Maybe

40

ME, TALKING TO Callie: “Room service was a great idea.”

“I agree,” she says, “I’m totally starving.”

“You know how I knew that? The four pounds of food you ordered.”

She flips me the finger.

Undeterred, I say, “Sam’s tucked away in the bathroom.”

“So?”

“The room service guy saw us here together, cool, calm, collected. We let him take his time setting the table and so forth.”

She cuts into her tenderloin and says, “You mean it establishes we didn’t kill a man, hack his vocal chords out of his neck with a pocket knife, or stick a tube up his ass.”

“Exactly.”

When Callie takes a bite of her steak I’m reminded how much I love watching her eat. She’s truly stunning. Crazy as it sounds, the way she moves her mouth when eating is something I’d pay money to see. Of course, I’d pay more to see what’s going on under those jeans. My mind suddenly shifts to Callie in the cubby with the ice machine, pulling her pants down enough to pee.

“Will I get to meet Miranda this trip?” she says.

“Excuse me?”

“Miranda. Do you have plans to introduce us?”

“You want me to?”

“Sure.”

“Then I will.”

I think about it a minute, then say, “What made you ask that?”

“About Miranda? You were staring at me.”

“I was?”

“At my lap, if we’re being precise.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“It’s a chick thing. We know when you glance, we know when you stare. You weren’t glancing.”

She takes a bite and adds, “You stared at my face, then my boobs, then my crotch. With extreme lust.”

“Extreme?”

“Again, a chick thing. There are degrees of lustful stares. Yours was extreme.”

“Can you blame me?”

She swallows her steak, cuts another wedge. “Blame you? Explain.”

“Christ, Callie, you’re gorgeous. Your body makes me crazy! You’re literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I’ve told you that a million times.”

“And I’m always pleased to hear it. But your problem with women?”

“Do tell.”

“You’re lazy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Gorgeous women require extra effort. In a choice between a gorgeous woman, and a willing one, you’ll settle for willing every time.”

“Well hell, what man wouldn’t?”

“What man indeed.”

I say, “Miranda is not only willing, she’s beautiful and brilliant.”

“What’re you saying? She might be the one?”

“No, of course not. But can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you being so catty tonight? I’m far more selective than you’re making it sound. Surely you can imagine how hard it is to find women who’ll accept my lifestyle.”

She pauses, then says, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I had no idea Miranda was that important to you.”

“Well, she is.”

“You really care for this lady?”

“I do. Very much. And thanks for not calling her a hooker.”

“You’re welcome. But…if she’s here, and she’s so special to you, why were you staring at me just now?”

“Because you’re Callie Carpenter!”

“This is a compliment, yes?”

“Definitely. You’re one of a kind. I’d give anything to have you.”

“As a man who employs hookers, is this the point where you make me an offer?”

I look at her, looking at me. If there’s one woman in the world who could get me to settle down, it’s this one. Not only is her beauty unsurpassed, she’s everything I seek in a woman. Callie’s the total package. She completes me.

In short, we’re perfect together.

We work well, enjoy the same things. Like making money, shopping, killing bad guys, watching movies, going to theater, sleeping with beautiful women, and millions of other things, like…

“I look forward to it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Meeting Miranda,” she says. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

I frown. “Fine. I’ll introduce you now.”

“Fine,” she says.

I get Miranda on the phone and ask, “Are you up for meeting a friend of mine?”

“Of course. When?”

“Right now. I’m in room 228.”

“Give me ten minutes. I’m still in the mall.”

“See you then.”

I click the phone off.

Callie says, “She’s going to be angry.”

“Miranda? No way.”

I pause a moment, then say, “Why would you think that?”

“You brought her to Vegas to be with you, then sent her to the mall to shop. That’s very sexist, making her shop alone.”

“Well excuse me, Gloria Steinem, but I’ve been rather busy just now, discovering and trying to figure out how to dispose of a dead body and clean up a crime scene. I suppose the politically correct thing would be to bring a date to the next killing.”

“No need to get defensive.”

“How could I not? You just accused me of treating Miranda badly.”

“You probably told her you had business to attend to.”

“That’s right.”

“Now she’s going to come to the room and see an unmade bed, and the two of us sitting alone in a hotel room, having dinner together.”

“It’s not like Miranda and I are a couple.”

“Are you kidding me?” Callie says.

“About what?”

“She’s a woman, Donovan, and…wait. Do I really need to explain this to you?”

“Yes.”

Callie puts her fork down, gets to her feet, and sighs. “Look. I don’t care what you’re paying her. If she’s as nice as you say, she’s probably got feelings for you. And if so, she’s going to feel slighted.”

“Slighted?”

“Insulted. Hurt. Abandoned.”

Callie knows I have abandonment issues.

“You added that last part for my benefit,” I say.

“Everything I said was for your benefit, Donovan.”

I think about that a minute. Then say, “Why do you care if I hurt Miranda’s feelings?”

She shrugs.

“What’s that mean?”

“I’m a woman.”

“When one suffers you all do?”

She gives me an odd look, like maybe I said something intelligent by mistake. She shakes it off and says, “I’m your friend, Donovan. I care about you. I want you to be a better man.”

We look into each others’ eyes. As always when that happens, a surge of warmth floods my body.

Callie says, “Call her back. Tell her to finish shopping. Say you’ll meet her in your other room in an hour. By then the cleaner will be here.”

“Then what?”

“Wait for her to take a long, hot shower. Let her get all dolled up and have her put on one of her new outfits. When she does, tell her she’s so beautiful she takes your breath away.”

“Then what?”

“Then drive her to my place to meet me and Gwen. She’ll think we’re pretty, but she won’t feel threatened.”

“Why would she feel threatened in the first place? She’s a hooker!”

“She’s a woman, Donovan, a woman with deep feelings for you. She wouldn’t give you this much of her time if you weren’t important to her.”

“Anything else?”

“While you’re at my place don’t show Gwen or me the slightest interest. Dote on Miranda the entire time. Brag on her. Be proud of her in front of us. If Gwen happens to make a snotty remark, defend your lady. That’ll make her feel special.”

I nod slowly, then smile. “Everything you said makes perfect sense.”

“You should be used to that by now.”

I laugh.

She laughs.

I ask, “Why are you so eager to help me with this?”

“I…who knows?”

“Tell me.”

“I…I just…” Her hand rises toward her face, but changes direction at the last moment and falls lightly on the highest point of the chair beside her. There’s something different in her eyes. A slight sadness?

And her voice.

She only spoke a handful of words just now, but her voice was different, somehow. It had a certain depth to it. A warmth I’d never heard before.

And excuse me, but did I just witness Callie’s inability to complete a simple sentence?

Something’s changed. Something I can’t quite wrap my brain around. It’s all very mysterious, nebulous, and minute, as if a tiny shift occurred light years ago in a distant galaxy, and finally made its way to the planet Earth, into the room where Callie and I are standing.

I feel a tremor. Something stirring inside me.

Whoa, get your mind out of the gutter. I’m not talking about sex.

This is something vastly more important.

I can’t take my eyes off her. “You were about to say something. Tell me.”

Callie lowers her eyes. “Just that I want the best for you.”

“And?”

“And I always will.”

She raises her eyes and locks them on mine. “I want you to have the best possible life, Donovan.”

She turns away quickly, picks up her purse-handbag-and walks to the door. She gives me one last look before leaving, and says, “I wish this for you with all my heart.”

“Callie?” I say.

But she’s gone.

I close my eyes, replay the scene in my head.

And it hits me.

This place, this time, this conversation. After all these years, it finally comes together for me. Hits me like a ton of bricks. Callie, my one true friend, the only person who’s always been there for me-showed me a side of her she never shows, and…

And it tipped the scale. Made me realize what I’ve known all along, but never allowed myself to acknowledge.

I’m in love with Callie Carpenter.

It’s always been there, under the surface. I’ve always-you know, loved her.

You know. Like a friend. And always thought of her as an amazing, unattainable sexual being. She’s still that, of course. I mean, nothing’s really changed regarding our relationship. Callie’s still my best friend and trusted co-worker. And yes, she’s an unrivaled sexual being. And she’s unattainable as well, due to the fact she isn’t interested in men.

So what’s different?

The only thing different is what I just realized.

I love her!

I’ll keep it from her, of course. Because if I ever said it in her presence, she’d howl with laughter.

And yet…I do love her.

I love Callie.

…And wish I didn’t.