A Note From an Old Acquaintance (17 page)

16

“
MR
.
RUBY
,
YOU
OKAY
?”

Ruby turned from the view atop his latest project and spotted his construction foreman staring at him, his ruddy face clouded with concern. Ruby nodded. “I’m fine, Tommy.”

“Well, just the same, sir, you wanna be careful about daydreamin’ around here. There’s only those cables for railings, and it’s a long way down.”

Indeed it was. Forty floors. And he knew better. A hard hat did little good if one walked off the end of a girder. The problem was he couldn’t get this Weller character out of his head. It was silly, he knew it, but Joanna had knocked him for a loop when she’d dropped his name like a bomb last night. Her little flirtation at Nick’s party was one thing, but why was she having anything to do with the guy, now? Could Nick have referred him? It stood to reason. After all, Nick’s graphic design was great, but his writing was dull. Joanna’s mailer deserved better. But was Weller the ticket? Maybe.... According to Nick, the guy was a “kick-ass writer,” so perhaps it was only business for Joanna. Once Weller did his job and the show was over that would be that.

Except, he couldn’t make himself believe that. He couldn’t, because of those six seemingly innocent words Joanna uttered before leaving the room:
“He’s a writer, and he understands....”

She said them the way a
lover
would, and no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, the suspicions remained entrenched in his heart...festering.

Ruby turned to his foreman, who stood near the elevator going over the blueprints with a couple of his senior workers. “Hey, Tommy?”

The foreman looked up, his thick eyebrows arching. “Yes, sir?”

Ruby motioned for him to approach. The two other workers nodded and moved off. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ruby?” the foreman said, rolling the blueprints into a tight tube.

Ruby looked out over the Boston skyline, putting his thoughts in order. “You’re the kind of guy that keeps his eyes and ears open, Tommy. You don’t miss anything, and I like that.”

“Thank you, sir, I appreciate that.”

“I need a recommendation. You know anyone who does any private eye work? Someone good?”

The foreman frowned. “Yeah, matter of fact, I do. The guy’s young and hungry, but he knows what he’s doin’. You got a problem, Mr. Ruby?”

“Just a trifle, but I need someone discreet.”

Tommy reached into his leather jacket, took out his wallet and extracted a gray-colored business card, which he handed to his boss. Ruby glanced at the card then slipped it into his jacket pocket.

“Cary’s as discreet as they come. Did a great job with my cousin’s divorce. He’ll make your problem go away.”

“That’s comforting,” Ruby said.

After finishing his inspection of the building site, Ruby drove his Jag back to Newbury Street. At his desk, he pulled out the card Tommy had given him and stared at it.

Mosley Investigations

Cary Mosley

617-555-2525

Did he really want to take this step? Did he really believe something more was going on than Joanna was letting on? He glanced toward her photo on the wall, his emotions welling.

“Damn it! This is NOT happening!” he shouted, pounding his fist onto his desk. The force of the blow knocked over a container of paper clips near the edge. He watched them patter to the floor, his mind grasping at straws.

He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching her—possessing her. Yet
not
knowing would be far worse. If she were sleeping with this Weller guy, he could deal with it. Just how, he didn’t know, but given time he’d figure it out. He always did.

With Carolyn, his erstwhile girlfriend, the solution was easy. He gave her what she really wanted all along: a big payoff. He smiled even now, recalling her mad spending sprees, the cars, the clothes, the gambling losses, the drugs, and the quick descent into the mire of irreversible debt. She tried to get her act together, tried to snag another sugar daddy, but by then the word was out: she was damaged goods. Last he heard his little lost debutante was hooking for a greasy pimp who liked to use his fists.

The thought of anything like that happening to Joanna made him shiver. Carolyn was a shark, trolling for rich meat, and his father was too blind or too vain to see it. Joanna was far better than that, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a woman. That didn’t mean she was immune to temptation, not that Weller was a particularly tempting dish. He was just an average-looking guy. So, maybe he was just paranoid, maybe he was imagining all of it.

“But I’m not, am I, Joanna....” he said, staring again at her photo.

With a heavy sigh, Erik Ruby reached for the phone and dialed.

17

THE
NEXT
THREE
DAYS
passed in a schizophrenic jumble in Brian’s mind, the time simultaneously racing and creeping by. When he had to concentrate on a client and a job, he’d check the clock and realize—with a shock—that three hours had passed. When his mind turned to Joanna, and this happened more often than not, seconds dragged on like minutes, minutes like hours. Fortunately, the edit suite was busy during that time, which meant he could lose himself in the tasks at hand.

By late Thursday afternoon, he was more than ready for the weekend...and for Joanna. Not only had she haunted his every waking moment, she’d invaded his dreams, as well, leading him on phantasmagoric journeys both spiritual and erotic. He awoke from them all awash in tears of joy and with a palpable longing for her that sustained and inspired him throughout the remainder of his day.

After his last client left it took every ounce of will and determination to go through the tedious routine of cleaning the suite and updating his logs when all he wanted to do was pick up the phone and call her. When he finally did, the studio line rang ten times before he gave up. He tried her car phone next and got the recording telling him the subscriber was not available. That was odd. Should he head home and call her from there, or try again? He opted to give it another shot. The studio line was answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi. I tried you a couple of minutes ago and you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry,” she said, sounding out of breath. “I was in my shop and the power tool I was using kept me from hearing it.”

“Playing Rosie the Riveter again?”

“Yes,” she said. “And you’d better be nice to me or I’ll drill you a new one.” She burst out laughing and Brian joined her, enjoying the sound of her laughter even more than the silly image her words evoked.

“How are you?” she said, after calming down. “I’ve really missed you, you know.”

“And I’ve missed you. The last three days felt like three weeks.”

“Me, too....”

“I’m just finishing up here, then I’m going to head home and jump in the shower.”

“Why don’t you wait for me?” she asked.

Brian grinned. “Only if you insist.”

“Oh, I do, I do,” she said, giggling.

“Well, I’ll warn you, my ancient tub is a challenge.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They lay in each other’s arms amid the tangle of his bedclothes, the afterglow of their marathon of lovemaking only now fading. Joannashifted her weight, nuzzling his neck, a sigh escaping from her parted lips. She reached for his hand entwining it with hers.

“You have such wonderful hands, Brian, so strong yet so gentle.”

He kissed her, caressing her jaw line. “I’m glad you appreciate them.”

“I’d like to sketch them. May I?”

“Now? I thought we were going to look at your mailer.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at him. “We can do that in a little bit. Come on, pretty please?”

She gave him a mock pout and he laughed. “All right, I know when I’m beaten.”

Joanna smiled and climbed off the bed, going for the sketchbook and drawing pencils lying on the breakfast table next to her handbag. At least now he knew why she’d brought them.

Sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, she flipped to a blank page and then considered him for a moment. “Okay, now hold up your right hand, as if you’re reaching for something.”

“But that’s the hand with the broken knuckle.”

“I love that knuckle, it’s so macho.” She laughed at Brian’s look of exasperation then turned serious. “Please, I really think it makes your hand unique.”

Brian sighed and lifted his hand and Joanna began to draw, the only sound the scratching of her pencil against the paper. He loved the way she frowned in concentration, her lips pursing. He ached to kiss them.

After a few minutes, his arm began to tingle and throb.

“Can I move, now?”

“Not yet,” she said, her pencil moving faster. “Okay, now turn it slightly to the left. That’s it. Hold it there.”

The sound of the pencil moving against the page grew more frenzied.

“Can I at least put on some clothes?”

“No, I like you just the way you are,” she said, giving him a sly grin. “Now turn your hand a little to the right.”

Brian sighed and did as he was told. After another few minutes she stopped drawing and smiled. “Okay, you can put your arm down.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding and shook his arm to bring some of the feeling back into it. “Can I see?”

Joanna turned the sketchpad and Brian’s eyes widened. There were a total of four views of his hand, showing it from every angle. She’d caught every nuance of it right down to the lines in his palm.

“My God, Joanna, it’s exquisite. I had no idea you could draw like this.”

“I do the abstract work because I love it, but I never would have graduated art school if I couldn’t draw.”

“An old art teacher of mine once told me that hands were the hardest things to draw correctly.”

“He’s right.”

She put away the sketchpad and returned to the bed with a piece of art board. He saw that it was the paste-up of her mailer. He took it from her and looked it over. The copy was pretty weak, and he saw more than a few places where he could tweak it. It was Joanna’s picture that grabbed his attention, however: the black bodysuit, the provocative pose, the smoldering look in her eyes—a look very much like one he’d seen earlier that night.

“Christ, this is a hell of a picture.”

She groaned and fell over on the bed. “Not you, too.”

“What did I say?”

“I’ve already been all through this with Erik,” she snapped. “We’re going to change it. Put in more pictures of my art.”

“It’s so striking, though. I can tell you without a shred of doubt that no one who gets this mailer as it is will ever forget it.”

“I know. All they’ll remember is
me
.”

“Not such a bad thing in my book.”

“God! You men are all alike.”

She stood up and began putting on her clothes.

“Why are you so upset?”

“Because I thought you were different.”

Brian was on his feet and by her side, taking her by the shoulders. She glared back at him in defiance.

“Hey, I
am
different,” he said. “Look, it’s a stunning picture, a real classic, but you’re right it doesn’t belong in this mailer. I just thought it was great because I’m so damned crazy about you.”

Joanna’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

Brian looked shocked for a moment, then recovered, taking her face in his hands. “I love you, Joanna. I have from the first moment I laid eyes on you. And I hope to God I haven’t scared the pants off you.”

She trembled, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Brian, I love you, too.” She kissed him then, her tongue jutting into his mouth. The longer it went on the more aroused Brian became. Suddenly, she began to laugh, breaking the kiss.

“Now what?” Brian said.

“You said you hoped you hadn’t scared the pants off me.”

Brian shook his head. “Yeah, so?”

“Well, as you can see, I’m still not wearing any.”

Brian looked down and grinned. “So it would seem.”

“So...what are you going to do about it?”

Brian tapped his chin. “Hmm, let me see....”

“Hey!” she said, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.

“You want to play rough, do you? Well, I think it’s time for the...tickle monster,” he said, shifting his voice into a lower register.

“NOOO!” she squealed, running around the bed.

“You can run, but you can’t hide from the tickle monster!”

He lunged across the bed, catching her around the waist and pulling her onto the mattress. She shrieked with laughter when Brian blew a raspberry against her belly. But instead of continuing the game, he reached up and caressed her face, placing a tender kiss on the tip of her nose. He gazed into her eyes, his mood turning serious. “What are we going to do, Joanna?”

She put a finger to his lips. “Ssssh,” she said, her eyes moistening. “Let’s not go there right now, okay? Let’s just love each other.”

She kissed him then, and he lost himself in her arms.