4:20. She was late, which she’d warned him about. At 4:26 he checked his watch again, wondering if something had gone dreadfully wrong. If she’d been unavoidably delayed, there was no way she could call because she couldn’t be sure what name he’d used when he was checking in. On the off chance Foley had arrived home unexpectedly, she could hardly excuse herself and go use the phone. Foley was paranoid as it was. Between bouts of lovemaking the day before, she’d let slip some of the things he’d done to her, the threats, promises of retribution if he ever found out she’d betrayed him again. Chet was appalled, but she’d shrugged it off as though it was no big deal. “But I’ll tell you one thing,” she’d said. “Next time he comes after me, that’s it for him. I’m out.”
4:29. Chet could feel anxiety roiling in his gut. What if Foley had gotten wind of their rendezvous? Chet didn’t dare leave. If she finally showed up and he was gone, she’d be furious.
At 4:36, he heard a tap on the door. He pulled the curtain aside, half-expecting to see Foley with a gun in his hand. It was Violet, thank god. He opened the door and in she strolled without a word of explanation. He waited, thinking surely she’d offer an excuse-errands, Daisy, heavy traffic on the road.
“Jesus, what happened? You said four.” He knew his tone was accusatory, but he was so relieved to see her he couldn’t help himself.
“That’s all you’ve got to say to me? I risk life and limb getting here and you’re pissed that I’m late? I told you not to get your shorts up your crack.”
“Of course I’m not pissed. I was just worried, that’s all. I’m sorry if I came off sounding like a jerk.”
“Where’d the flowers come from? You buy those for me?”
“You like them?”
“Sure, but it’s a lot of money for thirty minutes max.” She tossed her purse on the chair and slipped off her heels, which she kicked to one side.
“That’s all the time you have? I thought you said an hour?”
“That’s right. I got an hour and now half of it’s gone, so don’t hassle me, okay? We’ve got better things to do.” She began peeling off her clothes. Dress. Panties. She unhooked her bra, letting her breasts swing free. He couldn’t pinpoint her mood. Under the casual manner, there was an edginess he didn’t like. He waited for mention of the car, but she didn’t say a word. She might be uncomfortable expressing gratitude. She was staring at him. “Are you going to strip or just stand there and look at me all day?”
He undressed quickly while Violet pulled the covers down and got into bed. They made love, but with not quite the ardor he’d experienced the day before. His performance wasn’t all he’d hoped for either, though Violet was nice about it, saying, “Oh, quit fretting. Everybody has an off day. You’re fine.”
Afterward she swung her feet out of bed and sat up. Despite her reassurances, he was wary, wanting to make it up to her. He put his arms around her from behind, nuzzling her hair, kissing the smooth skin in the middle of her back. He could feel himself coming to life again where it counted. “Check this,” he said.
“Quit slobbering. You’re getting on my nerves.”
Teasingly he tugged on a strand of her hair. “So how does it feel to have your very own Bel Air?”
That brought a smile. She said, “Good. It’s great. When Foley came home this morning he parked it out in front and had me look through the window. I could hardly believe my eyes.”
She made it sound like Foley deserved the credit. Chet would have kidded her about it, but he sensed that under it all, she was depressed. “Hey, Henny Penny. What’s wrong? Has the sky fallen in on you?”
“I’m fine.”
“I know you better than that. What is it?”
“I just don’t see how I can keep doing this. Foley and I got into this huge fight last night and the fucker tore up the house. It’s like he can sense something’s off. He hasn’t figured it out, but it won’t take him long. Once he picks up the scent, he’s a regular bloodhound.”
“Has he said anything?”
“No, but there’s this look in his eye and it’s scaring me to death. I’m skating on thin ice. One wrong move and…”
“What?”
“I don’t know, but something bad.”
“Oh, come on. It can’t be as serious as all that.”
“Easy for you to say.”
He felt a whisper of fear. “So let’s take a little break until he calms down again. Tomorrow’s a holiday. I have work to do anyway so there’s no way to meet. This weekend, you can pal around with him. Go to the fireworks, take a picnic supper, do whatever you have to do. You’ll have him eating out of your hand.”