Fade Away

Chapter 8

He convinced Joe and Bone not to call the cops. They didn’t take much convincing. Most people do not like activities that involve law enforcement. They helped Myron into a taxi. The driver wore a turban and listened to country music. Multiculturalism. Myron spit out Jessica’s Soho address and collapsed into the ripped cushions. The driver wasn’t interested in conversation. Good.

Myron mentally checked over his body. Nothing broken. The ribs would be bruised at worst. Nothing he couldn’t play through. The head was another matter. Tylenol with codeine would help tonight, then he could move down to Advil or something in the morning. There was nothing much you could do for head trauma but give it time and control the pain.

Jessica met him at the door in her bathrobe. He felt, as he often did around her, a little short of breath. She skipped admonishments, drew a bath, helped him undress, crawled in behind him. The water felt good against his skin. He leaned back on her as she wrapped washcloths around his head. He let loose a deep, totally content breath.

“When did you go to medical school?” he asked.

From behind him Jessica kissed his cheek. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, Doctor. Much better.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

He did. She listened in silence, her fingertips gently massaging his temples. Her touch was soothing. Myron imagined there were better things in life than being in this tub leaning back against the woman he loved, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of any. The pain began to dull and slacken.

“So who do you think they were?” she asked.

“No idea,” Myron said. “I imagine they’re hired goons.”

“And they wanted to know where Greg was?”

“Seems so.”

“If two goons like that were looking for me,” she said, “I might disappear too.”

That thought had crossed Myron’s mind too. “Yes.”

“So what’s your next step?”

He smiled and closed his eyes. “What? No lectures? No telling me it’s too dangerous?”

“Too cliché,” she said. “Besides, there’s something else here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something about all this you’re not telling me.”

“I—”

She put a finger over his lips. “Just tell me what you plan on doing next.”

He settled back down. Scary how easily she read him. “I have to start talking to people.”

“Like?”

“His agent. His roommate, a guy named Leon White. Emily.”

“Emily. That would be your old college sweetheart?”

“Uh huh,” Myron said. Quick subject change before she started reading him again. “How was your evening with Audrey?”

“Fine. We mostly talked about you.”

“What about me?”

Jessica began to stroke his chest. The touch slowly drifted away from being merely soothing. Her fingertips caressed his chest with a feather touch. Gently. Too gently. She was strumming him like Perlman on a violin.

“Uh, Jess.”

She shushed him. Her voice was soft. “Your ass,” she said.

“My ass?”

“Yep, that’s what we talked about.” To emphasize the point her hand cupped a cheek. “Even Audrey had to admit it was edible, running up and down the court like that.”

“I have a mind too,” Myron said. “A brain. Feelings.”

She lowered her mouth toward his ear. When her lips touched the lobe, he felt a jolt. “Who cares?”

“Uh, Jess…”

“Shhh,” she said as her other hand slid down his chest. “I’m the doctor here, remember?”