Authors: Carolyn Nash
“Look,” said Cheryl. “I don’t want to know anyway. I think
you’re just making this all up, you didn’t meet anyone, and if you did, he’s
just some short, skinny accountant from Oxnard with adenoids.”
“Well, yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said. “If Andrew Richards
can be considered short and skinny, and if he moved, changed professions and
that deep voice of his suddenly became nasal.”
“Andrew Richards.”
“Um-hmm.”
“Melanie.”
“What?
There was a long silence. “Have you had a chance to look at
a newspaper?”
I sat up on the bed. “Cheryl, he didn’t have anything to do
with the explosion.”
“Like hell. Why did he run?”
“He’s not running,” I said. “He’s here to get the evidence
that will clear him.”
“Oh, crap! Melanie, you, Lance and Chuck could have been
killed. Call the police.”
“No! Cheryl, he’s innocent.”
“Just because he smiles in your direction with a sincere
look in his eye, doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“Cheryl.”
“Damn it, Melanie! Call the police. He is dangerous!”
“I am not calling the police.”
“Then I am.”
“No! No, please Cheryl, you can’t.”
“Look, I’m hanging up now.”
“Cheryl, listen to me. Listen to me! Please!”
I heard her breathing on the line. I stood at the side of
the bed, the phone clenched in my fist, willing her to answer me.
“Melanie…”
“Thank you, Cheryl, thank you. Just give me a minute. I can
explain the whole thing.”
“One minute.”
I told her as quickly as possible about the ride to the
airport, how Andrew had been waiting for me, how desperate he was, I tried to
skim over the part about the ticket, but Cheryl interrupted me.
“Wait. You
gave
him your other ticket?”
“Yes. It wasn’t any big deal.”
“Yeah, right. Go on.”
I told her his story, of the research, J.P. Harrison, Lance.
“You see? He couldn’t have done it. He would have never
taken a chance of hurting Lance or anyone else. Never.”
“Maybe he didn’t think he was taking a chance. Maybe he didn’t
think Lance would be there.”
“No!” I said as vehemently as I could considering her words
were bringing back every doubt that I’d had since Andrew had first run up to me
in the hallway outside the lab. The words spewed out as I tried to convince
myself with each one of them. “Damn it Cheryl! Andrew did not blow up his lab. He
is not some airhead playboy. Ask Chuck. Ask him. Andrew is intelligent, and
caring, and, and...”
“Minute’s up, Melanie.”
“Cheryl.” I tried not to scream into the phone. “You’re my
friend. You can’t do this.”
“You’re right I am your friend and that’s why”
“No! You are not going to do anything. You are going to let
me make this decision and handle it the way I see fit.”
There was a long pause. “Look, Melanie, you don’t have
experience with this kind of manipulating slime. I do. They use their good
looks and their charm to get whatever they want. They just love to manipulate
women, especially sweet innocent ones like you.”
“I’m not innocent and it wasn’t like that. Well, maybe at
first, but we sat together on the plane.” I began to pace. “We had a chance to
talk. He’s not like that.”
Silence.
“Cheryl, he’s not.”
“Mel, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I grabbed a tissue and scrubbed at the tears dripping down
my face, and wiped at my nose. “I’m not hurt. But I will be if you do this. Cheryl,
this is my decision. This is my life. Don’t butt in. It doesn’t matter that you
think I’m some naive idiot.”
“I don’t!”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
“Oh, look, I’m sorry.”
“All these years you’ve known me you’ve kept telling me that
I should believe in myself, that I was special, and the first time someone
comes along who might… well, who is actually pretty great, you tell me that the
only reason he would have anything to do with me is because he’s some
manipulating slime, using me. Thanks a lot.”
There was a long silence. I held the phone to my ear in a
death grip, staring at the floor, blinking fiercely to try to stop the tears.
“Melanie? That’s not what I meant.”
We listened to four hundred miles of static crackle.
“Melanie, please. You know I’d never try to hurt you. I’m
trying to keep you from being hurt.”
I sank back down on the bed. Damn. I knew that. In the four
years I’d known Cheryl, she had only been my friend. In the three weeks I’d
known Andrew Richards, I’d become the next thing to a babbling idiot, an
accessory to a felony, been conned, chased, and used.
And kissed.
“I know, Cheryl,” I said finally. “It’s just that I hate it
when you’re right. I guess I knew all along what was really going on, but when
he kissed me, I just felt so, oh, I don’t know what I felt except that I liked
it.”
“He kissed you?”
“Yeah. I know it was probably nothing. Just a thank you
kiss. I blew it all out of proportion.”
“Melanie! Why do you ever listen to me? What do I know? Maybe
he isn’t a slime. God, when am I ever going to learn to keep my big mouth shut?”
“When hell freezes over?”
“Thanks.”
“When all the men in America get together and decide
football really is a pretty silly game?”
“All right.”
“When Congress votes themselves a pay cut?”
“Okay. I got the message.”
“When...”
Cheryl laughed. “All right, already!”
Get somebody to laugh, and
they’re yours.
I wiped my face again. “Had enough, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Cheryl, look. I know he used me, but I do still believe his
story. I don’t want you to call the police.”
Silence.
“Okay?”
She sighed. “Okay, but you have to promise me one thing. If
he comes anywhere near you again, you run screaming into the night.”
“Deal. Look, there’s one more thing. In the news story, was
there anything about Lance? Is he really going to be okay?”
“Yes. Chuck went by the hospital.”
“Oh, good.” There was a sharp rap on the door. “Look,
Cheryl. My dinner’s here. I’d better go.”
“Mel, I’m sorry I got you so upset. I want you to have the
greatest time on this trip!”
“I will.” I wiped my nose one last time, wadded up the
tissue and threw it down into the trash can.
“Just forget him.”
“I will.”
There was another knock at the door, an impatient rat-a-tat.
“Cheryl, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you in a couple of days. And not a word to
anyone about this.”
“Okay. Take care of yourself.”
As I dropped the phone on the bed, there was another knock,
this time more of a pounding. “Just a second.” I ran across the suite, checked
my face in the mirror near the door and groaned aloud. As I reached to open the
door, I ducked my head so that my red-rimmed eyes were out of sight. “Just put
it over there.” I waved a hand across the room.
“Put what?”
My head snapped up. “Andrew!” It was barely a croak.
Just when you think it’s safe
to go back in the water.
He stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
“What are you doing here?” I managed to ask.
He looked at me, and then peered into the room behind me. “Everything
okay here?”
“Yes, of course.” I turned away from him and quickly wiped
at my face, trying to fix the unfixable. “I was just talking to my sister. Her
cat died.”
“Oh,” he said. “That’s why you didn’t answer. Don’t you have
call waiting?”
“Can’t afford it.”
I gave up on my face and turned back to him. He was leaning
against the doorjamb. I smiled quickly and took a step back. “Would you like to
come in?”
“No, I can’t.” There was something in his voice, something
that made me look at him again. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I
know you like to argue, but I need you to listen to me for a second.”
He looked so handsome standing there, just like I’d pictured
him, except his skin was pale. And his arms. They weren’t really crossed. It
was more like he was hugging himself as if to curb a bad belly ache. “What is
it?” I asked. “What’s the matter?”
“There you go. I said listen.” The smile faded. “Look, I’m
sorry but I think one of those men from the airport is here in the hotel. One
of them followed me after you dropped me off and there’s a good chance the
other followed you. I think as a precaution, you really ought to go stay
somewhere else tonight.”
I could feel fear begin a slow burn just below my
breastbone. “How do you know he followed you?”
He shook his head. When he did a bead of sweat rolled down
past his right eye. “I don’t have time to present the facts of the case. Just
believe me, okay?”
I looked down. The knees of his jeans were covered with oily
looking dirt. His shoes were scuffed and spotted with the same black gunk. The
slow burn in my stomach flared. “Andrew, what happened to you? What’s wrong?”
He gave me a look of good-natured exasperation. “Haven’t you
been listening? I just told you what’s wrong. Now really, you should get out of
here.”
“Not yet. First I want to know what’s wrong with you. Why
are you so pale?”
“I’ve been running around a lot.” The look of exasperation
remained, but I noticed he hadn’t moved except to lean against the door, oh so
casually. But for someone trying to appear relaxed, he was sweating an
inordinate amount, and his skin, though tan, was white and drawn-looking around
his eyes.
I stepped back a pace. “Okay, I’ll go. Why don’t you come in
for a minute while I pack a few things?”
“No!” He cleared his throat. Smiled. “No, Melanie, there
really isn’t time and I’ve got a couple of things I have to take care of. In
the meantime, I want you to get out of here and I’ll meet you later, at, let’s
say, the Hyatt, down on Market? Okay?”
“Why don’t we go together?”
“Because, I told you I have things to do!” He tried to smile
again, but it was brittle. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any more time to
argue.”
“But”
“No! Listen to me. No buts! You’ve got to get out now!” He
pushed off the door, reached to take my hand. I pulled back and he lunged for
me. He missed and started to fall. His hands went out to try to catch himself
and his tweed jacket came open. The left side of his white shirt was red.
“Andrew!” I reached out, and he grabbed my hands, trying to
stay upright, but I couldn’t hold him and he collapsed, crying out at the jolt
as his knees hit the carpet with a thud.
I fell down in front of him. “Andrew! You’re hurt! What
happened?”
He pulled the jacket closed and crossed his arms, but before
he could I saw the dark tweed had a tattered hole in it surrounded by a darker
stain soaking through the wool. “Get out,” he panted. “Please, just get out of
here.”
I rocked up on my feet, touched his arm. “Don’t worry. It’ll
be all right.” I swallowed hard. I couldn’t quite catch my breath. “I’m calling
911.”
“No!” he shouted. “Jesus Christ, did you forget the police?”
“Who’s going to care about the police if you bleed to
death?!”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not that bad.” His hair fell
across his forehead and clung to his skin, the sweat darkening it to a
red-brown. “Now, will you for Christ’s sake just get out of here?”
To keep my voice from shaking, I barked at him instead. “Oh,
sure, and leave you here?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, right.” Out in the hall the elevator bell sounded and
both our heads whipped around toward the open doorway. The bell was quickly
followed by the sounds of the doors sliding open and a man and woman’s voices. I
jumped at the door and eased it closed just as the voices approached. Andrew
remained kneeling on the carpet, hunched over his wound.
I ran to the bathroom, grabbed hand towels and washcloths,
ran back, fell on my knees, reached for his jacket. His hand snaked out and
grabbed my wrist. “Melanie, just leave.”
Two Melanies looked up at him: one terrified little girl
barely able to keep from collapsing into a quivering heap; the other doggedly
determined not to let on to this man that she couldn’t handle anything that
came along. The second said: “What did I tell you about grabbing my wrist?”
“Shut up. Leave. Now.”
“I am not,” I said distinctly, “leaving you here.”
His dark eyes met mine and the panicked little girl nearly
took me running from his side, out the door, back home.
“For God’s sake, please,” he said. “You’ve got to go now! I
told you before. I’ll follow you. We can meet later.”
“Yeah, right. Can you even walk?”
Andrew glared at me. “Of course. How do you think I got
here? Flew?”
“Prove it then, hot shot.”
“Fine.” He shifted, pushed against me, and tried to get his
feet under him. I moved around him, got his arm across my shoulders, but even
with my help he couldn’t stand. “I just need a second to rest,” he gasped. “Leave
now and I’ll follow in a couple of minutes.”
“Sure.” I reached again to pull open his jacket.
He slapped my hand away. “No!”
“Shut up,” I said. He opened his mouth and I raised an
eyebrow. I was trembling all over, but by god, I wasn’t going to let him know
it. “I’m not kidding. Shut up. And if you grab me again I’m keeping my promise.
You will lose that arm, at least to the elbow. Got it?”
He closed his mouth. I slipped the jacket off his shoulders
and laid it aside. Both the front and back of his shirt were soaked with dark
blood. There was a small ragged hole in the material about two inches in from
his side that was matched by another hole in the front of his shirt. “Jesus, Andrew.
Is this what I think it is?”
He nodded.
“Oh, god,” I whispered. He was right. I should just get out.
I couldn’t handle this. I clasped my hands together, trying to keep them from
shaking. It wasn’t some movie of the week. He was really bleeding.