Stone Kiss

27

He insisted that he wasn’t living like a king, and by his choice of lodging, I suspected that, for once, he was telling the truth. The building looked a hairbreadth short of dilapidated in an area gone of its glory days. But this was New York City, and I knew that here space was king: Real estate was judged by different standards. Columbia University was encroaching and, somewhere along the line, the land would be valuable. I rang the buzzer and a very sexy voice asked who I was. I gave her my name, which meant nothing to her. But she let me in anyway.

The place was on the fifth floor, number thirteen, and if that was significant of anything, I didn’t know about it. I had to walk through a metal detector, and then a young guard checked my purse. The receptionist, a pretty girl who looked in her teens, asked if I had an appointment. When I told her that I didn’t, she said I’d have to wait.

“He’s in the middle of a shoot. It’s going to be a while. Why don’t you come back in an hour?”

“It’s important,” I told her.

“It’s always important.” A roll of the eyes. “You’ll have to wait, ma’am.”

“It’s very important,” I insisted. “I’m from out of town. If Mr. Donatti finds out that I was here and you didn’t let me in-or even that you made me wait-I guarantee you he’ll be very angry.”

She didn’t answer right away. There must have been something in my voice-calmness and authority-a rarity for me.

“I’ll take the heat,” I assured her. “I know what he’s like when he’s angry. I’m not worried. Page him, please.”

She hesitated, but then she picked up the phone. I heard him screaming.

“What!”

“Sir, there’s a woman-”

That was as far as she got. The slam of the receiver was so loud that even I recoiled. He flew out of the door, his face as red as the blood that had seeped into his cheeks. “Who the fu-”

He stopped when he saw me. He was breathing hard, sweating hard as well. Mrs. Decker had been right. He didn’t look well. He spoke to me. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I need to talk to you.”

The room went quiet.

“You’re sure everything’s all right?”

I nodded.

He exhaled. “Give me five minutes.”

I nodded again. “Should I wait here?”

“Yeah.” He regarded his secretary. Her complexion had gone pale gray. “It’s okay, Amber. You did the right thing. Take the rest of the day off.” A glance over at the guard. “Both of you, take the day off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The guard stood up. “Are you sure, Mr. Donatti?”

“Very sure. Here.” He gave them each a fifty. What I could have done with that money. “You can leave now. She’s fine by herself. Have a good time.” To me. “Five minutes.”

“Take your time.”

“Do you want anything? Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

He held up his hands and disappeared behind the door.

Amber gathered up her belongings, giving me an expression that wavered between confusion and awe. I knew what she was thinking. Who is this ponytailed bag lady with the strange feline yellow eyes, dressed in oversize chinos, a black ribbed crewneck sweater, worn sneakers, and a threadbare peacoat? Her clothes look like they came from a thrift shop.

In fact, they did. Right now, Chris was paying tuition not only for my medical-school education but also for Gabriel’s private schooling, as well as his piano lessons with a very sought-after maestro. Chris was paying my rent, my utilities, my child-care needs, and our health insurance. He paid off my undergraduate loans and gave me whatever spending money I asked for. He never questioned what I needed. His largesse allowed me to be job-free so I could concentrate on Gabe and my studies exclusively. I kept a microscopic watch on where each dime went.

I had known Chris for almost nine years. We met in high school back in my native Los Angeles. I had been incredibly naive in every sense of the word, and I think that was why he was attracted to me. My face didn’t hurt, either. Things progressed at a very messy pace and I thought I was in love. By the time I wanted to cut bait, it was too late. I was pregnant.

By now, I was aware of what Chris did, although we never discussed it. Donatti was a newsworthy name, and from time to time, I came across it in print. When Joseph Donatti had initially been indicted for murder six years ago, Chris had also been indicted as a co-conspirator. Six months later, his charges were dropped for insufficient evidence. Eventually, Joey was acquitted. The picture of Chris and him hugging had made the front page of the Trib. I had seen several sidebar articles about Chris’s magazine and the implications about his pimping and pandering. Nothing ever stuck.

No, we never talked about what he did, but we both knew what he was.

Ten minutes later, he accompanied two young boys and a girl out of his main digs, his arm around the girl, talking to all of them in whispered tones. The girl sneaked a sidelong glimpse at me. I smiled, but she did not. After everyone had left, he motioned me in but put his finger to his lips. He picked up his ubiquitous bottle of scotch and we walked into a sizable but windowless office-neat as expected-with lots of security equipment. A ceiling fan added some air to the place, but the fluorescent overhead lighting was harsh. When he saw me squinting, he turned it off and elected to go with a soft pole lamp. I sat on one side of the square table; he lowered his body into a cushy chair on the other side. He gulped some booze, then followed it with an Evian chaser.

“Where were you hit?” I asked him.

His laugh was muted. “She called you. Rina did.”

I cocked my head. “You’re on a first-name basis with her?”

“Actually not. That’s her doing, not mine.”

“You like her?”

“She’s very attractive.”

“She sounds very nice.”

“She is very nice.” More water. “Where’s the kid?”

“Your son,” I corrected him. “I left him at home with a baby-sitter.”

“That’s nice. I like being alone with you.”

“Your paternal devotion is touching.”

“That’s assuming that I’ve acknowledged paternity.”

I gave a long, suffering sigh. “Will you please take a simple blood test so we can be done with this? Why do you like to torture me? Why do you enjoy torturing yourself?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t yell at me. I hurt.”

I stood up and walked over to him. I put my hands on his strong, tight shoulders. “Let me see.”

“You’re not a doctor yet. Leave me alone-”

“Chris-”

“Leave me alone.”

“Please?”

He stood up and held my chin. He brought my face to his and kissed me hard. “No.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“You look gorgeous, Terry. You always look great-”

“Let me see-”

“Jesus, you’re impossible!”

He attempted to lift up his shirt. When I tried to help, he slapped my hand away. He showed me his wound.

“I’m not taking off the bandage.”

“You should,” I said. “The wound is weeping through the gauze. Do you have any medication or replacement bandages or salves?”

He held out his hand in exasperation, then gave me a bag filled with medical material-tape, bandages, medicines, salves, ointments. I went through the supplies, then wiped down my hands with a new bottle of Betadine. I started to take off the outer layer of adhesive. He winced.

“I’m sorry. Hopefully, it won’t take long.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked me.

“Yes.”

His expression was dubious, but he stood still. I peeled back the layers. “Who dressed this? He did a good job.”

“She.”

I laughed. “God, I can’t believe what a sexist I am. Who’s she? Mrs. Decker?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Lieutenant Decker know about this?”

“Nope. Doesn’t know about his wife being here, doesn’t know that I’ve been shot. There’s a lot that Lieutenant Decker doesn’t know.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s complicated.”

“My plane doesn’t take off for a while.”

He talked to me while I worked. His sentences were terse. I was getting the encapsulated version. Probably the sanitized version as well. Twenty minutes later, I had patched him up. He sat down and took another swipe of booze.

“You shouldn’t drink and take painkillers at the same time,” I told him.

“I gave up cigarettes for you. Leave me alone.”

“I care. It’s not safe.”

“My system’s impervious to drugs. It’s a wonder I’m still alive.”

I took the bottle out of his hands, brushed my fingers over his grizzled face. “I’m glad you are.”

He regarded me, scrutinized me. A long time ago, his penetrating eyes made me nervous. Not anymore. Years of dealing with Chris’s unpredictability had hardened me. I needed him-as my son’s father, as my bank account. Initially, my grandparents had supported my son and me. They are lovely people, and I knew we were a burden. After eighteen months, I assured them that I would be fine and convinced them to move to a retirement community in Florida. Immediately, I was plunged into poverty. For almost two years, I put myself through college while trying to put bread on the table. Debt took on a life of its own. I was drowning, and Chris was watching. As I exhaled my last breath-a heartbeat away from eviction-Chris offered me a life preserver. I took it and haven’t looked back, although someday I’m sure I will. It will not be a sterling moment in my moral history. Still, being his courtesan was better than choosing between quitting med school or suffering through another frigid Chicago winter without decent heat.

His hands went to my face. He kissed me… long and gentle. I could feel the ball of his tongue pierce as he swept through my mouth. He loosened my hair from the ponytail holder and ran his fingers through my long tresses. He kissed me again and again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Not true,” I told him. “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

“Yeah, you’d do it out of obligation.”

“You sell my affections short,” I said. “Don’t be nasty.” I let my hand travel down to his inner thigh. “Be nice.”

He placed it over his groin, and I felt him grow in my fingers. He closed his eyes, his breathing audible. He whispered, “I keep forgetting what you do to me.” He gave me hungry eyes. “This is the safest place, Teresa. The only place where I feel comfortable talking.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to talk.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his lips, then bit them gently. “Doesn’t matter, Chris. Here’s fine. Anywhere’s fine.”

“You want a pillow or something?”

“Do you have something that’s clean?”

He made a face. “You’re very funny.”

“I’m dead serious. I don’t know who you bring in here.”

“No one. You know how meticulous I am.”

That he was.

“I have a stereo hooked up, too,” he said. “Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’?” A rare sort of smile graced his lips, one that shot light into his eyes and showed how incredibly good-looking he could be. “Gipsy Kings?”

“You beast you.” I answered his smile in kind.

“I’ll be right back.”

His face had become suffused with little-boy excitement, like the first time I had given him a birthday gift. He put on the music and brought in a big, fluffy pillow, placing it on top of the desk. I pushed it off, letting it fall to the ground.

I dropped to my knees.

A couple of hours later, I asked if there was a place where I could bathe. Though he claimed to use condoms assiduously, he refused to use them when he was with me, saying it was the one time he could let his guard down. But it was more than that. Anything less than full culmination implied my rejecting his basic being, so my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. I had had the good sense to get an IUD when we became intimate again, but it did nothing for disease. The last time I had begged him to wear protection, he became very angry-that silent, dreadful fury that sent waves of fear into my gut. He had this look-this deadly look. He used it whenever he meant business. I had been on the receiving end of his wrath and revenge. There were some things I just couldn’t push him on.

“I have a unit upstairs. I’ll come with you in a minute.” He took my hand and kissed my fingers one by one. Then he let go and got dressed. He was still breathing hard when he sat down. “Let me rest for a moment. You gave me a workout, you animal.”

I got up from his desk and put on my clothes and clipped my hair back. I gulped down half the bottle of Evian, then gave it to him. He took a big swallow, then closed his eyes. He was drenched with perspiration. He didn’t look well at all. I felt his forehead. “You’re very hot.”

“It’s stuffy in here.”

“You’ve got a fever, Chris.”

“Any wonder after the calisthenics you put me through.”

“I’m concerned. Do you have a doctor I can talk to? You need Keflex.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Are you taking it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It upsets my stomach.”

“Christopher-”

“I’ll take it.” He finished up the bottle of water. “I’m probably just dehydrated. Stop nagging me.”

“I care.” I sat in his lap. “Please?”

“Yes, I will take Keflex.” He nibbled my upper lip, then kissed me. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

We began to kiss. Then he broke away.

“So who are you dating?” he asked me.

“No one.”

“Don’t lie to me, angel. Who are you dati-”

“No one,” I insisted.

He pulled out a nutrition bar from a file cabinet, ate half, then offered it to me. I shook my head, so he finished it.

“Not dating anyone?”

“No, I am not dating anyone.”

“Then why’d you go to the Hilton with your classmate? What was his name? Michael Bonocelli? Did I pronounce it right?”

His eyes were dead, just waiting to pounce. I said, “Your spy wasn’t thorough. If he had been more watchful, he would have seen me walk out as well as walk in.”

His face told me he was unconvinced.

“They have a very good Italian restaurant, Chris. When Mike invited me to go to dinner, I had no idea he meant room service.”

“You still went out with him.”

“We were working on a paper together-‘The Implications of Iatrogenic Causes in Radiation Deaths of Stage-Three Breast Cancer Patients’-a subject that interests me since both of our mothers died from the disease. Thank God we had a son. The lead professor’s name is Doctor Edwin Alvary. Mike offered me a dinner meeting, and I took him up on it. Sue me. I get tired of mac and cheese or peanut butter every night.”

I pushed his face away from mine.

“I don’t date, Chris. When would I have time? Besides, the last thing I want is a parade of men going in and out of the apartment. Gabe is everything to me. He is not going to grow up with a slut for a mother.”

“You wouldn’t be a slut if you had a toss now and then.”

“But I don’t! You know that cause you’re watching me all the time. I only sleep with you, and that’s different because you’re Gabe’s father. In fact, you’re the only guy I’ve ever been with, period! For twenty-four years old, that is truly pathetic!”

“Not to me. I still get this incredible jolt every time I lay you down and spread your legs.”

Again I pushed him away. “Stop being crude.”

“That was a compliment, angel.”

I scrunched up my face. “That’s such a male perspective. I want to have sex with you, ergo you should feel honored!”

“Men are dogs.”

Stated without expression. I quickly remembered whom I was talking to. I kissed his cheek. “At least, you’re a very generous dog.”

He took in my eyes. “How much?”

“That wasn’t a hint.”

He reached over to the second drawer of his file cabinet. Inside was a shoe box stacked with pictures of Ben Franklin. He pinched some bills off the top, then folded them into a wad and offered it to me. Longing in my heart, but I held my ground.

“I said that wasn’t a hint.”

He counted them-eight hundred dollars. He added two more bills and then stuffed them in my hand. “Buy something nice for yourself and the kid.”

“Thank you.” I kissed his cheek again. “It won’t go on forever, Christopher. I’ll be earning money in a few years.”

“I’m not complaining, Teresa.”

“You never do,” I told him. “I should marry some sugar daddy just to give you a break.”

“I am your sugar daddy. What do you need someone else for?”

I shrugged.

He gave me a stare. “Anyone specific in mind?”

“I’m talking theoretically.”

“You’re pissing me off!”

“Some good-looking, much older man who’ll baby me for the rest of my life. Someone who wouldn’t be much competition for you.”

“He wouldn’t be any competition for me because he’d be dead.”

“I mean much, much, much older, Chris. Like in his forties or fifties. That wouldn’t bother you, right?”

“Forties maybe. Fifties, probably not.” He raised his eyebrows. “Who would you go for, baby doll? Decker?”

“You’re sick!”

“Yeah, you’re right. No money.”

I faced him, suddenly turning serious. “So you two are working together?”

“Beats me.”

I didn’t like the attitude. I said, “Christopher Sean Whitman Donatti, I swear if you hurt that man I will never ever, ever forgive you for the rest of my life!”

Rudely, he pushed me off his lap. “What is it about that guy that inspires such loyalty?”

“Besides the fact that he got you out of prison? Besides the fact that he sent me money when no one else would? Besides the fact that he is the only heterosexual male I’ve ever met who hasn’t tried to sleep with me?”

“You forgot your father.”

“I stand by the original statement, Chris!”

He jerked his head up, taking in my eyes. “What? When?”

I waved him off. “Before I met you. He wasn’t insistent. He wound up not doing anything.” My eyes watered. “He couldn’t. He was too drunk.”

“What else is new?”

“Jean caught us-him. To her credit, she didn’t blame me. Didn’t support me, but didn’t…” I wiped the tears away. “Melissa’s that age now. I call her nearly every day. I tell her over and over that if he tries something…” I didn’t dare finish my thought.

“You never told me.” He pulled me back onto his lap. “You should have said something, angel. I could have sympathized. I was molested, you know. Joey, right after my mom died, he used to comb out my hair and make me give him blow jobs.”

“That’s horrible!” I meant it. I touched his face and kissed his lips. “Poor Chris.”

“Yeah, poor me.” He shook his head. “You know, I keep my mouth shut for years. Then I wind up telling two people about it within twenty-four hours. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Who was the other person?”

“Rina Decker. I don’t know why I brought it up. She has this way of getting stuff out of you. She and the lieutenant are suited to one another.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“Jesus, I can’t believe your old man actually-”

“It was over before it started.”

“I should pop him.”

“Chris-”

“I won’t, but I should.”

“Can we switch the subject? It’s so painful! Especially after making love.”

He brought me close to his chest. “Is that what you consider it? Making love?”

“Yes, of course.” I looked at him. “What do you consider it?”

“Making beautiful love.”

“So we’re in agreement.” I leaned against him, my head to his heart. “Does he know what he’s doing? Lieutenant Decker?”

“He’s no dummy, but New York’s different from Los Angeles. He’s in foreign territory, doesn’t really know what or who he’s dealing with. On top of that, he’s not packing.”

I looked up. “He doesn’t have a gun?”

“I tried to give him one. He refused. The man is stubborn.”

“Who’s he up against?”

“I’ve got some definite ideas-amateurs trying to look like some pros we both know. That means they’re stupid. And stupid is dangerous. If I were his wife, I’d start looking at his life-insurance policy.” He took another gulp of water. “It probably would be easier if someone popped him. More elbowroom for me. This problem has got to be taken care of.”

My heart started skipping. He must have picked up on it. He stroked my back. His voice was low and soothing. “Baby doll, I tried. But he told me to butt out. So I’m out. Tell you the truth, I haven’t been feeling well enough to do much of anything. If he wants to duke it out solo, he can be my effing guest. I’m not the man’s nanny.”

Gently, I put my arms around his waist, being careful to avoid his gunshot wound. I barely spoke above a whisper. “Don’t let him sink, Chris. Even if he doesn’t want it, help him.”

He was silent.

“Please?”

Again he didn’t answer me. But he didn’t push me away. Instead, he drew me closer… nuzzling the top of my head with his lips… stroking my back… his fingers up and down my spine… playing me like an instrument. His touch could be so incredible. I gave off a little shudder.

“Cold?”

“No, just… mmm, feels good.”

“I know what my baby doll likes.”

“Yes, you do.” And by now, I could read him pretty well also. Affection meant he was listening. Affection meant he’d be cooperative. Affection was a very good sign.