Touched by Lightning [Dreams of You] (Romantic Suspense) (7 page)

“Check in with me next week, so I know you’re still alive. I worry about you out there by yourself. I wish you’d move into my apartment.”

“I’m not by myself. Right now I have a puppy, though he’s hardly a threat when all he wants to do is lick my face and cuddle in my lap.” She already knew it was going to be hard to put him back on the streets again when his leg healed. “And I can’t move in with you. I refuse to disrupt your life like that.”

“I know, I know. Be careful.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Don’t let him into your heart.”

“What the hell are you doing down there? We got enough muff up here in New York City to last you a lifetime. You don’t need to go down south for it.”

Adrian held the phone away from his ear for second, picturing the short, balding man with the horn-rimmed glasses he considered a fashion statement. “Stan,” Adrian tried to cut into the Stanley Fiske tirade. He was the manager of Dreams in Color, the ad agency Adrian did most of his work through. “I’m not chasing muff. Jeez, is that all you ever think about?”

“No, I also think a great deal about money. Making it, specifically. But we are not talking about what I’m thinking about, we are talking about what you’re thinking about. What are you thinking about? Why aren’t you in New York City making thousands of dollars a week for us?”

“Aren’t I entitled to a vacation?”

“Sure you are,” he said sweetly. “When you give me a week’s notice! You just now decide to call and let me know you’re in the middle of some cockeyed vacation? It’s crazy.”

“This is why I’m self-employed, Stan. So I don’t have to answer to anybody.”

“You’re self-employed so you can become the best damn photographer in the business. That means being available, and giving people notice when you decide it’s time for a break.”

Adrian laughed, refusing to let the little son of a bitch get to him. “Have you been drinking darkroom chemicals again, Stan? You’re uptight.”

“I’ll have you know I haven’t touched a drink for five days. That’s a record, but if you keep this up, I’ll have to make myself a martini. You want to ruin my wagon record?”

“Don’t give me that. What’s going on?”

“All right,” Stan said, taking a calm breath. “Calvin Klein wants you to do the next layout for their briefs. Be back in the City tomorrow morning. They want to meet with you and brainstorm some ideas.”

Adrian sipped a glass of wine, enjoying the feel of his silk shirt and his cologne he overdosed on after scrubbing away all the sadness and hopelessness that had touched him that day. He glanced at the old clothes he discarded the minute he stepped into the house, still lying in a heap on the tile by the front door. But to return to the high life wasn’t tempting enough to leave Nikki without at least trying to help her.

“Stanley, put them off for a week. They can wait. Or someone else can do the layout. I got some emergency business to take care of.”

Stanley put on the whiny voice he used when he got desperate, like in the early days when it was tampons they wanted photographed, not pretty woman. “Adrian, they want you. I told them they could have you, and tomorrow is the day they chose. How can I go back to them and say you changed your mind?”

“Tell them my wife left me and my dog died.”

“Sheesh, you sound like a bad country song.”

“I’ll be back next Wednesday night. First thing Thursday will do the brainstorming.”

“All right. They want to messenger you some preliminary sketches.”

Adrian found the cottage’s address and gave it to him. “I’ll take a look and come up with some ideas.”

“So, is everything all right? You got me worried, taking off like this. You don’t do this kind of thing.”

“I told you, it’s my wife and dog thing.”

“You don’t have a wife,” Stan said.

“I don’t have a dog either,” he said, though he thought of Crackers. “Bye, Stan.”

His next call was to Rita. When he’d left, it was with only a quick call to ask her to watch Oscar and a promise to take her out to dinner when he returned, which he left vague. Now that he had a deadline of sorts, he could firm things up with her.

Once he’d given her the timeline, he said, “Thanks again for taking care of Oscar. Sure you don’t want a cat?”

She laughed. “Oh, no, you don’t. He’s my best reason for seeing you these days.” Her tone became serious again. “Adrian, what are you doing?”

“Taking care of business,” he said, refusing to lie to her. Equally refusing to answer her.

“Are you staying at a hotel where I can reach you?”

“No, I had to rent this house for the whole month when I came down for the shoot, so I’m using the rest of the time.”

“Did you meet someone while you were down there? I have no rights to you, but I’d like to know.”

“I met up with an old friend who needs some help. Thanks, Rita.”

The next morning Adrian reluctantly slipped out of his thick terry road and into brown corduroys and a brand-new undershirt beneath the faded black sweatshirt. He ruffled his fingers through his hair, mussing it. As he passed the hall mirror, he did what he promised himself he wouldn’t do: look. Cringing, he rubbed his beard and studied himself. Well, he fit into the homeless class, all right. Except for the hopelessness. Even when he had been on the verge of homelessness, and too young to do anything about it, he had never lost hope. Even when Elio had kicked him around some and his mother never said a word to stop him, Adrian harbored only hatred and a fierce desire to free himself as soon as he could. He had never lost hope. Only his pride. With a smirk, Adrian realized he was losing that again. He shook his head and left.

Adrian got a taste of hopelessness as the hours of the morning slipped by with no sign of Nikki. He roamed all over, stopped for lunch at McDonald’s, then roamed more. Dave hadn’t seen her all day, though he said that wasn’t unusual. Then he asked why Adrian missed the Wednesday Bible class. Adrian wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his soul he was worried about, it was his head. He made up some other excuse instead, finding this necessary lying coming a little easier each time.

By late afternoon, his feet ached. He’d run into Seamus, who spoke so highly of Mama Jam’s Jamaican beef patties that he bought six for both of them. Seamus wolfed his down within seconds, his dirty fingers shoving them in his mouth. Losing his appetite, Adrian gave Seamus his three as well.

Now, grumpy and hungry, Adrian wandered over to a makeshift bench, a board perched atop two halves of a green oil drum, and watched a barge cruise into the port of Palm Beach. He rubbed his fingers down his face, letting his body relax for the first time in hours. Within a few minutes a man with a large belly and grizzled gray beard sat down beside him. He nodded at Adrian as he settled onto the bench.

Adrian felt instantly uncomfortable; not out of fear, but for some reason he didn’t want to delve into at the time. Still, he didn’t get up right away. The strange sense of social obligation seemed terribly out of place.

“New ‘round here, aren’t you?” the man asked, though he kept watching the incoming barge.

“Just passing through.”

The man nodded. “I thought that too, when I first got here. That was ten years ago.”

Adrian looked at him, a clammy feeling in his stomach. “What happened?”

“Used to work on a ship. Much bigger than that thing over there.” He pointed to a large, steel ship in the distance. “I was the captain,” he said with a lift of his shoulders. “Captain Charlie. Made a lot of money, had respect.” He looked down at himself with a melancholy smile. “Hard to believe now.”

Adrian reached in his pocket for his lighter and fired up a cigarette. Charley’s eyes lit up, and with the speed of a ferret, he was holding the gold lighter in his liver-spotted hands.

“Nice lighter.” Charlie eyed Adrian. “Where did you get something like this?”

Adrian retrieved it, sliding it in his pocket.
Stupid move, Wilde. Nash. Get a Bic.
“Friend gave it to me a long time ago.”

“Oh.” Then Charlie’s eyes widened again as Adrian dropped his cigarette after two drags and stepped on the butt. “No! What are you doing?”

Despite his rotund appearance, Charlie could move if he had to. Apparently, he did, because within a second he was down on his knees reaching for the cigarette with one hand and holding Adrian’s sneaker with the other. The cigarette was flat, but Charlie tenderly fingered it until it was oval at best.

“How can you waste a whole cigarette like that?” After patting his pocket, he turned and asked, “Can I have a light off that pretty lighter of yours?”

Adrian lit the squashed cigarette for him, holding tight to the lighter this time. Another mistake. Bums didn’t waste cigarettes or liquor, not for any reason. He’d have to save his lighting up for private moments, and leave the gold lighter at home.

“So, what happened? When you were the respected captain?”

“I made a stupid mistake. Got drunk one night and rammed the ship onto some shoals. They fired me but good. My wife divorced me in shame, and I left town.” He shrugged, taking a deep drag off the cigarette. “Not much work for drunk sailors these days.”

“Maybe you should get off the booze,” Adrian said, not feeling much pity for the man now.

Charlie turned to him, his watery gray eyes stern. “I haven’t had a drink in ten years, since that night. All it takes is one mistake in that industry, and you’re gone. I tried everything I could, but I couldn’t make ends meet. Now I have nothing. But I try. Once, I had it all.”

Even a man like that had pride. It surprised him. And once, he’d had it all.

Adrian shivered, realizing that’s where he was now. Could something happen, something devastating that could ruin his career in one moment of poor judgment? He thought of Stan’s urgency in returning to New York City to talk to Calvin Klein. Nah, they could wait. Still, Adrian stood, feeling uncomfortable. He slipped his hands into his pockets and started walking away. Then, he turned around, pulled out the lighter, and tossed it to the man.

“And that horrible car was right there behind my van in the alley.”

Maudine leaned over the Formica table, absorbed in Nikki’s story about Crackers’s accident. She fingered the chopped strands of her bright red hair. “Are you sure it was the same car?”

“No, that’s why I didn’t take a rock to the windshield. I couldn’t wait around for the driver, either.”

Maudine’s gray eyes widened. “Why not? I’d have spied on the car,” she whispered conspiratorially. “You want me to spy on it?”

Nikki waved her hand. “Nah, it’s gone now.”

“And what about that guy, Arian?”

“Adrian,” Nikki corrected.

Sometimes, though Maudine was in her mid-thirties by her own best guess, she acted like a young girl. The young girl she had never been able to enjoy being, because her stepfather molested her. Then her mother had kicked her out of the house when Maudine finally gathered the courage to tell her. It had been one hell after another, ending with the state taking her children after her husband deserted her for a young waitress. Now she lived at the Lord’s Shelter, where Nikki had found her this afternoon.

“So, what happened with him?”

“Nothing. He’s probably gone by now.” Nikki glanced around the Seashell Diner. There was no one quite that handsome anywhere in sight.

Maudine smiled, looking up at her through her red eye lashes. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Maudine!” Nikki lowered her voice when she realized how loud it was. “I don’t like him. I mean, he was nice, but that’s all. Besides, I can’t trust anyone.”

That’s all Maudine knew about Nikki: that she was hiding from something or someone, and that she lived in her van. Sometimes Nikki even let Maudine drive it around when the cops harassed her. Because of Maudine’s appearance, they seemed to think she was a hooker. Nikki hoped not.

“Is he cute?”

Nikki rolled her eyes, not wanting to talk about the mysterious stranger anymore. “No, he’s not cute.” At Maudine’s surprised expression, she added, “He’s handsome. He has these gorgeous brown eyes that pull you in when he looks at you.” She thought of how gently he’d handled Crackers, how he carried him ten blocks to the animal clinic. “And he’s noble.”

“What’s noble?” Maudine asked, still smiling dreamily at Adrian’s description.

Nikki frowned, saddened that Maudine knew nothing about nobility and chivalry. “It’s being good and tender.”

“Oh. Did you kiss him?”

Nikki threw a wadded napkin at her. “Stop it.”

Maudine broke out into a fit of giggles, nearly knocking over her root beer float. When she finally settled down, her face sobered. “You’re too pretty to be down here, Nikki.”

Nikki leaned forward. “So are you.”

Maudine blushed furiously, highlighting every red freckle on her face. “Get out of here.”

“I’m serious.” Nikki had already vowed to bring Maudine with her when she left this horrible place that had become her home. With an emotional overhaul, Maudine might be all right.

Maudine hunched over, digging in her dirty parachute bag that used to be white. Then she proudly brought out three bottle caps: Arizona tea, Coca Cola, and a white, flat one. She picked up the Arizona one.

“This was raspberry flavored. Very good. A boy left half of it at the mall yesterday. It was still cold when I took it out of the garbage. Kids leave the best food. Remember that. Follow a big family, and you’re set for food for a week. Fanny Farmer’s was giving out free samples of their butter toffee. Yum. You should come with me sometime. There’s all kinds of goodies at the mall.”

“Maybe sometime.”

Maudine scooped up her caps and deposited them with the many others she toted around her neck. They were as valuable as gold to her. She braced her chin on her hands. “Tell me about Adrian again, what he looks like, and I’ll spy on him for you. Maybe he’s an alien or something. Someone should keep an eye on him.”

CHAPTER 5

“Wait.”

Nikki scooted towards Crackers and pulled the two yellow flowers from between the cracks of the asphalt before the puppy sprayed them. She smelled the tiny bouquet, remembering the fresh flowers the maid had put in her room every morning when she lived in the mansion. Nikki didn’t particularly miss the jewels in her box, the fancy clothes, or especially the droll parties where everyone tried to outdo each other with dress and drunkenness. She did miss silly little things, like the flowers…and Häagen-Dazs ice cream. And bubble baths.