Play Dead - Page 23

She glanced at the clock and picked up her suitcase. The truth. The only thing the truth could do now . . .

... was kill.

5

LAURA finally managed to get out of the bed again.

Three weeks had achingly passed—three torturous weeks during which Laura had done little but sulk away the days in Serita’s spare bedroom. And God, how she hated to sulk, how she hated lying in bed and feeling sorry for herself.

She pulled back the covers. Her hair was disheveled, her usually dark skin turning gray, her eyes swollen and black. Yes, three weeks had passed, but as far as the pain was concerned, it felt like one agonizing second. The pain, the anguish of knowing her David was dead had not lessened, had not loosened its grip for even the briefest of moments.

She had visitors. Gloria was always with her, and in many ways, she was the best comfort, not because her words or company was particularly comforting, but because Laura’s worrying about her sister was an effective means of escaping from her own torment. The way Gloria’s body shook and quaked reminded Laura of the painful days of withdrawal when she first found Gloria’s naked body with the needle tracks in her arms.

Stan was also a true support and a sad example of lost opportunity. He visited every day, often at the same time as Gloria. Laura noticed that Gloria had something of a crush on Stan. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but so far Stan had not done more than be kind to her. That was probably good. At this stage, a bad relationship with a member of the opposite sex would be catastrophic for Gloria.

There were others. Earl was here a lot. So were Clip Arnstein and Timmy Daniels, the backcourt player who had always thought of David as an older brother.

Laura put on a fabulous act when these visitors came to the door. She pretended to be strong and told them all she was doing just fine, that she was taking walks outside every day, that there was no reason to worry. In other words, she lied. She was not sure it was working, but anything was better than allowing people to stare at you with eyes filled with pity. That was something Laura could not handle.

“Whoa, will miracles never cease?”

Laura turned toward Serita. “Excuse me?”

“The fans are on their feet! Laura is finally out of bed! And, oh, my, would you look at that? She’s actually putting on something besides a nightgown and bathrobe.”

“Funny.”

“Are you going back to work? Say yes.”

“No.”

“Then where are you going?”

“To the house.”

Serita paused. “Nah, let’s do something else. Let’s drive down by the Combat Zone and whistle at guys.”

“I’m going to the house.”

“Honey, are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“But why?”

“I have to clean up a few things.”

“It can wait.”

“No,” Laura replied, “I don’t think it can.”

“Then I’ll go with you. I can be very helpful.”

“With cleaning? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’m very good at supervising.”

“You have to go to work, Serita. You have that big spread for International Health Spas today.”

“It can wait.”

“With the money they’re paying you for those TV ads?”

“I said it can wait.”

“Let me be somewhat less subtle,” Laura said. “I want to go alone.”

“Well, fuck you, too.”

Laura chuckled sadly. “You’re a good friend.”

“The best.”

“But I’m taking advantage. I should move out.”

“No way. I need you here. You’re my excuse to Earl.”

“You love him, you know.”

Serita put her hands on her hips. “How many times do I have to tell you—”

“I know, I know. He’s just a good lay.”

“You got it. But he loves the spa commercials. He says seeing me all sweaty on Nautilus machines makes him hot.”

“I’m happy for you both.”

“Fuck you, too.”

Laura kissed her friend’s cheek and left. She got into her car. As she drove, she tried to keep her mind blank, tried to concentrate on the road in front of her. But her mind would not do as she commanded. It kept coming back to David, always back to David, to the way he walked, to the way he held her as they slept, to the feel of his unshaven face against her skin when he kissed her.

David had changed her in so many ways, and yet now that he was gone, she knew that many of those changes would soon dissolve. She remembered how wonderful it had been to discover each other, to learn of love together. It had taken a while. Love and trust did not come easily to either one of them.

During the second month of their relationship, Laura felt herself finally begin to let down her defenses and open up to him. Before that, she had been afraid of exposing herself to the devastating weapon of love, of being hurt in a way from which she could never recover. But on this cold December night, Laura realized that she and David were destined to be together. True, they had made no commitment to each other, made no pledges. But Laura knew. And now that she did, she wanted to see David, couldn’t wait to be with him so that she could at long last tell him how she felt. But would she have the courage? Would she finally be able to say and hear words she had always dreamed about but never allowed herself to hope for? Probably not. Probably she was not ready. But then again, if you don’t try . . .

She had been sitting at her desk, her leg shaking as it usually did. A happy, goofy smile, the smile of a woman starting to fall heavily for a man, kept inadvertently leaping upon her face. Laura psyched herself up, working up the nerve to go through with it. Finally, she reached for the phone, called David at the Garden, and invited him over for dinner this Friday.

“Are you cooking?” David asked.

“Of course.”

“Let me see if my Blue Cross is paid up.”

“Stop being a creep.”

He paused. “I’d love to but . . .”

“But?”

“I can’t on Friday. Can I take a rain check?”

Disappointment gushed through her. “Sure,” she managed.

“I have to go to this fund-raiser.”

Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She mentally chastised herself for her behavior, for hoping that he would invite her to go with him to the fund-raiser. It was just that she wanted to see him so much.

“Listen,” he continued, “I have to get back to practice. I’ll speak to you later.”

Tags: Harlan Coben Thriller
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