Title: Jim versus the Volcano
Author/pseudonym: Tinnean
Fandom: The Sentinel
Pairing: Jim Ellison/Sandy, Jim/BJ Sandburg,
Jim/Blair Sandburg
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The
Sentinel belongs to Petfly, and Joe versus the Volcano belongs to Warner
Brothers.
Status: new/complete
Date: 10/02
Series/Sequel: no
Summary: Wealthy
businesswoman Naomi Sandburg makes former police detective, Jim Ellison, an
offer too good to refuse. On his travels, he meets three very different men,
with one thing in common: they all resemble each other.
Warnings: m/m, spoilers for the movie.
Notes: I’ve used the fine store, Mark Cross,
although this in not the store Joe buys his luggage in. This is an homage to my
Dad, who worked for Mark Cross for twenty-five years. Douleur dans l’âne translates literally to pain in the ass. The song
Joel mangles is
Jim versus the Volcano
Prologue –Cascade
I had a really good job, a job I loved, a job I was good
at: I was a police detective. I worked out of Major Crimes in Cascade,
I’d been named Cop of the Year, and I was in line for a
major promotion.
But then there had been that hostage situation; a spurned
boyfriend who snatched the woman's three kids and swore he’d kill them, cut
their throats like butter, if she didn’t take him back.
Yeah, I know. That would make me want to take him
back in a heartbeat. Go figure.
The captain of the SWAT team fired a tear gas canister into
the crackerjack box of a house, and it had burst into flames. I could hear them
screaming from three blocks away.
By the time my partner, Brian Rafe, had pulled our car to a
screeching halt across the street, the house was almost completely engaged.
“Why aren’t you going after the kids?” I demanded
frantically.
“They’re dead, Jim. They’re all dead!” The captain
put his hand on my shoulder and gave what he thought was a comforting squeeze.
I knocked his hand off my arm and dashed into the house.
How could they not hear the screams of those little kids? The smoke was thick
and black and suffocating. I dropped to the floor and crawled to where I could
hear the whimpers.
“I’m here, kids!” I scooped up the two smallest.
“Grab my shirt tail and hang on, okay, honey?” I told the oldest one, then I
started out.
“Fucking hell, how did you know these two were still
alive, Ellison?” the captain demanded.
I was coughing out smoke that seemed to have taken up
residence in my lungs. My partner was pounding my back in an attempt to restore
normal breathing, and cursing me out under his breath. “Fucking hero! Could
have gotten yourself killed! Goddamn it, Jim, you had me so scared…”
“Could…couldn’t you hear them? Wait a minute, two
of them? Where’s the one who was holding my shirt?”
They looked at me as if I was nuts, and I gave the two boys
to the paramedics who were waiting impatiently to take them from me. Before Rafe
could stop me, I wheeled around and bolted back into the house.
She was in the hallway, just outside the door to the room
where I’d found them. I grabbed her up and turned, and the blast from hell hit
me in the back and threw the two of us forward. Somehow I managed to turn in
midair so that when we landed, I took the brunt of the fall, and then I began
the nightmare crawl out into the sunlight and the sweet, untainted air.
I collapsed on the sidewalk where a piece of glass was just
in my line of vision. The sun bounced off it. I stared at it, lost in the prism
of colors that seemed to stream out of it. I was sucked into it.
“Ellison! Ellison! What the fuck is wrong with him?” I
could hear the voices, but it was as if I was enveloped in a thick cloud.
“Jim! Don’t do this to me!” They were muffled and barely distinguishable.
Abruptly I came out of it. I looked around me. The house
had been reduced to rubble and black ash. The children had been taken to the
hospital accompanied by their Mom, while the boyfriend was in a body bag,
waiting for the coroner’s wagon.
“Jesus, Jim! That was the bravest, stupidest
fucking thing I have ever seen!” Rafe knelt beside me, stroking my arm with
one hand, while the other scrubbed at the tears that were drying on his cheeks.
“I thought you were dead for sure!”
But all I could think of were those words: ‘What the fuck
is wrong with him?’ Why had I heard what they hadn’t? Why had the odor of
burning flesh nearly overcome me? Why had the sparkling piece of glass
sent me to a place where there were only shades of grey?
The events of that day began to haunt me. Mornings, when I
was scrambling up some eggs. What was wrong with me? Afternoons, when I was
testifying in court. What was wrong with me? Evenings, when I should have
been making love to Rafe.
What was wrong with me?
I became sure that the problem was that I had some rare
disease. I didn’t want to think that I was losing my mind.
And then I nearly cost Rafe his life. When you’re on a
stakeout, and your partner is depending on you to watch his back, you can’t
start daydreaming, staring off into space. Someone could wind up dead. Rafe very
nearly did.
Oh, he never blamed me, but I didn’t trust myself any
longer.
After that, I left the police department and my lover,
although he pleaded with me not to go. I couldn’t bear the pitying looks I got
from colleagues and friends, and I left Cascade as well. I went as far away as I
could, stopped only by the
Once upon a time, there was a guy named Jim…
Who had a very lousy job…
Part 1—Staten
It took me three and a half years, but I finally found a
place that didn’t cause my senses to jump off the charts, and I finally found
a job, in the advertising department of American Panascope, the country’s
leading producer of anal probes.
Although my senses calmed down, I could never shake the
feeling that something was seriously wrong with me, and so I began an endless
round of finding another doctor, another test.
The only thing that made my days bearable was the young
secretary who manned the front desk.
So each day I would come in and mumble a hello, then go to
my cubicle and think of what it might have been like with him…
####
I’d worked at American Panascope since I’d graduated
from high school. I’d wanted to go to college, but my Mom insisted I could
never make a living as an anthropologist, and so I took the first job that I
came across in the want ads. I hated my boring job, and I hated my boring life,
but I knew I would never leave. It was a scary world out there.
From behind the closed door of her office, I could hear Ms.
Plummer, my acerbic supervisor, on the phone.
“I know he can get the job, but can he do the
job?”
I sighed. She would spend the next twenty minutes repeating
this. “I know he can get the job, but can he do the job?” Then
she’d call me into that dreary office, and for another twenty minutes she
would rant about how she had never said that, and if she had, she would be
wrong, but she wasn’t wrong, because she hadn’t said it. I’d
have to sit on the other side of her desk, taking notes, and trying not to let
her see how much I didn’t want to be there.
My nose was running, and I sniffed hard. The door to our
department opened and he walked in. James Ellison. The most gorgeous man
I had ever seen. Even though it was against company policy, I wished he would
ask me out on a date, but he never noticed me beyond wishing me a brief good
morning, every morning.
“Good morning,
I sniffed and ran the side of my hand under my nose.
“Morning, Jim.” I gathered up my courage and managed to say more than my
usual two words to him. “How are you feeling today?”
“I feel like garbage,
“What’s wrong, Jim?”
His smile was wry. “I’m losing my soul,
I thumbed the intercomm. Sure enough, the boss was still
going strong. “I’m not saying that. I’m not saying that! If I had said
that, I would be wrong, but I did not say that! I know he can get the
job! But can he do the job?” How had Jim been able to hear her?
Jim reached out his hand, and for a minute I thought he
would ruffle my hair, but he didn’t. He turned away and poured himself a cup
of coffee from the pot that had been sitting on the hot plate since I had come
in. I knew the powdered creamer must be clumping in his cup, just as it always
clumped in mine, and yet he always put in a teaspoon. I wondered if he did that
in hopes that maybe this time it would be fresher? Only it never was.
He walked down the short corridor that led to his cramped
cubicle, pushed open the swinging doors, and disappeared through them.
I’d peeked into his personal file once, and I knew that
at one point he had lived on the West coast, which was so glamorous. I didn’t
understand what kind of lure
I’d been in his cubicle once, too, delivering a message I
had taken for a cancellation of one of the seemingly never-ending doctors’
appointments he made. “That’s such a pretty lamp, Jim,” I had whispered
after I had handed him the slip of paper. I had been desperate to start up a
conversation, and so I remarked on the lamp that sat on his desk.
“It’s a music box too. See?” He’d switched it on,
and the shade turned gently, displaying a panther stalking through a lush
rainforest. Soft strains of a melody I felt I should have been able to recognize
filled the room and seemed to keep him calm and grounded. He’d looked at the
fluorescent lighting overhead and said sadly, “I feel like they suck the
moisture right out of my eyeballs. Do you understand what I mean,
I nodded, but I didn’t, not really. I wanted to know why
he stayed here, but I was always afraid to ask, in case it gave him the idea
that maybe he should leave. I sighed and opened a window in Excel.
Ms. Plummer came barreling out of her office. “Where is
he?” she barked, and I cringed in my chair.
“Wh… who, Ms. Plummer?” I stammered.
“Wh… who?” she mocked me. “That fucking waste on
the face of the earth! James Ellison, that’s who!”
“Um… he’s in his office, ma’am.” I sank down,
trying to make myself as tiny as possible. I didn’t deal well with
confrontations, and my boss always managed to make me feel about two inches
tall.
With a final sneer in my direction, she stormed through the
swinging doors. As they swung back and forth, I could see the subdued lighting
Jim had been able to provide for himself.
Ms. Plummer’s voice was so loud I had no trouble hearing
the conversation out at my desk. “I’ve got eight orders here, Jim. Each
order needs five catalogues!”
“There are only twelve catalogues left.”
Our boss stalked out of Jim’s office, hurling abuse back
over her shoulder. “You asshole! Why didn’t you inform me?”
“I told you they needed to be ordered three weeks ago,
Ms. Plummer.” Jim followed her out, still speaking in a subdued tone. “I
told you again two weeks ago. Last week I put the requisition on your desk and
it’s been sitting there since then!”
“Did you tell me last week?” He shook his head.
“See? This is why I can’t give you that promotion! I wanted to give
you that promotion, but you’re just not flexible, Jim! You have to get into a
flexible frame, or else you are no place!”
“Yes, ma’am.” He wasn’t really paying attention to
her, I could see that; his eyes were darting all over the room. He cleared his
throat and licked his lips nervously. “I… uh… I need to take some extra
time during lunch.”
“Another doctor’s visit? Get with the program, Ellison.
There’s nothing wrong with you beyond the fact that you’re a lazy shit!”
“I’m not lazy. I just don’t feel good.”
“Nobody feels good! After childhood it’s a fact of
life!” Jim bowed his head and let Ms. Plummer’s tirade flow over him.
Finally our manager wound down, having expended her bile. “Oh, all right. But
you won’t get paid for this. You’ve used up all your sick time, as well as
all your personal days!”
“I understand, ma’am. Thank you.”
I stared at Jim in shock. After Ms. Plummer had returned to
her office and slammed shut the door behind her, I whispered, “Why do you let
her talk to you like that?”
Jim’s blue eyes looked into mine, and they were so filled with sadness I
wanted to cry out in protest, but he just shrugged and said nothing. His
shoulders were slumped, and he went back to his cubicle to do the best he could
with the few supplies he had available to him.
****
I pulled the brown paper sack from my bottom desk drawer
and set my lunch on my desk: a stale sandwich, a mealy apple, and a thermos of
coffee that had sat on my hot plate overnight and tasted scorched.
Jim came out of his cubicle, buttoning his overcoat.
“See you later, Jim,” I said quietly, and he offered a
bleak smile, then walked out of our department.
“
I jumped, and I spilled some of the coffee down the front
of my moth-eaten sweater. She was always making me do that. “Yes, Ms.
Plummer?”
“Get in here. Now!”
I swallowed hard and entered her office, dragging my feet.
I stood by the door, my adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
She rose from her desk and walked around it, studying me
carefully. Then she shook her head. “I just don’t get it.”
“Get what, ma’am?”
“That fuck Ellison has been watching your ass. Did you
know that?”
My heart leaped with pleasure. “Really, ma’am?” I
breathed. Jim had been sneaking peeks at my ass?
“We don’t allow fraternization in this company, Sandy.
Especially that kind!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Plummer.
Jim has never asked me out.”
“Yes, well, from the looks he’s been giving you, it
seems like he’s finally working up the nerve. You will turn him down. If I
find you’ve been meeting after hours, I’ll have no qualms in seeing you
transferred to the
I had taken a breath, about to flout her, but the threat
being sent to the
“Good. Now, get back to your desk!”
I scurried out of her office and slunk into my seat. My
lunch looked even more unappetizing, and I dropped it into the wastebasket under
my desk. I pulled up another window in Excel and began keying in an invoice for
a dozen cartons of the lubricant that usually accompanied American Panascope
anal probes. The delivery would be going to
####
Why wouldn’t the doctors believe me when I told them that
there was something wrong with me? Didn’t they understand that I would know if
I wasn’t feeling well? What did they think I was, a hypochondriac?
Take the last doctor I had seen. When he said he couldn’t
find anything, and I insisted I had a problem with my senses, he’d thrown his
hands up in defeat and given me a referral to a doctor who, he assured me, could
find the problem if anyone could. //If there even is a problem.//
He didn’t realize I had heard his snide remark, and was
shocked when I growled at him as I stalked out of his office, “That’s hardly
professional of you, Doctor!”
Because Dr. Simon Banks was the leading authority in
strange and unusual diseases, I expected to have to wait months before I’d be
able to see him. To my surprise and gratification, he had taken my call himself
and made the appointment for the beginning of the following week, apologizing
profusely that it couldn’t be sooner.
I had arrived a little early, and Dr. Banks had drawn
blood, asked for a urine specimen, and run a battery of tests. He told me he was
putting a rush on it, and the results would be compiled within the hour.
Now I sat in Dr. Banks’ waiting room… waiting. I’d
been sitting there for more than two hours, and I knew Ms. Plummer would be
ready to fire me because I’d be returning so late from my lunch hour.
I was so scared; he was my last hope. If he couldn’t tell
me what was wrong, I might as well put my head between my legs and kiss my ass
good-bye, because I didn’t know where else to turn. I stared at a dust mote,
not realizing that I was losing myself in the nooks and crevices that I could
actually see.
“Mr. Ellison. Mr. Ellison? Mr. Ellison!”
The irritation in the voice finally broke through to me. I
jumped and shook myself. “I’m sorry. What is it?”
“Dr. Banks will see you now.”
I licked my lips and rose, and went into Dr. Banks’
office. On the walls were diplomas from Johns Hopkins, Cedars-Mount Sinai,
Walter Reed, the most prestigious hospitals in the country as well as the
leading medical facilities in
Simon Banks was a big, black man with a commanding
presence. He stood before an illuminated square, intently studying the X-rays
that were slotted into it.
“Have a seat, Mr. Ellison. May I call you Jim?” Before
I could tell him yes or no or fuck you very much, he went on. “You used to be
in the police department, in Cascade,
“Well, yes. But I left the force eight years ago.
What…”
“Bear with me, Jim. What did you do on the force?”
“I was in Major Crimes.”
“So you arrested murderers, chased drug dealers, maybe
went undercover? Dangerous, rough stuff?”
“That went with the job, Dr. Banks. I guarded the
occasional visiting dignitary also. What does that have to say about anything? I
used to be a cop; I’m not any more.”
He turned around to face me, and his face showed such concern that I tensed up. “I have the results of your tests, Jim.”
I swallowed, my mouth dry, my gut turning to water. Here it
was. I gripped the seat of the chair I was sitting in so tightly I knew I’d
leave fingerprints. “I’m losing my mind.” I had to know.
“No.”
“I have a tumor on the brain; that’s why there’s
something wrong with my eyes, my hearing, my sense of taste.”
“No.”
I became annoyed. His expression told me there was
something abnormal going on. “But my senses are so enhanced, Dr. Banks…”
“Don’t get me wrong, Jim. There is a problem. What you
have wrong with you is very real… very rare… very destructive. Incurable, in
fact. You have a brain cloud.”
“I… A what?”
“A brain cloud. This is a black fog of tissue. There are
no symptoms. As a matter of fact, you would never have been diagnosed with this
if you hadn’t been seeking an explanation for your enhanced senses.”
There was something wrong, and I was going to die. I
couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t even force out the words, ‘How long?’
But it was as if he knew what I had to ask. “You have
about six months. It isn’t painful, just… messy.”
“Dr. Banks, what’s going to happen?”
He sat down and folded his hands sedately on the desk
before him. His eyes were dispassionate. “For the first four and a half to
five months, everything will feel okay.”
“And after that time?”
“Your brain will fail, followed by your body. You’ll
regress to infancy. You’ll drool; you’ll lose control of your bladder and
bowels. As I said, messy.”
I felt myself turn pale. To be so out of control of my
body, to be so helpless. I didn’t think I could face that. “I’ll become a
goddamn vegetable!” I swallowed hard. “And then…?”
“And then… pffft. You’re dead. Of course, you can,”
he looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, “get a second opinion.”
I scarcely paid any attention to his words. “I knew it. I
didn’t know it, but… Oh, fuck. What am I gonna do?”
“Jim. You have some time left. You have some life left. I
suggest you live it well.” He extended his hand to me. “Oh, and this visit
isn’t covered by your HMO. Pay the bill on your way out, please.”
I left the
It hit me with painful realization that I hadn’t been a
viable member of the human race for the past eight years. I had been so afraid
of dying that I never stopped to think that from the moment we’re born we
begin to die.
Wasn’t it the lead singer of one of those acid rock bands
who said, ‘No one gets out of this life alive’? And then he’d died choking
on someone else’s vomit. No, wait a second, that was Eric ‘Stumpy Joe’
Childs, one of the many doomed drummers of Spinal Tap.
Eventually I found myself back at American Panascope,
walking the crooked path that led into the main building. I passed the little
security booth with the guard who spent the day sound asleep. I went down the
stairs to advertising.
Ms. Plummer was waiting. She might have been an attractive
woman if it hadn’t been for the perpetual petulant sneer that twisted her
lips. “Jim! You call this a lunch hour? You’ve been gone more than
three hours!”
“Three hours.” I just stood there looking at her,
thinking about it. “Yeah, that’s about right.” I licked my lips.
“Listen, Ms. Plummer. Carolyn.” She froze at my use of her first name. “I
quit.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw
I went past him to my cubicle. Ms. Plummer followed me,
sputtering in indignation. “You’re quitting? Just like that? You can’t do
that!”
“No? Watch me!”
I regarded her with disinterest. Her cheeks turned an
unhealthy shade of puce, and her mouth opened and shut futilely. She was doing a
pretty fair imitation of a hooked fish. Finally she snarled, “Well, let me
tell you, my friend, you’ll be very easy to replace!”
“You think I don’t know that, Carolyn?” I yanked open
a side drawer and stared down into its depths. “You think I don’t know…
I’ve been here for years, doing work that could have been done in five or six
months. Wasted years, Carolyn. If I had them now…” I closed my hand as if I
could retrieve them, hold them forever in my palm, then slammed the drawer shut.
There was nothing I wanted in there. I unplugged my lamp, stroking the music box
base.
“Go on, if you’re going! Get out!” Carolyn
Plummer’s voice was shrill. “We don’t need your kind here! Talking crazy,
giving people ideas!”
I paused by
“Do you know, every morning I’d walk past your desk…
You were the only thing that made this godawful place bearable. I’d come to
work, and I could smell you, like a flower. I could taste you, like sugar on my
tongue. I could hear the rustle of your clothes from that goddamned little broom
closet that tries to pass itself off as an office. Oh, god, Sandy, did I ever
tell you, the first time I saw you, I felt as if I had seen you before?”
I stroked his cheek. “And I never had the guts to ask you
out. I let my life be ruled by yellow, freaking fear.” I turned to Carolyn,
who was staring at me as if I had sprouted a second head. “I was too chicken
shit to live my life, so I sold it to you. You’re lucky I don’t…” I
clenched my fists in an effort to control the anger that was boiling up inside
me.
“Get out, Jim!” She backed away from me, and I suddenly
felt powerful. The woman who had been tormenting the life out of me, who had
taken such pleasure in making my life miserable, was now terrified of me. “Get
out! Before I call security!”
The stink of terror rolled off her, overwhelming the scent
of the perfume she always doused herself with. I was surprised
She scurried into her office and slammed the door behind
her.
“Wow!”
I could hear the lock click as she threw the bolt. I could
hear her pick up her phone. I could hear her whisper, “Security, we have a
situation in Advertising! Send someone, send a bunch of someones, now!”
I took
“Yeah!”
“Do you like Mexican food?”
“Yeah!”
“I’ll meet you at the Casa
del Buen Alimento on
I was out the doors of Advertising when a couple of men in
the grey uniforms of security came stalking toward me, their hands on their side
arms, their expressions meant to be fierce, but looking like nothing so much as
constipated bullfrogs. “There’s a problem in there?” the bigger one asked,
gesturing toward the department I had just left.
I made my eyes wide. “I just came from there, and there
was nothing wrong. I think I heard Ms. Plummer saying something about shaking up
Security, because you guys had it dead easy.” I leaned closer. “I’ve
worked in law enforcement, guys. You men are the backbone of a place like this!
She just doesn’t realize how much guts it takes to be a security guard!”
“It was a false report?” They traded glances, settled
their holsters on their hips, and strode through the doors, intent on
confronting my former supervisor.
I might only have six months to live, but damn, I felt
pretty fucking good.
****
It was still early when I got home. I did a fast clean-up
of the apartment and put my spare set of sheets on the bed.
Well, I could dream, and I’d often dreamed of
I showered and put on a nice suit, and then it was time to
drive to the Mexican restaurant. I was looking forward to my date with
****
I scared him.
I got him back to my dingy little apartment and pulled him
into my arms. His lips were soft and warm under mine. I left those lush lips and
wandered across his cheek to his ear. I took it between my teeth and tugged
gently. The warmth of my breath made him shiver. I ran my hand down his torso to
his crotch. His dick was hard, and it quivered under my touch.
Why did I say what I said? What possessed me to say,
“I’m gonna die?”
“
The light in my apartment was dim, but I could see how pale
he’d become. “You’re gonna… Uh… I gotta go.”
I reached for him, and he flinched. My hands dropped to my
sides. “Please don’t.”
“I’ve got the job in the morning. You may have quit
but… You’re gonna die?” His voice rose to a squeak, and he backed further
away from me.
“
“Oh, god, Jim. I do want you! There’s nothing I want so
much as to have you making love to me, but… I can’t handle this! You’re
really going to…? I’m…I’m sorry!” The door slammed shut behind him.
I stood there. The light from the moon came in through a
gap in the curtains and glinted off the doorknob. It seemed to reach out and
suck me in, and I fell down… down… down…
There was the most annoying tapping, and the rhythm was so
erratic that I couldn’t hold on to it long enough to capture it and tear its
tapping little heart out. I opened my eyes, stunned to see that it was morning.
My knees had locked, my neck felt as if an iron bar was jammed through it to my
spine, and my eyes felt so gritty I thought they were about to fall out of my
head and roll around on the floor.
“Mr. Ellison! Jim!” The tapping started again.
I shook myself, trying to get everything to fall back into
place, and went to the door. “Who are you, and what do you want?” I growled
hoarsely.
“Naomi Sandburg, Jim.” The woman who stood there was a
little over medium height, for a woman. She had reddish-brown hair and blue
eyes, and she looked a little familiar, but I couldn’t place her.
She wore a black pin-stripe suit, with a slim skirt that flitted around
her long legs. If I was into women, I might have been into her.
She brushed past me into my apartment and looked around
indifferently. “Oh, not a nice place, Jim.”
“I don’t recall inviting you in, Ms. Sandburg. You see
the door there. Don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out.” I stalked
into the kitchen and began to make a pot of coffee. I filled the Mr. Coffee
reservoir with water, then measured out the grounds.
The sound of silk dragging across silk was loud in the
room, and when I turned, she was sitting on my ratty couch, her legs crossed
elegantly and her hands folded in her lap.
Her lips parted in a smile that would have been at home on
a shark, displaying perfect white teeth. “I’ve done quite a bit of research
on you. Jim Ellison. Five years on the Cascade police force. You went from
Narcotics to Vice to Major Crimes. You were Cop of the Year. You rescued two
kids from a hostage situation that had gone south, then ran back and saved the
third. And then… you quit the force and disappeared. Why, Jim? For the last
eight years you’ve gone from one miserable, shitty job to another, and now…
Now you’ve left another job.”
I’d heard the coffee finish dripping. “I think the
coffee is ready, Ms. Sandburg. Would you like a cup?” I turned away from her
and pulled a couple of cups down from the cabinet above the sink. They were
dusty, and I used the tail of my shirt to wipe them out. “I can’t believe
you came here just to tell me my job choices have sucked, and, by the way, I
have to agree with you there. How did you know I quit American Panascope?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “Does my name
mean anything to you?”
I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee. It was too
hot, and I went to the fridge for the milk. As I opened the cap, the odor of
milk gone bad almost overwhelmed me, and I started to gag.
“Jim, are you all right?” Naomi Sandburg was beside me.
“Sorry. This milk is awful!”
She sniffed at it. “It smells fine to me.” Before I
could stop her, she took the container and poured a dollop into her own coffee.
I waited for the inevitable reaction, but to my surprise, she sighed happily and
resumed the thread of the conversation.
“Jim, I am owner, president and CEO of Sandburg
Enterprises. At this moment, my company dominates the world market in super
conductors. Do you know anything about super conductors, Jim?”
“Nope,” I said shortly. “Can’t say that I care,
either.”
She frowned at me. “You don’t seem to care about much,
do you, Jim? That is not a healthy attitude to take. Maybe you should change
your diet, become a vegetarian.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind, that isn’t what I came to see you about. I
have a proposition for you. There’s a mineral called chatarra that’s
elemental in the creation of super conductors. The only place on the face of the
earth where you can find it now is on this little volcanic island in the
Pacific, off the coast of
I stared at her and rubbed my short-cropped hair
vigorously. “So?”
She peered at me over her glasses. I wondered why she wore
them. It was obvious, to me at least, that the lenses were plain glass. “The
Chopecs believe in Sentinels, individuals who have enhanced senses. The sole
purpose of a Sentinel is to protect the tribe, even going so far as to lay down
his life if that should prove necessary.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
She ignored my question. “Their last Sentinel vanished
years ago, and now Volcán Repugnante
is on the verge erupting once again, something it hasn’t done in over a dozen
generations. Incacha, the shaman, has meditated and communicated with his gods,
and he has told his people that the only way for the island to be saved is for a
Sentinel to throw himself into the volcano. But as I said, they have no
Sentinel. However, Incacha has promised my company an unlimited supply of
chatarra if I can provide him with such a man.”
“Yeah, so? What does this have to do with me?”
Her gaze was shrewd. “You would be perfect for this,
Jim.”
I stared at her in shock. “Hold on a second! You want me
to throw myself into an active volcano?” Clearly the woman had lost her mind.
“Why would I want to do something so insane?”
“Because once you had balls of solid steel! Because eight
years ago you wouldn’t have hesitated. And because I intend to make it worth
your while. Listen to me, Jim. I’m going to give you the opportunity to live
like a king and die like a man!” Ms. Sandburg opened her shoulder purse,
reached in and pulled out a handful of plastic. She fanned out the rectangles,
and I could read Visa, MasterCard, American Express. There was even a Discover
Card. “All unlimited credit, Jim. All yours for the taking.”
“Again, I ask you why?”
“Jim, you have no family.”
I did, but my father had refused to have anything more to
do with me when he’d learned I was gay, and my brother, Stephen, followed
along with whatever he said.
“Families are a pain, anyway. I know, I have two sons who
are such a… Well, that’s neither here nor there. What do you say, Jim? I
know you’re going to die. Do you want to wait out the little time you have
left here?” She saw my shock. “Oh, yes, I know you’re going to die.”
“How…?”
“I’m one of the wealthiest women on earth, Jim. Do you
have any idea what it’s like when people are willing to bend over and take it
up the ass, just because they think I want them to? Whatever I say, whatever I
want, people fall all over themselves to do my biding. That makes it very easy
for me to find out things, not to mention getting things done. Now here. Take
these.”
I looked at the credit cards that were in her hand. I
really didn’t have anything… anyone keeping me here. “If I agree, and
that’s a big ‘if’, Ms. Sandburg, what happens?”
“Tomorrow you’ll take a jet to LA. The next day you
board a yacht, and then twenty days from today…”
“I jump into a volcano.”
“Yes. Live like a king, die like a man. That’s what I
say. What do you say, Jim?”
I thought about the last eight years, about the way my
senses would go haywire, and all the money I’d blown on doctors who just
couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I thought about the loneliness
that had followed me from city to city. For a fleeting second I thought about
“Yes. Okay, yes. I’ll do it. But I want you to do
something else for me.” I scribbled down his name and handed her the slip of
paper. "I want him taken care of. I want him to have the chance to get out
of that pitiful excuse of a job and do something with his life, something that he
wants to do."
"He might not carpe that old diem, you realize that,
don't you?"
I shrugged. "But at least he'll have the option."
She took the paper and studied the name, then smiled,
pulled out her cell phone and made a phone call.
Once Sandy's future was assured, she folded the credit cards into my hand, back to the
business at hand. “Your ticket will be waiting at the American Airlines
counter, and you’ll fly out of Kennedy at
Well, I was committed. Or maybe it was that I should
be committed.
I took the Yellow Pages down from a shelf, picked up my
coffee cup, and sipped as I thumbed through it the phone book. Libraries. Light
Bulbs. Lighting Consultants... Ah, Limousine Service. I pulled the phone to me
and dialed.
“Good morning, Acme Limousines,” a cheerful voice on
the other end announced.
“I’d like to rent a limo. Do you take MasterCard?”
Part 2—
By the time the limo showed up at the front door, I had
gone through the rooms of my apartment, trying to decide what I needed to pack.
And then I pulled out the credit cards and looked at them in my palm, and
decided that there was nothing that couldn’t be replaced. I left it all.
The toot of a horn alerted me to the fact that my ride was
there. I closed the door behind me and locked it, and dropped the key off with
Mrs. Caravelli, who lived in the basement apartment of the two-story house.
Behind the wheel of a white limousine was a figure wearing
a black driving cap. As I approached the car, the figure stepped out to open the
passenger door for me, and a cascade of reddish-brown waves flowed to her
shoulders. I was startled to realize my driver was a woman.
“G’day, mate,” she said in a lightly accented voice.
“I’m Megan Connor, and I’ll be your driver for today.” She waited
patiently until I climbed onto the rear seat, then leaned forward. I flinched
away, and she glanced at me curiously.
It was a reflexive movement; too often people came close to
me, and the smell of the perfumes or mouth washes they used to mask the odor of
their bodies or their breath were enough to make me pass out. I found myself
relieved when her scent didn’t overcome me. I smiled at her weakly, and her
expression became thoughtful, but she said nothing about my odd reaction.
She gestured to the interior of the limo. “There’s a
mini bar. You’ll find a selection of beer, wine and designer water, and that
little cabinet beside it is filled with an assortment of snacks, healthful and
otherwise. If you need to talk to me, this switch will activate a speaker in the
front of the car.” I noticed there was a plexi-glass barrier between the front
and rear sections of the luxurious vehicle. “Now, where can I take you, Mr.
Ellison?”
I stared at her blankly. “Um.” I had lived in the most
cosmopolitan city in the world for over four years, but I had never left
“You got it, mate!” She shut the door and returned
behind the wheel, then put the limo in drive and effortlessly steered the
powerful car to the bridge that would take us over the river. I could hear her
singing softly, 'I’ll take
“Not at all. I just thought that song was rather
appropriate.”
“What song?”
I was confused. “The one you were just singing, Ms.
Connor.”
“You heard me? Mr. Ellison, there’s inch thick
glass between us, and I was barely mouthing the words!”
I hunched a shoulder defensively. “I could hear you.”
She pulled over to the side of the tree-lined street,
parked, and joined me in the back seat. “All right, Mr. Ellison. Tell me what
else you can do.”
“Well, I can tell that you hurt your wrist recently.”
For some reason I was willing to talk to her. “You’ve got a bandage on it,
and I can hear it rubbing against the shirt you’ve got on. You usually wear
some orange-ie-smelling perfume, but today you’re not. And there’s a cop
who’s headed this way, because it’s alternate side of the street parking,
and you’re parked on the wrong side.”
Her head shot up at that and she peered in the direction I
indicated. “I don’t see a cop.” But she returned to the front seat and
drove off. Three blocks down we
passed a cop who was diligently ticketing cars.
“You believed me. Why?”
She lowered the partition that separated us. “Say again,
mate?” I repeated my question. “I think you’re a Sentinel, Mr. Ellison.
Someone with enhanced senses. The protector of the tribe.” That’s what Ms.
Sandburg had insinuated. “They used heightened sight and hearing to guard
their people against enemies, track game, things like that. Some of them could
find water by scent. A very few had all five senses online at the same
time. Sentinels were highly valued members of their community. Needless to say,
there aren’t too many in this day and age.”
“How do you know about this, Ms. Connor?”
“Please, call me Megan.” She reached back awkwardly
over her shoulder to shake my hand.
I leaned forward to take hers. “I’m Jim.”
Her smile was warm, and for the first time in years, I
felt… not safe, but… comforted. “I’m a Guide, Jim. It’s the Guide’s
job to protect the protector. You see, Sentinels have a tendency to loose
themselves in their senses, go into a zone, a white-out if you will, which can
be very dangerous. So Guides keep them grounded, bring them back out of a zone.
Each Sentinel has his or her own Guide. It’s a system that worked. However, as
the centuries progressed, there became less and less need for them, until now
they’re considered a myth, when they’re considered at all.”
I felt hot and then cold. “Is that what’s been wrong
with me?"
“You just lacked a Guide to show you the way. There’s
absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
That’s what she thought. Still, my last days would be
more endurable if I could control my senses. “Will… will you be my Guide?”
“I can show you the way to go on, Jim. I can help you
learn how to dial down your senses, piggyback them, but I’m already a
Sentinel’s Guide. I’m sorry.”
Not as sorry as I was.
****
We spent the next few hours exploring the city while Megan
taught me the basics of handling my senses. We went to the zoo in
Megan explained how things were between her and her
Sentinel. “When I first came to the States, I was rather at loose ends. I had
no idea what I wanted to do, but for some strange reason, I knew I had to be
here in the States to do it. And then I met my Sentinel and everything fell so
easily into place; we’ve been together ever since.
“You love her. You’re both very lucky.”
She didn’t understand why I was so subdued, when I should
have been on top of the world. “It will be all right, Jim. When you find your
Guide, or rather, when he finds you, you’ll see.” Her expression became
rapt, and I wanted to rail at the gods in protest. She didn’t know I had the
threat of a brain cloud hanging over me, and in order to die on my own terms, I
would be throwing myself into an active volcano in twenty days’ time. “I
tell you what, Jim. Let’s go shopping! That always makes Jordie feel good!”
Megan drove me to Giorgio Armani’s, where I bought two
different tuxedoes, one in black and one in white, and patent leather shoes to
go with them. Next she chauffeured me to Alfred Dunhill, an exclusive men’s
shop, where I selected clothes that for once didn’t feel like sandpaper on my
skin, enough to last me twenty days, boxers and undershirts, dress shirts and
trousers. Then we went to Horn of Africa, and I bought shoes and boots and
sandals. I tried on sporting clothes, walking shorts, safari jackets and bush
hats in a variety of colors, and I piled them into a patient salesclerk’s arms
as well. As with the other shops, there were no price tags visible anywhere. And
I charged everything to Ms. Sandburg.
“You’ve got enough to clothe a small country, Jim!”
The woman who could not be my Guide chuckled.
“Let me buy something for you, Megan.”
“Oh, no, that isn’t necessary…”
“Please. You’ve saved my…” well, not my life,
but… “my sanity. Please. And something for
Her face lit up, and we walked down the street to a
“All right, Jim,” she said briskly as sales clerks
helped us load my purchases into the limo. “I’m going to drop all these
packages at your hotel. You’re doing well enough that I can leave you alone
for a bit.”
“Megan…” I could feel panic start to creep up my
spine.
“I have every confidence in you, mate. And besides,
you’re going to need some heavy-duty luggage to carry all this stuff, and
I’ve got no more room in this limo! This place right next-door has some
excellent steamer trunks. Why don’t you take a look at them? I’ll come back
in about an hour and pick you up. Now tell me, what hotel are you staying at?”
“I haven’t chosen one yet. I’d like something really
nice.” I searched my mind for the name of a classy hotel. “The Plaza?” I
could see from her expression that she didn’t think much of my choice.
“Well, then, Megan, where would you stay?”
“If I wanted someplace really nice, then I would go to
The Pierre.”
“Megan, I am going to be staying at the
She smiled and slapped my shoulder. “Fair dinkum,
mate!” I watched a little forlornly as she got in the limo and drove down
I gave myself a little shake and entered Mark Cross. I was
wearing one of the business suits that I had purchased, and it made me look as
if I had enough money to shop in this store. The scent of fine leather
threatened to overcome me, and I quickly dialed down my senses the way Megan had
instructed me.
A tall, quiet man in a hound’s-tooth suit and bowtie
approached me. “Are you well, sir? May I help you?”
“Just give me a moment, please. The smell of the
leather…”
He smiled. “Yes. One of life’s decadent pleasures,
rather like the scent of a new Mercedes. It’s one of the reasons why I love
working in this store. Would you allow me to show you around, perhaps?”
“Yes, please.” I just needed something to put my
clothes in, but I could see some interesting items scattered around the store,
and the salesman saw my fascination with them.
“Putting green.” A six by six square of green felt with
plastic cups. It came with a putter and a sleeve of a dozen golf balls.
“Yes, I’ll take it.”
He beamed and gestured to a stocky man with thinning hair.
“Set this aside for us, would you please, Joe?” The man hurried to do as he
was requested.
“Violin case bar.” He opened the finely-tooled leather
case to display tiny, 50 ml bottles of whiskey, scotch, and gin, an atomizer
that held vermouth for very dry martinis, and water, as well as a collapsible
metal shot glass, a small jar of olives, and a slim, sterling silver case of
toothpicks.
I nodded and grinned at him. “That’s fantastic! I’ll
take this too! It comes fully stocked?”
“Of course!”
“All right! What else have you got?”
The pile of stuff grew larger and larger, things I most
likely would never need in the three weeks I had left to me, but I’d never
gone on a shopping spree like this before, and it kind of went to my head.
“Swiss army knives.” He laid out three different
models. They contained everything from the actual blades to screwdrivers, wire
strippers, a woodsaw and even a crotchet hook.
I took all three of them, a Black Matte Forrester Torch
Flame lighter, which came with a compass, a world-band travel radio and two
brass Coleman lanterns. You never could tell when something like that would come
in handy.
“I think I’d like a new watch. Do you have any in this
store?”
“Do we have any watches?!” He led me to a discreet
corner of the store. “If you’ll take a seat?” There was a safe in the
wall, and he threw the combination, being careful that I couldn’t see. I
stretched my hearing just a bit and was able to tell what the numbers were as
the tumblers fell into place. Not that I would be returning to lighten their
inventory, but it amused me to put my senses to a little test.
“Here we are. This is an Audemars Piguet, with a John
Schaeffer platinum minute repeater.” I had no idea what that was, but I
watched in fascination as he explained all its capabilities. “It will give you
the time in every capital in the world, in both standard and military time, as
well as their ambient temperatures. Waterproof, shockproof. It can withstand up
to six gravities and has a homing devise that will insure you are never lost.
The list price for this little beauty is $270,000.”
It was a good thing I was sitting down, because otherwise I
would have fallen down. Before I could tell him I had no intention of paying
that exorbitant sum, he handed it to me. “It’s calling your name, sir. Try
it on.” He leaned closer. “I can give you a wonderful discount on this.”
The price he named was still five figures, but instead of
assuring him that the watch wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, I found myself
strapping it to my wrist.
I thought of the credit cards in my pocket, and the
unlimited amount of credit they afforded me. In spite of all I’d already
purchased, I’d hardly tapped into them. It was petty, but I wanted Ms.
Sandburg to pay for her pound of my flesh. “Add it to the bill, I’m taking
it!”
“Yes, sir,” he sighed happily. “Might I interest you
in anything else, sir?”
“A trunk!” The original reason why I’d come into this
store. “I’m going to need a trunk!”
He nodded. “Certainly. If you’ll come this way?” I
followed him through a set of recessed doors to a small, chapel-like room where
various pieces of luggage were elegantly displayed. “Luggage is actually the
central preoccupation of my life. You’re away from home, away from your
family; you have only yourself to rely on. Yourself, and your luggage.”
“Uh… yeah.” I stepped back from him a little. He had
suddenly become almost evangelical.
“Tell me something, sir. Will you be traveling light or
heavy?”
I thought of everything Megan had taken to the
“Hmmm. And will you be … flying?”
“Well, I’m taking a plane, and then I’ll be on a
ship, which will take me to an island, and I don’t really know what kind of
accommodations I’ll find there, if I’ll have to live in a hut, or what.”
His eyes lit up, and his gaze grew avid. “So, a real
journey! Very exciting, as a luggage problem. I believe I have exactly what’s
called for.” He approached the rear of the room and pressed a button. I almost
expected to hear a heavenly choir sing a verse or two of The Hallelujah Chorus.
Two doors slid apart, to reveal a very large trunk.
“This is our premier steamer trunk.” He rolled the huge
piece of luggage out and stroked a loving hand over its sides. “Completely
hand made of only the highest quality materials! It’s even watertight, so
water-tight that it will float!” He unsnapped the locks and opened it, and I
could barely catch my breath. “If I had the need, and the wherewithal, this
would be my trunk of choice!” On one side were a series of drawers ranging
from slim to quite deep. On the other was a space where clothes could be hung
from wooden hangers. At the bottom were several pairs of shoetrees. There was
even an ironing board that swung out. What really knocked my socks off was the
fact that the lid had an additional compartment that could be accessed when the
trunk was closed. And by moving a panel, a person was able to reach the contents
of the trunk proper.
“I’ll take four of them!”
He turned away. “Joe? Joe! I’ll need four of these
steamer trunks for Mr…?”
“Ellison.”
“For Mr. Ellison.” He gripped my hand and shook it
enthusiastically. “May you live a thousand years, Mr. Ellison!”
“Oh, uh, thank you. Same to you.” I followed him to the
cash register. He began to ring up the purchases, and when he told me the total,
I gulped, unable to believe I had spent such an exorbitant amount in less than
one hour, in just one store. I handed over a platinum credit card, wondering if
Ms. Sandburg would be able to return any of these items after I was… when I
was done with them.
“Jim!” Megan sauntered into the store. “You about
ready to go, mate?”
“Just a second.” I signed the receipt and offered the
salesman his pen.
“Oh, no, Mr. Ellison. Please, keep it! And have a very
nice day!”
“You too.” I thought Megan’s eyes would pop when she
saw all the additional packages I’d managed to acquire in the time she’d
been gone. Then she laughed and led the way out into the late afternoon sun.
On the curb were the four steamer trunks, and I helped Joe
tie them to the roof of the limo, then tipped him out of my own cash.
“Okay, Megan, let’s go.” I got in the front seat
beside her, and she eased the car into the rush hour traffic.
“You’re going to love your rooms! I booked a
Presidential suite for you. It’s got a beaut view of
“How much space?” I asked, not really paying attention.
I was observing the denizens of
“It’s thirteen hundred square feet.”
I started choking. “Jesus, Megan! That’s bigger than my
apartment on
She grinned. “Yeah. It’s bonzer, ain’t it, mate?”
She continued chatting happily. “I got a call from my girl. She’s been
offered a position with the
“If he has half a brain, he’ll love you.” I hesitated
a minute. “Listen, Megan, would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Oh, Jim. I can’t. I promised Jordie I’d be home as
soon as I got you settled at The Pierre.” She pulled up in front of the hotel,
and the doorman and bellboys came running out to help with all my purchases.
“Isn’t there anybody you can call?”
I thought fleetingly of
“I’m sorry I’m not the one who’s your Guide,
Jim.”
“Thank you. Thank you for helping me.” Her image
blurred, and I blinked furiously until my vision cleared. Megan was back in her
limousine, waving a final farewell.
I turned and went into the hotel. “Check-in is right this
way, sir.” As I crossed the noisy lobby, I realized that I wasn’t
overwhelmed by the sights and sounds and smells of the crowd of humanity; I had
control of my senses!
After I registered and took the keycard from the desk
clerk, I rode up to my suite on the 39th floor, accompanied by
numerous members of the hotel staff who seemed willing to bend over backward to
grant my every wish.
I sighed. The idea of bending someone over didn’t even
interest my dick. I tried thinking of
As I stepped out of the shower, I heard the telephone
ringing, and I wrapped a towel around me and went into the bedroom. I picked up
the phone. “Yes?”
“Mr. Ellison, this is Mr. Carlyle, the manager of The
Pierre. If it would be convenient, I’d like very much to invite you to dine
with me in the Café Pierre.”
“Well… well, thank you, Mr. Carlyle.” I’d been
growing more and more depressed at the thought of eating a solitary meal in my
rooms the only night I would ever be in
“Excellent! Shall we say half an hour?”
****
I stood in the entrance to the Café Pierre and gazed at
the numerous diners who were dressed to the nines, relieved that I had chosen
the tuxedo.
“Mr. Ellison!” A nicely built man in his middle
thirties, also wearing a dinner jacket, strode across the lush carpeting.
“I’m so very pleased you could join me! Please, come this way.” Set aside
from the other tables, in a dimly lit alcove, was a small table set for two.
We sat across from each other and he signaled the wine
steward. After a brief discussion, he selected a wine and handed me a menu.
“This is a very lovely hotel you have here, Mr.
Carlyle.”
“Please, call me
“Well, you have succeeded.”
I opened the menu. “Um, what would you recommend,
“Shall I order for you, James?” His glance summoned a
waiter. “The hearts of palm salad for our appetizer, Charles. Then I think the
chilled oyster Vichyssoise
soup, followed by the pan seared saddle of rabbit served with fava beans.”
I
couldn’t help myself. “We aren’t having a nice Chianti, are we?”
The
waiter bit his lips in an effort to stifle his laughter, but
My reference to Silence of the Lambs had gone right over his head. Here was an attractive man who had gone to the trouble of inviting me to dinner. I supposed it was too much to have hoped we’d share a sense of humor. For something to do while he completed the order, I studied the centerpiece of cream rose buds tipped with red. Nestled within the arrangement was a floating candle that cast a soft glow.
The
waiter hurried away, and
“No.” I wasn’t about to confess that I’d been a
resident of the city that never sleeps for the past four and a half years.
“I’ll be flying out of JFK tomorrow.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’d hoped to… Well, no matter.
Perhaps the next time you’re in town we can get together.”
“Perhaps.” I also wasn’t going to tell him there
would never be a ‘next time’ for me.
Our wine was poured, and then the waiter was bringing our
appetizer, and we began to eat.
Marshall
was an entertaining dinner companion, and spoke of Broadway shows, concerts at
Time passed pleasantly. Finally, Charles brought out a most
intriguing desert and served it to us. The various tastes exploded over my
tongue, and I closed my eyes in pleasure. “Oh, very good!”
“This is peach clafouti with almond ice cream.”
“I thought clafouti was cherry flan.” When my brother
and I were children, Grace, my father’s housekeeper, had often sought to
expand our culinary horizons.
“Ah. So you’re familiar with it?”
“I haven’t had it in years, but yes, it was something
my father’s housekeeper made for us a few times.”
“How does this compare?”
“There is no comparison. Grace was a marvelous cook, but
your chef is a grand master!”
“Yes, he is worth his weight in gold. And he demands
it.” He pushed his plate aside and reached for his coffee.
“Tell me something,
After sipping thoughtfully, he remarked, “I understand
you’re acquainted with Naomi Sandburg.”
“How did you find out about that?”
“It’s my business to keep abreast of these things.
Actually, when we processed your credit card, we were quite impressed to learn
that it belongs to one of the world’s wealthiest women.” I tensed, and he
reached across the table to touch my hand. “No, I know you have authorization
to use it. Please don’t think I was questioning that. Ms. Sandburg stays here
on occasion. She’s a very valued guest, and anything we can do for her
friends…”
I finished my coffee. “
“Of course, James. And please remember, if there’s
anything my staff can do for you, they will be more than happy!” His voice
lowered. “As will I.”
Was he volunteering to sleep with me? “Thank you,
I was almost at the entrance of the restaurant, but I still
heard his whisper. “Pity. You are attractive, James Ellison!”
****
The next morning, Megan called to let me know she’d pick
me up at
“And a very good morning to you, Megan. Let’s go. I’d
hate to be late.”
“Not a chance! I always see my friends get where they
need to be on time!” Just like that, she had given me the gift of friendship,
and I wondered if she even realized how priceless that was to me. “Come on,
boys, shake a leg!” She harried the bell captain and his cohorts in how she
wanted the trunks placed on and in her limo.
I tipped the men and slid into the front seat. There was no
room in the back, even if I had wanted to sit there.
“By the way, Jordie loved the nightie, Jim. She thanks
you. I thank you, too.”
“I take it you had a good night?”
“The best, mate. Almost makes up for the piss poor day my
girl had. A child beaten and burned with cigarettes, and starved to death to
exorcise the devil. Never mind, you can’t want to hear about that. *I*
don’t want to hear about that. Blows my mind, what some parents can do to
their children in the name of love.” I knew what she was talking about, having
dealt with quite a bit of that when I was in Major Crimes. “How did you handle
your senses last night and this morning?”
I had no objection to the change of subject. I told her,
and as she drove through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and onto the
“A final word of advice. You’ll want to keep your
senses on the QT. People tend to freak, y’know?”
“Thank you, Megan. You’ve been a real friend.”
“Take care of yourself, Sentinel. I hope you find your
Guide soon.” She gripped my hand in a firm handshake, and then she got back
into the limo and drove out of my life.
I went into the first class passenger lounge to wait for my
flight to begin boarding.
Part 3—
I concluded that first class was the only way to fly. A
very attentive flight attendant hovered over me, making sure I had a pillow, a
blanket, headphones, whatever I might want.
While I stretched out my legs, enjoying the spaciousness in
first class, he approached me. “Mr. Ellison? I have a message for you from
Naomi Sandburg!”
Dear Jim, it read.
Hope you enjoyed your shopping spree yesterday, and I
hope your stay at the
Anyway, someone has been notified to meet you at the
airport. He’ll take you out to dinner and has instructions to amuse you in any
manner you desire. Nothing too good for my hero, eh?
Tomorrow, he will meet you for breakfast, and then
take you to the marina, and you’ll start the final leg of your journey, aboard
the pleasure yacht, Twiddle
Enjoy your stay in LaLa Land, Jim.
~NS~
I glanced down at my lap. “‘Amuse me in any manner I
desire.’ Sounds like she’s offering me sex on top of everything else,” I
muttered to myself. “Think you’re up to it?” There was no response from my
dick, not even a quiver, and I sighed, wondering if I’d ever be able to get it
up again. It abruptly occurred to me that in less than three weeks I wouldn’t
have to worry about it any more.
The jet finally landed at LAX, and as a first class
passenger, I was able to exit before everyone else. I walked out of the gate and
into the terminal, searching for my driver. I was brought up short by the sight
of a young man with shoulder-length red curls. I thought for a second that I
recognized him, but then he turned.
No. I didn’t know him.
He had a strange expression on his face, a combination of
boredom and nervousness. He was dressed in a blindingly white suit that fit his
compact body perfectly. In his hand was a placard that he was holding backwards.
For some reason, I went to him and turned the placard around. It had my name on
it.
“I’m Jim Ellison,” I told him.
“Welcome to LA, Jim. It’s a great town. It stinks, but
it’s a great town!” Blue eyes swept over me and settled on my mouth.
“I’m BJ Sandburg.”
“Sandburg?”
“Yeah. I’m the son of the woman who hired you.” He
licked his lips in what I imagine he thought was a sultry manner, but to me he
just looked like a male version of Lolita. I almost expected him to start
sucking on a lollipop. He huffed and frowned at me. “Are you ready to go?”
“Um, my luggage?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I’m a flibbertigibbet.” He cupped
his mouth as if about to impart a secret. “Don’t tell me anything; I’m
very unreliable.” His mouth curved down, and his lower lip thrust out.
“I’ve booked you into the California Suite at the Peninsula Beverly Hills.
It’s a little on the small side, only eleven hundred square feet, but the bed
is comfortable. And they keep the wet bar fully stocked.”
“You’ve stayed at the
“Just overnight. With a friend. You understand.” His
lashes lowered and then slowly rose until his eyes met mine, almost challenging.
“Come on, Jim. I’ve made reservations for us at the Belvedere for a late
lunch. We should get there… What?”
I was staring at my Audemars Piguet, trying to figure the
time. “Um, BJ, I left
“It’s three now, Jim. Time difference, remember?
Normally the Belvedere doesn’t open for lunch, but there are some advantages
to being Naomi’s son.” He winked
and tipped his head. “If you’ll follow me?”
BJ strolled out into the bright afternoon sun, and glanced
back at me over his shoulder. Parked in a No Parking zone was a candy apple red,
1968 Mustang 500 GT. “Oh, my god!” I almost had an orgasm just looking at
her. The convertible top was down, and he sat on the door and swung his legs
over and into what was every teenage boy’s wet dream. I ran reverent hands
over the passenger door, then opened it and stared at the butter-soft, white
leather interior.
“Let’s go, Jim. Time’s a-wastin’, and the Dungeness
crab I ordered will be feeling lonely!” Clearly, he was tickled by my reaction
to the classic sports car. “She’s a ‘puff!” he stated proudly.
“Original or restored?” I lowered myself carefully into
the bucket seat and automatically reached for the seat belt, but there was none.
“Original, Jim. She’s even got an 8-track tape deck.”
“Too bad you can’t find the tapes any more.” There
was a four-speed stick on the floor, and I was entranced by it.
“Wanna bet, big guy?” BJ leaned over, hit the glove
compartment, and a pile of tapes spilled out.
I reached for one, The Righteous Brothers, Soul and
Inspiration. I hadn’t even known that had been released on 8-track! “Don’t
tell me… ‘When you’re Naomi Sandburg’s kid…’”
“Yeah. It’s…” he glanced down at the tape in my
hand and grinned saucily, “… righteous!”
There were four hundred and fifty horses under that hood,
and when he turned the key in the ignition, the engine growled to life. He
popped the clutch and left a trail of rubber behind us, speeding out of the
airport and heading us toward the hotel.
****
The maitre d’ seated us at a table. I was startled by the
hostility in his gaze. “Um, BJ, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to make them
open this restaurant just for us.” The place was deserted.
He shrugged. “Naomi said to make sure you had the best.
The food here is the best. Don’t pay any mind to Adam. He gets pissy
sometimes.”
“Adam?”
The maitre d’ was back beside us with our drinks, a beer
for me and something fruity and frozen for BJ. The young man across the table
from me flirted his lashes at the maitre d’. “Adam. He’s a… friend.”
Adam scowled at him, turned the scowl on me, and then
stalked away, and this time I wasn’t the only one able to hear what he was
saying. “Ex-friend, ex-lover! If he thinks he can flaunt his
affairs in front of my nose…”
“I think your friend is a little miffed with you.”
For a second he looked desolate. Then he wiped his face
clear of all expression. “He’ll get over it.” He took a sterling silver
cigarette case from his inner pocket and selected a long, slim cigarette.
“Care for one, Jim? They’re Egyptian; unfiltered. They’re all I’ve
smoked since I saw Mary Astor smoke them in The Maltese Falcon when I was
twelve.”
“Those will kill you,” I frowned disapprovingly. Jesus,
I felt as if I was scolding my child.
BJ grinned at me. “If it’s not this, it’ll just be
something else, Jim.” He lit an end and blew a stream of smoke into the air,
then inhaled again and let the smoke dribble from his nostrils. “Do you like
the décor in this place?” He waved his hand to indicate framed cels of what
looked like comic book artwork. His expansive movement left a scattering of ash
across the pristine whiteness of the tablecloth. “I did them. I’m an artist.
And a poet.”
“Really?”
“Want to hear one of my poems?” He didn’t wait.
“‘Long ago, the delicate tangles of his hair covered the emptiness of my
hand.’”
From behind me came a choked gasp. “You said that poem
was for me! You promised no one…”
I turned in my seat to see the maitre d’ storm away. When
I glanced back at BJ, he was pale. “Shit!” The word was spoken so softly
that, even as close as I was to him, without my sentinel hearing, I never would
have heard it.
“I’m… I’m impressed, BJ. Your mother must be very
proud of you.”
“Must she? Obviously you don’t know her very well. What
other mother would name her son after a sexual act?” He stabbed the cigarette
out in the ashtray and took a gulp of his drink. “Nothing I do makes Naomi
proud. She’d be the first to tell you I’m a flibbertigibbet.” Again he
repeated the epithet, and it was as if it was something he was used to hearing
repeated, used to having directed at him. His lips stretched in a smile, but it
didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s all I am. Ah, the food is here. I ordered
for you too, Jim. Dungeness crab! Looks like a little monster, doesn’t it? But
it’s a good little monster!”
A waiter set down the platter, the huge crustacean almost
spilling off it. He placed my dish
in front of me. “And for you, sir, the sea scallops with three caviars.”
“Oh, er, thank you.” I began to eat, flinching as BJ
viciously wielded a wooden mallet to break the crab shell and get at the sweet,
white meat.
“I will be your server for the remainder of your meal,
gentlemen,” the waiter said softly as he refilled our water glasses. “M.
Adam has been called away.”
BJ’s head shot up. “Is he… is he all right, Raymonde?”
The waiter’s eyes were chill. “He will be, once he rids
himself of an annoying little douleur
dans l’âne!” He picked up our empty glasses. “I will return with fresh
drinks.”
****
BJ was quiet after
that, saying little, alternating a bite of seafood with a puff on his
ever-present cigarette. Once we finished eating, he suggested a drive around
Beside me, BJ
whispered under his breath, “‘Long ago, the delicate tangles of his hair
covered the emptiness of my hand.’” He clenched his fingers tightly, as if
capturing those strands of hair. “Fuck. Tell me something, James.” He lit
another cigarette. “Do you ever think about killing yourself?”
“*No*!” My
reaction was too abrupt, too vehement. After all, in effect, wasn’t that what
I would be doing in twenty… nineteen days? “You can’t… You’re not
thinking of doing that, are you?”
“Why shouldn’t
I?”
“BJ, some things
take care of themselves; they’re not your job!”
His mouth tightened
and he looked stubbornly away. “You know why my artwork is on the walls of the
Belvedere, Jim? Because my mother paid them to hang it there! I’m a grown man,
and I live on my mother’s money.”
“Then don’t.”
“What? Stop
taking Naomi’s money?”
“See, you know
what you need to do! Take the leap, and do the thing you’re scared of doing.
But you don’t want to kill yourself!”
His breath hitched. “Are you sure you’ve never lived in
I reached out to touch his hair, then withdrew my hand. For
a long moment I stared at the breakers that rolled gently into the shore.
“I’m very troubled. I’m not ready to…” My thoughts became disjointed,
but I tried to explain. “There’s only so much time, BJ… If I use it
well…” I took a deep breath. “I don’t want to throw it away.”
“I have no response to that.” BJ’s voice was brittle.
“I think you’d better take me back to my hotel,
please.”
He drove me back to the Peninsula Beverly Hills, each of us
lost in our thoughts. When he pulled the Mustang under the arched colonnade, he
cleared his throat. “Do you want me to come up? I can come up with you.”
“No, BJ. Thank you, but no.”
He drew in a breath. “Will you meet me for breakfast?”
“Sure.”
I was on the curb before he glanced in my direction. “I
told you I was a flibbertigibbet.” The look in his eyes was heartbreaking.
“BJ!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid. Goodnight,
Jim.” The red taillights of the Mustang grew smaller and smaller until they
vanished from even my Sentinel sight.
####
I had gone to school with the son of the man who managed
the Peninsula Beverly Hills. He remembered my artwork and mentioned it to his
father, who in turn got in touch with me.
“I’m looking for something a little different to hang
on the walls of the Belvedere, BJ. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow and bring
some of your work. If it’s suitable, I’d like to buy some of it.”
I was thrilled. I was even more thrilled to find Naomi at
home when I came down to eat dinner. “Mom!” I bussed her cheek.
“Please, BJ. Naomi! What are you so happy
about?”
“Mr. Summerlin is interested in seeing my work!”
“What work, BJ?” she asked absently as she helped
herself to some bouillabaisse from the silver tureen.
“My… my cartoon cels, Naomi.”
“Are you still playing at being an artist? Pass me the
baguettes, please. Hmm. Perhaps I’ll go along with you.”
I didn’t have a good feeling about that. “Oh, you
really don’t need to come, Naomi. I can…”
“Nonsense. I’ll go with you, and that’s all there is
to that.”
That was why Naomi was in the manager’s office that day,
actually dickering with him over what it would cost her to have my artwork hung
on the walls of the Belvedere, the Peninsula Beverly Hills’ posh restaurant.
And I would never know if instead of paying Mr. Summerlin to hang my artwork, he
would have paid me.
****
That was the day I met Adam, the youngest maitre d’ in
the Belvedere’s history, and the best. He wasn’t even supposed to be there.
He had the day off, but he had left something or other behind the night before
and had just stopped by to pick it up.
“Hey, Raymonde!” I heard him call to one of the waiters
who were getting the tables ready for the dinner crowd. “Who belongs to that
Mustang outside?”
I grinned approvingly. A man who knew how it worked. You
didn’t own a Mustang, it owned you. “That would be me.” I pushed myself up
from the archway I’d been leaning against. “I’m BJ.”
“Hello, BJ.” His hand was warm and firm in mine as I
shook it. “I’m Adam Carter.” He was average height, with thick brown hair
that was tied back at the nape of his neck, and eyes that were so dark a grey,
they were just a few shades lighter than black.
“So. You want to go for a ride… in my ‘Stang?”
Adam’s eyes grew hot and eager, and he tossed a fleeting
good-bye over his shoulder to his fellow worker; it wasn’t until some time
later that I learned he was actually the man’s boss. He followed me out to the
candy apple red convertible, and I showed him how she maneuvered. And then I
drove to a motel I knew of and showed him how I maneuvered.
It didn’t mean anything to me. It was fun, but it was
just a fuck. That was the way it was.
“Beej, do you have to go?”
I was buttoning my shirt. “I left Naomi at the hotel.
She’s going to throw a hissy if I’m not back to take her home.” She really
wouldn’t care, would most likely charm Mr. Summerlin into giving her a lift,
but if Adam thought I had previous commitments, it would make it easier for me
to leave.
“Will I see you again?”
I was tucking my shirt into my trousers, and froze.
“I’m a flibbertigibbet, Adam. You want to see me again? Why?”
“Because you’re cute, BJ. Because I like the way you
handled that cherry Mustang. And because I like the way you handled me. Come on,
rich boy. Take a gamble. Say yes.” Adam got up and approached me, and I
watched him warily but didn’t move. He slid his arms around my waist and
thrust lazily against me, teasing my groin with his. The smile on his lips was
tantalizing.
“I never gamble.” The smile left his face. I fisted my
hands in his hair and pulled his mouth to mine. But when our lips were just a
whisper apart, I said, “Yes.”
****
Seeing Adam didn’t stop me from fucking other people, but
Adam didn’t seem to mind. I’d made it quite clear that if he ever got
clingy, I was out the door. I never went to his place, and I never took him
home.
Only somehow, without my quite realizing it, I saw fewer
and fewer other people. When it suddenly hit me that I was in a
‘relationship,’ I panicked and determined to break up with him.
I told him to meet me at a little B&B up in
“Mmm. Nice, Beej.” His voice was thick with sleep. I
hadn’t realized he had awakened, and when I would have jerked my hand away, he
pressed his cheek into my palm and sighed contentedly, the warmth of his breath
tickling it. “Who said that?”
I licked my lips. “I did.” I braced myself, expecting
him to mock me. It was what Naomi often did.
“You made that up? For me? Ohhh!” He pulled my mouth
down for a hungry kiss.
I decided maybe I wouldn’t break up with him just yet. I
raised my head and looked into his eyes. “Just for you, Adam.”
****
Talking about suicide and then tearing into Jim Ellison as
if it was his fault that I was a flibbertigibbet and that my life was a waste...
I didn’t know what possessed me to get all maudlin like that.
Yes, I did know. I was showing off, playing the literary
elitist. I didn’t want Jim, but I wanted to impress him. If I impressed him,
and he told Naomi, maybe she’d…
Love me?
I’d learned years ago to keep my feelings deep inside
where they couldn’t get trampled on. I’d never even told Adam that I…
So I recited that stupid poem, and Adam overheard me. I’d
wondered how much he would take before he left me. Now I knew. And I wondered
how long it would take before my heart stopped hurting.
When I’d dropped Jim off at his hotel, I’d offered to
sleep with him, hoping another body would ease the pain. He’d turned me down.
****
It was a little after 9 when I met Jim in the Roof Garden,
the
I took the opportunity to examine his attire. He was
wearing a khaki safari jacket. On the chair beside him was a bushman’s hat
that sported a jaunty foxtail curled around its brim. His ensemble was completed
by walking shorts and half boots. People tended to dress as they chose in
Jim smiled when he saw me approaching. I stiffened my
spine, striving for insouciance. I owed him an apology. “I’m sorry I was so
grotesque last night.”
He waved aside my apology. “Good morning, BJ. I hope you
had a good night’s rest. I sat on the beach and counted stars, and listened to
the waves on the shore.”
I’d spent the night wandering through the empty rooms of
Naomi’s mansion, fighting the urge to call Adam and beg him to give me another
chance. Finally, a couple of hours before dawn, I’d surrendered to it.
“Adam, it’s…” I was talking to his answering machine. “Where are
you?” Had he already found someone else? Raymonde, perhaps, who’d never made
any bones about his feelings for Adam? “It’s BJ. I’m sorry. I know I
screwed up. I’ve treated you badly, and you never deserved that from me or
from anyone. Adam, please, I’d like another chance. Please call me…” I
hung up before my voice could crack.
He hadn’t called, and I wanted to kick myself for
begging.
I dropped into the chair opposite Jim and picked up the
menu, hiding behind it. “I had a generally shitty night. Thank you for
asking.”
He took it from me, and I had no choice but to look into
his ice blue eyes. “I’ve already ordered. Since you did the honors
yesterday, I took the liberty of doing so today. I hope you like what I’ve
selected.” The waiter, not Raymonde who only worked in the main restaurant,
thank god, began serving our breakfast. “I feel so alive today. Who would
think…” He lapsed into silence, and his expression became sad.
“I wish…”
“What do you wish, BJ?”
I shook my head. “It isn’t important.” I touched the
tip of my tongue to my upper lip. “What did Naomi hire you to do?” He seemed
reluctant to tell me, and I knew it was useless to press for the information.
“Never mind.” We finished eating in silence. “Oh, damn! What time is
it?” I took his wrist and turned it so I could see his watch. “You’ve got
an Audemars Piguet! Aren’t they fantastic?”
“If I could figure out how to tell time on it!” he
groused.
“Maybe Blair can show you how. We’ve got to go! Are you
all packed?”
“I didn’t really unpack. The people at the front
desk seemed to know where my trunks needed to be sent.” He finished his coffee
and rose. “Who’s Blair?”
I placed a handful of bills on the table. “My brother.
I’ll bet he knows what Naomi wants you to do.”
“You have a brother?” We entered the elevator and rode
down to the lobby.
“Well, half-brother. Naomi insisted that all the
men she married take her last name, and since she’s got more money than god,
of course they all agreed. Blair’s a couple of years older than I am. We
don’t see much of each other. The Sandburgs are not a very close family.”
“That’s sad.” Before I could snap that I didn’t
need his pity, he continued. “My family is like that too. I haven’t seen my
father and brother in more than… jesus, more than ten years!”
I had no response to that. We walked through the lobby and
out into the
****
My brother had long since escaped from our mother’s
influence. I envied him his freedom, and I wondered what Naomi had used to
‘persuade’ him to take on this task for her. I didn’t think I would ever
know. Sandburgs weren’t what you would call ‘close.’
It was so early in the morning on a weekday that the marina
was empty for the most part. The beautiful white yacht rode gently at her
mooring while two men wrestled Jim’s trunks below deck. Blair sat by the helm,
one foot up on the railing. A light breeze was blowing off the land, and it
teased my brother’s hair back away from his face.
“Hello, Blair.”
“BJ.” He frowned disapprovingly as he watched me take a
cigarette from my case and light it.
“Do you know where Naomi is?” “Have you seen
Naomi?” We spoke at the same time.
Blair bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Mom loves a
secret almost as much as she loves money.” His eyes ran over the figure of the
man standing next to me. I knew him well enough to see the sudden interest in
his eyes, but I was startled by his rancorous words. “That outfit’s wearing
you, Felix!”
“Why are you calling me Felix?”
“I do what I want,” Blair snapped. “And that’s a
fucking silly hat you’ve got on!”
Jim’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to say
something equally spiteful, but I cut him off. “You know Naomi, Blair,” I
drawled. “It’s all phone calls and telegrams. I haven’t seen her in nine
months.”
“Nine months to birth you, nine months between visits.
Coincidence? With Naomi, who knows?” No one could do mockery like a Sandburg,
and my brother was definitely a Sandburg.
“You’re in a mood. What crawled up your ass and
died?”
“It’s the sunshine, BJ. It gets me down.” He rose to
his feet and crossed to the gangway, and stared at Jim, his stance aggressive.
“Listen up. I don’t work for Naomi. This transport is strictly a favor.”
He ran his eyes over Jim’s figure disdainfully. “Okay, get ready to heave,
Felix!”
Jim’s gaze was cold, his voice flat. “My name is James
or Jim.”
“All right, Jim.” Blair’s eyes were just as cold, and
I wondered why he was taking out his ire on someone to whom he was attracted.
What was he doing? I was the Sandburg who threw away the main chance.
“Come aboard. If we want to catch the tide, we’ll have to cast off now. H,
hoist the mainsail. Joel, get ready to raise the anchor.”
Jim swallowed heavily and turned to take my hand. “Wish
me luck?”
“You’re shaking!”
“Am I?” He took a couple of deep breaths. “Don’t
let life pass you by, BJ. Grab it with both hands and wring every drop of
happiness you can from it!” He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.
“Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Jim,” I whispered. I flicked my cigarette
into the harbor and watched as he stepped onto the gangplank and boarded the
Tweedle Dee. He walked to the rail amidships, and I raised my hand in farewell.
Jim took the bushman’s hat off his head and waved it back at me. His arm
lowered, and he stared at the hat for a long second before flinging it into the
yacht’s wake. It floated on the surface of the water, rocking gently, and then
it slowly sank.
My brother stood at the wheel, his body angled so he could
see me. His eyes seemed to be on something beyond me, and then they dropped to
mine, and he smiled and shouted something at me.
“What?” I shouted back. The wind whipped his words back
at him. “What?”
“He said, ‘You have company.’”
I stiffened. “Adam,” I breathed. I turned to face him.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I called your house, pretending to be someone from the
hotel. It was a lead pipe cinch.” He stared into my eyes dispassionately.
“Did you mean it, about wanting a second chance?”
I remembered what Jim said about grabbing onto happiness
with both hands. “Yes.”
“Beej, you broke my heart yesterday.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“Don’t you want to know where I was last night when you
called?”
I opened my cigarette case and took out another cigarette,
and placed it between my lips. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No? Not even if I was in someone else’s bed?”
“Not even that.” My hand was shaking so hard I
couldn’t get the lighter to ignite the wick.
“You’re lying.” He took the cigarette from my mouth
and tossed it into the water.
“Fuck it, I smoke too much anyway.” I stuffed the
lighter into my pocket.
“Yes, you do. So. Are you going to ask if I was sleeping
with someone else?”
The pain was almost unbearable, and I closed my eyes
against it. “No. Whatever you did last night, it was my fault. If you give me
another chance, I swear I’ll… Will you give me another chance, Adam?”
“Are you asking me to forgive you?”
I couldn’t face him, waiting for his answer. I looked out
to sea, where the Tweedle Dee’s sails billowed, and she ran before the wind.
“Yes.”
“All right.”
“What?” I spun around. It couldn’t be that easy.
Nothing in my life was that easy.
“You asked me to forgive you.” He shrugged, and his
lips curved into a lightly mocking grin. “I forgive you.”
“Will you…”
“I already said I’d forgive you.” He scowled.
“I’d think you’d realize that would mean I’d be taking you back as
well.”
“No, Adam. I was going to ask if you would move in with
me.”
His breath caught in his throat, and he turned pale,
clearly not expecting that. “BJ, you really want me to… What’s your mother
going to say?”
“Do you really think she’ll care? You know she thinks
I’m a flibberti…” The rest of the word was cut off by his mouth. With a
sigh I sank into his kiss. I buried my fingers in his hair, the strands filling
the emptiness of my hands.
Finally, he pulled his lips away, and we struggled to calm
our breathing. “She’s wrong. You’re not.”
“Adam…”
He kissed me again. “Shut up, BJ. If you’re serious
about me moving in with you, I’m going to need to pack. Why don’t you take
me home, and I’ll show you my bedroom. Which, by the way, is where I was last
night when you called. All alone.”
“But you didn’t pick up.”
“Beej, I was pissed at you. And I wanted to make you
suffer a little.”
“You succeeded.” I leaned my forehead against his for a
brief moment, and then we started to walk to the other side of the dock where my
Mustang was parked.
“You ever going to let me drive her?”
“I so don’t think so!” I looked back out over the ocean, and the sun glinted off a bit of glass, undoubtedly my brother’s telescope. I raised my hand in one last farewell, and then let it drop around my lover’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Adam.”
