Passion's Promise (23 page)

And then another tremor went through her. It had been days, a week ... a long time . . . she didn't even know how long. She hadn't even thought of him. Mark. But all in one day? In one fell swoop like that? Clean slate? Both of them? Wasn't that too much to handle? She cared a hell of a lot more about Mark than she did about Whit. Whit was in love. He had a man of his own. But Mark? God, it was like having two wisdom teeth pulled in one day.

But her feet carried her irreversibly toward the subway at Fifty-first Street and Lexington. She had to.

She really had to. And she knew it.

The train bumped along on its route pointing south, and she wondered why. For Luke? But that was crazy. She hardly knew him. And what if he canceled the weekend and never saw her again? Or what if she went to Chicago for the weekend, but he never saw her again after that? What if ... but she knew it wasn't for Luke. It was for Kezia. She had to. She couldn't play games anymore. Not with Whit, or Mark, or Edward, or anyone ... or herself. The many skins of the snake that was Kezia Saint Martin were peeling away. Now
there
would be a piece for the column.

It was a lot harder with Mark. Because she cared.

"You're going away?"

"Yes." She held his eyes and wanted to stroke his hair, but she couldn't do that to him. Not to Mark.

"But that didn't make any difference this summer." He looked hurt and confused and even younger than he was.

"It makes a difference now, though. Maybe I'll stay away for a very long time. A year, two years, I don't really know."

"Kezia, are you getting married?" The question was suddenly blunt and she wanted to say yes, just to make it easier, but she didn't want to tell him that either. It was enough to say that she was going away.

That was simpler.

"No, baby. I'm not getting married. I'm just going. And in my own way, I love you. Too much to screw you up. I'm older than you are, we both have things to do with our lives. Different things, separate things.

Ifs time now, Marcus. I think you know that too." He had finished the bottle of Chianti before she finished her second glass. Theyop* dered another.

"Can I ask you something crazy?"

"What?"

He smiled at her, hesitating; the boyish half smile she loved so much was all over his face. But that was the trouble. She loved the smile, the hair, The Partridge, and the studio. She didn't really love Mark. Not way down deep. Not the way she loved Luke. Not enough.

"Are you the chick I saw in the paper that time?"

She waited a long moment before answering. Something pounded in her ears, and then she looked at him. Straight in the eye. "Yes. Probably. So?"

"So, I was curious. What's it feel like to be like that?"

"Lonely. Scary. Dull a lot of the time. It's not so hot"

"Is that why you kept coming down here? Because it was dull and you were bored?"

"No. Maybe originally, just to get away. But you've been someone very special to me, Mark."

"Was I an escape?"

Yes. But how could she tell bun that? And why tell him now?
Oh, please, don't let me hurt him . .
.
Not
more than I have to.

"No. You're a person. A beautiful person. A person I loved."

"Loved? Not 'love'?" He looked at her, tears swimming bleakly in the childlike eyes.

"Times change, Marcus. And we have to let them change, for both our sakes. It only gets ugly when people try to hang on. It's too late then. For both our sakes, I have to go."

He nodded sadly into his wine, and she touched his face for one last time before she stood up and walked away. She half ran once she got out the door.

Mercifully, a cab was cruising down the street. She hailed it and slipped inside, so he couldn't see the tears running down her face. Nor could she see the tears on his. He never saw her again. Only in the papers, now and then.

The phone was ringing as she came through the door. She felt wrung out. It had been like two wisdom teeth after all. Four wisdom teeth. Nine. A hundred. And now what? It couldn't be Whit. Edward? Her agent?

"Hi, Mama." It was Luke.

"Hi, love. Oh God, it's good to hear your voice. I'm beat." She had needed the sound of him so badly ... his touch ... his arms. . . .

"What'd you do today?"

"Everything. Nothing. It was a horrible day."

"Christ, you make it sound like it."

"I just 'took care of business,' as you'd say. I planted a nasty little piece in the column last night, designed to make Whit's lover jealous." She had no secrets from Luke. He knew her whole life now. "Which it did, so we had lunch and got that squared away. No more Whitney to squire me to parties."

"You sound upset. Is that the way you wanted it?"

"Yes, that's why I did it. I just wanted to do it in some way that wouldn't ruin his ego. I felt I owed him that after all these years. We played a game till the end. And then I went down to SoHo, and got that all cleared up. I feel like the bitch of the year."

"Yeah. Those things never feel good. I'm sorry you had to deal with all that in one day." But he didn't sound sorry, and she knew that he was relieved. It made her glad she had done it.

"It had to be done. And it's a relief. I'm just tired. And what about you, love? Busy day?"

"Not as busy as yours. What else you been up to, babe? No fancy benefit meetings?" He chuckled in the phone and she groaned. "Now what did I say?"

"The magic word ... oh shit. You just reminded me. I'm due at a goddamn Arthritis meeting at five, and it's already that now. Oh Fuck And Shit!" He laughed at her and she giggled.

"Martin HaOam should only hear that!"

"Oh shut up."

"Well, Fve got more good news for you. I hate to hit yon with it on a day like today. You can't come to Chicago this weekend, babe. Something came up and I have to go to the coast."

"What coast? What in hell did he mean?

"The West Coast, my love. Christ, Kezia, I bate to do this to you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm terrific."

"Now come on, be a big girl."

"Does that mean I can't see you?"

"Yes. It does."

"Couldn't I fly out to meet you out there?"

"No, babe, you cant It wouldn't be cool."

"Why not, for chrissake? Oh Luke, I had a perfectly horrible day, and now this . . . please let me come out."

"Baby, I can't I'm going to be organizing a heavy little business deal, you might say. Itfs touchy for me, and it's not a scene I want you involved in. It's going to be a rough couple of weeks."

"That long?" She wanted to cry.

"Maybe. I'll see."

She took a deep breath, and swallowed, and tried to untangle her mind. What a bitch of a day.

"Luke, will you be all right?"

He hesitated for just a moment before he said, "I'll be fine. Now you just go to your colitis meeting, or whatever the fuck it is, and don't worry your pretty little head about me. This is one dude who can- take care of himself. That much you should know."

"Famous last words."

"I'll let you know as soon as I'm back. Just remember one thing."

"What?"

"That I love you." At least there was that

They hung up and Luke paced the length of his suite in Chicago. Shit, he was crazy to get involved with her. And now of all times, when things were starting to get hot She was starting to depend on him, and she wanted more than he could give. He had other things to think about the commitments he had made, the men he wanted to help, and he had his own ass to think of now, and the fucking pigs who'd been following him for weeks. Days, years, it felt as though he had always had them on his tail, like vultures swooping down on him, coming just close enough to let him know they were there, and then disappearing again behind a cloud. But he always knew they were there. He could always feel it.

He walked to the bar and poured himself a long tall bourbon in a water glass. No water, no soda, no ice, and swallowed it without putting the glass down. And then, as though he had to know, he took three long strides to the door of his suite and yanked it open with a jerk that should have pulled it off its hinges, but didn't. It shuddered briefly In his hand, and he stood there, and so did the man in the corner. He looked shocked to see Luke, and had jumped when the door opened. He was wearing a hat, and walked down the corridor trying to look like a man going somewhere, but he wasn't. He looked every inch what he was, a cop on an assignment. The tail on Luke Johns.

Kezia's feet felt like lead as she stepped into the cab. The meeting was being held on upper Fifth Avenue. With a view of the park. At Tiffany's apartment. Three floors on Ninety-second and Fifth. And bourbon or scotch. No mickey-mousing around with lemonade or sherry at her place. There would also be gin and vodka for those who preferred that. At home, Tiffany stuck to Black Label.

She was standing near the door when Kezia arrived, with a double scotch on the rocks in one hand.

"Kezial How divine! You look fabulous, and we were just getting started. You haven't missed anything!"

That was for sure.

"Goodie." Tiffany was too far gone to notice the tone of Kezia's voice or the blurry look around her eyes where her mascara had run when she'd cried. The day had taken its toll.

"Bourbon or scotch?"

"Both."

Tiffany looked momentarily baffled. She was already drunk, and had been since noon.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to confuse you. Make it scotch and soda, but don't bother. I'll make it myself." Kezia strode to the bar, and for this rare occasion she matched Tiffany drink for drink. It was the second time she had gotten drunk because of Luke, but at least the last time she'd been happy.

"Keria?" It was Edward.

"Hi, love. What's new?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you. Do you realize that I haven't seen or heard from you in almost three weeks?"

"Don't feel alone. No one has. I've been hibernating." She was munching on an apple as she talked to him, with her feet on the desk.

"Are you ill?"

"No. Just busy."

"Writing?"

"Yup."

"I haven't seen you anywhere. I was beginning to worry."

"Well, don't I've been fine. I've been out a couple of times, just to keep my hand in the game for the column. But my 'appearances' have been brief and sporadic, I'm sticking pretty close to home."

"Any particular reason?" He was probing again, and she continued to munch on her apple noncommittally.

"No particular reason. Just work. And I wasn't in the mood to go out more than I absolutely had to."

"Afraid to run into Whit?"

"No . . . well . . . maybe a little. I was more afraid to run into all the local big mouths. But actually, I've just been snowed under with work. I'm doing three articles, all with deadlines next week."

"I'm glad you're all right then. Actually, my dear, I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch."

She made a face and put down the apple core. Shit "Well, love, I'll tell you . . ." Then she started to laugh. "Okay. I'll have lunch with you. But not at any of the usual spots."

"My God, I do believe the girl's becoming a recluse." He laughed back but there was still a hint of worry in his voice. "Kezia, are you sure you're all right?"

"Wonderful. Honest." But she'd have been a lot happier if she could have seen Luke. They were still burning the long distance wires twice a day, but he couldn't have her around. There was still too much happening.

So she had been burying herself in her work.

"All right. Then where do you want to have lunch?"

"I know a nice natural foods bar on East Sixty-third. How does that sound to you?"

"You want the truth?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Repulsive."

She laughed at the sound of his voice. "Be a sport, darling. You'll love it."

"For you, Kezia . . . even a natural foods bar. But tell me the truth, is it dreadful?"

"What if it is! You order a baggie from Lutece and bring it along."

"Don't be absurd."

Then give this a try. It's really not bad."

"Ahhh . . . youth."

They agreed to meet at twelve-thirty, and she was already there when he arrived. He looked around, and it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. The people at the small wooden tables were a healthy mix of midtown Eastsiders. Secretaries, art directors, hippies, pretty girls in blue jeans with portfolios at their sides, boys in flannel shirts and shoulder-length hair, and here and there a man in a suit. Neither he nor Kezia stood out in their midst, and he was relieved. It was certainly not La Grenouille, but thank God it wasn't Horn & Hardart's either . . . not that there was anything wrong with their food . . . but the people.

The people! They just weren't Edward's style. And one never knew what Kezia had up her sleeve. The girl had a fiendish sense of humor.

She was sitting at a corner table when he approached, and he could see that she was wearing jeans. He smiled a long smile into her eyes and he leaned down to kiss her when he got to the table.

"I have missed you so, child." He never realized quite how much until he saw her again. It was the same feeling he got every year at their first lunch after the summer. It had been almost a month this time too.

"I've missed you too, love. Hell, I haven't seen you in ages. And it's almost Halloween." She giggled mischievously and he searched her face as he settled into a chair.

There was something different about her eyes . . . that same something different he had noticed the last time he'd seen her. And she was suddenly thinner.

"You've lost weight." It was a fatherly accusation.

"Yes, but not very much. I eat funny when I write."

"You ought to make it a point to eat well."

"At Le Mistral perhaps? Or is it healthier to feed one's face at La Cote Basque?" She was teasing him again, not unkindly, but nevertheless with a new vehemence.

"Kezia, child, you're really too old to consider becoming a hippie." He was teasing her back. But not entirely.

"You're absolutely right, darling. I wouldn't even consider it. Just a hard-working slave to my typewriter.