A Half Dozen Fools Page 8

"That's just a precaution. Just leave it there 'til the morning. Once the night's over, everything should be okay."

  "No, Rick. I'm not sleeping with that in my bed. That--thing--has to go."

  "Look, I told you--it's just a precaution, so I feel safe."

  "Safe? What if it goes off?"

  "It won't go off. The safety's on--"

  "I don't care! No! It's not staying here!"

  "I'll put it back in my knapsack, okay? Just within my reach."

  "No! I'm too freaked out. I don't want it in my place, at all."

  "Well, then I'm not staying!"

  "Fine!"

  He rolled his eyes. "What the fuck? You want me to leave?"

  "I can't have that thing here. Not in my house! It scares me."

  "It can't do anything, Elyse, not by itself. Somebody has to pull the trigger."

  She glared at him.

  "Please," he said with strained calmness, "please be rational about this."

  But Elyse had seen much live footage of war and other violent acts in her lifetime, and she had taken their effects to heart. She had developed a hatred for all weapons of destruction. Shooting clay pigeons off the side of a boat was one thing--a handgun in her bedroom, quite another.

  Tears filled her eyes. "No! I can't! Please--take it out of here!"

  Rick cursed and pulled on his slacks. "You know what you're putting me through, Elyse? Making me leave now, this late? You're a pain in my ass!"

  "I don't care."

  He snarled and pulled his shirt over his head, then grabbed the gun out from under the pillow. Elyse convulsed involuntarily.

  "Don't worry," he said with a sneer. "I have self-control, believe me."

  While Rick carried his knapsack into the living room, Elyse pulled on her robe. He was seated on the sofa, pulling on his shoes when she came into the living room, pacing nervously. The chef shook his head.

  "You know, I don't get you, girl. You're so cool sometimes, but then you're so un-cool, too!"

  "Whatever, Rick. I don't care if I'm un-cool. Just get that thing out of here."

  "God, are you a bitch!"

  Elyse snapped in anger. It was the final blow to her patience with the rudest man she'd ever met. "Fine--I'm a bitch! Yes, it's all my fault! So, hurry up and leave!"

  "Stop shouting, Elyse! You want someone to call the police?"

  She only yelled louder. "Let 'em! I don't care! I want you to go!"

  "Shut up, will ya?"

  "No, I won't shut up! You shut up--and don't tell me what to do!"

  The chef stood stiffly barely masking his rage.

  "Get out of my place," Elyse screamed, "and hurry up!"

  "Shut the fuck up, Elyse!"

  She jumped from the intensity of his bark. When she looked in his eyes, an opaque blackness shown from the irises with no light behind. His expression alone was more frightening than the gun. But while her fear was great, her outrage was greater. Her anger erupted with such vehemence, it made her stupidly courageous.

  "No," she screamed, "no, no, no! I won't shut up! Get out of my house! Get out, get out--"

  Something akin to a primitive battle cry interrupted her shouts. She stopped in time to see Rick turn and bash the wall behind the sofa. He punched the wall so hard, his fist went clear through. His first horrific blast was followed by more powerful jabs loosed in ferocious fury. He pummeled the central wall to smithereens.

  Elyse stood dumbfounded. Rick didn't cease pounding until a gaping hole two or so feet wide showed clear through the living room into the bedroom.

  Dead silence hung in the air. Elyse stared wordlessly at the damage. She walked in disbelief from the living room into the bedroom and looked back out through the gaping hole. Rick stood there weirdly quiet.

  When Elyse came back into the living room, she reached down to the table next to her, picked up a silver bowl and chucked it at Rick's head. He ducked on reflex. It smashed against the furnace with a clang and rolled against the floor.

  "It's a good thing that didn't hit me, Elyse, the way I'm feeling right now."

  "You punched my wall," she railed. "You punched my goddamned wall!"

  "Yeah, no shit!"

  "Get out," she screamed with eyeballs bulging. "Get out, get out, get out! Get out of my house!"

  "Oh, I can't wait to get out of here!"

  He hoisted his knapsack up over a shoulder. When he snatched his jacket off the back of a dining room chair, Elyse dared to get in his face.

  "How could you?" she screamed. "How could you punch my wall in, Rick?"

  "Easy! It's a cheap piece of crap!"

  She promptly kicked him in the shin.

  On impulse, he reached down and rubbed it. When he stood back up, he looked at her with venom. She was smart enough to back away.

  He spoke through grit teeth, "If you want to keep your pretty face the way it is, Elyse, I suggest you get the fuck away."

  She knew he wasn't kidding. In spite of an insane anger blunting her rational thoughts, some part of her mind remained self-protective and held her in check. She backed away, out of range, and cursed internally without saying it out loud.

  Rick stormed from the living room toward the little entryway.

  Elyse mistakenly made one last dig.

  "Don't ever come back here again or I'll call the police!"

  "Oh, you don't have to worry about that--believe me!"

  And, in one final gesture of violence, he swept his arm across the side table by the door. Papers, knickknacks, a lamp and a bowl full of fruit flew helter-skelter before they all smashed down against the floor.

  "Go!" Elyse screamed. "Get out!"

  He grew angrier negotiating the locks until, finally, they released. Whipping back the door, he slammed it shut so hard, the eyepiece came unhinged. Sliding down with a sad twang, it swung pathetically back and forth while the entire door reverberated from Rick's ghastly exit.

  Elyse stood there watching the eyepiece dangle until it finally hung limp and silent.

  Finally all alone, she looked around in dismay. Envelopes, pears, apples, and bananas were scattered all over the wood floor. The horrid aftermath of violence resounded in the silence. Elyse began to shake. After another look at the hole in her wall, she burst into tears. Soon she was racked with sobs. Through her crying, she heard a knock on the door.

  "Elyse," a male voice asked softly, "are you all right in there?"

  It sounded like the sweet gay guy who lived two doors down.

  "It's all right now. Here, I'm coming."

  She was amazed by the small, frail sound of her own quaking voice. On her way to the door, she grabbed her cell phone and pulled up Shar's number.

  The sound of her friend's sleepy voice zapped the last of her self-control. She could barely speak through her tears.

  Shar's clear voice pierced the insanity like a beacon though fog. "Elyse--are you all right?"

  Elyse managed to whimper, "Yes, I'm okay. But it's awful, Shar!"

  "What happened?"

  "I had a fight--with Rick."

  "Where are you--at home?"

  "Yes...can you, can you..."

  But she couldn't control her tears anymore. She blubbered uncontrollably.

  "Hang on," Shar said, "I'll catch a cab and be right there."

  * * * *

  The bright sunshine outside the window of The Make-Up Place only made Elyse feel glummer. Today she felt more aligned with the chill of the morning air than the glossy rays of sunshine laughing at her own dark mood.

  With Nissa off in her studio attending to a client, Elyse stayed in the retail area. Judy was there, too, hovering around aimlessly. Elyse was going through the card file in search of clients to call, distracted by Judy's half-assed attempts to clean. Judy would start wiping off a counter, then stop to read product labels. Then she'd decide to rearrange those products. After a couple of minutes, however, she'd leave the work half done and check out different products, leaving a mess Elyse knew sh
e'd be fixing later.

  Elyse needed a break.

  "Judy, would you mind if I went out for coffee? I need a little pick-me-up. My next appointment's not until eleven-thirty."

  Judy glanced over at Carla flipping through a magazine. She refused to make eye contact.

  "We-ell," Judy said slowly, "as a matter of fact you do look kinda under the weather today. Everything okay?"

  Elyse forced a smile.

  "Sure," she lied, "fine. I just need a caffeine infusion is all." She forced a little laugh. "I'm an addict. What can I say?"

  * * * *

  Eduardo frowned as he handed Elyse her coffee.

  "You sure todo bien, baby?" he asked.

  "Yeah, bueno--mas o menos," she answered.

  A man's voice by her shoulder gave Elyse a start.

  "And she speaks Spanish, too, the pretty Polish girl."

  She turned fast and looked up to see Keb standing over her shoulder.

  "Hey, copy guy," she said dryly. "Yeah, I like to practice my Spanish whenever I can, especially with my buddy, Eduardo."

  "I'm impressed." He looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Everything okay there, Mizz Wazinski?"

  Ready to make a snappy comeback, she stopped. She hadn't realized he was so much taller than she. For some reason, it hadn't been obvious inside the copy shop. But now she could see he was well over six feet. She could also feel his body heat.

  She blinked in search of a wisecrack and happened to look into his eyes, past his black, retro-style eyeglasses. His brown irises glowed warmly, which completely disarmed her. She swallowed, unable to think of anything smart to say.

  "No, I must confess, everything's not okay." She gulped back emotion and the tears that threatened to erupt. At the same time, she fought an urge to lean against him for support.

  Keb narrowed his eyes. "Anything you'd like to talk about?"

  Embarrassed to share details about the rude fight she'd had with Rick the night before, she only shook her head. When she pulled her wallet out to pay Eduardo, Keb touched her hand to keep her from opening it.

  "It's on me." He called over, "I've got Elyse's coffee, Eddie. And I'll take my usual."

  "Oh, you don't have to--" She stopped when she looked at his expression. He wasn't taking no for an answer. "Okay, thanks. But I can't stay long. I just took a quick break."

  "All right," Keb said. "Here, take a seat. Just for a minute."

  He grabbed his sandwich and bottled water from Eduardo and led her to a corner table.

  After they sat, he asked, "So, what's going on with you?"

  "I'm a jerk," she confessed.

  "That's not a nice thing to say about yourself. Not true, either."

  "If you knew me better, you might not be so sure."

  He bit into his sandwich. "Work related?" he asked between chews. "Or personal?"

  "Personal. A stupid Sicilian chef. With firearms involved."

  Keb's eyebrows went up.

  "I just couldn't handle that," Elyse sputtered. "I hate guns. Just the thought of them..."

  "I can understand that. But, did he--are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

  "Just my pride. Insulted my intelligence, too, if truth be told."

  She chuckled, so Keb did, too. Elyse brightened. "You know what else? The son-of-a-bitch punched his fist through my living room wall! I can see clear inside my bedroom."

  Keb gave her a bemused expression. "Girl, what did you do to that man?"

  Elyse's face dropped. Keb looked remorseful.

  "Kidding--joke!" he added quickly. "I'm aiming for levity here."

  "See how I'm laughing?"

  Keb scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry. Guess I don't always hit the mark."

  "No, it's okay," she mumbled. "I'm the one who's sorry. You're just being sweet."

  He sighed and took a swig off his water. "So, is this the married guy?"

  For a second, Elyse looked at him blankly. Then she realized he was referring to Joel, whom she'd mentioned a while back.

  "Oh, no, not that guy. Far from it!"

  Keb nodded. She watched him take another bite and noted how politely he ate, using a napkin to keep things neat.

  "Did you know I taught art for four years?" she suddenly asked. "I always wanted to be an artist."

  "How come you quit teaching?"

  "Divorce. I changed my whole life and moved to the city. Wanted to be somebody else, I guess."

  Keb grew quiet. After a moment, he said, "I think you're great just the way you are."

  Elyse felt her eyes and nose swell with emotion again. Some feeling was making her uneasy, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was, which made her confused. She feared she might start to cry and needed to push it away in order to keep self-control.

  She cleared her throat and sighed. "Well, thank you, Keb, but, uh, I'm not feeling that so much right now."

  Keb frowned. "Jesus, Elyse! See the glass half full instead of half empty, would ya? And, by the way--have you looked in a mirror lately?"

  She almost grew defensive, but the depth of sincerity on his face stopped her short. Suddenly, she whipped out her cell phone.

  "Hey," she said all atwitter. "I have a couple of things you can see on here." She went into her photo application. "If you want."

  He nodded. "Sure I do."

  She scrolled down her photos to a painting she'd done. "Check this one out."

  Keb held her hand to study the image on her phone. "Wow, I like. I'm impressed."

  She showed him two more, and he nodded with genuine appreciation.

  "Oh," she added, "and this one I gave to my buddy Dylan. He's my best gay-friend. He's got it hanging in his living room."

  Keb eyed it carefully. "Gorgeous, Elyse. Really. You're very talented. I mean that."

  "Thank you." She smiled shyly and stuck her phone back inside her purse. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bore you."

  "Sorry? What are you sorry for? You didn't bore me at all. Far from it."

  Elyse fiddled nervously with the zipper on her leather bag. "But," she blurted, "believe it or not? I actually enjoy doing makeup, too. It's a different way of painting. I like helping women look their best. Even though..."

  "Even though, what?"

  "I guess I do miss my art sometimes."

  "Seems silly to give up something you're so good at. Even in your spare time."

  "Mm...I know." She felt confused all of a sudden, and sensed her cheeks were burning pink. "Well, I'd better get going. Don't want Judy to freak out on my being gone so long." When she rose, Keb also rose in gentlemanly fashion. She stood fast and touched his shoulder.

  "Oh, please don't get up. Enjoy the rest of your lunch. Thank you for the coffee--and everything. You've been really sweet."

  "You're welcome. Take care of yourself, Elyse. Be careful out there."

  * * * *

  On her way over to The Make-Up Place turmoil was brewing inside Elyse. She was thinking how deliciously warm Keb had made her feel by listening to her as if he cared. His kind words and compliments had lifted her spirits after her awful fight with Rick.

  She swallowed. Good Lord--I'd better watch it and not lead this guy on. After all, he's nice and everything, but he works in a copy shop. Nothing wrong with that, but that's just not right for me. I need a man who's ambitious. Well, who knows, he might be ambitious, in that world. But still--he's just the copy guy!

  She decided that from now on she'd be friendly, but it might be wise if she kept a professional distance between the two of them.

  OVER EASY

  Chapter 7

  Elyse hurried down the Avenue of the Americas. With teeth ...ering and feet slapping the rain-drenched sidewalk, she battled the remaining squalls of a powerful storm. Keeping her head down, she pushed against winds that threatened to wrest the umbrella from her grip. Bone-chilling cold was further incentive for hustling onward as fast as she could.

  She barely managed to side-step water hurled across the sidewalk when a y
ellow cab came barreling through a puddle. She cursed the driver as an idiot, and herself for walking too close to the curb. With icy drizzle biting her face, she also cursed the city. While she was at it, she cursed her entire life, since the bitter cold seemed to reflect the loneliness she felt in her heart.

  She'd been dwelling on her lousy love life all day long and had worked herself into near-depression over the Rick Giordano incident. At first she blamed herself. Maybe she shouldn't have asked so many questions. Maybe she should have left well enough alone and accepted the situation quietly, like the cool chick he initially thought she was. When she finally accepted her right to be true to herself, she blamed herself for not seeing how incompatible they'd been from the start.

  As she trucked down the Avenue of the Americas in the biting cold, she grew increasingly annoyed by how much farther it was to the bar than she had anticipated. The painfully nasty weather made her feel increasingly powerless, too, and ever more alone in the world. She wondered if it was the icy spray in the air bringing tears to her eyes or her personal misery. The thought of a cocktail perked her up, however, a good enough reason for quickening her step.

  When she turned east on Sixty-Fourth Street, a blast of wind smacked her in the face. She gritted her teeth in anger and switched her umbrella over the other shoulder to keep the gales from ripping it inside out. Through the misty veil she finally spotted neon letters announcing her destination. Anxious for warmth, she practically ran down the block to the Voodoo Bar and Grill.

  Inside the trendy hot spot, Elyse met with both swelling heat and billowing smoke. She remembered Shar warning her about the semi-private club that still let smokers have their way. Coughing, she wondered how long she'd last in the den of nicotine addicts. With a sigh she bucked up, content to have escaped the bitter cold and messy weather for the moment.

  The crowd was packed three and four deep at the bar. Elyse spotted two guys in suits about to vacate stools and pushed her way in fast to claim one. From her vantage point at the bar, she spotted a female bartender expertly brandishing bottles, and waved when she glanced over. Clad in a leather bustier top, the woman nodded she'd be right there. Elyse smiled and checked her out in more detail.

  Large breasts rose like twin suns over the black leather horizon of her bustier top. As Elyse watched her pour different liquors into mixers and shake them feverishly, she wondered how they stayed intact with her physical exertion. Even more fascinating was the rose tattoo morphing from her cleavage into a snake up along her neck.