“Angela, what’s the deal with Best and Freed? Why did Best drop out of the party? Did he get fed up with Freed’s excesses-political and/or sexual?”
“Hey, this home porno-movie deal isn’t well known, not at all. I don’t think Lonny or anybody knows. I shouldn’t have told you. If I wasn’t who-knows-how-many- sheets-to-the-wind, I wouldn’t’ve.”
“So it was a political rift, then?”
“What?”
“That split up Best and Freed.”
“I don’t think so. Frankly, I think Lonny still believes in what Freed stands for. But as a businessman, visible in the community, Lonny doesn’t want to be associated with somebody controversial like Freed.”
“Well, is Lonny active with any other political group?”
“He’s a Republican. He gives ’em some money.”
“But he’s never been really active in politics since splitting with Freed.”
“No. Not nearly. Why are you so interested in this?”
I’d gone too far with my questions. Time for a strategy shift.
I leaned close to her. “Well, frankly… can you keep a secret?”
She grinned, very crinkly. “Judging by the way I’ve been spilling things tonight, no. But I’m willing to try to learn.”
“Good. I’m not really in the auto parts business. I’m in security work.”
“You mean you’re a detective?”
“No. Security. I was approached by Preston Freed to help him train and prepare his security team for the upcoming primary campaign.”
That perked her up. “Oh, yeah?”
“I haven’t taken the job yet. I knew Freed was something of a nut, and I didn’t know if I wanted to get involved with him, professionally speaking. So I needed to check him and some of his friends out.”
“Is that why you hit on me?”
There was no expression in her face. Her eyes, deep blue, were unreadable as they fixed upon me.
“Yes,” I said.
She smiled sadly, looked into her martini.
“That,” I said, “and your smile, and I wasn’t lying about liking you.”
“You came to the car lot looking for me, then?”
“No! That was a coincidence.”
“A coincidence?”
“Well, I was there to check Best out. I didn’t know anything about you. Just that you were a pretty woman in red, white, and blue-and I’m as patriotic as the next guy.”
She smiled one-sidedly and touched my cheek. “I guess I don’t take it back. That you’re a nice guy.”
“I didn’t mean to take advantage of your good nature.”
“Frankly,” she said, “I wish you would.”
She kissed me again; another slow, sweet, sticky kiss. She rolled over on top of me and my arms slipped around her, my hand settling on her ass, dress hiked up over pantyhose and panties; nice shape to her ass, soft yet firm. Something stirred in me, below the belt. She kept kissing and I kissed back. The fire was warm on us. I rolled over on top of her, felt her breasts through her dress; she reached behind and unzipped it and brought it down over her breasts in a wispy bra that she slipped down and my hands went onto her cool flesh, warming to my touch and the glow of the fire. Her nipples were hard under my fingertips and I put my mouth on her breasts, suckled, and she moved my hand to her pantyhose, inside her panties, in front, and I pulled away, like my fingers had touched fire, not soft curly hair.
I was breathing hard. Blinking. Something was wrong.
“Jack… Jack, what’s wrong?”
She was sitting next to me, looking lovely if disheveled in the fire’s glow, and I tried to say something but my tongue was thick. My dick wasn’t.
“Jack, what is it? You’re…”
“What?” I managed to say.
“You’re crying.”
I touched my face. I’ll be damned if I wasn’t.
“What is it, Jack?”
“I… I’m sorry, Angela. I just can’t.”
She smiled wryly, but sympathetically, her arm around my shoulder. “You were doing fine. Just fine.”
“Can’t.”
She dabbed my face with the cloth of her dress. “What is it, Jack?”
“I lost my wife not long ago.”
“Oh, Jack…”
“I… haven’t been with a woman since.”
She swallowed. Patted my shoulder. “How long has it been?”
“A year.” It seemed like a year. And it seemed like a moment ago.
“I guess I’m just not ready,” I said.
“Oh, Jack, I understand.”
“I feel funny.”
“What is it?”
“The oddest feeling.”
“Are you sick?”
“I don’t know.”
“You… you want some aspirin or something?”
“No. It’ll be all right. Let me catch my breath.” What was this feeling?
“It’s natural to feel a little guilty,” she said.
Was that it? Guilt? Of all things.
“Why don’t you stay here tonight,” she said. “You can sleep out on the couch, if you like. We can just be there for each other. I think maybe we can both use some company tonight.”
I nodded.
We walked back through the living room and down a hallway. Several family photographs in frames lined the wall. I stopped at one.
“Your girls?” I asked.
“Yes. Taken a few years ago.”
“They look like you. They’re going to be beauties.”
She hugged my arm.
I envied her a little; even without a partner, she had something here. Kids and a house and a life. Mediterranean furniture or not, I could almost see myself here. In this house with this woman and her family and her life.
We moved to the next picture, a larger family portrait, and I stopped short.
“Your, uh, ex?” I asked.
“I should take it down, I know,” she said. “But to the girls he’s still dad.”
“What’s Bob doing for a living these days?” I asked her, studying the portrait.
“Are you okay, Jack?”
“What’s he doing for a living?”
“He works for George Ridge now. Real estate counseling, I guess you’d call it.”
I said nothing.
“Yeah,” she went on, “he’s making good money, too, flitting around. In Canada this weekend, some fancy deal.”
“Is that right,” I said. “I… I don’t think I can stay tonight, Angela.”
The dark blue eyes were very wide as she searched my face. “Why not?”
“I’d like to. But I just can’t.”
