Passion's Promise (41 page)

"How come you didn't then, babe?" But, as he watched her, he wondered. She was frighteningly cool.

"My writing, I guess. It helps me spill the grief in my guts. Gives me a place where I can be me. The other way, keeping it all in, sooner or later rots your soul." She thought once more of Tiffany. That's what had happened to her, and others in the course of the years. Two of Kezia's friends had committed suicide since college.

"Luke'll feel better when he sees you, anyway." And that was worth something. But Alejandro knew why she had worn the well-tailored black coat, the black gabardine slacks, the black suede shoes. Not for Lucas. But to make sure that the next picture in the paper showed her with it all in control. Elegant, uptight, and distinguished. There would be no collapse at the jail.

"You think there'll be press when we get there?"

"I don't think so, I know it"

There was. Kezia and Alejandro got out of the cab at the front entrance of 850 Bryant Street The Hall of Justice. It was an unimpressive gray building with none of the majesty of City Hall. Outside, a pair of sentries from the
Examiner
scouted her arrival. Another pair were pacing at the building's rear entrance.

Kezia had a nose for them, like Luke did for police. She clung tightly to Alejandro's arm while looking as though she barely held it, and quietly pulled her dark glasses over her eyes. There was a faint smile on her face.

She brushed quickly past a voice calling her name, while a second reporter spoke into a pocket-sized transmitter. Now they knew what lay ahead. Alejandro studied her face as a guard searched her handbag, but she looked surprisingly calm. A photographer snapped their picture, and with bowed heads they stepped quickly into an elevator in the salmon marble halls. It struck Kezia, as the doors closed, that the walls were the same color as the gladioli at Italian funerals, and she laughed.

On the sixth floor, Alejandro led her quickly through another door and up a flight of strangely drafty stairs.

"A breeze from the River Styx perhaps?" There was irony and mischief in her voice. He couldn't get over it Was this the Kezia he knew?"

She kept the glasses in place and he took her hand as they waited in line. The man in front of them smelled and was drunk, the black woman in front of him was obese and crying. Farther up the line, a few children were wailing and a bunch of hippies leaned back against the wall, laughing. They stood in a long thin line on the stairs, one by one reaching a desk at the top. Identification of visitor, name of inmate, and then a little pink ticket with a window number and a Roman numeral indicating a group. They were in Group n. The first group had already been herded inside. The stairs were crowded but there were no reporters in sight.

They moved inside, to a neon-lit room which boasted another desk, two guards, and three rows of benches. Beyond it they could see a long hall lined with windows, along which ran a shelf with a telephone every few feet, and a stool to sit on as you visited. It was awkward and uncomfortable. Group I was in the midst of its visit, destined to last five minutes or twenty, depending on the mood of the guards. Faces were animated, women giggled and then cried, inmates looked urgent and determined and then let their faces relax at the sight of a three-year-old son. It was enough to tear your heart out Alejandro glanced at Kezia uncomfortably. She looked undaunted. Nothing showed. She smiled at him and lit another cigarette. And then suddenly the photographers swarmed them. Three cameramen and two reporters, even the local rep from
Women's Wear
was with them.

Alejandro felt a wave of claustrophobia engulf him. How did she stand it? The other visitors looked astonished and some backed away while others pressed forward to see what was happening. Suddenly, there was chaos, with Kezia in the eye of the storm, dark glasses in place, mouth set, looking stern but unshakably calm.

"Are you under sedation? Have you spoken to Luke Johns since the hearing? Are you. . . . Did you. . . . Will you. . . . Why?" She said nothing, only shaking her head.

"I have no comment to make. Nothing to say." Alejandro felt useless beside her. She remained in her seat, bowed her head, as though by not seeing them, they might disappear. But then unexpectedly, she stood up and spoke to them in a low, subdued voice.

"I think that's enough now. I told you, I have nothing to say." A burst of flashes went off in her face, and two guards came to the rescue. The press would have to wait outside, they were disrupting the visiting.

Even the inmates having visits had stopped talking and were watching the group around Kezia and the flashes of light that went off every few seconds.

A guard called her aside to the desk, as the photographers and reporters reluctantly exited. Alejandro joined her, realizing he hadn't said a word since the onslaught began. He felt lost in the stir. He had never even thought of dealing with something like that, but she handled it well. That surprised him. There had been no trace of panic, but then again it wasn't new to her either.

The head guard leaned close to them and made a suggestion. A guard could accompany them when they left. They could take an elevator straight into the police garage in the basement, where a cab could be waiting. Alejandro leapt at the idea, and Kezia gratefully agreed. She was even paler than she had been, and the tremor in her hands was now a steady fluttering. The paparazzi attack had taken its toll.

"Do you suppose I might see Mr. Johns in a private room somewhere up here?" She was rapidly abandoning her determination to shun special favors. The curious crowd was becoming almost as oppressive as the press. But her request was denied. Nevertheless, a young guard was assigned to hover nearby.

A voice called out the end of the first visit, and guards ushered Group I into a cage where they could wait for the elevator without disturbing the next group. It was strange to watch the difference in faces as they left—pained, shocked, silent. Their moment of laughter had ended. Women clutched little slips of paper with orders, requests: toothpaste, socks, the name of a lawyer a cellmate had suggested.

"Group Two!" The voice boomed into her thoughts, and Alejandro took her elbow. The pink slip of paper in her hand was crumpled and limp, but they checked it for the number of the window where they'd visit Luke.

There would be other visitors at close range on either side, but the promised guard was standing beside them. It seemed like a very long wait. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen. It felt endless. And then they came.

From behind a steel door, a line of dirty wrinkled orange suits, unshaven faces, unwashed teeth, and broad smiles. Luke was fifth on the line. Alejandro took one look at his face and knew he was all right, and then he watched Kezia.

Unconsciously, she got to her feet as she saw him, stood very straight, to her full tiny height, a blistering smile on her face. Her eyes came alive. She looked incredibly beautiful. And she must have looked even better to Luke. Their eyes met and held and she almost danced on the spot. Until finally he got to the phone.

"Why's the goon standing behind you?"

"Lucas!"

"All right, the
guard."
They exchanged a smile.

"To keep away the curious."

"Trouble?"

"Taparazzi."

Luke nodded. "Someone said there was a movie star out here, and a lot of reporters took her picture. I take it that's you?"

She nodded.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He didn't question that, and she wouldn't have confessed to being other than 'fine,' if he had.

His eyes momentarily sought Alejandro, who nodded and smiled.

"That picture of you in the paper was the shits, Mama."

"Yeah, it was."

"I freaked out when I saw it Looked like you were having a stroke."

"Don't be a jerk. And I'm all back together now."

"Did that scoop hit New York?"

She nodded again.

"Jesus. You must have heard about it from Edward."

"You might say that But he'll survive." She smiled ruefully.

"Will your

She nodded as he searched her face.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing unexpected. He was just worried."

"What a bitch for you to have to go through that on top of everything else." It was odd the way they were talking, as though they were sitting side by side on the couch.

"Bullshit. Besides, Lucas, we've really been lucky till now. It could have happened long before this."

"Yeah, but we could have gotten press coverage in a lot better circumstances."

She nodded and smiled, anxious to turn to other subjects. They had so little time.

"Are you all right, darling? Really?"

"Baby, I'm used to this shit I'm A-l okay."

"We're still engaged, you know, Mr. Johns."

"Mama, I love you."

"I adore you." Her whole face glowed as she melted into his eyes.

They discussed legal technicalities, and he gave her a list of calls to make, but basically he had taken care of all his own business before they came out for the hearing. He had known what the chances were, better than she had.

The rest of then- visit was spent on banalities, jokes, teas-tog, sarcastic descriptions of the food, but he looked surprisingly well. The grimness was notunfamiliar to him. He spoke to Alejandro for a few minutes, and then pointed back at Kezia. She removed an earring again and picked up the phone as Luke looked over his shoulder toward a voice she couldn't hear.

"I think this is going to be it. Visiting is about over." "Oh." A dim light nickered in her eyes. "Luke . . ."

"Listen, babe, I want you to do something for me. I want you to go back to New York tonight I already told Alejandro." "Lucas, why?"

"What are you going to do here? Hang out till I get to Q, and then wait three weeks till I get clearance for visits, and see me once a week for an hour? Don't be an ass, babe. I want you at home." Besides, it was safer. Even though now, she wasn't really in danger. Now that he was on ice, all the factions warring against him would be appeased. Kezia was of no real interest Still, he didn't want to take chances with her.

"Go to New York, and then what Luke?"

"Do what you do, Mama. Write, work, live. You're not in here, I am. Don't forget that."

"Lucas, you . . . darling, I love you. I want to stay here in San Francisco."

She was fierce, but he was more so. "You're going. I'm leaving for Quentin on Friday. And I'll put the forms in for you to visit. When they get processed, you can come back. Figure about three weeks. I'll let you know when."

"Can I write to you?"

"Does a bear shit in the woods?" He grinned at her.

"Lucas!" The tenseness broke into laughter. "You must be all right."

"I am. So you be fine too. And tell that idiot friend of mine that he'd better take care of you or he'll be one dead Mexican when I get out."

"How charming. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

And then it was suddenly over. A guard called something on Luke's side of the glass wall, and another guard told them they'd had it on the visitors' side. She felt Alejandro's hand on her arm, and Lucas stood up.

"That's it Mama. I'll write."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." The entire world seemed to stop with those words. It was as though he placed them one by one in her heart via his eyes. He said them, and held her close with a look, and then gently he put down the phone. Her eyes never left him as he walked back through the door, and this time he looked back, with a jaunty grin and a wave. She answered with a wave and her most valiant smile. And then he was gone.

The guard who had stood behind them now took them aside and showed them the way to the separate elevator. A cab had been called and was already waiting to the garage. There were no reporters in sight.

In a moment they were in the cab and speeding from the building and Luke. They were alone again, Alejandro and Kezia, and now she had nothing to look forward to. The visit was over. And his words rang in her ears, as his image filled her mind's eye. She wanted to be alone just then, with the dreams of the recent and distant past. The still new aquamarine sparkled on her trembling hand as she lit a cigarette and fought for control.

"He wants us to go back to New York." She spoke to Alejandro without looking at him and her voice sounded hoarse. . ...

"I know." He had expected a fight. It surprised him to hear her say it so bluntly. "Are you up to the trip?'

It would be best if she was, to just get the hell out and let her pick up the pieces at home, and not at the Ritz.

"I'm fine. I think there's a plane at four. Let's catch it."

"We'll have to run like the devil." He looked at his watch, and she discreetly blew her nose.

"I think we can make it." Her voice kept him a thousand miles away, and it was the last time they spoke until they boarded the plane.

The voice on the phone had grown familiar and dear.

"I'm hungry. Any chance that you'll feed me?" It was Alejandro. They had been back in New York for a week. A week of constant calls from him, unexpected visits, small bunches of flowers, problems he supposedly needed her help to resolve, ruses and excuses and tenderness.

"I suppose I might drum up some tuna surprise."

"That's what they eat on Park Avenue? Shit, I eat better uptown. But the company's not as good there.

Besides, I've got a problem."

"Another one? Bullshit. Honest, love, I'm okay. You don't have to come down here again."

"What if I want to?"

"Then I shall rejoice at the pleasure of seeing you." She smiled into the phone.

"So formal. And serving tuna surprise yet. Any news from Luke?"

"Yep. Two great big fat letters. And a visiting form for me to fill out. Hallelujah! Fifteen more days and then I can visit."

"Keep your shirt on. Did he say anything else? Or just a lot of corny shit I don't want to hear?"

"Lots of that. And he also said he was in a four-by-nine cell with another guy. Sounds cozy, doesn't it?"

"Very. Any other good news?" He didn't like the sound of her voice when she told him. Bitterness had begun to replace grief.