about
her.
Yes, he realized it was an absurdly
stupid and risky thing to do, and he knew Phil would probably strangle him if
he learned what he planned, but he had to do this. He had to learn something
about this woman, something—he was almost ashamed to be thinking this— bad . All he wanted was for someone to
let him know, just hint , that Kelly
Wade had a long history of being a flake and a floozy and everybody had known
that she was bound to come to a bad end someday.
That might not help him sleep at
night. It might not make him forget that last look she had on her face, but it
was a start.
And it didn't have to be all that
risky. Not if he concocted a neat little story to explain his interest in Kelly
Wade should anyone ask.
Ed leaned back in the chair and
began inventing.
February 8
10:20 A.M.
Rob Harris lit a cigarette and
stared out at the Sunday morning sky. With his head propped up against the
headboard he lay stretched out in his bed, thinking about where he'd been the
past few years and where he might be headed—and not too crazy about either.
He looked around at the faded
wallpaper which had been here since he'd moved all his second-hand furniture
from his old west side digs after Tony had gone and got himself married. To the
best of his knowledge, this was the first time he had looked—really looked —at the room.
Who
lives here ? he wondered.
There wasn't a picture on the walls,
not a photo on the dresser. A motel room had more personality.
Where
have I been?
He'd been to work and back, and that
was about it. He'd put so much into the Job that he hadn't left much of a mark
anywhere else. The only thing he had changed here was the kitchen, and that had
been minimal, making space for some of the specialized utensils he'd picked up
over the years. But the rest of the apartment? He'd seen flop houses with more
character.
Marking time, that was what he
seemed to be doing. Why? Waiting for what? For Kara to come back?
He flung that thought away.
Ludicrous. He hadn't been saving himself for Kara. There'd been plenty of women
since Kara. He glanced at the sleeping form beside him. Like Connie, for
instance.
But it occurred to him that Kara had
done a hell of a lot more than he with their ten years apart. She'd been
married, had a child, graduated from college, and had a book in the works. Rob
had had the job when she'd left, and he still had the job. Nothing more. He
felt… jealous.
The thought of Kara brought Kelly to
mind, and with her came the thought that he should have gone to the funeral
yesterday. Even though Kara had let him know in no uncertain terms that he
wasn't needed there in rural, Pennsylvania , and it might have been uncomfortable, he
still felt he should have shown up. He'd had little or no contact with Kelly
since her sister had dropped him ten years ago, but he felt he owed it to her
to stand by her grave and say a prayer.
"What a jerk," he said
aloud.
Next to him in the bed, Connie
mumbled and turned onto her back. The movement exposed her right breast, pink
and ample. Rob watched the dark nipple rise in the cool air of the bedroom.
Connie squirmed, then pulled the covers up to her neck.
Rob leaned back with his hands
behind his head and continued his rumination on being a jerk. Mostly it had to
do with loyalty. He couldn't get past this feeling that he had some sort of
obligation to be there for everyone he knew or with whom he'd ever had a
potential relationship. Like Kelly Wade.
her.
Yes, he realized it was an absurdly
stupid and risky thing to do, and he knew Phil would probably strangle him if
he learned what he planned, but he had to do this. He had to learn something
about this woman, something—he was almost ashamed to be thinking this— bad . All he wanted was for someone to
let him know, just hint , that Kelly
Wade had a long history of being a flake and a floozy and everybody had known
that she was bound to come to a bad end someday.
That might not help him sleep at
night. It might not make him forget that last look she had on her face, but it
was a start.
And it didn't have to be all that
risky. Not if he concocted a neat little story to explain his interest in Kelly
Wade should anyone ask.
Ed leaned back in the chair and
began inventing.
February 8
10:20 A.M.
Rob Harris lit a cigarette and
stared out at the Sunday morning sky. With his head propped up against the
headboard he lay stretched out in his bed, thinking about where he'd been the
past few years and where he might be headed—and not too crazy about either.
He looked around at the faded
wallpaper which had been here since he'd moved all his second-hand furniture
from his old west side digs after Tony had gone and got himself married. To the
best of his knowledge, this was the first time he had looked—really looked —at the room.
Who
lives here ? he wondered.
There wasn't a picture on the walls,
not a photo on the dresser. A motel room had more personality.
Where
have I been?
He'd been to work and back, and that
was about it. He'd put so much into the Job that he hadn't left much of a mark
anywhere else. The only thing he had changed here was the kitchen, and that had
been minimal, making space for some of the specialized utensils he'd picked up
over the years. But the rest of the apartment? He'd seen flop houses with more
character.
Marking time, that was what he
seemed to be doing. Why? Waiting for what? For Kara to come back?
He flung that thought away.
Ludicrous. He hadn't been saving himself for Kara. There'd been plenty of women
since Kara. He glanced at the sleeping form beside him. Like Connie, for
instance.
But it occurred to him that Kara had
done a hell of a lot more than he with their ten years apart. She'd been
married, had a child, graduated from college, and had a book in the works. Rob
had had the job when she'd left, and he still had the job. Nothing more. He
felt… jealous.
The thought of Kara brought Kelly to
mind, and with her came the thought that he should have gone to the funeral
yesterday. Even though Kara had let him know in no uncertain terms that he
wasn't needed there in rural, Pennsylvania , and it might have been uncomfortable, he
still felt he should have shown up. He'd had little or no contact with Kelly
since her sister had dropped him ten years ago, but he felt he owed it to her
to stand by her grave and say a prayer.
"What a jerk," he said
aloud.
Next to him in the bed, Connie
mumbled and turned onto her back. The movement exposed her right breast, pink
and ample. Rob watched the dark nipple rise in the cool air of the bedroom.
Connie squirmed, then pulled the covers up to her neck.
Rob leaned back with his hands
behind his head and continued his rumination on being a jerk. Mostly it had to
do with loyalty. He couldn't get past this feeling that he had some sort of
obligation to be there for everyone he knew or with whom he'd ever had a
potential relationship. Like Kelly Wade.
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