Close Encounters (29 page)

When he returned he sat on the side of the bed and wiped both of her knees with a dampened washcloth. Carol winced at the stinging sensation. Then he applied a medicated salve, rubbing it gently into the broken skin.

The last thing he did was to put on a condom. When he climbed into the bed next to her he indicated that she was to lie on her side, her back to him. He curled close against her, spoon fashion, his hands free to stimulate her breasts. His caressing fingers created an almost painful pooling of rising sexual tension in the pit of her stomach—and between her legs.

Lee kissed the back of her neck and nibbled playfully on her ear. He stroked her body, eliciting breathy sighs from her. At her back, Carol could feel the surging power of his erect penis, and she wantonly pressed against him. His hand ventured to her thigh, curving toward the inside, between her legs, searching out the warm, wet canal.

She was not coy or hesitant or embarrassed, but wildly excited and thankful that he was experienced, receptive, and caring enough to make the moment exhilarating for her. His fingers, combined with the seductive rotation of his hips and the kisses on the back of her neck, left Carol feeling like she was melting, dissolving… blissfully losing her mind. She felt limp with abandon, her body flying on its own wings when her climax came, every part of her body excruciatingly sensitive. But they weren’t finished.

For a long time Lee just held her against him, whispering in her ear. She turned over eventually, and snuggled into his arms, seeking his mouth. She felt his knee forcing her legs apart in blatant invitation. She carefully wrapped her hand around his penis, sensitive to the texture, hardness and size. He needed only a minimum of guidance as he found the still fluttering channel in her body, and slid in with a quiet groan, his hands cupping her bottom as he pressed as deep as he could.

The gentle twist of Carol’s hips and the contraction of her muscles around him urged him into movement. He began a rhythm and cadence that rocked him against her in a sensual attempt to meld to her.

When his moment of physical surrender came, Lee forced himself not to squeeze Carol too tightly. His heart thudded against hers. He gave himself up, letting the moment spiral out of control, gritting his teeth against the agony and delight of release.

There came to him hours later the powerful conviction that making love with Carol, laying himself bare to her… the emperor without his clothes and risking full disclosure… might well be one of his finest, and happiest moments.

Lee’s cellular phone jerked him out of sleep on the first ring. He stretched over the edge of the bed and searched for it somewhere on the floor with his clothing, and answered before the third ring. Shifting position slightly, he tried not to dislodge Carol, who was curled up next to him, her back nestled against his side. She was using his arm as a pillow.

“Yeah?” he croaked softly.

“Lee—this is Jeremy. Sorry to wake you, but…”

Lee forced his mind to focus. The bedside clock read just a little before one a.m. “What’s up, Jeremy?” Carol stirred and turned over, rolling into him and snuggling under his arm. She transferred her head to his chest.

“We got a homicide over on West Fourteenth Street. One of Willey’s men. We’re not sure what happened yet, but it looks like an execution.”

“Any idea who it was?” Lee asked with unremitting hope. He absently stroked Carol’s shoulder and side.

“He’s wearing a gold pendant with the name Julio. He was stabbed twice, right outside his apartment.”

“Had to be someone he knew,” Lee muttered.

“The crime scene unit is already there…”

“All right. I’m on my way.” He hung up.

Lee lay there for a moment, wondering. Was this just the latest skirmish in ongoing turf wars? Or was it still fallout from the failed drug bust?

“Is it serious?” Carol whispered.

Lee sighed deeply. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. Go back to sleep. If I’m lucky, I’ll be back before you have to leave for class.” He kissed her forehead and twisted away to get out of bed.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“If I can’t make it back I’ll have an officer come and drive you to school, okay? After what happened yesterday, I don’t want you going any place without police protection.”

Carol gathered the covers around her and watched his shadowy movements as he dressed quickly in the dark. “I don’t mind, Lee.”

He stopped long enough to stoop and kiss her with quick fervor. “I do. I’ll call you on your beeper when I know what’s going on, okay? You can call me back on my pocket phone.” He was clipping on his automatic, making sure he had his badge and ID.

“Lee?”

“Hmmm?” he murmured, distracted.

“Be careful.”

It took a full second for her words to register. Lee stopped what he was doing to absorb them. To let her sentiment flow over him like a blessing. He didn’t know whether to thank Carol or to dismiss the warning as unnecessary. Instead he fell back on an assurance that he couldn’t even guarantee.

“I will.”

M
ATT PLACED HIS SAXOPHONE CASE
on the table and opened it to extract the instrument. He handled it carefully, as he always did. It was the only thing he owned that was worth anything. It was the only thing that, when properly cared for, he could rely on to do what he wanted it to do. From the bottom of the case he took out a soft chamois cloth and, sitting in the small club chair, began to polish the brass tubing lovingly. Around him, the assistant club manager was starting to arrange tables and chairs for the evening ahead. Tablecloths were draped and aligned and votive candles placed in the center.

The club itself looked depressing and worn-out under the glare of the house lights. Ceiling vents and pipes were visible. Uneven walls and tiled floors had been inexpertly repaired. It looked like what it was—a basement room that someone had attempted to jury-rig into something better. But when the lights went down and the music started, the room became
the
place to be. Then Matt came alive, playing sweet sounds and feeling like he owned the universe.

“Matthew,” a voice called out.

Matt looked up at Brian, the keyboard player, who was winding between the bistro tables toward the low platform and stage. He was carrying a portable synthesizer. He held up his hand for Matt to grasp in passing. “Brian.” Matt returned the abbreviated greeting.

Following closely behind Brian came the drummer and, before long, the guitarist. Each arriving musician said hello to Matthew, then granted him his own space. They all seemed to recognize that whatever communicating Matthew Norman did, he did best through his music. And they all agreed that nobody did it better.

Matt let the hum of the talk around him rise and fall, but he took no part in it He was busy consoling himself over losing Carol for the second time. But he was pragmatic. It was Carol who had changed much more than he had in the last few years. That bothered him.

She was not the same person he’d met and married at twenty-two. Then, she’d been kind of hyper and very exotic, tall and slender, with a bold style that made her different from the other women on campus. Matt had thought that her white parents were a terrible influence on her, giving her all that bourgeois liberal bullshit about the universality of man. Only a white person could believe that. But Carol had also been a free spirit, floating somewhere between the politically correct and the politically militant, trying to find a place for herself in the real world. She had never been afraid of being black in a white world, and she sure had taken a lot of abuse because of it. Carol had never been predisposed toward failure, stymied with dire warnings, terrifying media, and sometimes paralyzing fear. She’d never let anything stop her… and that’s why Matt had known that one day he would lose her.

Which is also why he found himself mulling over what he’d heard between Carol and that white cop in her apartment. He couldn’t credit that she would be involved with the guy. He was a
cop,
for Christ’s sake! Which was worse than the fact that he was white. And more than anything, Matt took it as a personal affront that Carol could pick someone like that over himself. It was a dangerous indictment from her. It made him angry.

He detached the mouthpiece and reed from the saxophone and blew into it to clear the passageway. He was putting it back together when the fifth member of the combo sauntered into the room. Jolie Tyson.

Jolie radiated serenity. Even when she sang the songs that tore at your heart and made you sigh at the irony of life, loss, and the pursuit of a do-right man, there was an inherent understanding and forgiveness in her.

Matt gave her a slight smile. She was already dressed for the evening in a black gown that was both simple and glamorous. It made the most of her small waist and full breasts and complimented her locked hair, gathered into a short bush ponytail and dyed a light brown to highlight the honey tones of her skin.

“Hey, lady,” Matt crooned as she approached.

Jolie put her hand on his shoulder and moved around until she was standing behind him. She had only to bend forward a few inches to be able to rest her chin atop his head. She lightly stroked his jaw and chin while the back of his head nestled comfortably against her body.

“Is this when I get to say I told you so?” she asked in a breathy voice.

Matthew sighed and closed his eyes. “Yeah. But it wasn’t like how you said it would be.”

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want to have to lay the bitch out ’cause she did you wrong.”

He chuckled at the image. “I wouldn’t want to take bets on the outcome. Carol’s tough. At least she used to be. I think she’s changed from when we were together. Anyway, you got it backwards, Jo. I should have known it was too late to try and make up. I was the one who did wrong.”

Jolie swayed them gently from side to side. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry she didn’t want you back. I got a vested interest in you, you know.”

“Yeah? How come?” he asked, enjoying her attention.

“I’m going to have your baby,” she said, making him laugh. “Not right now… but eventually. Now that you’ve figured out what you want to do. Now that you have a chance at making a comeback. Now that you’ve let go of Miss Thang. After we get married.”

Matt reached for Jolie’s arm and pulled her around to stand in front of him. He gazed into her face with admiration and affection, which might develop into something more—if he let it. She was smart enough to know that you can’t hold a man who doesn’t want to be held, smart enough to wait it out, and sure enough of the outcome to let him go back to Carol. Matt shook his head wryly. What if it
had
worked out with Carol?

“I thought I might still be in love with her,” he said.

“I know.”

“I
am
in love with her, but… it’s not the same. It’s like this history that’s always going to be between us. We kind of grew up together, if you know what I mean.”

Jolie pursed her mouth. “Know that, too.”

“It’s not finished yet. There’s still something I gotta do, Jolie.”

She stared at him. “For
her
?”

“No. For me. For you and me, if it comes to that.”

“Oh, it will come to that,” she said confidently, pulling away from him and regarding him seriously. “You know no other woman would have put up with you the way I have, Matt. But I think it was worth the risk. Now it’s my turn.” She bent to kiss him lightly. “I have to get ready.”

Jolie straightened and let her hand trail up his arm and across his shoulder as she walked away.

Matthew let her go. He was not yet as confident as she was about the possibility of their future together. But he was finally willing to accept that what he had had with Carol was a thing of the past. Still, it rubbed him the wrong way that Carol might actually be doing it with the enemy.

He sat with his saxophone across his lap. The rest of the band members had already set up their instruments and disappeared into the area behind the stage that was used as dressing rooms. Once again alone with his thoughts and his humiliation, Matt resurrected an idea that had occurred to him several times the night before. He had discarded it just as many times. He absently played with the keys on the horn, weighing the pros and cons, finally convincing himself that he would be doing Carol a favor and eventually she’d realize it.

Matt methodically wiped the sax once more and set it on its stand. He tossed the chamois into the case and closed it, putting it against a wall out of the way. He got up and walked to the lobby of the club and the manager’s desk.

“Hey, Rubin. I need to use the phone,” Matt said, already punching in a number.

“Long as it ain’t no long distance call,” a scratchy voice called out laconically from a back room. “And don’t let me hear you callin’ no other woman. Else I’ll have to set Jolie on your ass.”

“Don’t worry—just taking care of business.”

When the line was finally answered, Matt adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. I’m calling to find out the name of your precinct commander. I want to report a breach of ethical conduct by one of your officers.”

“Dad, would it be okay if I stayed one more night?”

Lee, seated opposite his daughter in a diner, munched on his English muffin as he considered her question. Erica had done an admirable job of polishing off two eggs, sausages, and three plate-size pancakes swimming in syrup.

“Didn’t you say you have plans tomorrow with some of your friends?” Lee asked.

Erica made a face. “Yeah, I do, but it’s not really important. I’d rather stay with you.”

“You don’t think it’s boring hanging out with your father?”

Erica shook her head shyly. “I have a lot of fun with you. I like being here.”

Lee finally put the unfinished muffin down. “Ricca, that’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever told me. Thank you.” He folded his arms on the table and tilted his head at her. “Now—how much of this has to do with the fact that your stepfather’s sons are coming tomorrow to spend the day?”

At first Erica looked innocently blank. Then her curiosity got the best of her. “How did you know that?”