Part 15 (1/2)
”Maybe he'd had enough and made a run for it.”
”He was in a coma, Garrett.”
”You think? You're sure? One hundred percent? He wasn't just paralyzed?”
”You know better than that.”
”No, I don't,” I lied. ”You never let anybody get close enough to tell.”
She didn't bother to argue.
I recalled Morley's hypothesis that some guy named Garrett was the moral anchor and emotional touchstone of the spider woman. I didn't want the job. Everybody knows what girl spiders do when boys get too close.
Maybe it was one of those deals where, you save a life, it's your responsibility forever after.
You put the knightly armor on, and sometimes they don't let you take it off.
”What're you thinking?”
”I'm thinking you're a dangerous woman to be around. And I'm around you a lot.”
”Tinnie knows you pretty well, then.”
”Unfortunately. But my personal life isn't what I meant.”
”You're afraid of me?”
”There's that. You've got a temper. But the real problem is, you swim with sharks. I expect jaws to clamp on me any minute.”
”With all your guardian angels?”
”Angels? Name two.”
”Morley Dotes. Deal Relway. Westman Block. Playmate. Saucerhead Tharpe. Not to mention your business partners. Max Weider is no angel. Neither is Lester Tate. And then there's me.”
Made me feel humble. For maybe ten seconds. Then my natural cynicism got its second wind. Someday I should fake my own death and see how things shake out.
”So you lost track of your dad. Let's slink on down to the bottom line. How come you're in a state where you sneak off?... You aren't just looking to hide out, are you?”
”No. I walk back out of here in the morning and be who I've been since the first time we met.”
”In the morning?”
”I don't have anywhere to go tonight.”
I began to fiddle with that slingshot stone a whole lot more seriously.
”It isn't like you don't have other friends stay over.”
”You want to know the truth?”
”Maybe not, the way you're looking at me.”
”None of those friends are as scary as you.”
Belinda went on petting that kitten, scowling because she'd heard something she didn't like. She stared at my hands. ”What the h.e.l.l is that thing? What're you doing?”
I explained. ”I left it here before I went to the party. I don't know. It relaxes me when I handle it.”
Belinda extended a hand. I let her have the stone. ”You're right.”
Dean stuck his head in. ”You need anything before I go to bed?” He was lugging a brat cat of his own.
”I can't think of anything.”
He scowled at Belinda but couldn't get his heart into it. He sighed and went away.
Singe didn't bother to check us out. Which meant she was sulking but didn't have ambition enough to make anybody miserable.
Belinda poured herself a beer once she finished her tea. We played with kittens and let our hair down, talked like teenagers deep into the night, giggling at stupid jokes. I found out that she'd never had any girlfriends when she was younger. Never had the chance. Her role models were all the sort polite folk don't invite to holiday dinners.
We drank a lot of beer.
25.
Singe wakened me at some G.o.dsforsaken hour, chivied in by Dean, who couldn't face direct evidence confirming or disclaiming the prurient imaginings slithering round the interior of his hard black skull. The fact that his imaginings were exactly that, and only that, meant nothing.
By the time we'd retired neither Belinda nor I was sober enough for anything more energetic than sleep.
Singe's att.i.tude was sour enough.
”What?” I snarled. The morning light at play on my curtains shrieked that it wasn't anywhere near noon. In fact, it had to be closer to dawn, a time when only mad dogs and madmen got after the early worm.
”A messenger brought a letter from Colonel Block.”
A kitten crabbed out of the covers, stretched, hopped down, and stalked proudly out of the room. Belinda made ”Leave me alone!” growls and burrowed deeper into the covers. ”Do I need to sign or something?”
”No. It was just a letter.”
Then why was she waking me up now? ”Then why are you waking me up now?”
”I thought you'd want to know.”