Where There's Smoke
“There you are, Mr. Cato.” As she handed him the check, she was careful not to let her fingers touch his. “I’m sorry I overlooked it.”
She resumed her seat behind the desk and returned to the paperwork she’d been doing when he came in. Her heart was thudding so strongly and so loudly that she could count each beat against her eardrums. Whatever happened next was up to him. The next few moments were critical. If he turned and left without another word, it would break her heart. Her nonchalance was a pose she’d affected to hide her despair. If that tempestuous kiss at her kitchen sink was the extent of their love affair, she’d just as soon stop breathing.
Ten seconds ticked by. Twenty. Thirty.
Bowie shuffled his feet.
Janellen waited, making small notations in red ink on the invoice while her entire future and self-image dangled by a thread.
“How, uh, how come you’ve stopped calling me Bowie?”
Janellen looked up, feigning surprise to find that he was still there. She pretended to ponder her answer. “I didn’t think we were on a first-name basis any longer.”
“Why’s that?”
“When two people address each other by first names, it implies friendship. Friends don’t avoid each other. Friends call, drop by, pass the time of day together, make a point to see each other. Friends wave when they drive past; they don’t turn their heads and pretend not to see.” This last referred to the day before. He’d deliberately ignored her when they’d accidentally met on Texas Street.
“Now, Miss Janellen, I know you thought—”
“Even former friends don’t pretend that the other person no longer exists.” Her voice began to quaver and for that she hated herself. Whatever the outcome, she had vowed not to cry in front of him.
“Friends don’t act like they’ve never been… friendly. Like they’ve never… Oh!” To her mortification, tears filled her eyes. She stood and turned her back to him, cramming a tissue beneath her nose.
“I’m no good at this,” she said mournfully, blotting her eyes. “I can’t play games like other women. That trick with your paycheck was stupid and juvenile. I know you saw right through it. I just didn’t know any other way to force you to see me alone.”
She turned to face him, knowing that she looked her worst. She didn’t cry prettily like the actresses in movies. When she cried, the whites of her eyes turned pink, her nose turned red, and her complexion got blotchy.
“I’m sorry, Bowie. I know this must be terribly embarrassing for you. Feel free to go. You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Honest.”
But he didn’t move. In fact, if there was anything redeemable in the last couple of minutes, it was that he appeared as miserable as she. “Truth is, Miss Janellen, I’m the one who’s sorry that I put you through a scene like this.”
She reasoned that since she had already made a fool of herself and had nothing more to lose, she might as well get to the bottom of it. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
“ ’Cause I didn’t think you’d want to see me after… Shit.” Mumbling the expletive, he turned his head away. But when his gaze landed on a voluptuous calendar nude, he hastily looked back at Janellen. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me after what I did to you. I didn’t show you any respect, and I do respect you a hell of a lot.”
Her cheeks grew warm as she recalled his hand moving beneath her skirt, clutching her bottom with what she’d thought was uncontrollable lust. It had been shocking, yes, but thrilling.
“Well, I wasn’t behaving very respectfully myself, was I?” she asked a bit breathlessly. “But I assumed that our respect for each other had been well established. I thought that our friendship had moved to another level. I thought you might want to, uh, maybe, you know, to fuck.”
His hat landed on the top of the desk. He dropped into the chair facing it and p
lanted his elbows among the invoices, holding his head between his hands. His cheeks puffed out, then his lips pursed as he blew out a gust of breath.
“I know that’s the right word,” Janellen said timidly. “Key says it all the time to mean… that.”
“Yes, ma’am, it surely is the right word. It gets the message across, all right.”
“Well then? Was I wrong?”
Bowie massaged the back of his neck. After what seemed to Janellen an eternity, he raised his head. “Fact of the matter is, it isn’t the right word. If that’s what I wanted, we could have done it on your kitchen linoleum. But I think too much of you to toss up your skirts and go at you like you’re no better than a ten-dollar whore. See, Miss Janellen, you’re quality and I’m trash, and nothing’s ever going to change that.”
“You’re not trash!”
“Compared to you I am. Besides which, I’m an ex-con.”
“You served time for doing something that needed to be done. In my opinion, the beast you assaulted deserved prison, not you.”
He smiled indulgently at her vehemence. “Unfortunately, the state of Texas didn’t agree.” Turning serious again, he said, “Neither would the people of Eden Pass. If you were to take up with me, how do you think folks would react?”