KEITH LEANED AT THE LIVING ROOM WINDOW. CIGARETTE SMOKE DRIFTING UP THE LENGTH OF HIS ARM, HE WATCHED THE STREET, STORIES BELOW. IT WAS MID-MORNING AND TRAFFIC TEEMED WITH CARS, BUSES, AND A TRUCK NOW AND THEN. YELLOW CABS STEADILY STREAMED DOWN SECOND AVENUE LIKE SCHOOLS OF GOLDFISH. KEITH CONTINUED TO WATCH. AND HE WORRIED. WONDERING HOW IN THE HELL TO HANDLE THIS. THIS WASN’T GOING TO GO EASY. NOT BY A LONG SHOT.
WHEN HE’D ROLLED OUT OF HER ARMS, SHE WASN’T SO MUCH SNORING AS SHE SEEMED ACTUALLY TO SERENELY PURR. SHE THEN GAVE A SMALL GRUNT, TURNED OVER, SHEET FALLING OFF A HIP, AND SLIPPED STRAIGHT BACK TO SLEEP.
HE’D STEPPED INTO HIS SLIPPERS, TOSSED ON A ROBE AND WENT INTO SHOWER. HOW OFTEN, HE SMILED TO HIMSELF, HAD THEY, UNDER A WARM SPRAY, DONE A WHOLE OF THINGS EXCEPT WASH? HE TOWELED OFF, ABSENT-MINDEDLY GRINNING. THEN THE GRIN DIED AND HE SIMPLY SHAVED, GRIM-FACED. COMING OUT INTO THE HALLWAY, HE LOOKED IN ON HER. CLOSED THE BEDROOM DOOR, TOOK THE PHONE OFF THE HOOK AND, FLEETINGLY, ACTUALLY GAVE THOUGHT TO PRAYING. HOPING LIKE HELL SHE WOULDN’T WAKE BEFORE HE COULD THINK HARD ABOUT WHAT TO SAY.
THEY’D GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO THE MORNINGS, WAKING TOGETHER, STIRRED BY ONE ANOTHER’S TOUCH. TWO YEARS AND CHANGE HADN’T DIMINISHED A THING. BOTH STILL ENDLESSLY DELIGHTED, NEITHER THE LEAST BIT BORED.
HE STUBBED THE BUTT OUT IN THE ASHTRAY AND WISHED SHE WOULD STAY ASLEEP FOR AT LEAST A FEW MORE MINUTES SO HE COULD SORT THE MATTER OUT, SO HE COULD GET READY TO EXPLAIN. IF HE SHRUGGED AND WALKED AWAY, IT WOULD NOT BE JUST ANY WOMAN. IT WOULD BE LESLI. HE’D HATE TO HURT HER. TO LOSE HER. AND IF HE DIDN’T SUMMON THE RIGHT WORDS, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT WOULD HAPPEN. HE’D HURT HER. LOSE THE WOMAN WHO’D BECOME THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE.
HE PUT A HAND TO HIS CHEST; FELT HIS HEARTBEAT KNOCKING CRAZILY OUT OF RHYTHM. AND WISHED IT’D SUBSIDE. HE IMAGINED THAT, IN A FEW MINUTES, HE WOULD QUIETLY CONVINCE HER TO CONTINUE WITH THINGS AS THEY WERE. HE LIT ANOTHER CIGARETTE, SUCKED IN THE SMOKE, BLEW IT OUT. AND KNEW THE CHANCES OF THAT WERE SLIM AND NONE, WITH SLIM HAVING LEFT TOWN.
SHE STIRRED, KNOCKING ABOUT. HEADING INTO THE BATHROOM, LESLI CALLED, “BABY, YOU THERE?”
“YEAH, RIGHT HERE.” HE HOPED HE SOUNDED STRONG, ASSURING. IT CAME OUT WEAK, SHALLOW AS TWO INCHES OF WATER. KEITH FELT LIKE A KID, NAUSEOUS WITH FEAR AT ACCOUNTING FOR HIMSELF. THAT HELPLESS. A GROWN MAN SCARED TO WOUND A WOMAN WHO’D RENDERED HERSELF DEFENSELESS AS, WELL, A CHILD. “SOME CHILD,” HE RECALLED, HARDLY AWARE HE SPOKE ALOUD. CURSED ME OUT FIRST TIME SHE SET EYES ON ME.
IN L.A. AT THE HOME OF JIM REED, AN ACQUAINTANCE SCOTT, KEITH’S AGENT, HAD MADE THROUGH SOME CONTRACTOR, PROMOTER OR OTHER WHEELER DEALER. A PARTY FOR, KEITH RECALLED, EMERGING NEO-SOUL SENSATION MIRAGE. HE’D BEEN DANCING WITH A CUTE, SLIM, ASIAN CHICK WHO COULDN’T FIND THE BEAT WITH BLOOD HOUNDS AND RADAR. HE’D STEPPED BACK LANDING SQUARELY ON LESLI’S INSTEP. TURNING TO APOLOGIZE, HE CAUGHT A BLAST OF RUM-AND-COKE, GLIMPSING A GORGEOUS, CHESTNUT-COLORED FACE. SO BLINDINGLY BEAUTIFUL IT SCARED HIM TO LOOK AT HER. “I’M SO,” HE STUTTERED, “S-S-SORRY.”
SHE SNEERED AND SENT A SLENDER, SHARPLY FINGER-NAILED HAND SLICING TOWARD HIS EYES. HE DODGED. SHE BALLED HER OTHER HAND AND SWUNG. HE DUCKED. SHE MISSED, FLINGING HERSELF OFF BALANCE. WHEN SHE WENT TO KICK HIM, KEITH NO LONGER HAD MUCH CHOICE. HE DIDN’T LIKE DEFENDING HIMSELF AGAINST A WOMAN, BUT THIS DRUNK BROAD WAS DETERMINED TO DO DAMAGE. HE SHOVED HER, A BIT HARDER THAN HE’D MEANT TO, THAT GODDAM STILETTO HEEL OF HERS MISSING ITS MARK, BUT STILL CLIPPING HIS THIGH. SHE SCOWLED AND, STAGGERING, COMMENCED TO SWEAR LIKE A SAILOR AND CALL HIM JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING EXCEPT A CHILD OF GOD. LESLI DENOUNCED KEITH’S PARENTAGE. HE WAS, SHE AUTHORITATIVELY ANNOUNCED, THE PRODUCT OF A RANDOM COUPLING OF STRANGERS. HIS MOTHER, SHE DECLARED, HAD LYCANTHROPIC TENDENCIES AND WAS NOT IN GOOD STANDING WITH THE LORD. WHILE THIS WILD WOMAN HEATEDLY EXCLAIMED AS TO WHAT CARNAL KNOWLEDGE KEITH HAD OF MOTHERS IN GENERAL, HE WONDERED WHY NOBODY STEPPED IN, SPECIFICALLY THE HOST, WHOEVER THE HELL THIS JIM REED WAS. WHEN NEXT KEITH TALKED TO SCOTT, THERE’D BE HELL TO PAY. NETWORKING BE DAMNED, HE NEVER LIKED COMING TO THESE THINGS IN THE FIRST PLACE. AND SCOTT KNEW IT.
“MOTHERFUCKER!” SHE HOLLERED AND WENT TO PLANT A HAYMAKER. HE REACHED FOR HER WRIST BUT, FAR FROM SOBER HIMSELF, MISSED. HIS PALM ACCIDENTALLY CUPPED HER BREAST. OUTRAGED, SHE FURIOUSLY SWUNG ANOTHER SWIFT KICK AND COMPLETELY MISSED, STUMBLING BACKWARD AGAINST THE STEREO, CUTTING THE MUSIC OFF, LANDING IN A HEAP, SQUARE ON HER ASS.
HE’D WANTED TO JUST TURN AROUND AND GO, NEVER HAVING PARTICULARLY WANTED TO BE HERE TO BEGIN WITH. SERIOUSLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT, CONSIDERED SIMPLY WALKING OUT. BUT, HERE HE WAS, IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS WELL-TO-DO, MOSTLY WHITE CROWD WITH HER COILED ON THE CARPET, READY TO KEEP COMING WITH THOSE HEELS IF HE STEPPED WITHIN STRIKING DISTANCE. GUESTS GAWKED IN PIN-DROP SILENCE. THEY UNWITTINGLY WERE ACTING OUT A SAD, SORRY STEREOTYPE. BLACK WOMEN BASICALLY WERE LOUD, UNCOUTH HELLCATS. BLACK MEN, ESPECIALLY AFTER ENOUGH TO DRINK, BEAT THEM AS A MATTER OF COURSE. ON THE OTHER HAND, KEITH DIDN’T GIVE A GOOD GODDAM WHAT THESE LAMES THOUGHT ABOUT HIM. HE SIGHED. BOTTOM LINE, HE DIDN’T MUCH LIKE THE IDEA OF LEAVING HER SPRAWLED IN A HEAP ON THE FLOOR, SKIRT—WHICH WAS SHORT TO BEGIN WITH, FLOWN HALFWAY UP HER THIGHS. HE MADE A DECISION, ONE HAND COVERING HIS NUTS, THE OTHER HELD OUT TO HELP HER UP. SHE FAIRLY SNARLED, “YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS!” I LOOK RIDICULOUS? WHO’S SPRAWLED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR, DRAWERS DAMNED NEAR SHOWING? IN TWO MINUTES, I’M GONE OUTTA HERE. WHOEVER BROUGHT YOU CAN DEAL WITH THIS. AND I’M GONNA SKIN SCOTT ALIVE.
IN REALITY, IF HE HAD TO HOLD HIS HAND OUT ALL NIGHT UNTIL HIS ARM FELL OFF, IT’S WHAT HE’D DO. WHICH WASN’T SOLELY ABOUT BEING GENTLEMANLY. THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT HER, A FASCINATING PRESENCE PEERING OUT FROM BEHIND THOSE RUM-GLAZED EYES. LESLI LOOKED AROUND, SEEING THE WIDE EYES AND LISTENING TO THE CHATTER. SHE COULDN’T QUITE MAKE UP HER MIND, LOOKING AT KEITH’S OUT-STRETCHED HAND LIKE IT SMELLED BAD.
“LOOK,” KEITH SAID, GIVING HER HIS BEST SMILE, “ARE YOU GOING TO MARRY ME OR NOT?” LAUGHTER BROKE THE TENSION AROUND THE ROOM. GRUDGINGLY, SHE RELENTED AND TOOK HIS HAND. LIFTED TO HER FEET, SHE STRAIGHTENED HER SKIRT, TUCKED IN HER BLOUSE, AND PASSED HER HANDS THROUGH HER SHOULDER-LENGTH HAIR. THEN, SHE PICKED UP HER PURSE. HE WHISPERED IN HER EAR AND SHE NODDED. HE ESCORTED THE LADY ACROSS THE FLOOR. PEOPLE GOT OUT OF THEIR WAY AS THEY WENT TO THE BALCONY. THE FRESH AIR BLEW OVER THEM AND THEY EACH GRATEFULLY LET OUT A SIGH. LOOKING OUT ON A WHOLE LOT OF OCEAN, IT TOOK A FEW MOMENTS BEFORE EITHER SAID ANYTHING.
FINALLY, HE ASKED, “YOU OKAY?”
“YEAH.”
KEITH LOOKED AGAIN INTO THOSE FASCINATING EYES. “GOT SOME TEMPER ON YOU, Y’ KNOW THAT?”
SHE LOOKED HIM UP AND DOWN, OUT OVER THE PACIFIC, THEN BACK AT HIM. “YOU STEPPED ON MY FOOT. STOMPED RIGHT ON IT, YOU KNOW THAT?”
“DIDN’T I SAY I WAS SORRY?”
EYEBROW RAISED, SHE RETURNED, “YEAH, WELL, SORRY OR NO SORRY, HAD IT BEEN MY CORN, BUDDY, WE’D STILL BE BACK IN THERE FIGHTING.” HE LAUGHED, NOT DOUBTING HER IN THE LEAST, SMILING INTO HER EYES. SHE SMILED BACK, KIND OF BLUSHING. THEN, SAID, “THANK YOU.”
“FOR STEPPING ON YOUR FOOT? DON’T MENTION IT.”
“FOR BEING A NICE GUY. ESPECIALLY SINCE I WAS BEING SUCH A--.”
HE CUT HER OFF. “HOT HEAD?”
“YEAH, THAT’S THE WORD. RHYMES WITH WITCH. YEAH. SUCH A HOT HEAD.” SHE LAUGHED AT THAT. HE LIKED THE MUSICAL SOUND. “THANKS,” SHE REPEATED. THOSE EYES OF HERS SIMPLY MESMERIZED.
HE DID HIS BEST TO BE COOL, HE SHRUGGED. “LIKE I SAID, DON’T MENTION IT.” HER GAZE KEPT HOLDING HIS. KEITH COULDN’T LOOK AWAY AND FOUND HIMSELF WANTING TO KISS HER. HE COULD SEE SHE WOULDN’T MIND. HE DIDN’T HAVE THE NERVE AND, INSTEAD, JUST KEPT LOOKING AT HER. AMAZED. WONDERING, WHO THE HELL IS THIS WOMAN? “YOU GOT A NAME?”
SHE GAVE KIND OF A GIGGLE, EYES STILL DEAD ON HIM. “YEAH. PHONE NUMBER, TOO. PLAY YOUR CARDS RIGHT, YOU’RE LIABLE TO GET BOTH. COME ON, LET’S GET OUTTA HERE.” THEY WENT BACK IN. KEITH WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED HAD BETS BEEN PLACED ON WHO WAS GOING TO THROW WHO OVER THE RAILING. THERE WAS STILL NO SIGN OF THIS JIM REED CHARACTER. KEITH KNEW HARDLY A SOUL IN THE WHOLE JOINT. TURNED OUT, LESLI’S GIRLFRIEND HAD GOT LUCKY AND WAS IN A CORNER, BEING CHATTED UP BY A FELLA WHO COULD PASS FOR JOHN TRAVOLTA.
LESLI LOOKED AROUND, SLIDING HER ARM UNDER HIS ELBOW AND THEY LEFT. DOWNSTAIRS, THE DOORMAN SUMMONED A CAB. SETTLING INTO THE SEAT, SHE GAVE THE DRIVER HER ADDRESS. THEN, LEANING AGAINST KEITH, IMMEDIATELY DROPPED OFF, ARM ABSENTLY RESTING ON HIS THIGH. HE STARED AT HER CLOSED LIDS THAT FINALLY GAVE HIM A BREAK FROM THE MOST ARRESTING GAZE HE’D EVER SEEN. AND, YES, HE HAD SEEN MORE THAN A FEW ARRESTING GAZES IN HIS DAY.
AT HER BUILDING, HE NUDGED HER AWAKE. COMING TO, SHE NESTLED AGAINST HIS CHEST, THEN CAUGHT HERSELF AND SAT UP. CLEARED HER THROAT AND REACHED FOR HER WALLET. HE STOPPED HER. “I GOT THIS.”
“THANKS.” SHE GROGGILY CAME TO AND WAKING AGAIN, TRAINED THAT HYPNOTIC GAZE. “LESLI.”
“HUNH?”
SHE SMILED. “MY NAME, STUPID.” FISHED IN HER PURSE, CAME UP WITH PEN AND PAD, SCRIBBLING. “HERE’S MY NUMBER.” WINKED, KISSED HIS CHEEK AND GOT OUT. HE LINGERED LONG ENOUGH TO MAKE SURE THE DOORMAN SAW TO IT SHE GOT IN SAFE.
“WHERE TO, NOW?” THE DRIVER ASKED. KEITH GAVE HIM THE NAME OF THE HOTEL AND, WATCHING THE LOS ANGELES STREETS GO BY, THOUGHT ABOUT THIS LADY WHO HAD MADE IT ONE HELL OF AN INTERESTING EVENING.
AT THE HOTEL, HE WENT UP TO HIS ROOM AND LIT A JOINT, LOOKED FOR A NEWS CHANNEL, SIPPED A BEER, SHIT-EATING GRIN PLASTERED ALL OVER HIS FACE. HELP THE BEAR, HE MUSED. YOU SEE LESLI AND A BEAR FIGHTING, SOMEBODY HELP THAT POOR BEAR.
NEXT DAY, CHECKING HIS BAGS AT THE AIRPORT, HE HAD ON A KOOL-AID SMILE. ON THE FLIGHT BACK TO THE APPLE, HE’D READ AND RE-READ HER PHONE NUMBER. KEITH HAD NO IDEA AT ALL WHEN HE’D COME BACK TO CALIFORNIA. BUT, DAMN IT, HE’D FIND A REASON. IF IT MEANT SIGNING ON OUT OF TOWN, LONG AS THAT INCLUDED SOMEWHERE CLOSE TO LOS ANGELES. HE WAS GOING TO, COME HELL OR HIGH WATER, FIND SOME WAY TO SEE HER AGAIN.
WHEN HE’D ROLLED OUT OF HER ARMS, SHE WASN’T SO MUCH SNORING AS SHE SEEMED ACTUALLY TO SERENELY PURR. SHE THEN GAVE A SMALL GRUNT, TURNED OVER, SHEET FALLING OFF A HIP, AND SLIPPED STRAIGHT BACK TO SLEEP.
HE’D STEPPED INTO HIS SLIPPERS, TOSSED ON A ROBE AND WENT INTO SHOWER. HOW OFTEN, HE SMILED TO HIMSELF, HAD THEY, UNDER A WARM SPRAY, DONE A WHOLE OF THINGS EXCEPT WASH? HE TOWELED OFF, ABSENT-MINDEDLY GRINNING. THEN THE GRIN DIED AND HE SIMPLY SHAVED, GRIM-FACED. COMING OUT INTO THE HALLWAY, HE LOOKED IN ON HER. CLOSED THE BEDROOM DOOR, TOOK THE PHONE OFF THE HOOK AND, FLEETINGLY, ACTUALLY GAVE THOUGHT TO PRAYING. HOPING LIKE HELL SHE WOULDN’T WAKE BEFORE HE COULD THINK HARD ABOUT WHAT TO SAY.
THEY’D GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO THE MORNINGS, WAKING TOGETHER, STIRRED BY ONE ANOTHER’S TOUCH. TWO YEARS AND CHANGE HADN’T DIMINISHED A THING. BOTH STILL ENDLESSLY DELIGHTED, NEITHER THE LEAST BIT BORED.
HE STUBBED THE BUTT OUT IN THE ASHTRAY AND WISHED SHE WOULD STAY ASLEEP FOR AT LEAST A FEW MORE MINUTES SO HE COULD SORT THE MATTER OUT, SO HE COULD GET READY TO EXPLAIN. IF HE SHRUGGED AND WALKED AWAY, IT WOULD NOT BE JUST ANY WOMAN. IT WOULD BE LESLI. HE’D HATE TO HURT HER. TO LOSE HER. AND IF HE DIDN’T SUMMON THE RIGHT WORDS, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT WOULD HAPPEN. HE’D HURT HER. LOSE THE WOMAN WHO’D BECOME THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE.
HE PUT A HAND TO HIS CHEST; FELT HIS HEARTBEAT KNOCKING CRAZILY OUT OF RHYTHM. AND WISHED IT’D SUBSIDE. HE IMAGINED THAT, IN A FEW MINUTES, HE WOULD QUIETLY CONVINCE HER TO CONTINUE WITH THINGS AS THEY WERE. HE LIT ANOTHER CIGARETTE, SUCKED IN THE SMOKE, BLEW IT OUT. AND KNEW THE CHANCES OF THAT WERE SLIM AND NONE, WITH SLIM HAVING LEFT TOWN.
SHE STIRRED, KNOCKING ABOUT. HEADING INTO THE BATHROOM, LESLI CALLED, “BABY, YOU THERE?”
“YEAH, RIGHT HERE.” HE HOPED HE SOUNDED STRONG, ASSURING. IT CAME OUT WEAK, SHALLOW AS TWO INCHES OF WATER. KEITH FELT LIKE A KID, NAUSEOUS WITH FEAR AT ACCOUNTING FOR HIMSELF. THAT HELPLESS. A GROWN MAN SCARED TO WOUND A WOMAN WHO’D RENDERED HERSELF DEFENSELESS AS, WELL, A CHILD. “SOME CHILD,” HE RECALLED, HARDLY AWARE HE SPOKE ALOUD. CURSED ME OUT FIRST TIME SHE SET EYES ON ME.
IN L.A. AT THE HOME OF JIM REED, AN ACQUAINTANCE SCOTT, KEITH’S AGENT, HAD MADE THROUGH SOME CONTRACTOR, PROMOTER OR OTHER WHEELER DEALER. A PARTY FOR, KEITH RECALLED, EMERGING NEO-SOUL SENSATION MIRAGE. HE’D BEEN DANCING WITH A CUTE, SLIM, ASIAN CHICK WHO COULDN’T FIND THE BEAT WITH BLOOD HOUNDS AND RADAR. HE’D STEPPED BACK LANDING SQUARELY ON LESLI’S INSTEP. TURNING TO APOLOGIZE, HE CAUGHT A BLAST OF RUM-AND-COKE, GLIMPSING A GORGEOUS, CHESTNUT-COLORED FACE. SO BLINDINGLY BEAUTIFUL IT SCARED HIM TO LOOK AT HER. “I’M SO,” HE STUTTERED, “S-S-SORRY.”
SHE SNEERED AND SENT A SLENDER, SHARPLY FINGER-NAILED HAND SLICING TOWARD HIS EYES. HE DODGED. SHE BALLED HER OTHER HAND AND SWUNG. HE DUCKED. SHE MISSED, FLINGING HERSELF OFF BALANCE. WHEN SHE WENT TO KICK HIM, KEITH NO LONGER HAD MUCH CHOICE. HE DIDN’T LIKE DEFENDING HIMSELF AGAINST A WOMAN, BUT THIS DRUNK BROAD WAS DETERMINED TO DO DAMAGE. HE SHOVED HER, A BIT HARDER THAN HE’D MEANT TO, THAT GODDAM STILETTO HEEL OF HERS MISSING ITS MARK, BUT STILL CLIPPING HIS THIGH. SHE SCOWLED AND, STAGGERING, COMMENCED TO SWEAR LIKE A SAILOR AND CALL HIM JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING EXCEPT A CHILD OF GOD. LESLI DENOUNCED KEITH’S PARENTAGE. HE WAS, SHE AUTHORITATIVELY ANNOUNCED, THE PRODUCT OF A RANDOM COUPLING OF STRANGERS. HIS MOTHER, SHE DECLARED, HAD LYCANTHROPIC TENDENCIES AND WAS NOT IN GOOD STANDING WITH THE LORD. WHILE THIS WILD WOMAN HEATEDLY EXCLAIMED AS TO WHAT CARNAL KNOWLEDGE KEITH HAD OF MOTHERS IN GENERAL, HE WONDERED WHY NOBODY STEPPED IN, SPECIFICALLY THE HOST, WHOEVER THE HELL THIS JIM REED WAS. WHEN NEXT KEITH TALKED TO SCOTT, THERE’D BE HELL TO PAY. NETWORKING BE DAMNED, HE NEVER LIKED COMING TO THESE THINGS IN THE FIRST PLACE. AND SCOTT KNEW IT.
“MOTHERFUCKER!” SHE HOLLERED AND WENT TO PLANT A HAYMAKER. HE REACHED FOR HER WRIST BUT, FAR FROM SOBER HIMSELF, MISSED. HIS PALM ACCIDENTALLY CUPPED HER BREAST. OUTRAGED, SHE FURIOUSLY SWUNG ANOTHER SWIFT KICK AND COMPLETELY MISSED, STUMBLING BACKWARD AGAINST THE STEREO, CUTTING THE MUSIC OFF, LANDING IN A HEAP, SQUARE ON HER ASS.
HE’D WANTED TO JUST TURN AROUND AND GO, NEVER HAVING PARTICULARLY WANTED TO BE HERE TO BEGIN WITH. SERIOUSLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT, CONSIDERED SIMPLY WALKING OUT. BUT, HERE HE WAS, IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS WELL-TO-DO, MOSTLY WHITE CROWD WITH HER COILED ON THE CARPET, READY TO KEEP COMING WITH THOSE HEELS IF HE STEPPED WITHIN STRIKING DISTANCE. GUESTS GAWKED IN PIN-DROP SILENCE. THEY UNWITTINGLY WERE ACTING OUT A SAD, SORRY STEREOTYPE. BLACK WOMEN BASICALLY WERE LOUD, UNCOUTH HELLCATS. BLACK MEN, ESPECIALLY AFTER ENOUGH TO DRINK, BEAT THEM AS A MATTER OF COURSE. ON THE OTHER HAND, KEITH DIDN’T GIVE A GOOD GODDAM WHAT THESE LAMES THOUGHT ABOUT HIM. HE SIGHED. BOTTOM LINE, HE DIDN’T MUCH LIKE THE IDEA OF LEAVING HER SPRAWLED IN A HEAP ON THE FLOOR, SKIRT—WHICH WAS SHORT TO BEGIN WITH, FLOWN HALFWAY UP HER THIGHS. HE MADE A DECISION, ONE HAND COVERING HIS NUTS, THE OTHER HELD OUT TO HELP HER UP. SHE FAIRLY SNARLED, “YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS!” I LOOK RIDICULOUS? WHO’S SPRAWLED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR, DRAWERS DAMNED NEAR SHOWING? IN TWO MINUTES, I’M GONE OUTTA HERE. WHOEVER BROUGHT YOU CAN DEAL WITH THIS. AND I’M GONNA SKIN SCOTT ALIVE.
IN REALITY, IF HE HAD TO HOLD HIS HAND OUT ALL NIGHT UNTIL HIS ARM FELL OFF, IT’S WHAT HE’D DO. WHICH WASN’T SOLELY ABOUT BEING GENTLEMANLY. THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT HER, A FASCINATING PRESENCE PEERING OUT FROM BEHIND THOSE RUM-GLAZED EYES. LESLI LOOKED AROUND, SEEING THE WIDE EYES AND LISTENING TO THE CHATTER. SHE COULDN’T QUITE MAKE UP HER MIND, LOOKING AT KEITH’S OUT-STRETCHED HAND LIKE IT SMELLED BAD.
“LOOK,” KEITH SAID, GIVING HER HIS BEST SMILE, “ARE YOU GOING TO MARRY ME OR NOT?” LAUGHTER BROKE THE TENSION AROUND THE ROOM. GRUDGINGLY, SHE RELENTED AND TOOK HIS HAND. LIFTED TO HER FEET, SHE STRAIGHTENED HER SKIRT, TUCKED IN HER BLOUSE, AND PASSED HER HANDS THROUGH HER SHOULDER-LENGTH HAIR. THEN, SHE PICKED UP HER PURSE. HE WHISPERED IN HER EAR AND SHE NODDED. HE ESCORTED THE LADY ACROSS THE FLOOR. PEOPLE GOT OUT OF THEIR WAY AS THEY WENT TO THE BALCONY. THE FRESH AIR BLEW OVER THEM AND THEY EACH GRATEFULLY LET OUT A SIGH. LOOKING OUT ON A WHOLE LOT OF OCEAN, IT TOOK A FEW MOMENTS BEFORE EITHER SAID ANYTHING.
FINALLY, HE ASKED, “YOU OKAY?”
“YEAH.”
KEITH LOOKED AGAIN INTO THOSE FASCINATING EYES. “GOT SOME TEMPER ON YOU, Y’ KNOW THAT?”
SHE LOOKED HIM UP AND DOWN, OUT OVER THE PACIFIC, THEN BACK AT HIM. “YOU STEPPED ON MY FOOT. STOMPED RIGHT ON IT, YOU KNOW THAT?”
“DIDN’T I SAY I WAS SORRY?”
EYEBROW RAISED, SHE RETURNED, “YEAH, WELL, SORRY OR NO SORRY, HAD IT BEEN MY CORN, BUDDY, WE’D STILL BE BACK IN THERE FIGHTING.” HE LAUGHED, NOT DOUBTING HER IN THE LEAST, SMILING INTO HER EYES. SHE SMILED BACK, KIND OF BLUSHING. THEN, SAID, “THANK YOU.”
“FOR STEPPING ON YOUR FOOT? DON’T MENTION IT.”
“FOR BEING A NICE GUY. ESPECIALLY SINCE I WAS BEING SUCH A--.”
HE CUT HER OFF. “HOT HEAD?”
“YEAH, THAT’S THE WORD. RHYMES WITH WITCH. YEAH. SUCH A HOT HEAD.” SHE LAUGHED AT THAT. HE LIKED THE MUSICAL SOUND. “THANKS,” SHE REPEATED. THOSE EYES OF HERS SIMPLY MESMERIZED.
HE DID HIS BEST TO BE COOL, HE SHRUGGED. “LIKE I SAID, DON’T MENTION IT.” HER GAZE KEPT HOLDING HIS. KEITH COULDN’T LOOK AWAY AND FOUND HIMSELF WANTING TO KISS HER. HE COULD SEE SHE WOULDN’T MIND. HE DIDN’T HAVE THE NERVE AND, INSTEAD, JUST KEPT LOOKING AT HER. AMAZED. WONDERING, WHO THE HELL IS THIS WOMAN? “YOU GOT A NAME?”
SHE GAVE KIND OF A GIGGLE, EYES STILL DEAD ON HIM. “YEAH. PHONE NUMBER, TOO. PLAY YOUR CARDS RIGHT, YOU’RE LIABLE TO GET BOTH. COME ON, LET’S GET OUTTA HERE.” THEY WENT BACK IN. KEITH WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED HAD BETS BEEN PLACED ON WHO WAS GOING TO THROW WHO OVER THE RAILING. THERE WAS STILL NO SIGN OF THIS JIM REED CHARACTER. KEITH KNEW HARDLY A SOUL IN THE WHOLE JOINT. TURNED OUT, LESLI’S GIRLFRIEND HAD GOT LUCKY AND WAS IN A CORNER, BEING CHATTED UP BY A FELLA WHO COULD PASS FOR JOHN TRAVOLTA.
LESLI LOOKED AROUND, SLIDING HER ARM UNDER HIS ELBOW AND THEY LEFT. DOWNSTAIRS, THE DOORMAN SUMMONED A CAB. SETTLING INTO THE SEAT, SHE GAVE THE DRIVER HER ADDRESS. THEN, LEANING AGAINST KEITH, IMMEDIATELY DROPPED OFF, ARM ABSENTLY RESTING ON HIS THIGH. HE STARED AT HER CLOSED LIDS THAT FINALLY GAVE HIM A BREAK FROM THE MOST ARRESTING GAZE HE’D EVER SEEN. AND, YES, HE HAD SEEN MORE THAN A FEW ARRESTING GAZES IN HIS DAY.
AT HER BUILDING, HE NUDGED HER AWAKE. COMING TO, SHE NESTLED AGAINST HIS CHEST, THEN CAUGHT HERSELF AND SAT UP. CLEARED HER THROAT AND REACHED FOR HER WALLET. HE STOPPED HER. “I GOT THIS.”
“THANKS.” SHE GROGGILY CAME TO AND WAKING AGAIN, TRAINED THAT HYPNOTIC GAZE. “LESLI.”
“HUNH?”
SHE SMILED. “MY NAME, STUPID.” FISHED IN HER PURSE, CAME UP WITH PEN AND PAD, SCRIBBLING. “HERE’S MY NUMBER.” WINKED, KISSED HIS CHEEK AND GOT OUT. HE LINGERED LONG ENOUGH TO MAKE SURE THE DOORMAN SAW TO IT SHE GOT IN SAFE.
“WHERE TO, NOW?” THE DRIVER ASKED. KEITH GAVE HIM THE NAME OF THE HOTEL AND, WATCHING THE LOS ANGELES STREETS GO BY, THOUGHT ABOUT THIS LADY WHO HAD MADE IT ONE HELL OF AN INTERESTING EVENING.
AT THE HOTEL, HE WENT UP TO HIS ROOM AND LIT A JOINT, LOOKED FOR A NEWS CHANNEL, SIPPED A BEER, SHIT-EATING GRIN PLASTERED ALL OVER HIS FACE. HELP THE BEAR, HE MUSED. YOU SEE LESLI AND A BEAR FIGHTING, SOMEBODY HELP THAT POOR BEAR.
NEXT DAY, CHECKING HIS BAGS AT THE AIRPORT, HE HAD ON A KOOL-AID SMILE. ON THE FLIGHT BACK TO THE APPLE, HE’D READ AND RE-READ HER PHONE NUMBER. KEITH HAD NO IDEA AT ALL WHEN HE’D COME BACK TO CALIFORNIA. BUT, DAMN IT, HE’D FIND A REASON. IF IT MEANT SIGNING ON OUT OF TOWN, LONG AS THAT INCLUDED SOMEWHERE CLOSE TO LOS ANGELES. HE WAS GOING TO, COME HELL OR HIGH WATER, FIND SOME WAY TO SEE HER AGAIN.