Schemers

13

TAMARA

On the way home after work she detoured to Home Depot and bought some shelving, shelf paper, and a few other hardware items. The new crib on Connecticut on Potrero Hill had come furnished, but there were things that needed to be done to make it her own. She expected to be there awhile, and the small alterations she planned were the kind that would make any landlord smile.

The flat took up the second floor of a two-story Stick Victorian that’d been renovated and repainted four years ago. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen, laundry room, high-ceilinged living room big enough to hold a dance party in. Good old San Francisco neighborhood, businesses and restaurants within walking distance-uphill from the flat so she could get plenty of exercise when she felt like it. Hefty rent, but not high enough to put a strain on the salary she drew from the agency. On the rental market just a few days when she looked at it. Pure luck no one else had snapped it up. She’d signed the lease on the spot.

The phone rang about two minutes after she let herself in. Probably Vonda. They hadn’t talked since the weekend before last, when Vonda and Ben helped her move her stuff from the old apartment on 27th Avenue. Meant to call her last night, brag a little on Lucas and the solving of her little problem, but one thing and another had kept her from doing it. Young ho stuff, anyhow, bragging on getting laid. Vonda was married and five months’ pregnant and all wrapped up in Ben and the baby. No more goodnatured competition between them like there had been in their badass days. All grown up and respectable now. More or less.

Still, she’d probably have thrown out some details if it were Vonda on the phone. Only it wasn’t. It was Lucas.

The sound of his voice put a smile on her mouth. When he left on Monday morning he’d said he would call, and she’d been hoping he would, that he wasn’t just talking the usual man talk after bed games. But hey, this soon? All right!

“Thought I’d see how you’re doing,” he said.

“Doing fine. How about you?”

“The same. Any plans for tonight?”

“Put up some shelves, that’s about all.”

“I could come over and give you a hand.”

Uh-huh. Give her a hand right into bed. The thought brought back memories of Sunday night and yesterday morning, and the prospect of a repeat performance or two made her tingle. “I wouldn’t mind,” she said.

“You eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

“How about I bring something with me? Pizza, Chinese takeout, whatever you’d like.”

“Chinese sounds good.”

“Any dish you’re partial to?”

“Nope, I like it all. Surprise me.”

“That’s me at your door, in about an hour.”

She put the phone down, still smiling, still tingling. Oh, Lordy, that man was good in bed. Better than Horace, she thought with a little satisfied malice. Better than anybody she could remember. He must’ve felt the same about her, wanting to come back for more this soon.

Sex was all it was, though. Each of them scratching itches. That was what she’d told Bill and that was the way it was. What she felt for Lucas was all below the neck. He said it was the same for him and she hoped he meant it. Last thing she needed in her life right now was another heavy relationship like she’d had with Horace. Love wasn’t any big deal anyway. Overrated. Too many complications, too much chance of getting hurt again. Uh-uh. No, thank you.

She went out to the car for the rest of the shelving. Another nice thing about this new place: plenty of close-by street parking. The car sat there at the curb like a fat scabby bug: Horace’s eleven-year-old Toyota. She hated that damn car-another of Horace’s hand-me-downs, like the apartment on 27th Avenue. Get herself a new ride, that was the next change she’d make. And do it soon. Wash the last of Horace Fields right out of her life.

Back inside, she put the shelving and the other hardware items in the kitchen and then went around the flat straightening up. Lucas hadn’t said anything, but she had a feeling he liked things tidy. Mama’s influence, probably. She wondered again what Mama was like, how come a stud like Lucas lived with her and talked about her nonstop with that little glow in his eyes. Couldn’t be anything kinky going on there, could it? Oh, come on, Tamara. Don’t let the job make you suspicious of everybody. Man just loves his mother, that’s all.

The flat was pretty clean, everything in the moving boxes put away the day after she took possession. Hadn’t been much-clothing, computer equipment, books, CDs, personal items. When she’d packed it up she’d been surprised at how little she owned. Not much to show for twenty-six years of living. Well, so what? She’d never been all that materialistic. Money was nice, possessions were cool, but living was what mattered.

Making changes-that was important, too. Funny how one positive change could start a chain reaction. For her it’d been the decision to finally haul her booty out of that Horace-haunted apartment. Then she’d gone and gotten herself firearms qualified with Pop’s help, as a safety precaution and so she could start doing some fieldwork again. Then, after weeks of hunting all around the city, she’d found just the right new place. And one week after that, she’d met Lucas and put an end to the long, frustrating months of unsatisfying sessions with battery-operated Mr. V. Next positive change: dump the Toyota for a new set of wheels, one that suited her and not that celloplaying chump in Philadelphia.

Happy again, life cool again? Yes! For the first time in over a year, maybe for the first time period, because now everything was in sync, coming together at last. The new Tamara. Tamara Corbin, reinvented.

She put on a Dixie Chicks CD. “Not Ready to Make Nice”-God, she loved that song. Into the bedroom then, to put clean sheets on the bed. Nothing like clean sheets when you had somebody to snuggle down with. She dabbed some Chanel Allure under her ears and in the hollow of her throat. Not too much, just a sexy hint. Put on a nightie and a robe? Too obvious. Just let the evening play out like it had on Sunday.

She was sipping a glass of wine, listening to the Chicks, when the bell rang. Lucas came in with two sacks of Chinese takeout and a big smile. Kissed her, but easy, not aggressive. He wasn’t in any hurry, either-something else she liked about him. Big and easy. Big all over, oh yeah! She always had been partial to big men. Ugly handsome. Blocky head, hook nose, hair starting to recede a little, but he had nice quiet eyes and a bushy mustache that felt like fur sliding over her skin. Thirty-four, he’d told her. Not too old. Mature. Exactly the kind of man she wanted and needed right now.

They ate in the kitchen, making small talk. Easy there, too-none of that awkward second-date stuff. She was curious about his work, what kind of sales job he had, but he didn’t have much to say about it. Didn’t ask much about her profession, either. Okay with her. Bill had taught her it was best to keep casual talk about the detective business to a minimum, except when you were dealing with professionals. So what they talked about, mostly, was Lucas’s mama. Didn’t bother Tamara, though it probably would if they’d been moving toward a long-term relationship. So the man loved his mother, so what? Kind of refreshing. Not too many thirty-four-year-old studs with slow, slow hands had a sentimental side.

“She’s out on a date tonight,” Lucas said, still going on about Mama. “I don’t like the guy, but that’s her business.”

“How come you don’t like him?”

“He’s not good enough for her. Dresses cheap, talks cheap.”

“Serious between them?”

“No, I don’t think so. Casual.”

“Like you and me.”

“God, I hope not. I mean, you know, sex. I don’t like thinking about her going to bed with that guy.”

“Her business, like you said.”

“Well, anyhow, it doesn’t matter. He’ll be gone before long and there’ll be somebody else.”

He said that last like it bothered him. Well, maybe it did, if Mama had herself a string of boyfriends. But she was entitled, wasn’t she? Woman had been a widow a long time. A heart attack had snuffed Lucas’s father twelve years ago, he’d said.

“I’d like to meet her sometime,” she said.

“My mother? Why?”

“You talk about her a lot. She must be pretty special.”

“Special. Yes, she’s that.”

Something in his voice again, but Tamara couldn’t quite get a handle on what it was. Jealousy? Disapproval?

“Be all right with you?” she asked.

“What? Meeting Alisha? I don’t know, I suppose so. We’ll see.”

Reluctant. She had the feeling he wouldn’t allow it to happen.

A thought popped into her head. What if Alisha wasn’t his mother, what if she was his wife? He’d told her he was single, never been married, and she’d accepted that without thinking too much about it. If Alisha was his wife, the reason he talked so much about her might be guilt working on him. Well? Come right out and ask him, he’d just deny it and spoil the mood. Did it really matter? On a casual hookup like theirs… no, it didn’t.

Yeah, right. But good detectives were always looking for answers, something else Bill had taught her, and it was the detective in her that made her push it a little in spite of herself. “Okay if I ask you a personal question, Lucas?”

“If it’s not too personal.”

“Can’t help wondering how come you still live at home. I mean, your mama doesn’t sound like she needs somebody to look after her…”

Whoops. Pissed him off. His face clouded up and he said, “Why I live where I live is nobody’s business but mine and my mother’s.”

“Hey, I was just curious-”

“Well, don’t be. We have a good little thing going here, Tamara. Don’t screw it up by being nosy.”

“Okay, sure. Sorry.”

Took a few seconds for the anger to fade out of his eyes. Then he shrugged and the smile came back. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to growl at you.”

“No problem.”

“Why don’t we take another glass of wine into the living room?”

“Bedroom’s closer,” she said.

“On a full stomach? How about we just sit for a while, let the digestive juices do their thing.” Slow wink. “Then we’ll let the other juices do theirs.”

“Cool.”

The word reflected how she felt right now. Not as eager for those clean sheets as before. Another glass of wine, and if he didn’t conjure up Mama again, she’d be ready-sure, she would. But there wouldn’t be too many more nights like this one. She didn’t care for that angry, private side of his. And Alisha kept cropping up and getting in the way.

Alisha.

Mother? Wife? Who was she and just what kind of relationship did Lucas have with her? Now she couldn’t get the questions out of her head.

Well, there was an easy way to answer a couple of them, at least. Tomorrow at the agency.

Bad, girl, wanting to check up on a casual lover. Better not do it. Be smart. It’s not important, it might put an even quicker end to the hookup. Don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t really want to know.

Good arguments. She listened to them as Lucas poured wine, and nodded to herself, and made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t do it-and knew she’d break the promise two minutes after she walked into the agency tomorrow morning.