulging every now and then in his temple, or the way he clutched the mug between both his hands, almost like he wanted them around my neck.

“It’s not just Dev Frye, Odelia,” Greg finally said, breaking the silence. “It’s also your knack for stumbling into danger. I just can’t keep worrying about you all the time.” His voice started to climb again. “Hell, my family can’t keep worrying about you. They love you and care about you. My mother would have been on the phone to me in a panic this morning if the news had mentioned you; which, thankfully, it didn’t. The brawl in the grocery store had her troubled enough.”

“It wasn’t a brawl!” I got up, stomped to the sink, and stared out the window above it into my small patio area. It was going to be a cool but sunny fall day. I felt my heart racing and tried to calm down by thinking about the weather. “I was just trying to help those people.”

“I know that, Odelia, but the black eye incident aside, most people go all their lives without becoming involved with murder. You can’t seem to go more than a year without tripping over a dead body.”

“Corpse magnet.”

“What?”

“Corpse magnet,” I repeated, still staring out the kitchen window. “That’s what Seth called me this morning.”

“Well, Odelia, I don’t want to marry a corpse magnet!”

I swung my head around and gawked at him. “And just what does
that
mean, Greg?”

He covered his face with both of his hands and scrubbed up and down. “Arggh!” When he removed his hands, his face radiated exasperation and was flushed, both from fever and emotion. “It means … ” He paused, took a deep breath, and looked me square in the eye. “It means I don’t want to marry someone I have to worry about constantly.”

“It means you don’t want to marry
me
, doesn’t it?”

“Careful, Odelia, don’t put words in my mouth.”

After taking several deep breaths, I took a cautious step closer to him. I reached out a hand slightly as I moved, then pulled it back as though touching him would scald me.

“But, Greg, it’s normal to worry about the people you love.”

“It’s not normal,” he said with a deep sigh, “to worry about a wife being shot at, chased, or threatened in any way on a regular basis; not unless she’s a police officer, which you are not.”

“Oh, come on,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “This is Southern California. People worry about that stuff every day. They worry about it every time they drive a freeway.”

Greg was not amused.

“I mean it, Odelia. I cannot be worrying about you stumbling over bodies and sticking your nose into crimes every time I turn around.”

I put both hands on my hips and stood my ground. “Who said I was going to do anything about Donny Oliver’s murder?” Greg said nothing. “I couldn’t stand the guy. Why would I get involved? In fact, he’s lucky I didn’t kill him
myself
thirty years ago.”

“Dev told me there was something between you and this Oliver guy years ago. Something unpleasant, but he couldn’t get you to tell him. He asked if I knew anything, and I don’t.”

“It’s not important, Greg. It was back in high school.”

“Dev seems to think it’s important. You might even be questioned about it in an official capacity.”

My mouth dropped open. “Why? It has nothing to do with Donny’s murder. I was dancing with Dev when Donny was killed, and he knows it.”

At the mention of dancing and Dev, Greg looked away. I looked at his wheelchair and wanted to smack myself for being such a thoughtless heel. After a few moments of silence, Greg started moving away from the table and toward the front door.

“Come on, Wainwright.” The dog got up from the floor and started to follow.

“Greg, please don’t go.” I stopped him partway through the living room and stood in front of his wheelchair. “I’ll tell you about Donny Oliver and me. It’s not pleasant, and it has nothing to do with his murder.”