Gathering String (36 page)

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.” She shot him a glance at the snide tone in his voice. “That screech owl in his office tells me there’re rumors he poses nude for you.”

Tess made a face. “I can’t believe you interviewed Thelma. Make sure you double check anything she gave you because she’s the biggest gas bag …”

“I caught on to that,” Sam nodded. “I’m not using anything from her for the profile. But she couldn’t help wondering why Jumpin’ Jack Flash couldn’t settle down with a local girl. She just went on and on …”

“Yeah, I bet she did. I suppose she told you what a slut I am?”

“Well, it’s good there are laws against stoning fallen women, or she’d be rounding up some rocks. Is it true?” Her mouth popped open in indignation, but Sam waved his hand, acknowledging his error in speech. “I meant enticing Jackie to pose for you.” He said the name with the same inflection Erickson always gave it. Tess looked over, silently raising her eyebrows. “Shit, I don’t remember you ever asking me.”

She smiled. “Well, my friend, you’re not exactly the classical study Jack is.”

“Damn,” he winced. “I’m not in bad shape. I didn’t have any trouble holding you down, remember?” He saw her blush and said, “But let’s stick to business. One shot of your old man, clothed if you please. So, is it a deal? You’ll do the pictures?” She hesitated, and he pointed, “There’s a parking garage.” She turned on the signal.

The pub was quiet that early, and they each ordered sandwiches and cokes. Sam never drank before an interview. “Well?” she asked as she snapped open her napkin. He raised his eyebrows and brought the burger to his mouth. “What, or perhaps I should ask who, was the last straw?”

“She threw me out,” Sam broke in. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t really pin it on her new guy. She was done with me quite awhile back. She let me hang on, probably hoping I’d finally go on my own accord. And she didn’t want any distractions while she helped her mother. But it didn’t take her long after the old lady went to cut me loose."

Tess inclined her head unable to disagree. “Are you OK? You seem a awfully scattered.”

He shrugged and sipped his coke. “I should have seen it coming. Let's face it; women leaving are sort of the story of my life, from my mother on. But to be honest, the end caught me by surprise.” There was embarrassment in his smile. “We’d struggled along for so long, it never occurred to me she’d find someone else. Stupid, huh?”

She didn’t answer, asking instead, “I always wondered, Sam, did she know about us?”

He nodded. Dropping her eyes, she pushed her plate away. “Well, we weren’t exactly subtle, were we, Toughie?” he asked softly. She didn’t say anything, and he went on. “I dread the hassle, you know? Attorneys, settlements, court dates and all that shit. I hope it’ll shake out pretty simply. Lord knows I’d never fight her in court. She’s too damn good. She’s already on me about finding a lawyer. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Ask Johnson.” It was a good idea. Steve Johnson was in his third marriage. “So where are you living?”

“I found a place on the Hill, not too far from where you used to live. O’Brien’s is still going strong.” She looked up with a crooked smile. “I still go over it, you know.” At her questioning look he explained, “That last night, at O’Brien’s. I walked out of there thinking we’d settled things, and we were going to be together.”

She sighed. “I told you Sam, that meeting with Baxter the next day …”

“That bullshit’s insulting, Tess.” His tone was the same one he used when he caught a source in a lie.

Her eyes widened. “Insulting? For God’s sake Sam, we were so blatant my boss had to step in. Do you have any idea how humiliating …”

He was shaking his head. “Come on, I know you better than that. You’ve got enough chutzpah for 20 photographers. If I had been what you wanted, you’d have told Baxter to stick it, and don’t pretend you wouldn’t.”

“Not want you? Sam, I put my conscience aside for …”

“Look, I’ve had a hell of a long time to think about this. And it’s pretty clear. We both were in love. I was in love with you, and you were in love with being seduced.” She caught her breath, grasping for words, but he went on. “Not that I minded,” his smile took on a ghost of his familiar leer. “Seducing you was always a pleasure. And God knows I got to enjoy it over and over. Me chasing you, that was the game, all the way. I loved you and I didn’t give a shit who knew it. You were the one just fucking around. That’s why your skin crawled every time someone new caught on. Kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

She looked stricken. “That is not true. I …”

“As soon as you knew for certain I would really leave Judith, you ran. Taking me on for the rest of your life was not in the plan. And Baxter’s timing gave you the opening you needed.”

“Leaving broke my heart, but, I wanted, I needed …”

“A stand-up guy like Jack Westphal?” She only stared at him and he laughed a low, bitter sound. “Well, if that’s what you have to tell yourself.”

Anger was her refuge as she brushed her hand over her eyes. “I chose Jack. And if that’s too hard for you to believe …”

“Not at all,” he shrugged. “As much as it pains me, I have a real clear picture of it. You took one look at that, how did you put it? ‘Classical study,’ of a body and couldn’t keep your hands off it.”

Her jaw set and her face took on the insolent look that always intensified their arguments. “I didn’t have to marry Jack to get my hands on him. But maybe you’re right. Maybe I really didn’t want to take you on, because if there was one thing I always knew about you, it was that you were a lousy husband. So you tell me, if it wasn’t different with Jack, then why did I end up with him?”

He seemed to mull that for a second, and then said, “I figure he turned the tables on you. Somewhere along the line, the guy managed to give you the idea that he could walk away. Whether it was by design or accident, I’m not sure. He doesn’t look that much smarter than me, so I tend to think he probably just lucked out. Like the saying goes, even a blind pig roots up a truffle now and again. Whatever, I’m just sorry I never thought of it. And when he went flying off the interstate after spending the night with you, well, Toughie, that was almost the ultimate way to leave, wasn’t it.” She could only stare at him, open-mouthed and flushed, until he pointed to her plate and asked, “Are you going to eat those fries?”

“Take them,” she shoved the plate hard at his, causing them to clack together loudly in their quiet corner. “And take your own fucking pictures. I don’t need this crap.” She started gathering her things, but his laugh straightened her spine, stopping her.

“See what I mean? Now you’re going to run, and I'm supposed to chase you. It’s true …”

“It’s not true …” Her voice rose.

“Really?” Reaching for the ketchup, the lines of his face fell into the caustic look that always made her want to slap him. “OK, if I’m wrong, then you tell me, why did you marry him? Because it’s mighty hard to picture Farmer John keeping you happy out on the South 40.”

“I married him because …” she lowered her voice, her face hot. With a sour look, Sam dipped a fry, waiting. “Because I …” She damn well knew better than to rise to this bait, knew the only way to stop an escalating argument with Sam was to shrug his outrageous statements off. But she couldn’t back down. “I was overwhelmed by you, Sam. When we were together I was lost. But with Jack, I finally remembered who I was.”

Something close to a wince wrinkled around his eyes, and with a mean little grin he muttered, “Very poetic.”

“Sam, the first time we went out, Jack looked at my work and told me I was an artist. You can’t know how much I needed to hear that. The more time I spent with him, the more I saw myself the way he did. And there was a lot to like.”

Sam’s snide smile faded slowly and the edge left his voice. “No, Toughie, there’s a lot to love.” She didn’t respond, and he rolled his eyes. “Aw, hell, I’m tired of this. We could spend all day ripping each other up, when none of it really matters, does it?” Taken aback by his sudden shift, she watched him cautiously. He shrugged. “It’s not like we’re ever going to see things the same way. That was rare even when we were sleeping together.”

Her eyes narrowed dubiously, wondering where he was maneuvering. He grinned, reading her look. “Since we’re not lovers any more, let’s try being good friends and just let it go.” He downed another fry, watching her watch him. “We could try talking about something else, you know.” And he pushed the plate back toward her a little. “Come on, kid, you love fries. They’re still warm.” She took one, but didn't eat it. His smile spread, and he jutted his chin at her phone on the table. “That’s the newest iPhone? You like it?”

If he was really willing to leave the subject, she knew better than to belabor it. “It's a little faster than your model. The camera is better, not that I ever use it. I'm surprised Politifix doesn't keep your equipment up to date.” She ate the fry.

He popped another with a shrug. “Hell, I've barely got a grasp on all the functions, and I've never downloaded an app. It’s good enough, if I could only keep it charged. Besides, if I had your version they’d expect me to take pictures or shoot video, and I like to see Rick Higgins keep getting Politifix’s freelance work. He’s good, and he needs the money.”

“I never thought they’d whack Rick. My God, the cuts have gone to the bone.”

Sam snorted. “News was always a shitty business, but now the suck factor is 20 times when you were in D.C. The
Tribune’s
staff is down by nearly 25%, and those who are left must feel like they’re with Hitler in the bunker.” She shook her head, and Sam added, “At least your old man owns the
Journal
. He’ll be there until they cut off the lights.”

“Do you still write before you finish the reporting?” It was a technique he used: going through a story again and again incorporating each interview as soon as possible after it was done. He liked getting things down while the conversations were fresh. It helped him spot holes in the story, and he always had something to show his editors.

He nodded. “Yeah. And I got to tell you Erickson’s starting to look a little dicey.”

“You got anything besides speeding tickets to back that up?”

“Little red flags here and there. But you’re pretty close to him, after all, you call him ‘Swede’ in his own home.” He mocked the way Erickson had chided her to use his nickname that morning. “What do you think?”

She looked a little sheepish and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m grateful for everything he did for Jack, but sometimes I just get an uncomfortable feeling …”

“Like when you read John Boy's column about Erickson’s father?” Sam broke in.

She sighed. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about Jack anymore.”

“No, we weren’t going to talk about our past anymore. You were the one who brought up Hoss and the candidate, which reminded me. That column was as big a shill as I’ve ever seen, and if you think Erickson didn’t order it up, living in the country has given you mad cow disease. I found it offensive, as a journalist. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t too.”

She sighed, “OK, Jack’s going to have to go onto our conversation moratorium list if you want those pictures. I’m not going to defend that column, but I’m not picking it apart with you either.”

“Fair enough,” Sam conceded, and looked at his watch. “Speaking of work, we’d better get at it.”

At the Jeep, he hopped into the passenger’s seat as she walked around. Glancing down, he spotted his electric razor and quickly reached down, shoving it between the console and her seat before she got in.

He was unusually quiet, riding back to the hotel after the interview. While Tess talked about some of the shots she was pleased with, and went over when Politifix should expect the Lindsborg photos, Sam only nodded his head. “You tired?” she finally asked.

“Well, nothing new there,” she said with a challenging grin, but he only nodded again. “You leave tomorrow?” Again the nod. “Early?”

“Ungodly.” After a pause, he asked quietly, “You going all the way back to Lindsborg tonight?”

“Yes, but I’m still going to do some Christmas shopping before I leave. Tell them to send my check quick, because I’m spending the money today.”

“Careful, Toughie. You know the freelancer is always the last one paid. This was good, working with you again. We always did have it down to a science, you know.” She smiled. “You and Hoss really going to New Hampshire, like Erickson said?”