Bad Apple (23 page)

“Please. Do you really think you're gonna break an iron pipe with a piece of wood?”

“It's an old building. These pipes must be a hundred years old—”

“What're you, a building inspector now?”

“Would it kill you to cooperate a little? I'm trying to get us out of this.” He was testy, but he still wouldn't tell her she was a bitch. Too much of a gentleman maybe. Yeah, right.

She turned over and faced him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Oh, now we're gonna be formal?”

“I just wanna know one thing before I die. That day we went back to my apartment. Did you go to bed with me because it was
part of your undercover assignment or because you really wanted to?”

“What?”

“Don't say ‘what.' Just answer me.”

His face turned very serious. “I don't make love for the government. I was genuinely attracted to you. I still am.”

She burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. She shut her eyes because she couldn't look at him he was so earnest, so . . . typical. Where do men learn this crap?

“I'm glad you think this is funny.” He was hurt now.

She couldn't stop laughing.

He raised his voice to be heard. “I tried with you. I really did. But you shut me down every step of the way.”

“Stop.” She was clutching her belly. “Stop.” She was gonna split a gut laughing.

“I really felt something for you, Gina. And I was stupid enough to think you might've felt something for me. But I was stupid. I didn't realize you had something going with Bells.”

She stopped laughing and glared at him, glared at the suggestion that she and Bells might mean anything to each other. “You're so full of shit—”

“I'm
not
full of shit. You treated
me
like the one-night stand. How many times did I call you and ask you out? I tried with you, Gina, but you didn't want any part of me.”

She didn't believe a word of it. He'd just wanted to go to bed with her. He thought she was a bitch. He had to; she acted like one.

He shrugged, resigned. “You just didn't give a shit about me.” He was trying to get the last word in.

She pushed the hair out of her face with a quick swipe and put her glasses back on. “You expect me to believe this?”

“Yes.”

“You really . . . felt something for me?”

“Yes.”

“Not just that Sunday. I mean, afterward.”

“Yes!”

“You were thinking in terms of a relationship? Something that could lead to something sort of permanent?”

“
Yes!
”

“Really?”

“
Yes!
”

“Then prove it. If I'm gonna die tonight, I want to make love one more time, and for once in my life I want to know for sure that it's for real.” She was trembling deep in her chest.

“You're not gonna die tonight, Gina. Get that out of your head.”

“Don't try to comfort me. You're not my father, goddamn it. Just put up or shut up. Unless everything you just said is a load.”

“It's not a load. I meant everything I said.” His face was red. His deep-set eyes were smoking.

“Then kiss me. Make love to me. I want to know that I was really loved at least once in my life.” She was staring into his eyes, her hand clenched around his belt. She was serious.

“But—”

No fucking buts, she thought as she put her face in his and kissed him, hard, like a bite. His free hand found its way to her back, then to the back of her neck. She pulled at his belt, grinding her lips into his face, afraid that she'd hear the elevator coming back, and that would be the end of everything.

He turned his head to the side to escape her kiss. “Slow down,” he said. “Take it easy.”

“I can't. Not enough time.” Her throat was constricted. She felt teary, but she wasn't going to cry, not now. She tilted her head back, reaching out for his lips with hers.

He pulled her closer, his hand on her back again. He started nuzzling her neck. But he was being too tender. She didn't want tender. She wanted fire. She squirmed to get to his lips again.

“Don't you at least wanna take off your glasses?” he asked.

“No. I wanna see what I'm doing this time.”

“Oh.”

She found his lips and grabbed the back of his head, gripping the hair in her fingers. She wasn't going to let him go. She didn't want him to see the tears.

It was dark when Tozzi opened his eyes. The streetlights outside threw a cold greenish glow into the loft. Gina was staring at him, her glasses shining in the shadows. He must've dozed off.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat.

“For what?”

“Falling asleep.”

She didn't answer, but he thought she might have shrugged. It was hard to tell with her arm stretched out above her head.

Her blouse was buttoned, and her pants were on. He started working on his own zipper, putting himself back together, which wasn't easy with one hand. She reached over and helped him with the button on his pants. She didn't seem to be mad or anything, which he'd half-expected. But there was no reason for her to be mad. Not if she'd felt the same thing he had. Maybe it was the handcuffs or the thought that this could be the last time he'd ever have sex again, or possibly it was the excitement of doing it when Bells could come back at any moment, but making love to Gina DeFresco was beyond belief. He'd gone to heaven before with a woman, but this time he saw God.

Too bad she didn't really like him. That would've made it even better.

After his shirttails were tucked in, he reached over and
touched her cheek, hooking the loose strands of hair behind her ear so he could see her face better.

“Will you do me one favor?” she said. Her voice was low and husky.

“Sure.”

“Don't say you love me.”

“Why?”

“Just don't say it.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't want to hear it.”

“What if I really mean it?”

“You only think you mean it. That's why I don't want to hear it.”

Tozzi felt her hair in his fingers. “You're something else, you know that?”

“Stop. You're warming up to say it, and I don't want to hear it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn't mean anything. Men are always in love after they get laid. They're like dogs. Dogs are so good when you feed them. The rest of the time they just pee on the rug.”

Tozzi let go of her hair.

“Nothing against you in particular, Mike. You are what you are. You can't help it.”

His jaw tightened. She was ruining what had just been the most incredible sexual experience of his entire life. She was doing it on purpose. She couldn't just enjoy it for what it was. No, she had to put her spin on it. She couldn't just shut up and at least let
him
believe that in the last hours of his life he'd finally found love. Or the beginning of what could have been love. Or—

Shit. She was making him as loony as she was.

She lifted her head and shifted her position so that she was up on her elbow. “What do you think happened to Bells?” She wasn't talking softly now, which pissed Tozzi off. She was finished with the sex part obviously.

Tozzi tilted his wristwatch toward the light. “He's been gone, what? About two hours?”

“How long does it take to buy tape?” She sounded like she was anxious to get this show on the road. They'd done the sex—let's get going with the violence.

Tozzi thought about Bells turning into a bat. “Maybe he has to wait for the moon to come up.”

“Bells doesn't wait for anything. You heard him.” She was sullen and resentful, almost talking to herself. “The selfish bastard does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Always.”

Tozzi wondered if this was first-hand knowledge. He was dying to know what the hell her relationship with Bells was, but he knew he wasn't going to get a good answer if he asked. And right now, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. The gold wedding band around her neck glimmered dully in the greenish light. Tozzi had a feeling he might not like the truth about them. He balled his fist and yanked on the chain in frustration.

“Will you stop doing that? You're gonna pull my arm out of the socket. It doesn't do any good.”

Tozzi stared up at the chain. It was shinier than the wedding band. He wondered how much slack there was. Twenty inches? Thirty inches? It was hard to tell. His eyes slid down to Gina's waist.

“Let's try something.” He started to pull the coat through the loop. “See if you can squeeze through the chain.”

“What?”

“Like this.” He pulled the coat all the way through so that it
was all on his side. “Try to get through the loop. So we can get outta here.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” She knew. She was just giving him grief.

Tozzi spoke to her as if she were a five-year-old. “See this chain right here, the big chain on the radiator? It's just a loop around the pipe and the handcuff chain. Try to thread your whole body through the loop.”

“Why don't you thread
your
body through the loop?”

Tozzi was getting impatient with her. She was just being obstinate. “I'm too big. I won't fit. You might fit, though. What've you got, a twenty-eight-inch waist?”

“Twenty-six.” She was insulted.

“Great. It should be a piece of cake.”

“And what about my hips. They're . . . bigger.”

“They're not that big. You've got nice hips.”

“Listen, I've got a huge can and I know it, so don't lie to me. Just forget about it. I won't fit.”

Tozzi rolled his eyes. Now he had to be her goddamn psychiatrist. “Gina, there's nothing wrong with your hips. They're in perfect proportion to the rest of you. Just give it a try. You'll fit through. Try it.”

“You're just saying that.”

“I am not just saying that. You have a beautiful body.”

“No, I don't. My tits are too small, and I have a rear end like an elephant.”

Tozzi squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. “Gina, do you
want
to die?”

“Of course not.”

“Then do something to save yourself. Try to wiggle through the chain. You can do it.”

“You didn't say wiggle before. See, you do think I have a big can. Liar.”

“I'm getting mad now, Gina. Just give it a try.”

She frowned up at the chain above her head. “The radiator's hot. I'll get burned.”

“It's not that hot.”

“What if Bells comes back? He'll go nuts if he catches us trying to escape.”

“Gina, he's gonna kill us anyway. What else can he do to us?”

She frowned at the chain again. She was out of excuses. “I'm too big,” she muttered. “It won't work.”

“Just try.”

“The chain's not big enough.”

“Take off your pants.”

“What?”

“Pull down your pants. You're wearing those silk satin panties. If it gets a little tight, the panties will help you slide through.”

“They're not silk. They're polyester.”

“Whatever. They're slippery.” Tozzi was losing his patience.

She looked up at the chain again. “All right. But you'll see. I won't fit.”

“Try,” he whispered.

She clasped her hands together and started to wiggle and squirm, snaking her way through the chain. Tozzi held the back of her thigh, guiding her through.

“Don't push,” she said.

She worked her shoulders through the loop and shimmied until the chain was around her waist. That part went much faster than Tozzi had expected. She must've been right about her tits. She kept shimmying, but she didn't make much progress.

“See? I told you I wouldn't fit.”

Tozzi reached for the button on her pants, but she slapped his hand away.

“I'll do it.” She was gonna be modest now.

She unbuttoned her slacks and pulled down the zipper. Tozzi pulled them down around her knees.

“This pipe is hot,” she complained.

Tozzi touched it. It was hot, but not that bad. “Hurry up and you won't get burned.”

“Yeah, like you really care a lot.”

“You wanna die like Margie?”

She glowered at him. “Don't talk about Margie.” She got her hands to her waist and started to push down on the chain as if she were trying to work her way out of a tight girdle.

“That's it,” Tozzi encouraged her. “If you got your shoulders through, you'll get your hips through.”

“Says who?”

“That's what they say about babies when they're born.”

“Shut up about babies!”

Tozzi was stung by her sudden anger. What'd he do wrong now? He wasn't about to ask her, though. Not now. She was almost through.

“You're almost there,” he whispered. “Keep going, keep going.”

She was straining and grunting, and it looked like she'd cleared one hip.

“I'm stuck,” she said. “I'm stuck! It hurts!”

“Don't panic. Just keep going. You're almost there.”

“But the chain's digging into me.”

“Keep going.”

“But—”

Thunk!

They both heard it, and they both froze. The elevator.

“It's him!” she hissed.

“Keep going. Hurry up.”

Thunk!

“Oh, shit!” Her face was as tight as a knot.

So was Tozzi's stomach.

Gibbons was trying not to stare at Lorraine, but it was hard not to. It was just too weird. He winced against the mounting pain in his tooth as he took another sip of his scotch. He looked down at Lorraine's drink sitting on the bar. She was having a scotch, too, which was not like her at all. But that wasn't the weird part. The weird part was that he was sitting here in this dive, drinking scotch with his wife, a Princeton University history professor who usually only drank white wine and never very much at that, and she was talking to a stripper, that young kid behind the bar in the stacked heels and bikini bottom and nothing else. And what was even weirder was what they were talking about: some guy named Boethius, a philosopher from the Middle Ages.