Sweet Poison (29 page)

At first, Julia had been put off by the campaign’s use of cell phones instead of landlines for the phone banks, but in this instance, she could see the wisdom of the decision. Volunteers and staff were walking around talking on phones all the time, occasionally rushing to grab someone with more specific knowledge.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maria Rios come into the room where the phone volunteers worked. Julia pushed quickly out of her chair, waving her free hand to get her attention. After learning what the woman wanted, Maria took the call, and Julia, temporarily without a phone, walked across the hall to the break room to get a cup of coffee. She’d agreed to work from one until five. Checking her watch, she saw that it was just after four. At six, she had an appointment with a real estate agent.

Before Neil returned from the AIDS conference in Australia,
she hoped to be out of his house. She needed a place of her own, where she could live quietly and privately—and where she could entertain Jane without worrying that Neil would return home unexpectedly.

Julia was drawn to the quiet of the country—or the exurbs, as some called it. But exurbia today wasn’t just an old-fashioned mill town, or college town, a farm community that housed commuters from the larger urban areas. The houses Julia had been shown were all new American McMansions. She loathed the garish excess, the way exurbia was encroaching on farmland, prairie, and forests, feeding the need for status and luxury with no thought to anything but personal desire and no real understanding—or even a wish to understand anything beyond what CNN or FOX News might report—of what life was like for other human beings in other parts of the world. After all, Americans were blessed by God. The Chosen People. They deserved their wealth and status because God was on their side.

Julia would never be able to get the smell, the taste, the very existence of the slums on the periphery of Johannesburg out of her mind. Poor people living on a belt of toxic waste and unstable soil, contaminated by generations of mining. Everywhere on the planet, poor people were willing to trade safety and heath for a small space they could call their own.

Julia had lived in some of those forgotten areas, worked in villages, shantytowns, in the poorest of the poor clinics all over southern Africa. More than one sick, hungry child had died in her arms. How could her priorities not be forever altered? But then, she’d been guilty of her own kind of hubris.

For a long time Julia actually believed she couldn’t die. She considered herself outside the natural order of things—death not only would not touch her, it could not. And by the time it occurred to her that she might be wrong, she was too obsessed to stop. It was impossible to explain, but in pushing herself to the edge, she’d discovered an almost transcendent state of being. For the last year in Africa,
she’d worked in a trance. If Neil hadn’t stepped in when he had, she would surely be dead by now.

The worst part of her years in Africa often returned to her as vivid images in her dreams. On occasion, they would hit while she was awake, shrieking so loudly that all she could do was sit motionless in a chair and try to shut everything down. She couldn’t stand to have anyone touch her or even talk to her during those hours. She had to be alone, in the dark if possible. She couldn’t stand any noise, any stimulation. Neil was the only one who knew how bad it sometimes got. She loved him for his care and concern, for saving her from the brutal treatment she was inflicting on her own body and soul, but she would never be able to love him the way he wanted.

As her health returned, Julia was beginning to see that her need to continue to do good work would always be a driving force in her life. But until things were settled with Jane, until Jane forgave her and their relationship was back on track, she had to stay in Minnesota. That was her first priority—her only priority at the moment, now that Kenzie was out of the picture. It might take time, but Jane would come to see that Julia had changed, that she’d walked through fire and been purified by it.

And so, as much as Julia hated the inner city, she couldn’t bring herself to look at any more monstrous country extravagances. Tonight, her agent was showing her a new condo development down in Stillwater. At least these lofts were built up, not out. And this one was small. Julia had looked at the floor plan online. It was one bedroom. Almost European in the clever way it utilized space. Perhaps here she would be able to find some peace.

After pouring herself a mug of coffee, she went back into the main workroom, surprised to see Jane standing by the bulletin board talking to one of the staffers. The two of them spoke for a few more seconds and then the staffer took off.

Now that Jane was alone, Julia approached. “Boy, it sure takes a lot of people to run a political campaign,” she said, amused by the startled look on Jane’s face.

“Julia, hi. I didn’t see you.”

“I’ve been working the phone banks. Thought I’d take a break, get some coffee.”

Jane was wearing a black velvet jacket with satin lapels, and formal black slacks. No shirt, just a sterling silver necklace against her flawless skin.

“You’re all dressed up. Where’s the party?”

“I’m working at the Xanadu tonight. I usually wear a traditional tux. This one’s new.”

Trying not to stare, Julia continued, “I haven’t received your father’s tests back yet. I should have them soon. He appeared to be in fine shape, for a man his age—with the stress he’s been under.”

Jane’s expression softened. “That was really generous of you. I know Peter appreciates it, too.”

“While we were doing the physical, Ray told me all about the Cessna he bought. I had no idea he was a pilot. He said he’d given you flying lessons for your birthday a couple years ago.”

“I really enjoy it,” said Jane, trying to look like she wasn’t studying Julia, when she so clearly was. “Not that I’ve been able to get much air time this year. Work trumps play.”

“Small planes make me nervous,” said Julia, taking another sip from her mug. Actually, she loved flying in any form—big planes, small planes, ultralights, even gliders—but figured if she told Jane the truth, she’d assume Julia was angling for a ride.

“They’re actually quite safe.”

“Is it a two seater?”

“Four.”

Before Julia could think of another question to keep the conversational ball going, a woman yelled, causing everyone to turn and stare toward the wall of computers.

“Luke, get out here!” called a man.

Within seconds, everyone sitting at a computer screen had begun shouting, pointing, looking around for help.

Julia turned just as Luke came out of his office.

“It disappeared!” yelled one of the women. “Everything I’ve been working on all day … it just vanished.”

“Me too,” said the man who’d first called for Luke. “It’s all gone.”

Luke raced into the room, shoving chairs aside. He hit a bunch of keys. Then more. “Maybe it’s a virus,” he said, moving from screen to screen. “Shit—” He looked bewildered, panicked, his face deep in concentration as he continued to hit keys, hold keys down, type in words, unhook wires, rehook them. But nothing he did changed anything. The screens glowed but were completely empty.

Jane left for the Xanadu club shortly after the computer meltdown. She wanted to stay and help, but there was nothing she could do. She’d also promised to take the evening shift for one of her managers, a man who’d asked for the night off so he could attend his son’s first wrestling match.

Julia, in a rare constructive moment, offered to stick around so that she could keep Jane updated. Jane was a little baffled by Julia’s general demeanor. It was almost as if she had entirely forgotten about the night Jane discovered her in her house. Today, she seemed completely normal—except for the surreal fact that she seemed to be suffering from a convenient case of amnesia.

And so, as the evening wore on, Julia phoned with updates. It was strange to hear Julia’s voice on the other end of the line. Strange, familiar, and also somewhat disturbing.

According to Julia, everything that could be determined quickly, if not explained, had been. Damages still needed to be assessed. Most of what was lost had been backed up onto disks of one sort or another, but that was only part of the problem. Luke and a number of other tech people had volunteered to work through the night to see if they could get the system up and running again.

Julia also passed along that Luke was pretty sure it was a “nasty trojan.”

“What’s that mean?”

“He keeps talking about an ‘exe.’ “

“It’s geek language. Incomprehensible to the average computer moron like me.”

“Whatever the thing is, it’s opened back doors in the system.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“Luke thought that, given some time, he’d be able to pick out the exact e-mail that was used to infect the system. Others agreed. It was also Luke’s opinion that it could have come from virtually anywhere, but most likely the hit was by a hacker attached to the Pettyjohn campaign. When it came down to it, Luke said it could take months and thousands of dollars to find the true source of the attack and prosecute the individual or individuals.

“He said the hackers used an excellent ‘rootkit’ to cover their tracks. Don’t ask what a rootkit is, please.”

“I won’t.”

“Or a webmin bug. Whatever that is was set to detonate at a certain time, and that’s why everything died at once. Well,” said Julia, sounding weary but upbeat, “that’s the last installment. I’m going home.”

Jane was on her way upstairs to her office. “I appreciate the updates.”

“Glad to help.”

Jane could hear a slight hesitation in her voice. They both knew each other far too well to miss a signal like that. “What is it?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing.”

“Just say what you want to say.”

“It’s not about us, Jane. Just something that’s been on my mind.”

“Do you”—she closed her eyes, knowing she was going to regret saying this—”need to talk about it?”

“Thanks, but no. I just want to go home and get some rest. It’s been a long day. See you around the campaign office.”

“Thanks again, Julia. Good night.” Jane dropped the cell phone in her pocket, absolutely refusing to spend the rest of the evening parsing her feelings.

Jane worked in her office until Cordelia called shortly after ten.

“Aren’t you excited?”

“About what?”

“Friday night.”

“What’s happening Friday night?”

“Halloween!”

“Oh, right.” She’d completely forgotten.

“Melanie and I will be over by five thirty. In costume. Don’t worry, we’ll get all the treats ready to hand out. What are we having for dinner?”

“Candy corn?”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m joking.”

“What’s this year’s costume?”

“I think I’ll come as a chef. You know, I’ll put on one of my chef’s coats, wear a pair of old jeans.”

“Poor, Janey. I understand. How can you immerse yourself in the revelries of All Hallows’ Eve when you’ve just been dumped?”

“Do you have to put it like that?”

“Don’t be grumpy. I’ll cheer you up. I’ll even come over to your house tomorrow night and decorate the place, just like always. But you’ll have to carry the trunk in from the car. Cordelia Thorn does not haul.”

Cordelia had a trunk filled with black and orange streamer paper, black and orange balloons, black and orange candles, black and orange jewelry, witches’ hats, minibroomsticks, gourds, Indian corn, strings of orange lights, scary rubber masks, magic wands, plastic pumpkins of all sizes, tons of plastic black cats, a rubber severed foot, and two sets of glowing lawn eyeballs. She’d been amassing this treasure chest since she was five.

“Halloween is my favorite holiday.”

“I know. Everyone dresses up so you fit right in.”

“Was that intended as a put-down?”

“Would I make a nasty comment about your clothing?”

“The world is heavy with complexity, Janey. We humans need to indulge ourselves in a little old-fashioned fun every now and then.”

“Old-fashioned?”

“You’ve heard of the Druids? How much older do we need to go?”

“Okay. I’ll make us something suitably Halloweenish for dinner. Eye of newt and bat wing stew.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Toe of frog would make a nice appetizer.”

By midnight Jane was tired and ready to go home. She turned off her computer and shut off the desk light. After locking her door, she came down the curved stairway from the second floor, noticing that there were still a few people sitting at tables in the dining room. Food service stopped at eleven on weeknights.

On her way through the Speakeasy bar, she checked in with the head barman. He would be responsible for locking up tonight and running the register after closing. Jane told him she was heading home and wished him a good night.

Turning toward the door, her eyes widened. A familiar form slipped off one of the stools not five feet away from her and stood up.

“Kenzie?”

“I couldn’t stay away.”

“Am I dreaming?”

“If you are, I am, too. Can you forgive me?”

They fell together, arms surrounding, encircling, hands smoothing, caressing. After a long, greedy kiss, they separated, finally remembering where they were.

Gazing around, Jane realized that the bar patrons had been watching them because they now were clapping and whistling.

“It’s a different world,” said Jane, her am around Kenzie’s waist, guiding her toward the door.

“At midnight in Uptown it is.”