“I am beat, Kate, but tell Riley I will tune in. What time?” She gave me the details and I made a mental note to tune in. I needed to call my attorney but I didn’t want to do that in the cab. This would be for his ears only.
Once I made it home, I tossed everything down and called Soklov first thing. He seemed eager to help, as he should. I paid his retainer fee every month without fail. I gave him the names and information, and he promised his detective would get to the bottom of it in the next couple of days.
“Shouldn’t be too difficult since he’s a public figure. So, should I expect to see his name again? Say on a prenuptial agreement?” I laughed at that idea. Soklov was always inappropriate when it came to social issues but he did such a great job, I overlooked his flaws.
“Hell no. I just want to know. Thanks, Richard.” I hung up the phone before that conversation got too awkward. I fell on my couch thankful to be home. I went ahead and put the television on channel 16. I had loads of laundry to do and I probably needed to go grocery shopping but right now, I just wanted a nap. I curled up with my cashmere throw but sleep wouldn’t come. All I could think of was Bullet. “Damn!” I said to no one in particular. I dragged myself off the couch and decided that I needed a shower. Maybe I could wash his memory away. I doubted it but it was a good place to start.
Chapter Two
Bullet
By the time I got home, I wasn’t pissed off at Lilly anymore, just myself. Yeah, it sucked that she didn’t have the decency to ask me about what happened—she just assumed that what she heard was the truth. Could I blame her, honestly?
Regardless of whose fault it was, it st
ung. I poured myself a glass of bourbon and flipped on my laptop. I had hundreds of emails but only one really stood out to me—it was from Slate, my brother. I didn’t open it, just swished my bourbon in the glass then swallowed. I decided to call Page and check my schedule for the rest of the week. I knew I would be busy but I was okay with that. The less time I had to think about Lilly, the better.
Page’s perkiness put me into work mode and I pulled up my online calendar and together, we went through it day by day. “You know, Mrs. Fuentes has been missing you. I thought she would ring my phone off the hook while you were gone.” I groaned but Page didn’t notice. In a quiet, careful voice she added, “Would you like me to block off some time, you know, for an extended consultation with Mrs. Fuentes?” I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it hardly believing what I heard. Was Page trying to hook me up with Carmen? Surely she was joking, right? When I didn’t say anything Page spoke again. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
“This really isn’t any of your business, Page. Who I see and when has nothing to do with you. You stick to scheduling the appointments and I will take care of the rest.” What the hell was going on? My own assistant was trying to pimp me out.
“No problem Dr. Steinmann. I just want to be of assistance to you. If you’ll notice on Friday I put you down for 2:30 with Dr. Pennington...” The rest of the conversation was pretty standard but I was ready to get off the phone with her. Did I have such a crappy reputation that my own assistant would assume that I wanted to hook up with Carmen Fuentes? I just couldn’t think about it anymore. Naturally, my thoughts went to Lilly.
I hung up the phone with Page and walked over to the violin case on the credenza. I opened it admiring the dark shiny wooden instrument. I remembered her face as she played it; how utterly transformed she had been. Obviously the instrument needed some work but Lilly had pulled beauty from those warped strings — she had talent and passion. I scribbled a note asking my housekeeper to mail the instrument to Lilly. I didn’t want to see her, not right now. She confused things — she confused me. I was pretty sure by her response to Amelia Sheffield’s friend that I ranked on the bottom of her “must call” list. We had only been back a few hours but I halfheartedly hoped she would call me. I fantasized about what she would say. “Bullet, come over now. My body aches for you!” Yeah, that wasn’t likely to happen.
Having my calendar squared away I went back to my laptop and perused my emails. I stared at the email from Slate and clicked on it. It was short and to the point — typical Slate.
Brother, it has been too long. We need to talk. I want to talk. Call me when you can. You have my number. — Slate
Before I could type back an appropriate response the doorbell rang. I set my glass down and peeked through the peephole. Man, I can’t catch a break today. It was my red-haired neighbor, the one who liked visiting me when her husband wasn’t at home. In the past I had obliged her sexual fantasies but today I was in no mood to play. Huh, that’s weird. Knowing that I was home, she waved at me from the peephole. I could see she wore her terry cloth cover up, the one she sported over her bathing suit. Sometimes she came over without the bikini, just a cover-up. I absently wondered what she was wearing today but I wasn’t curious enough to find out. I opened the door and smiled politely, hoping she would get the message without me actually telling her to leave.
“Hi doctor. I see you’ve been gone for a little while. Did you enjoy your vacation?”
“Yes, it was quite refreshing.” I didn’t move or invite her in. She looked past me and into the house assuming that I was entertaining someone, perhaps a lady friend. Seeing no one there she looked in the driveway and frowned at me.
“Are you going to invite me in?” She gave me a brilliant smile but I was unmoved in my resolve.
“I’m afraid I can’t today but thanks for stopping by.” I gave her an odd little wave and tried to shut the door.
“Oh, you must be leaving. Sorry I interrupted you.” Well, I might as well nip this in the bud now.
“No, I’m not going anywhere I just think we should cool it. Do you know what I mean?” I leaned against the door frame with my arms crossed, looking down at her. I hoped she would agree with me and make this easy but I could see that was not going to happen.
“You bastard! You think you can just throw me away, that you can just send me away?” She stomped her petite foot at me, her hands clinched into fists. I had not expected this kind of response.
“I don’t know what you think is going on here but you have been coming over here to see me, not the other way around. I think you’re a beautiful woman — I always have but I’m not comfortable with this situation anymore. I hope you understand.” The compliment seemed to soothe her wounded ego. She gave me a sad smile and left without saying anything. That’s the end of that — hopefully.
I closed the door and watched her walk away from the window. She stopped once and looked back but went home without further fuss. I did not want to embarrass her or make her feel ashamed about what we had been doing. I couldn’t even explain it to myself. It needed to be over. I went back to the computer for a third time and reread my brother’s message. The easy thing to do would be to bang off a smartass response but I had been doing the easy thing long enough. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my contact list. It was a shame that I did not know my own brother’s phone number.
I might regret it later but I tapped the screen and called him. “Hey Slate, it’s me.” The beginning of our conversation felt awkward for both of us. Strange how we were now, compared to how we had been. I missed my brother and yet, I knew I had not quite forgiven him, not that he had asked.
“I guess you are wondering why I wrote you, now after all this time. How long has it been since we’ve seen one another?”
“It’s been a couple of years,” I offered casually. It had been four years actually; it would be four years this Christmas.
“How have you been?”
“I, uh, I’m great, Slate. Is that why you called me? To ask me how I was? You sounded urgent in your email. I thought something was wrong.” Slate sighed into the phone; I pretended not to hear him.