Drawn Together (6 page)

Nearing the bathroom door, Rory could hear the blow-dryer going. He knocked loudly, and it stopped.

“Your agent just called. She wants you to call her immediately. She said it was very important and not to delay. Call her on her cell phone.”

“I’ll finish up in here and phone her.”

“She said it was very important,” Rory reiterated, thinking about the woman’s voice.

“She sounded desperate.”

“She’s my agent; it’s her job to be desperate. I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay.”

Yamane returned from the bathroom dressed in much the same way he had been the day before. Today he wore blue jeans, but his long coat had a mandarin collar this time. Like the first coat, this one fastened down the side, but it was royal blue with matching knotted rope closures. Yamane’s coats certainly did make an impression.

Yamane wore his hair down, caught up with a clip just in the front where some of the fringe still fell into his eyes. A girl’s hairstyle. On girls it was cute. On Yamane? It was stunning. He was stunning. Nevertheless, there was no doubt, from the front at least, that he was a man. Rory thought it was as if all the laws of gender and fashion existed solely so Yamane could break them.

Yamane retrieved his phone and began dialing. He spoke almost at once in Japanese.

Rory put his earbud back in to give him his privacy even though he couldn’t understand a word Yamane was saying. He watched as some strange emotion washed over Yamane’s normally impassive face. When Yamane paled, he removed both his earbuds and put his iPod aside.

Yamane hung up and put the phone into his pocket. He took out his lighter and cigarettes. Rory tried to take them out of his hand, but one look from Yamane told him it would be futile.

“Yamane.” He barely breathed. “Is there something the matter?” Yamane lit his cigarette with a shaking hand and drew in a deep lungful of smoke. A knock came at the door and a voice called, “Room service.” 32 Z. A. Maxfield

“Breakfast,” said Rory. “Would you like me to get it?” Yamane said nothing. The knock came again, this time louder.

“Room service,” an indeterminate voice called again.

Yamane took a deep breath. He seemed to have made up his mind about something.

“I’ll get it,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette.

Rory followed him to the door. A woman in uniform pushed a cart into the room. She identified herself again and kept up a steady flow of chatter as she placed their breakfast tray on the table. When she was done, she pushed the cart into the hallway and came back, then closed the door behind her. Rory assumed she was returning with a bill to sign. Yamane stood frozen next to the door, looking down at the floor.

“Yamane.” She stood before him with her arms folded. “Long time, no see.” Yamane said nothing.

She looked at Rory as though he were a cockroach. “I see you found a toy to play with while you’re here.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Rory. He definitely didn’t know what was going on.

“I thought you were still in Seattle,” Yamane finally said. “They said you’d be there for at least five years.”

“No thanks to you,” she spat. “I experienced a miraculous cure.”

“Cure,” he repeated stupidly.

“Yes, I was released early. My doctor is writing a paper on it for the Journal of American Medicine called ‘Borderline Personality Disorder and the Therapeutic Use of SSRIs.’ You would be so proud.”

“What do you want?” demanded Yamane.

“Well, you know, I really don’t know yet.” She seemed to be considering her options.

“That’s why I’ve come here today; to give you fair warning. Time to play, Yamane.” Yamane walked to the table and sat down. As Rory watched, he seemed to shrug. He took an orange out of the fruit basket and began peeling it. “Go ahead and warn me then; I’m listening.” Rory could see Yamane’s hands still trembled faintly. He remained standing by, watching the drama unfold with an uneasy prickle of apprehension.

“Did you think you were rid of me forever?” She spoke quietly, but for all that gave the impression that she shrieked. “Look at you, in your pretty Chinese dress like some doll.”

“Hey.” Rory stepped forward, but Yamane held up his hand.

“Let her finish,” he said, casually eating his fruit.

“The game begins now, Yamane.” She motioned with a flick of her head toward Rory.

“Get rid of your pet. It would be such a shame to have to harm him. I remember that dog you were so fond of -- Daiki, right?”

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“Yamane?” Rory tried again. He wanted to know who the hell this woman was. He was feeling threatened and he didn’t like it.

“Daiki,” said Yamane, ignoring him. “Yes, that’s right.”

“He was loyal too, wasn’t he?” She leaned over the table and grabbed his left wrist.

“Such a shame about Daiki.” Yamane couldn’t move the hand she held in a white-knuckled grip, even though he tried. Rory saw what she intended a second too late, and as he lunged for her, she struck, stabbing a fork through the meaty muscle between the thumb and forefinger of Yamane’s left hand all the way to the laminated wood tabletop.

Rory intended to make a grab for the crazy woman, but hearing Yamane’s agonized scream, he rushed to his friend’s aid instead. He caught Yamane as he tried to rise to his feet then stumbled.

“Well, bye now,” the woman said, walking to door, sauntering, as Rory frantically tried to stop the bleeding with the paper napkins on the table. When this failed, he yanked off his T-shirt and wrapped it around Yamane’s hand, dragging the anguished man with him to the phone so he could call the hotel lobby for help.

The woman turned back one final time. “Come on, you big baby, it was only the left hand.” She opened the door to the hallway, tilting her head like a bird. “Let’s do this again soon. I had fun.”

34 Z. A. Maxfield

Chapter Six

Numbness engulfed Rory and he acted without conscious thought. After phoning the front desk to apprise them of the emergency, Rory took care of Yamane. The terrible sound of his cries faded, and he steadily declined into a state of true medical shock.

Rory touched Yamane’s face, which had grown clammy. He picked the smaller man up and easily carried him to the bed, covering him with a blanket after elevating his legs. He held Yamane’s good hand, chafing it between his own to warm it.

“Look at me, Yamane,” he said, to keep the injured man from drifting into unconsciousness. “Look right at me, Yamane. I’m going to tell you all about what’s going to happen now, do you understand?” He squeezed Yamane’s uninjured hand.

“Hm?” Yamane looked dazed.

“I called the lobby, and they’re sending paramedics and the police,” he said. “Just focus on me now, okay? This is going to be a piece of cake. You probably won’t even need any stitches, and you’ll have a dashing four-pronged scar.” Rory tried to make his voice authoritative, to keep it from shaking or breaking.

“Stop crying,” Yamane ordered.

“I’m not crying,” he said, even though his tears were dripping all over Yamane’s arm.

“Then you know what you should do? You should get a tattoo, right on the back of your hand, as part of the design.” Someone was knocking on the door, and Rory left Yamane to answer it.

Rory opened the door and the paramedics rushed in. They went to work, taking Yamane’s vital signs and checking his wound. There was a tense moment when they were under the misconception that Rory stabbed him, but Yamane himself was able to set them straight. Rory put on a fresh shirt. After that, he hardly had a chance to think until an hour later when someone at the hospital brought him a cup of coffee.

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“I’m Detective Jenks,” the man said. “That was a pretty awful, wasn’t it? Yamane’s still in emergency, but he’ll probably be treated and released today.”

“I see.” Rory took the offered coffee.

“Have you known him long” -- he looked at his notepad -- “Mr. Delaplaines?”

“No, I just met him yesterday.” He took a drink of his coffee and made a terrible face.

The detective laughed. “The coffee here is swill, isn’t it? He had your name written on his arm.”

“Still? He just took a shower. Well…” He looked at his own arm. Besides Yamane’s room number written in Sharpie marker, it was spotted with blood. “I need a shower too.”

“Son, I know this is hard, but do you think you could describe the person who did this?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think you’ll need me to do that. Yamane knows who it was. They spoke as if they knew one another. He said he thought she’d still be in Seattle. She talked like…as if they’d done this before.”

“What, you mean like a prior relationship? Old love gone wrong?” the detective asked.

“I doubt it. But she seemed to indicate that. She talked about borderline personality disorder. It all sounded so crazy and dark. When she stabbed him, I was just a second too late. I should have grabbed her. I could have knocked her unconscious or something, but Yamane was screaming. I’ve never heard anything like that…” The detective’s phone beeped. “Shoot, I have to find out what this is. I’m going to go outside. You’ll still be here?”

“I’m going nowhere until I know Yamane is all right.”

“Me neither, son.” Detective Jenks left Rory in the waiting room. Rory tried to read the outdated magazines. Just when he got interested in one, he found half the article he was reading had been torn out because of a coupon for Jell-O on the back. He was going crazy.

He just wanted to see Yamane. How long were they going to keep him out here like this? He felt tears burn his eyes and put his head down.

“Mr. Delaplaines? Mr. Yamane wants you in the ER. He’s quite agitated and is being…uncooperative. Are you his registered domestic partner?”

“Yeah,” he lied, following her. “Sure I am. Registered. Domestic. Whatever. We live in Japan.” Yamane heard the last of this as Rory came around the corner and gave him a surprised look. “Now, cher, I hear you have your knickers in a twist again.” He took Yamane’s uninjured hand in his.

“Rory,” Yamane warned.

“What can I do for you?”

“You can start by getting the hell away from me.” 36 Z. A. Maxfield

Rory looked back to the shocked nurse. “Could you give us a minute, please?

Apparently Yamane getting stabbed has disturbed our connubial bliss.”

“Um, well, I…” She hardly knew what to say.

“It’s all right.” Yamane sighed. “I need to talk to him.”

“Oh, well, okay.” She turned and left the room. Rory called after her. “If Detective Jenks looks for me, will you tell him where I am?”

“I will,” she said.

Yamane turned a tearstained face to him. “My hand hurts; you have no idea. Listen to me. Amelia is dangerous; we have to get you back to Louisiana. She probably already knows everything about you.”

“So, we’re on a first-name basis with our stalker, are we?”

“This is not the time for humor! That woman would think nothing of killing you. She killed my damned dog!”

“Now, that is the third time you have compared me to your dog, Yamane, and I am starting to lose my patience.”

“Don’t try your deep-fried, southern boy, lullaby voice with me. You aren’t safe. You have no clue how close we came to getting killed today.” Rory continued stroking Yamane’s uninjured hand. “My lullaby voice. So you like the way I talk…”

“This isn’t funny.” Yamane squeezed Rory’s hand. Tears sprang to his eyes. “Damn, I’m fine, but I just can’t seem to stop…”

“That’s natural when something like this happens. People’s emotions come to the surface. It’ll pass,” Rory said gently.

Detective Jenks came in. “We just heard from the hotel,” he said grimly. “The waiter who was originally scheduled to deliver your breakfast was found tied up in a linen closet with a serious head injury. I understand the woman who stabbed you is someone you know?”

“Yes,” Yamane answered. “Her family brought her to the States and placed her in a private institution in Seattle when she attacked me before. When I get my things back, I can give you the number of my agent, who has all the information you need, along with the names of police officers involved in the stalking case in Japan. I never thought they’d let her out this soon. My agent speaks limited English, but this is all in a file she can fax to you.”

“Stalkers can be very determined and organized. What can you tell me about this woman?” he asked.

Rory lowered the guardrail on the hospital bed and sat down.

“I can tell you that she’s extremely intelligent and has excellent resources. I’ve known her since childhood,” he murmured. “Someday I believe she’ll kill me.”

“Yamane.”

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“You’re going to have to cooperate with us,” Jenks said. “Since you are just visiting our city, our job is to see if we can keep you safe while you’re here. I wish we’d been apprised of the situation beforehand.”

“My agent just called me this morning. She told me Amelia had been released and that she’d made it as far as LAX and that’s all they knew. There was no way to know where she went after that. As I said, she has resources.”

“That’s true, but this time, she openly attacked you. It’s a sad fact of life that stalkers rarely stop,” said Jenks.

“But still,” said Yamane quietly. “It’s a fact of life.”

“Cheer up, cher.” Rory continued stroking Yamane’s arm. “If worse comes to worst, we’ll go to my grandparents’ place back in Louisiana. Those folks are drunk and armed, and they learn in kindergarten where to hide a body so it’ll never be found.”

“I didn’t hear that,” said Jenks. “They’re going to move you somewhere private, and an officer will be stationed in the hall outside.” He looked concerned about something.

“What is it you’re not telling us?” Rory asked.

“It’s been my experience that stalkers do their dirty work on their own. They will spend endless time setting up something, obsessing over every detail. They like to be up close and personal. Your girl couldn’t have been doing that from an institution in Washington. It strikes me…” He trailed off.

“She had to have help here,” Yamane finished for him. “It’s the only way she could have been there for that one order to room service. I didn’t order breakfast yesterday. How the hell could she have set that up so fast?” Detective Jenks was silent, but he was looking at Rory. At some point, Yamane grew silent as well. His entire face became a mask of pain.