Читать книгу Blood Games - Faye Kellerman, Faye Kellerman - Страница 14

RINA LOVED THE quiet of Shabbat morning, when the neighborhood was without construction noise and leaf blowers. Through her kitchen window, she could actually hear birds chirping. Last year there had been a nest of finches in one of her bushes. She had heard a racket of squawks several times every day when the parents had returned to feed the young. Food was primal, and with a big family, much of her life revolved around meals.

She had been dressed for shul since eight, but Peter was taking his time. So she sat at her kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading the paper—a rare moment of alone time that proved to be short-lived. Gabe came in, dressed in a black long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Behind his wireless specs sat sleepy green eyes.

“Hey,” he said.

“You’re up early.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d catch up on a few things. Get a jump on the day.”

“Would you like some breakfast?”

“Yeah, that would probably make sense.” The boy took down a mug from the cupboard and made himself a cup of instant coffee. He was comfortable enough to open pantry doors and raid the fridge without asking permission. He fixed himself a bowl of cereal and began shoveling food into his mouth.

Rina said, “We’re eating lunch here today if you’re interested.”

“Thanks, but I’m going out.” He looked at her. “A guy I know is playing a piano concerto at SC. I thought I’d show him support.”

“That’s very nice. Is he good?”

“He’s very good.” Gabe gave her a sly smile. “But not as good as me.”

“That goes without saying.” She smiled back. “When’s the concert?”

“Three. But to get there on time, I’ve got to take a one o’clock bus, which means I have to leave here around 12:30.”

“Sorry I can’t take you.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind walking. If I didn’t walk to bus stops, I’d get absolutely no exercise.”

“We’ve got a treadmill.”

“Yeah, my life’s already too much of that.”

“Poor Gabe,” Rina said. “It’s hard being a genius.”

He let out a laugh. “I like when you do that. It means that you’re not pitying me.”

“You, my boy, are anything but an object of pity. In fact, you’re overloaded with assets. You should lend a few out to those less fortunate. What time are you coming home?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Paul and I will go out to dinner. I suppose it depends on how well he performs.”

“Call and leave a message on the machine. Not that I have to worry about a big independent guy like you, but I’m a mother and I’ll fret if I don’t know where you are.”

“That’s okay. It’s nice to get a little mothering every now and then.”

The room went quiet. Rina studied his face. “She contacted you again?”

“Yeah.” Gabe plunked the spoon in his cereal and pushed the bowl away. “I found out that my sister’s name is Juleen.”

“Pretty name.” Silence. “What else did she say?”

“Nothing much. I told her that Chris knows about the baby and she shouldn’t worry too much about him.”

“Is that true?”

“Mostly. I mean he still likes her. He’s told me that he’d take her back, baby and all. But he certainly isn’t chasing her down. I think he likes being a martyr for a change. After all the misery he put her through, he’s happy with the role of the aggrieved spouse.”

“I’ve got an aunt and uncle; they’re about ninety now. For forty years, they lived in two separate houses and got together only on Shabbat. People used to ask, are they separated, are they divorced? Nope. Just didn’t want to live together all the time. For them, it worked.”

“As long as they’re okay, I’m okay.” He wiped his glasses on his T-shirt. “I think she wants me to come to India.”

“That would be an interesting trip.”

“Yeah, maybe in the future.” When I’m fucking ready, which isn’t now. Gabe put his glasses back on. “I should get started. What’d you make for lunch?”

“Corned beef and turkey.”

“Oh man!” He made a face. “Please save me some.”

“I will take some aside and hide it in the refrigerator where no one will find it.” Rina kissed the top of his head. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Gabe stood up and spontaneously gave her a small hug, then pulled away self-consciously. His face was warm, and he knew he was blushing. “Thanks, Rina. Not only did I land in the home of two of the nicest people in the world, you cook better than anyone I know.”

“You’d better believe it.”

He gave a small laugh and headed for the garage, the one place where he felt totally at ease—his piano, his music, his solace. Once in a while, when no one was home, he sat in the driver’s seat of Peter’s Porsche, his hand gripping the clutch, his eyes looking out the windshield and imagining an open road that led to anyone’s guess.

ARRIVING AT THE bus stop at ten to one, but Yasmine was nowhere in sight.

Oh well.

He sat down on the bench and opened his composition book, playing his piece in his head, correcting and editing until the bus pulled up at five after. He stood and when the doors swung open, he stepped up, his brain still focused on his music. In the background, he heard a scream.

“Waaaaaiiiittt.”

He held up his hand to the driver, stepped down, and saw her running toward the bus. She was a block away with her hair flying like a stallion’s mane. His heart leapt out of his chest. To the driver, he said, “Could you hold on a minute? My friend’s coming.”

“I got a schedule and a route to do.”

Gabe took out a ten. “Please?”

The driver pushed the money away. “I still got a schedule. I’m gonna count to ten.”

Stepping back out, he waved her on. On the count of eight, she had made it, completely winded and doubled over. Gabe paid for their tickets, the door closed behind them, and the bus jerked forward. She pitched backward and Gabe caught her before she fell. Her face was bathed in sweat. It didn’t help that she was wearing a quilted pink puffy jacket. At least her attire—jeans and flats—was more appropriate than last time.

She was panting … gripping her side. Gabe led her to an open row and gave her the window seat. He sat next to her and for the first five minutes, all he did was listen to her wheeze.

“You okay?” he finally said.

She nodded.

He started to say something, but just laughed instead.

“I … had … to change … from shul.”

“You look very nice, Yasmine,” Gabe said. “Maybe you want to take off your jacket?”

She nodded, and he helped her pull it off. Underneath she was wearing a pink scoop-necked sweater that exposed those lovely collarbones. She said, “I brought … food.” She held up a purse slightly smaller than a shopping bag. “Hungry?”

He was. His half bowl of cereal had been digested hours before. “What do you have?”

“Cookies … and fruit.” She was still holding her side.

“You have a cramp?”

She nodded and pulled out an apple. “Okay?”

“Sure.” He took it and she fished out another one for herself.

“Sorry … I’m late.”

He took a bite. The apple was big, juicy, and tart. “No prob.”

“At least I made it.”

“Barely.” Another chomp. His thigh was touching hers. “Who’s covering for you today?”

“Ariella.”

“Again?”

She nodded and nibbled her apple.

“You better hope she stays your friend. She’s got dirt on you.”

Yasmine gave him a thousand-watt smile. “Oh my God …” Still breathing audibly but slower. “It’s like she is so keyed up about all this.”

“What?”

“That I’m sneaking around my parents to meet up with you.”

He smiled. “Like I’m evil boy?”

“More like forbidden boy. At least I hope you’re not evil. I think the only thing that would excite Ariella more is if you were a vampire.”

Gabe laughed as he inched closer to her. “Sorry to disappoint.”

She was talking to him, her speech going a mile a minute. “She’s a little nuts!”

And closer still.

“I keep telling her it’s not a date, that you’re just being nice …”

Until he could smell her sweat …

“… that we just have common interests …”

Sweat mixed with her perfume.

“… that it’s nothing romantic and it’s just a concert and …”

He turned and faced her.

“… no big deal …”

Eye to eye, he lifted her chin with his index finger and gently brushed his lips against hers. When she didn’t resist, he did it again. Did it a third time, making it last longer, nibbling her juicy lower lip, tasting the salt on her skin. She was sweet, sweaty, soft, and fragrant.

Man oh man!

He sat back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head, closing his eyes, his erection jammed between his leg and his jeans. “I’m sorry, Yasmine, I got distracted.” He turned to face her. “What were you saying?”

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she sat stock-still with sweat pouring off her forehead and hands in her lap, her eyes on her hands. She was still holding her apple. Her mouth was slightly open, and she was breathing rapidly.

He knew he had blindsided her. Not nice, but at least she knew where he stood. Gently, he nudged her arm. She looked up, and he raised his eyebrows. She looked down again.

Maybe he had misread her. Maybe he had wanted to misread her. Even if he had, surely she couldn’t be that freaked out by a couple of chaste pecks on the lips even if it was her “first” kiss.

Slowly she unfolded her hands. The fingers on her right hand spider-walking across her thigh onto his until her hand rested about four inches away from the danger zone.

His brain screamed: higher, baby. Instead he took her hand, brought it to his lips, and then placed their entwined fingers back on his thigh, a comfortable distance from his boner. His body relaxed and so did she.

They rode in silence for a while, every so often exchanging glances while holding hands. Finally, she dropped her apple in her purse and then let out an audible sigh. “I give up!” In a swift motion, she threw her arms around his neck, weaving her fingers in his hair, and mashed her lips against his.

Whoa!

Sweet!

Time passed muy rapido. Hot and sweaty and dizzy with arousal, he kept reminding himself that she was innocent and they were in public. But he couldn’t help himself. They kissed and kissed and kissed, and it took all his willpower to keep his hands from slipping under her sweater. Her mouth was soft and warm, her breath smelled like apples, her perfume was something floral, and her sweat was musty. He was practically swooning. He became so enrapt that he almost missed their stop, jumping up from her embrace at the last moment to pull the cord. The bus lurched and they pitched forward. He felt heat coursing through his face and knew he was beet red. This time, he was breathing hard. “We get off here.”

She nodded and picked up her purse, and they stepped off the bus, avoiding the disapproving looks of some of the older ladies. As soon as the bus pulled away, he threw his arms around her body, lifting her way off the ground until she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her for a block or so, the two of them kissing as he walked. Over and over and over until he felt like he was going to explode. He put her back onto her feet. “Oh God,” he told her. “I need to calm down.”

She giggled. He held her hand and they strolled in silence.

“Are you okay?” she asked a minute later.

“No,” he said. “I’m a little light-headed.”

“Want a cookie?”

He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. “I want you.” He put her down, took her face in his hands, and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. He looked at his watch and his eyes went wide. “God, we’ve got about ten minutes to get across campus.” He took her hand and they started speed-walking.

“Did you buy a ticket for me?”

“Of course I bought a ticket for you. I was hoping you would come.” Pulling her along. “It would have helped if you had told me that you might come.”

“I didn’t know until the last minute.”

“Well, you could have at least texted me a maybe. I didn’t hear a peep from you.”

“Well, that’s because I didn’t hear a peep from you.”

“What are you talking about?” Gabe said. “I asked you to be my friend on Facebook.”

“And I accepted.”

“But you didn’t write back.”

“The boy writes first.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Since when is that the rule?”

“I dunno. But it is the rule.”

“You know I came to Coffee Bean looking for you.”

“You did not.”

“I did so.” Gabe was offended. “I came on Tuesday and Thursday.”

Yasmine said, “I came on Monday and Wednesday.”

“Ooh, psych!” He took her hand and started running. “If you would have texted me, I would have met you. I mean I can’t exactly call you.”

“Why on earth would I assume that you’d want to meet me?”

“Why wouldn’t you assume it? I asked you to the concert.”