Fresh Disasters (Stone Barrington 13)

“There was a question?”

“Why didn’t they use the photographs?”

“I was thinking about that-this was before we got into bed together-and I think they’re playing it very smart.”

“Hang on a minute.” She began moving faster and making little noises, then she came all in a rush, followed closely by Stone.

She rolled off him and lay on her back, panting. “Okay, you can have your brain back now. How is the Post playing it smart?”

Stone took a few deep breaths and handed her the box of tissues from the bedside table. “This is how I figure it: Bernie doesn’t know they have the pictures; he thinks they’re operating on nothing more than a rumor. So they run what he thinks is a rumor the first day, then Bernie sues them immediately, denies everything, claims slander. They wait for the suit to be filed, then the next day-that’s today-they run the pictures, thus blowing Bernie’s lawsuit out of the water and making him look even more like the ass he is. You could call that humiliating him, legally, and Bernie prides himself on knowing how to manipulate the law, so he’s hoist with his own petard.”

“What’s a petard?”

“Some sort of medieval weapon, I think, but the phrase means, if I’m right, that the Post will pretty much fuck Bernie with his own dick.”

&n

bsp; “How very appropriate,” Celia said, laughing.

“Just what is your interest in all this?” Stone asked. “Do you have an axe to grind?”

“You might say that,” she replied. “Right after Bernie had started seeing Marilyn, when we were both working at the day spa, he made a big pass at me. She never even knew that, but somehow she got the idea that I was interested in him, and she took delight in telling me all the details of their affair, as if she were making me jealous. I got really tired of it, but she wouldn’t stop, even when I asked her to. I quit the job, just to get away from her.”

“God, I hope I never make you angry with me,” Stone said.

“That would be unwise, indeed. Where’s the breakfast in bed you promised me?”

“Celia, it’s…” he checked the bedside clock “…six oh five in the morning, and my housekeeper doesn’t arrive until eight. And I can’t even make a fist, let alone cook, in my present condition.”

“What you need is a hot bath,” she said, getting out of bed. A moment later, water could be heard running in the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, Celia sat in the big tub, holding a limp Stone in her arms. “There, there,” she said, stroking his hair. “This is wonderful,” he sighed.

“Of course it is. And when we’re done here, I’m going to give you the best massage you ever had in your life.”

“I think I’m going to have to take the day off,” Stone said.

She laughed. “I wish I could join you, but I have appointments today.”

“So you live in that building on Park? You’ve been very mysterious about it.”

“Not mysterious, just careful.”

“Why careful?”

“I’m afraid I have a crazy ex-boyfriend on my hands.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Not much to tell. I lived with him in a big loft downtown for a couple of years. It was fine for a while, but then he got into drugs and started becoming violent.”

“He was violent with you? He is crazy.”

“You’d think my size would have intimidated him just a little, wouldn’t you? He was only about six feet, and I think that always annoyed him. I took it at first, and then I started hitting him back.”

“Didn’t that stop him?”

“No, he started using weapons-his belt, once a whip, if you can believe it.”