The Devil's Advocate (20 page)

When he opened his eyes again, he felt as if he were an inch or two above a treadmill.

The floor seemed to be flowing under him. He shook his head again and closed his eyes. When he opened them a second time, he found Diane at his side.

"You all right?" she whispered.

"Just a little dizzy. Too much champagne, I think."

"It's okay. No one's paying any attention to you. They're all infatuated with Miriam.

Lean on me, and I'll help you back to the study where you can rest up a bit. I'll get you a wet washcloth, too."

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

He let her lead him away, keeping his eyes closed most of the time, because every time he opened them the room spun. She guided him back onto the soft leather couch in the study and then went out to get him a washcloth. Kevin lay back, resting his head against the top of the couch, and tried to open his eyes. The ceiling looked like a whirlpool, and he had the horrible feeling he was falling into it, so he closed his eyes again and kept them closed until he felt the cold cloth on his forehead.

"You'll be all right in a few minutes," Diane said.

"Thank you."

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No, that's all right. I'll just rest a bit. As soon as Miriam's finished playing, tell her where I am and that I'm all right."

"Sure."

"Thanks," he said and closed his eyes. In moments he was asleep. He had no idea how long he was there. When he awoke, he was confused at first. Where was he? How did he get there? He scrubbed his face with his dry palms and looked around the study. It all came back to him in a moment, and he realized it was very, very quiet. There was no music, no sounds of the party.

Kevin got to his feet, a little unsteady at first, but quickly regained his composure. Then he went to the doorway and stepped out. The hallway was brightly lit, but the party room was only dimly illuminated. Confused, he moved down the hallway as quickly as he could until he reached the loft. The fountain was going, but all the colorful lights had been turned off. A small light was burning behind the bar. The curtains had been drawn over the large windows. The stereo was off, the disco removed. Most of the light in the room spilled out from the elevator, its door open.

"What the .. . where the hell. .."

He rubbed his face vigorously, as if doing so would restore the evening, but nothing changed.

"Hello?" His voice echoed in the great room. "Mr. Milton?"

He turned and looked down the corridor.

"Miriam?"

He heard nothing but the monotonous soft sound of the fountain.

Miriam certainly wouldn't have left without me, he thought.
That's insane. Where the
hell is everyone? What is this, some kind of practical joke being played on me for
passing out from too much champagne?
Sure, what else could it be? Everyone, at least the associates, was probably hiding in these rooms. He laughed to himself and shook his head. What a bunch of guys.

He started down the corridor, moving as quietly as he could, expecting Dave or Ted to burst out of a room. But when he paused at the first door and looked in, he saw nothing but darkness. It was the same at the second bedroom doorway and the third, and no one was in any of the large bathrooms. He already knew no one was in the study.

He stopped at Mr. Milton's bedroom door and listened. All was quiet. He knocked gently and waited.

"Mr. Milton?"

There was no response. Should he knock louder?
He must have gone to sleep,
Kevin thought.
The party ended, everyone left, and he went to bed. Miriam did leave me.

Maybe she was angry and left in a huff. Diane told her where I was and what had
happened. She came to get me, couldn't wake me, and was embarrassed. Mr. Milton
probably told her to let me sleep it off. If I woke up, he'd send me down. That had to be
it. What else could it be?
he wondered.

He listened at the doorway a few more moments and then turned and went back through the corridor to the loft and to the elevator. "What a night," he muttered to himself after he pushed the button and the elevator doors began to close.

They opened again on a deadly quiet corridor. He stepped out and quickly made his way to his apartment door, fumbling for his key. He was surprised that all the lights in the apartment were off. Didn't she think he'd come home?
Damn, she
must be angry,
he thought. It was the first time he could ever remember being so dead drunk.

He made his way through the apartment and stopped when he saw that their bedroom door was closed. There was some light leaking under it. At least she had left a lamp on for him in there, he thought. He began to frame his apologies. But when he reached for the doorknob, he stopped, because he heard something that sounded like muffled moans. He listened for a moment. The moaning grew louder.

It was an erotic moan, and it cut through him like a sword of ice. He reached for the doorknob again, but the moment he touched it his fingers grew numb, frozen.

The doorknob burned the tips of his fingers as if it were made of dry ice. He tried pulling his hand away, but his skin was stuck to the metal. His fingers were no longer under his control. They turned the knob, and his arm pushed the door forward, inches at a time until it was open wide enough for him to see clearly.

There was a naked couple on the bed. Something about the man's head seemed terribly familiar. He stepped into the room. Was that Miriam? He moved to the foot of the bed. The man's body paused, his thrusting halted. The woman beneath him shifted to her right and then sat up enough for him to see her clearly. It was Miriam!

"No!" he screamed.

The man lifted his lips from Miriam's but held himself frozen in position, looking down at her. Miriam reached up to draw the man back to her and pulled him down so she could kiss his lips. In a moment they were back at it, moving in rhythm, Miriam moaning, her fingers pressed firmly into his buttocks, pulling him into her, demanding longer, deeper thrusts. She lifted her legs and wrapped them tightly around his waist. The energy and force of their lovemaking was so great that the bed shook and the mattress springs squeaked.

"No!" Kevin screamed.

He moved quickly around the side of the bed and reached forward to take hold of the man's shoulders, pulling him away, pulling him up. The man seemed glued to her, firmly attached. Kevin pounded him on the back, putting the full weight of his body behind each blow, but the man seemed not to feel it. On and on the man went, thrusting, driving. Kevin seized him at the waist, but instead of pulling him off Miriam, he was drawn into the man's movement, and he found he was pushing the man downward with each thrust and pulling him back with each return. He struggled to free himself from the man's body, but his hands were stuck. Miriam's moans grew louder. She peaked and screamed with ecstasy.

"Miriam!" His hands broke free.

Desperate now, Kevin took hold of the man's hair and pulled the strands back, nearly tearing them from their roots. Finally, the man lifted himself off Miriam's body and began a slow and deliberate turn. Kevin released his grip and poised himself to drive his fist into the man's face. But when the man turned completely, Kevin opened his fist and pressed both hands against his own head.

"No!" he screamed. "What..."

He was looking at himself. And the shock of it sent him reeling back into darkness.

10

"No!" Kevin screamed. He sat up in the darkness.

"Kevin?" Miriam leaned over to turn on the night lamp on the end table. As soon as the bedroom was light, Kevin spun around, a mixture of fear and confusion in his face.

"What? Where. .." He glared down at Miriam, who had fallen back to the pillow and stared up at him in astonishment. "Miriam . . . I. . . how did I get into bed?

Where is ..." He spun around, searching the room for signs of... of whom? Himself?

Miriam shook her head and drew herself into a sitting position.

"Where is who?"

He stared at her. She looked genuinely confused.

"How did I get into bed?" he muttered.

"Kevin Taylor, don't you remember anything?"

"I..." He took a deep breath and then pressed his palms against his eyes. "The last thing I remember, I was in the study and I awoke to find everyone gone, so I came down here and ..."

"You didn't come down here. You were brought down here."

"I was?"

"The boys found you drunk and babbling on the floor in Mr. Milton's study. One of the secretaries told them what had happened to you. They got you out and brought you down here discreetly. Paul Scholefield came up to me after I played another piece on the piano and told me where you were. He said you were out like a light, so I didn't come right down. I stayed until people started to leave. Then I said good night to Mr.

Milton and came down myself. Not long after I got into bed, you woke up and we ..."

"What?"

"Some lover. I thought you were wonderful, I thought it was one of the best times, and all the time you were so drunk you didn't know what you were doing? You don't remember any of it?"

"We made love?" He considered what she was saying and what he had thought.

"Then it was just a dream." He laughed a laugh of relief. "It was just a dream," he repeated.

"What was just a dream?"

"Nothing. I... oh, Miriam, I'm sorry. I guess I just didn't realize how much I had drunk. I missed the rest of the party?"

"It's all right. Nobody really noticed. As I said, the boys handled it well."

"And Mr. Milton?"

"No problem. He really likes you. I had a wonderful time, especially afterward, whether you remember it or not. Maybe you should get drunk more often," she added.

He thought for a moment. Not to be able to remember making love?

"I was good?"

"All I can say is you touched me where I had never been touched before. It was like you . .."

"What?" He saw her redden with the thought. "Come on, tell me."

"Like you grew larger and larger in me until I was filled with you. If we didn't make the baby tonight, I don't know when we will." She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. "I'm sorry if I got a little wild," she whispered. The blanket fell away from her breasts.

"Wild?"

"And dug my fingernails in too deeply. I know I scratched you, but that's the price you pay for getting so passionate." She kissed him again, working her tongue into his mouth, nearly gagging him. "I'll never forget it," she whispered after the kiss. "Even if you already have."

"Well, I.. . I've never been so drunk that I forgot where I was and what I had done, much less forgot making love. Sorry. But I'll make it up to you."

"You'd better," she whispered. Then she lay back. She smiled up at him, and images of what he remembered from his dream returned. He shook his head to drive them away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just a little dizzy. I think I'd better go splash some cold water on my face.

Wow, what a night." He slipped off the bed to go into the bathroom. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw that his eyes were somewhat bloodshot. He splashed some cold water on his face and then took a leak. Before he left the bathroom, he turned around and looked at his naked buttocks in the mirror. There wasn't a mark on them.

Scratched me?
He shrugged.
She probably got so excited, she thought she scratched
me. Oh well, thank God what I saw was just a nightmare. Too bad I didn't enjoy the sex,
though. From the way she described it,
he thought, I
must have been wonderful.

Kevin laughed to himself and went back to bed. Miriam embraced him, and they made love, but when it was over, she looked disappointed.

"What's wrong? Wasn't I as good as before?"

"You're probably tired," she said. "It was good," she added when his look of disappointment came, "but it wasn't like before. I'm sure it will be again."

"Well, I'm not going to get drunk like that again. You can bet your ass on that."

She looked at him suspiciously. "When did you leave the party and go into the den?"

"You were playing the piano ... beautifully. I never heard you play like that, Miriam.

And that piece. When did you learn a new piece?"

"It wasn't a new piece, Kevin. I've played it often."

"You have? Funny, I can't remember that, either," he said, shaking his head.

"Maybe the champagne burned out some of your memory," she said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry. I just... I guess I'll just go to sleep."

"Good idea, Kev." She turned over.

He lay back and thought about it. How can something as dramatic and as involving as making love passionately be beyond recall? It didn't make sense.

Nor did my nightmare,
he thought. For now, the two seemed to cancel each other out.

He closed his eyes, and in moments he was asleep.

In the morning both Ted and Dave called to ask how he was. Paul actually came around to see him.

"I guess I should thank you guys," Kevin said, "but I can't remember a damn thing about it."

"Well, you were really more asleep than awake when we brought you down .. .

carried you down, I should say." He winked at Miriam. "You played beautifully, Miriam."

"Thank you," she said and gave Kevin a look of self-satisfaction that made his eyebrows rise.

The rest of the weekend proved to be wonderful. Dave and Ted, Norma and Jean, and he and Miriam went to a Broadway matinee on Saturday. They had highly sought-after front-row tickets provided for them through a connection Mr. Milton had with the theater. Paul begged out, telling them he wanted to take Helen back to their doctor.

He said he would try to join them for dinner afterward, but he never showed. Later he told them Helen wasn't up to going anywhere and he didn't want to leave her alone.

On Sunday, they all went up to the penthouse to watch the football game. Paul joined them, but Helen remained in their apartment, resting. He said she had been placed on newer, stronger medication.