Part 21 (2/2)
He was still smiling when Sheila D'Amato opened his door without knocking and leaned against the jamb with her hand on her hip and a sly smile on her face. Her eyes sparkled.
”You son of a b.i.t.c.h,” she said with admiration.
”Don't tell me you listened,” he said, shaking his head.
”Ten thousand a day,” she said. ”d.a.m.n, you're a better earner than the crooks I used to hang with.”
”I'll take that as a compliment,” he said, maintaining the grin somehow while part of his brain raced, trying to process the magnitude of what she'd done, how he would deal with it.
”I'm still confused,” she said. ”I don't get what it is you guys are trying to hide. I mean, it obviously has something to do with some Sunburst thing, but I don't get how that has anything to do with those four dead people.”
”It's complicated,” he said.
”I've got all night.”
”Let's go have some dinner,” he said. ”I'll fill you in.”
She beamed, and he was surprised how attractive she looked when she was full of joy. He hadn't known because she'd never been so happy in his presence before.
They stepped onto the sidewalk to go to Rocky's for dinner.He held the door open for her and smelled her as she came through. A nice scent. He liked the way her heels clicked on the pavement. It was rare to see a woman in the West in a dress and heels, and he found himself lagging behind her a little so he could look at her strong calves through the nylons.
”I've got to say,” she said, shooting a come-hither look over her shoulder, ”I'm more than a little surprised that you didn't bite my head off for listening in.”
”I thought about it.”
”But you didn't,” she said. ”I guess that means we really are in this together.”
”I need allies,” he said.
”I'd like to think I'm more than that.”
”You are,” he said.
”This all has to do with that company, doesn't it?” she asked.
”What company?”
”EnerDyne. I saw the binder on your credenza. You work for them, right?”
He whistled. ”Boy, you don't miss a trick, do you?”
”I haven't yet,” she purred. She'd knocked another $50 off her legal bill before they went out on the street. He still felt a littlelight-headed.
DINNER TOOK HOURS. McCann ordered too many martinis.She looked good in the light from the single cheap candle on the table, which took ten years off her face and made her skin seem smoother and whiter and her lips more lush and red.
”Tomorrow we'll drive to Idaho Falls,” he said. ”We can check on flights, do a little shopping. You'll need some things to wear on the beach, I would guess.”
”It must be nice to have money,” she said. ”Ten thousand a day.”
”That's just a fraction of what they owe me.”
”You turned that man into a quivering little squirrel,” she said, holding her hand out toward him and pulling her sleeve back. ”I got goose b.u.mps listening.”
He shrugged, flattered.
”Who is the man on the inside?”
”Tomorrow. I'll fill you in tomorrow . . . if you're a good girl until then.”
”When I'm good, I'm very good,” she said. ”That's what they used to tell me . . .”
”And when you're bad . . .” he said, letting it trail off.
”I'm really f.u.c.king bad.” She grinned.
He ordered another martini for both of them. He had to look down to see if he'd finished his steak. Nope.
She favored him with a smile so full-bore he could see her back teeth. ”We really are partners in crime, aren't we?”
”We are,” he said. ”You now know more than anyone else.”
”I'll keep my mouth shut,” she said, ”except when, well, you know.”
It was as if she were melting for him before his eyes.
He'd never been with a woman like her, he thought. Too bad about tomorrow.
16.
It was obvious to joe when he saw george pickett waiting for him at a back table in the near-empty employee cafeteria that the old man had cleaned himself up. George looked dark and small, birdlike, fragile, his thick black hair slicked back wetly in jail-bar strings and his hands entwined in front of him. A tray of food sat off to the side. He wore a dingy but clean white s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.toned all the way up and dark baggy slacks Joe recognized from years before, which gave Joe an uneasyfeeling and caused a hitch in his step that he powered through, as if his legs had thought better of the reunion and decidedto flee.
The closer Joe got to his father, the angrier and more confusedhe became. The emotions came out of a place he didn't know still existed, as if a long-dormant tumor had ruptured. He felt eighteen again, and not in a good way.
Joe sat down across from George. They had the table to themselves. Outside the murky, unwashed windows, the last moments of the sun died on the pine boughs.
”You can grab a tray and get some dinner,” George said, gesturingtoward the buffet line at the front of the room.
”I'm not hungry.”
”You've got to eat something.”
”No.”
George slid his tray before him-slices of dark meat coveredwith brown gravy, a mound of mashed potatoes with a hollowed-out, gravy-filled pocket on top. Joe remembered watching his father do that growing up-hollowing out the potatoeswith the heel of his spoon, pouring gravy in the depressionso it looked like a volcano about to erupt gravy.
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