Public Displays Of Affection

Chapter Twenty-one

"Would you please hold still for one second, Hank?"

Charlotte jammed the safety pin through the elastic strap and poked herself in the finger.

"Ow! Shi-"

"Don't cuss and don't get blood on my tutu, Mama."

"Believe me, I'm trying to avoid both." Charlotte placed the pad of her index finger on her lips and sucked away the bright red droplet. She reached for the hairbrush, then studied the strand of purple silk flowers that was supposed to adorn a bun at the back of her daughter's head. She sighed. "Okay. Let's tackle your hair, kiddo."

"Mom!" Matt's voice boomed up the stairs.

"What?"

"Can Justin come to the recital?"

"Is that all right with you, sweetie?"

"I don't care." Hank shrugged. "He comes everywhere else with us."

"Sure!" Charlotte shouted back, tugging the hairbrush through Hank's tangle of curls. She knew from experience that getting all this hair into one little bun was going to be an engineering feat. "Hand me a few more bobby pins; honey."

"Hey! Don't pull it too tight or my brains will hurt."

Charlotte smiled, then looked up long enough to see the two of them reflected in Hank's dresser mirror. "You're going to do great today."

"Everybody ready?"

The sound of Joe's voice caused Charlotte to freeze. Her heart jumped into her mouth. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and three things occurred to her simultaneously: she was still in her bathrobe, she'd forgotten to un-invite him to the recital today, and she wasn't wearing his ring.

She'd tucked it away in her jewelry box when she got home late last night, after Bonnie nearly fainted at the sight of it and she had to explain that she was merely thinking about marrying him. Someday.

"It's Joe!" Hank bolted the instant he appeared in the hallway, and all the hair Charlotte had just twirled into a tight ball burst free. As Hank hurled herself against Joe and he hoisted her up into the air and hugged her, Charlotte noticed a huge run in Hank's ballet tights and knew she didn't have a spare pair.

She chuckled to herself-she'd never been without extra tights on recital day, so it must be that falling in love had her falling down on the job.

"Don't you look gorgeous!" Joe leaned back to inspect Hank's lavender spandex costume, touching the poof of stiff white netting around her hips. He kissed Hank's cheek. "You're gonna knock 'em dead, slugger."

The look on Hank's face was a balm to Charlotte's frayed nerves. Her daughter beamed at Joe, and the way Joe beamed back, it was obvious the affection was mutual.

LoriSue stared at the phone message in shock. Her bid on the end-unit townhome at The Lakes had been rejected- rejected-when she'd offered two thousand over the asking price and knew damn well there were no competing bidders.

She smelled something extremely foul. She smelled Jimmy.

With a blunt index finger-she still hadn't gotten used to these bland, stumpy fingernails, but she had to admit they were less hassle-she held down the intercom button.

"Ruth, where the hell is Jimmy?"

"Hold on. I'll check." She heard the office administrator click at the computer keys. "He's got three hours blocked out this morning to show the executive felo over on River Rock. Want me to page him?"

Three hours for one showing? "No. Thanks."

LoriSue tapped her stubby fingernails on the desktop… Would Jimmy sabotage her bid simply out of spite? Wasn't he satisfied that she was giving him possession of the house? What in God's name was that man's problem?

She grabbed her purse and cell phone, hit the speed dial for her divorce attorney's home number, and zipped down the hallway and out the door. She was headed for the vacant house on River Rock, where she planned to have it out with Jimmy, once and for all.

LoriSue was so focused on her mission that she nearly flattened two dark-haired men in expensive suits standing on the sidewalk. She ignored it when one of them whistled at her, and the other said something offensive that she didn't fully catch, because it was in a combination of English and a foreign language.

It sounded like Spanish.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Joe's eyes traveled to where Charlotte stood by the bureau, his smile widening. He put Hank down. "How long before we need to leave?"

"Twenty-two minutes," Charlotte said, motioning for Hank to come back so she could redo her hair. "Hold still for a second, would you, please?"

"Am I dressed all right?" Joe patted his slacks nervously. "I've never been to a; ballet recital before."

Charlotte had to laugh. Joe looked more than all right in a pair of gray linen slacks and a black polo shirt-he looked good enough to devour on the spot. She returned to the task at hand, pinning the flowers down over Hank's bun and applying a thick coat of hair spray. Hank coughed dramatically.

"There you go. Perfect."

The phone rang. Charlotte had to sprint by Joe to get to it and she felt his hand pat her robe-encased hip as she passed.

When she hung up a moment later; Joe was leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb of her bedroom, grinning.

"That was Bonnie-they're running late and will meet us at the auditorium."

Joe nodded and looked around the bedroom.

This was so awkward-Joe was in the room she'd shared with Kurt And she realized that there was so much unresolved between the two of them that she hardly knew where to begin. She loved him. He was too dangerous to be in her house, near her kids, in her life. Her head spun.

"So. This is where it all happens, eh?"

Charlotte laughed. "Where what happens?"

"Where all those poems get created."

"Oh." Charlotte heard Hank clunk down the steps and looked at her alarm clock. "I need to get ready."

Joe straightened. "Sure. How about I do a little light reading while you dress?"

Charlotte pulled the lapels of her bathrobe tight across her chest "You want to read them?"

"You betcha, dumplin'."

Charlotte tried to act calm, but she was beginning to sweat. "Now? "Why not?

"It's okay, Charlotte. You don't have to."

He was disappointed, clearly. Hadn't he told her he loved her sexuality; loved how hot she was? He wouldn't have the same reaction Kurt did-it was impossible. So why was she making such a big deal about this?

"All right, Joe."

Charlotte walked to the bedside table, removed the key from under the lamp, and unlocked the drawer. She handed him the book. "Please put it back if you hear one of the kids come upstairs."

Joe accepted the clothbound journal and leaned down to kiss her gently. "I will. And thank you."

LoriSue had always loved this area just outside Minton and had made more than a few profitable sales in the exclusive River Rock neighborhood. That's why it surprised her that this particular corporate relocation hadn't sold after two months oil the market. Sell-More had four months left on the contract, and with fall and winter on the way, they really needed to move it.

She pulled into the circular gravel driveway and saw two cars parked outsider-Jimmy's phallic insecurity blanket of an SUV and a little beat-up Nissan with Kentucky plates. With a sigh, LoriSue figured her husband was inside giving the grand tour of the inside of his pants and not the roomy walk-in closets.

As she inserted her key into the padlock on the front door, the strangest sense of dread hit hen It started as an eerie skittering over her skin and ended with a thud deep in her chest. She looked behind her-it was a reflex-and saw nothing but the minimally maintained yard, the drive, and an empty road beyond. But she swore she felt someone's eyes on her.

LoriSue shook it off, figuring it was simply the disgust she felt at finally catching Jimmy in the act. She removed the digital camera from her purse and clicked on the power.

Two could play this game.

Joe was amazed. He suddenly felt a little pang of sympathy for Kurt Tasker-because Charlotte's poetry was hotter than hell, so hot that he was feeling a bit uncomfortable himself.

She'd dated each poem, and they started four years ago. He wondered if there were earlier journals anywhere. He wondered if he could read those, too.

He had a few favorites, but the poem titled "Slut" just about did him in. The one where she worried that he would hurt her felt like a knife to his gut.

Joe barely got the drawer closed and locked before Justin and Matt clomped up the stairs and arrived breathless in the bedroom.

Matt looked around furtively, then whispered, "Did you get them?"

"Get what?" He hoped the boys didn't think anything was odd about him being in Charlotte's bedroom, standing in front of her nightstand.

Matt looked toward his mother's closed bathroom door and walked close to Joe. The pictures, he mouthed silently.

Hell-he'd forgotten to pick up Matt's pictures! He knew he'd forgotten something!

Joe sighed. "They're going to have to wait until after the recital. Look, I'm sorry. I just forgot, Matt."

"Forgot?" Justin's eyes went wide. "Man, we really wanted Chief Preston to look at those pictures! We found these two spies in town the other day, Joe-two creepy-looking guys hanging around for no reason. We'd never seen them before!"

Joe smiled, remembering being this age, when adventure and danger were the mainstays of his imagination. Then he got a load of Matt's expression and stopped smiling. The kid was devastated.

"You promised me." was all Matt said.

Joe looked at Charlotte's clock. He'd be cutting it close, but failing to follow through on the first promise he'd ever made to Matt was no way to start this relationship. It would be hard enough easing into Matt's life with a clean record.

"Okay. I'll get them."

Both boys exhaled in relief.

"Please tell your mother I'll be back in ten minutes, tops. Okay?"

"Sure, Joe!" Matt's smile took over his whole face. "No problem."

Joe was glad he'd left the film at the drugstore at the intersection of Hayden Circle and the state highway-it took him three minutes to get there. He ran into the store and took his place in line at the photo counter, cursing the other two people ahead of him, repeatedly checking his watch.

Finally, it was his turn. He handed three small tear-off receipts to the teenage clerk and had already pulled money from his wallet when the kid returned with a clipboard.

"We got a problem," he said.

Joe closed his eyes for an instant, then said as calmly as possible, "What kind of problem?"

"Your negatives were part of a group that was damaged when the machine went haywire the other night. You have to sign for the damaged prints." He held out the clipboard and pen.

"Damaged? How?"

The kid opened an envelope and flipped through a stack to reveal ja bright yellow streak that cut through the center of each print "You need to examine your prints and sign this waiver that you accept them in their damaged condition and don't plan any legal action against the store."

"Legal action? Jesus-tap-dancing-Christ! Here-just take my money and give me the pictures, okay? I'm in a hurry."

The kid looked hurt. "There's no charge, sir, and it's store policy and I'll lose my job if-"

"Okay, okay. I'll examine them for crying out loud. Hand 'em over."

Charlotte nearly tripped in her attempt to put on her left sandal and her right earring at the same time, and she stumbled into her bedroom expecting to see Joe but seeing the boys instead.

"Where's Joe?"

Justin and Matt looked at each other; then Matt said, "Not sure, exactly. He mentioned that he had to run an errand and that he'd be back in ten minutes."

An errand? She looked at the clock. Now? But they had to leave now!

Then it hit her-Joe had read a few of the poems and bolted. Charlotte finished buckling the strap of her sandal and took just a moment to focus on breathing, because it almost felt as if she was going to black out.

Wait She was being ridiculous-of course she was. Joe hadn't been scared away by her poems. Sure, some were a bit earthy, she realized, but Joe liked earthy, didn't he? Joe. loved earthy.

Didn't he?

"Oh God," she sighed, ushering the boys out of her bedroom. "Go wait for me downstairs. Make sure Hank is ready."

Charlotte checked under the lamp-yes, the key was back in its place. She unlocked her nightstand drawer- yes, the journal had been returned.

She grabbed her purse, and as she raced down the steps she told herself that it was for the best that she'd scared him away. Then she whispered, "Please come back, Joe."

The moment her feet hit the foyer floor, she heard the kids shouting, "Hoover just ran out of the yard!"

LoriSue's digital camera silently took photo after photo of Jimmy-well, Jimmy's flaccid white rump, anyway- flailing away at some girly with a dragon tattooed on her inner thigh.

He'd obviously been using the vacant house as his hose palace and, vintage Jimmy here, had spared no expense in setting the scene for seduction-a bare inflatable mattress lay on the floor, next to a little battery-operated lamp.

No wonder the house hadn't sold. She bet Jimmy, as the listing agent, had been turning away potential buyers in droves so he could keep his little hideaway.

LoriSue cleared her throat, and the next shot she got was a keeper-Jimmy disengaging himself in a panic, his eyes wide in horror. Too bad the Little League Web site had gone live three days earlier, or she could have used this picture on the home page instead of the one of Joe Mills doing concession stand duty.

Oh, well-Joe was far better looking, even in a barbecue apron.

"It's not what it looks like, babe."

LoriSue howled with laughter at her husband's comment. And as the naked chickie screamed and lunged for her clothing, LoriSue noted the array of condom wrappers flung all over the Berber carpet. At least Jimmy wasn't completely stupid, and for that she was grateful.

"So how did you do it, Jimmy?"

He tried to divide his attention between the girl now running past LoriSue into the hallway, and his wife but couldn't quite manage it "Do whaaa?"

"Block my bid on the townhome, you needle dick."

"Hey!" He held out his hands, palms out ajid fingers spread in surrender. "We can talk about this, LoriSue."

She bent down and grabbed his briefs, khakis, shoes, socks, and dress shirt, wadded them up in a ball, and held them behind her back. She promised herself it would be the last time she ever picked up the man's dirty clothes, so help her God.

"So talk. What did you do, advise the sellers to hold out for a higher bid? Bid higher yourself?"

"Uh…" Jimmy dropped Jus head in his hands. "I just didn't want you and Justin to leave."

For a second, LoriSue was speechless. Then she snapped out of it "Cut the crap."

"I'm serious!" Jimmy struggled to his feet, nearly losing his balance as the air mattress gave under his weight. He righted himself, then cupped a hand over his crotch. "I think we can work this out!"

LoriSue laughed again. "Whatever you did, undo it, Jimmy. I want my bid accepted by nine a.m. Monday or your naughty bits are going on the Minton Little League Web site and I'm going to e-mail everyone I know and tell them to have a look-with a magnifying glass, of course."

"Bitch."

"Good-bye, Jimmy." She turned to leave, clutching his balled-up clothing to her front

"This is all because of Joe Mills, isn't it?" Jimmy's voice was a high-pitched shriek. "He's doing you, too, isn't he? Did he do you and Charlotte together?"

She whirled around, suddenly seeing her husband for what he was-pathetic, and crazier than a hoot owl. "Joe Mills is in love with Charlotte, you idiot. And as amazing as this now sounds to me, I've never been unfaithful to you once in our entire marriage. Well, gotta run-gotta get these snapshots to my attorney."

LoriSue left, ignoring Jimmy's ranting. On her way out, she noticed that the little Nissan was gone from the drive, which meant her husband would have to drive home naked. That made her laugh.

LoriSue continued to chuckle as she drove along River Rock, seeing a shiny black Lincoln pass the opposite way. Her mind struggled to recall where she'd seen the driver, because he looked vaguely familiar; then she stopped worrying about it because her cell phone rang. Her lawyer was calling back!

Joe flipped through photo after photo of car license plates, garbage cans, mailboxes, front doors, people kissing, people parked in cars and simply walking down the street-each with a bright yellow streak through the center. Fine. He'd inspected them. Joe took the clipboard from the kid and scrawled his name, catching himself when, in his haste, he nearly wrote "Bellacera." Then he headed for the exit

Charlotte was going to kill him for being so late.

When his hand hit the door, Joe froze. Then, in one long, seamless movement, he raced back to the counter and ripped open all three envelopes, throwing prints into the air until he could find it again.

"Hey, man-what's the issue here?"

Joe sped through the images as fast as humanly possible, only half-noting that a group of people were now circled around him.

There it was-in his hand was a picture of two men he'd known in another life. "Two spies…" Joe's brain seized, "…twocreepy-looking guys…" He stared at the date at the corner of the photo-two days ago! They'd been in Minton at least two days!

Joe fought the sensory overload, the black, naked fear and rage that were trying to shut him down, trying to keep him from functioning. And that's when he heard a moan of anguish roar inside his soul, growing louder and louder in his head until he knew he couldn't contain it.

"No." The single word escaped in a whisper that no one else could hear.

"Oh for God's sake! What now?"

Charlotte had really, really hoped to have thirty seconds to use an actual mirror to apply her mascara and lipstick, but it looked like her beauty routine was going to take place in the car at a stoplight, as usual.

She raced into the kitchen, where Justin and Matt were flinging ice cream all over the floor in their effort-to assemble a cone for Hoover.

"Guys! Look at the mess! I just mopped the floor and we're supposed to have people over after the recital!"

That's when a shrill, high-pitched scream pierced everyone's eardrums. "Mama! I have a big rip in my tights!" Hank came running into the kitchen, her face a mask of despair.

Charlotte looked up from her bent position near the floor, where she was wiping up blobs of French vanilla with a damp paper towel. "We don't have another pair, Hank, and besides, you can't really see it."

"But all the other girls will make fun of me!" Hank began to cry. And as the boys raced put the back door with their cones, Charlotte pulled her daughter close. "It's going to be okay, sweetie, really. You can hardly tell. Now get your dance bag and make sure your ballet slippers are in there and let's get in the car."

"I don't want to dance in mined tights!"

"Then we'll stop at the drugstore on the way, but we can only get regular tights, because there's no time to go to the ballet store, Please just get in the car."

Where the hell was Joe?

"We got him!"

Charlotte turned to see Matt dragging Hoover through the back door by his collar. Justin's dress shirt was now smeared with ice cream. She sighed. They were hopelessly late, and Hank was going to have to endure a lecture from her old crone of a ballet teacher.

"Matt, put Hoover in the mudroom. Justin, run home and get a clean shirt. Be as quick as you can-we'll wait for you."

Hank's sobs had subsided into occasional hiccups as Charlotte used the van's visor mirror to apply a quick layer of Desert Rose to her lips and a coat of Brown-Black to her eyelashes, noting that she didn't feel pretty at all-she felt panicked.

Didn't Joe say he loved her?

Matt jumped in the van and slammed the door so hard that it startled Charlotte and she poked herself in the eye with the mascara wand.

"Shit!"

"Mama, my ballet slippers aren't in here."

Charlotte whipped her head around and through smarting eyes saw Hank fling everything out of her dance bag. That's when she knew it with certainty-she was going to lose it. Now.

"Then where the hell-?"

"Here they are!" Hank held up a pair of worn pink slippers aiid smiled. "Don't worry, Mama. Found 'em!"

Just then, Justin piled in the backseat, sporting a T-shirt advertising a Florida seafood shack that screamed: "We're proud to have crabs!" but at least it was clean.

"Let's roll, Mom" Matt said. After a moment he added, "Earth to Mother?"

Charlotte turned toward her son. He wasn't telling her something-she knew it! "Where did he go, Matt? What did Joe say when he left?"

Justin and Matt rolled their eyeballs toward each other while keeping their heads stationary, a very bad sign, Charlotte knew from experience.

"Tell me."

Matt shrugged. "He just said he'd be back in ten minutes. Maybe we should go without him."

"I'm late, Mama" Hank's voice sounded small and pitiful.

"Hold on a second, kids. Just stay in the car-I'll be right back."

Jimmy hoped to hell that the sound he heard was Brenda- or Belinda, he couldn't remember her name-coming back in the house. Maybe she'd agree to go get him a change of clothes.

Since he hadn't thought to bring sheets, there was absolutely nothing in the house he could use to drape over himself, so Jimmy sat down on the air mattress and bent his leg nonchalantly in a pose that he hoped looked sexy to Belinda-or Brenda.

His blood turned to ice the instant he saw them. Two men in black suits blocked the doorway. They stared at him with dark, cold eyes that did not reflect the stiff smiles on their faces. Jimmy felt his mouth open.

"Excuse me," one of them said, his voice thick with a foreign accent. "We saw the sign outside and hope, this house is still for sale "

"A friend of ours lives nearby," the other man said.

Jimmy had never shown a house naked before. He was so stunned he didn't know what to say.

"We hope you can help us find a house close to our friend."

Jinimy laughed, suddenly getting the joke. He started to look around for the hidden cameras. He should have guessed LoriSue would do something like this, the evil harpy. She'd pay for her little fun.

"Do you know our friend? He moved to Minton recently."

Jimmy recoiled as the first guy walked toward him, holding out a sheet of paper. This was weird shit. He was naked, for God's sake! He didn't want some pretty boy invading his personal space!

Then he caught a glimpse of the paper-a computer printout of the Little League's Web site. He accepted the single page and stared at it long and hard-right there were Joe Mills and Charlotte, staring at each other like a middle-aged Romeo and Juliet on concession stand duty. It was vomit inducing. But he had to admit that the Sell-More banner ad at the top looked great LoriSue had done a bang-up job!

Then it dawned on him.

He raised his gaze slowly and smiled. Jimmy Bettmyer was a man of the world. He couldn't be fooled. He knew the game these guys were playing, and he'd help them out. Why not? They were the answer to his prayers!

"So ole Joe owes you some cash, does he, and you tracked him down?" Jimmy handed back the sheet of paper and checked to be sure his privates were still obscured.

The man glanced at his associate, then grinned down at Jimmy. "Yes. Joe owes us big."

Jimmy nodded knowingly. "I'll make a deal with you-you two run along and get me something to wear, and I'll give you his address."

The man's smile got wider, but it wasn't friendly in the least Jimmy never saw the man move until his arm was painfully wrenched behind his back. Then he was dragged, naked, down the steps and out the front door.

"No deal," the man said to him, shoving him in the backseat of a sedan and nearly sitting on top of him in the process. He got real close to Jimmy's face as the car sped away toward town. "Give us the address. Now."

Jimmy pressed the back of his head against the seat, now very afraid. Who were these guys?

Then he saw the gun.

He was going to die.

"Oh, shit."

"Si, sheeit," the man said, smiling for real this time. "Address, please?"

Jimmy took a breath so he could speak, finding his mouth painfully dry. "Hayden Heights subdivision. Twelve thirty-two Hayden Circle. Two-story contemporary stone and siding. Hey! What the fuck?"

Jimmy didn't know which hurt more-the way his skin shredded when his body slid along River Rock Road or the pain shooting through his left shoulder. Either way, he was now naked, hurt, and bleeding and at least five miles from home. Plus, his fucking car keys had been in the front left pocket of his pants.

He hoped those bean-eating bastards ripped Joe Mills a new asshole.

The first thing Joe did was grab all the photos-who knew what might be important in a few hours? The next thing he did was lean real close to the kid behind the counter.

"The store office. Where is it?"

The kid pointed to the far right corner, his mouth ajar.

Joe had Roger on the line in seconds.

"Guzman found me."

"Fuck!"

"Get Rich Baum's guys here-now. Get Charlotte and the kids out. Now. Find out how my cover was blown. I'm ditching my car and moving on foot. I'll call in fifteen minutes to give you my pickup location "

"Got it. Fifteen minutes-no more. Stay alive."

Now that she was inside the house, staring at the kitchen phone, Charlotte didn't have a plan. The truth was, she didn't even know if Joe had an answering machine. Come to think of it, she didn't know which of the four pancake syrups he would pick at IHOP, or his parents' first names, or if he voted in every presidential election.

She didn't know his blood type.

She didn't know what kind of bed he slept in: Queen? King? Water?

She was losing it. Correction: she'd already lost it Her hands shook and her face was wet from crying and the only reason she was in here was to hide her breakdown from the kids, who at this very moment might be fed up with waiting for her and already walking in the garage door.

She needed to pull it together. Fast.

But she was so confused! Why would Joe reject her? He said he loved everything about her. He said she'd never have to hold back again.

Then he read her poems and left!

Hoover would not stop barking. He hadn't stopped barking for the last several minutes, and it felt like her head was going to implode. She had no patience to deal with him at the moment.

Charlotte used a square of paper towel to wipe her face and blow her nose.

Then a horrible thought occurred to her. What if Joe really did just run an errand, but something happened to him? What if he was lying in the street? Decapitated?

Charlotte froze.

Good God! Now it sounded like Hoover was going berserk in there, letting go with a combination howl and bark she'd never heard before. Next, she swore the dog was throwing his body against the mudroom door.

This morning had been one for the record books.

She picked up the phone. No answer. No machine. No Joe.