Mind Games (21 page)

He says, “I’ve noticed nurses on TV don’t wear those white nurse dresses and nurse hats anymore.” His tone of voice is oddly elevated, like his throat is constricted. “The little white hats? The stockings? You don’t like being put in that outfit?”

Shivers rain over me. Casually, I say, “Nurses haven’t worn that outfit since the eighties.”

“Why? Is it because you don’t like being put in that outfit?”

“It’s just not very practical.”

He bores into my eyes. “Whether that outfit is practical should be in the eye of the beholder, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Not exactly.”

“They don’t like being put in the hat, huh?”

Connor’s starting to frighten me on a primal level. “No,” I say, “they don’t like
being put in the hat.”

Footsteps tromping up the basement stairs. I’m relieved to catch sight of Helmut at the other end of the hallway. “How were the trains, Helmut?” I chirp.

“Comprehensive.”

Connor enters the bathroom and I head toward Helmut, who lowers his voice. “Everything okay?”

“Just a strange discussion.”

Helmut and I rehash our Packard theories on the way home. Nothing new. He also tries to cheer me up
about my big failure, but I feel terrible, not to mention the fact that I’ve stoked my fear twice and I really need a zing.

I could go zing Packard, but I don’t want to. It’ll dissipate a little, and anyway I’ll see the Silver Widow tomorrow at her cocktail party. I’ll wait until then.

          Eighteen

B
ESIDES DRIVING
like a maniac, Carter reveals his anger by arriving late to everything. The worse he needs to zing somebody, the later he runs. So I’m surprised when I hear my buzzer fifteen minutes early on the night of the Silver Widow’s cocktail party. This is the night I’ll be passing Aggie off to Simon.

I press the intercom. “Hold on. I’m not ready yet.”

Cubby’s voice: “That’s okay, take your time.”

Cubby! My heart sinks. I forgot to cancel our standing Friday-night date. I grab my shoes and my handbag and carry them down the three flights of stairs, barefoot. The shoes and handbag are velvet, and they go with the brown velvet gown I’m wearing, which is easily the most beautiful piece of clothing I have ever owned. It’s the same shade of brown as my hair, with silver sparkles around the neck and the waist. I fling open the downstairs door.

“Wow!” Cubby’s smile quickly fades. “Uh-oh.”

“Cubby. God, I …”

“Right. Work. Right?”

There’s this horrible silence where my heart sinks some more. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t think you’d dress like that for a movie and pizza. It’s all about work now.”

“No, it’s about me trying to be a better person, and I swear—”

“I hardly need you to be a better person. What I needed was a simple call. Some consideration.”

“It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Cubby looks at his shoes.

“I am so sorry.”

The silence thickens.

I say, “We’re still on for having the new neighbor over Wednesday, right? I swear I’ll make the best dinner. I picked out these great recipes.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you forgot. We just talked about it the other day.”

“Please don’t be mad, Cubby.” A car idles nearby. Loud, rumbly. “I’m so sorry—”

Cubby’s expression hardens. I look around to see Carter in his convertible. For the first time I notice Carter and Cubby have the same wholesome blond good looks. Except Carter’s wearing a tux and picking me up in a fancy convertible with the top down, and I’m in the prettiest dress I’ve ever worn.

“This is grand,” Cubby says. “So grand.” I start to say something and he puts up a hand. “Just go.”

There’s no talking to Cubby when he’s like this. “Wednesday.” I kiss him and go.

Carter, to his credit, does not get out to open my door. He stares straight ahead as I get in and pulls out slowly instead of peeling out.

“Men, huh?” he offers a few blocks later.

“It was my screw-up.” We ride in silence, with me feeling really guilty, and there are also tingling sensations in my left temple, and I’m trying hard as hell to assure myself it’s nothing.

Carter honks in front of Shelby’s apartment, and she emerges in a bloodred ruffle gown. Very flamenco. We
make a fuss over how beautiful the other looks as she squeezes into the front seat with me.

Shelby is Carter’s date for the evening, and Simon is to be mine. It was my big idea to pass Simon off as the destructive, intense, good-kissing, mind-overtaking boyfriend I’d described to Aggie during our beauty afternoon; she’s been pestering me to let her meet him ever since, so I promised I’d bring him to the party. I was describing Packard, of course, but Aggie doesn’t have to know that. I’m confident she’ll try to take Simon away from me. I’m confident she’ll succeed.

   The party starts at ten. The four of us are dining at Mongolian Delites beforehand with Packard.

Maybe half the tables are occupied, lights low, candles flickering. I spy Packard leaning over a table of four, playing the dashing host in a smart black dinner jacket. He glances at us briefly.

“This night would be perfect if
he
was not going.” Shelby’s nodding toward Simon, who’s sitting with Carter and Enrique at the bar.

We stroll over. Simon swivels around to face us. He’s wearing an iridescent green suit coat with a net shirt underneath, and black pants and boots. We both just stare at the net shirt. You can see his tattoos through it.

I give him a smirk. “That’s an attractive outfit.”

“You told me I was going in as the destructive boyfriend,” he says. “I ask you, what kind of motherfucker would wear something like this?”

“I said destructive, not deranged.”

Simon says, “A little deranged will be just about right from what Carter tells me.”

Enrique sighs. “Sexual politics are so predictable.” His diamond earrings sparkle in the candlelight.

Shelby sits down next to him. “You need a zing.”

I take a stool at the end next to Shelby and the bartender brings us ouzos. What I really need is a zing.

Packard comes by. “When does her party start?”

“Ten,” Shelby says.

Packard looks dashing tonight. I hold my breath, as if that will lessen it. He says, “As soon as some orders clear out, I’ll have them start our dinners. You staying, Enrique?”

Enrique sighs. “I suppose.”

Packard and Shelby discuss what kebabs to make. I try to focus my attention on picking candy pecans out of the nut bowl instead of freaking out about the sensations in my left temple, which are tingles over a constant odd pressure that changes only slightly when I move my jaw around. This could indicate something musculoskeletal, which would be good, but then again, there’s a large vein through there that could be affected by jaw movements. If I were really rich, I could get my own CAT scan machine. I’d have to buy my own house, though. It would be too much for an apartment, and surely the neighbors would complain.

The next thing I know, Shelby’s over at the other end of the bar arguing with Simon about something, and Packard’s settling in next to me.

He lowers his voice. “Helmut said it was a non starter with the Alchemist—”

“I’ll get it next time,” I tell him.

“If you’re having a reaction to his energy dimension—”

My whole body buzzes as I look into his eyes, breathing in his warm spicy scent. The kiss is still way too alive between us. “I’ll get him.”

“Helmut said you two had a quarrel over cards. Is Connor fixating on you in some way?”

“He’s fixated on the fact that I’m a nurse, that’s all.”

“One more go at the Alchemist, but if you can’t connect,
that’s it. I’m removing you from the case after that.”

“So it’s really not that important a case after all?”

“One more go,” he says.

“You can’t just remove me before I’ve done my job.”

Packard fixes me with a fiery gaze. “I can do anything I want.”

“So can I.”

“No. You can’t.”

“What?”

“You spend so much time complaining about being my minion, it appears that you’ve forgotten that you
are
, in fact, my minion, and that you really do have to obey my orders.”

My jaw drops in shock. “Well, my message to you is that if you take me off the case, I’ll find the Alchemist and zing him on my own.”

“No, you won’t. Now that you’ve seen what he is, I know you won’t.” He rests his elbows on the bar, like we’re having any old conversation. “Don’t defy me, Justine. You are the minion and I’m the master. The overlord.” He pauses for effect. “My mere inattention would destroy you.”

My vision goes hazy with rage. “I’d welcome your inattention.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t.” He lowers his voice. “I’d recommend you never forget the shape you were in that night you came pounding at that door, begging for a zing.”

“Well I’d recommend you never forget that Cubby is my boyfriend, so you can quit fussing over me and treating me like I’m more fragile and less capable than the others, because I’m not.”

“Believe me, I’m not trying to replace Cubby. I would never want you like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Cubby just wants the parts that fits into his fake fairy-tale life.”

My face goes hot. “You may be able to read people’s psychological tendencies, but obviously you don’t know anything about love.” I use the word to hurt him. “And at least Cubby’s not a parasite like you, cravenly feeding off those around him.”

Packard looks at me wildly. My comment stung. It stings me to know that.

He seems to want to say something; then he rises and heads back into the kitchen and I sit there feeling awful. I hate him for lording over me like that, but I feel really awful for what I said.

Simon comes over and takes Packard’s stool. His unwholesomely pale skin makes his eyes look unnaturally blue. At least he combed his hair.

“Let’s get our stories straight,” he says. “How long have I been your boyfriend?”

I glare toward the kitchen. “You’re not my boyfriend. You’re kind of … you’re just somebody who invaded my life.
Not
a boyfriend.”

“Okay. What do I do for a living?”

I sip my ouzo, trying to pull myself together. “I didn’t say.”

“Let’s make me a professional gambler. Better to stick to the truth.”

“Good idea.”

Simon swirls the ice in his drink. It’s stupid, but I want Simon to think I’ve done a good job with the Silver Widow.

“What else about me?” he asks.

“You’re dangerous and intense, and she likes that. The whole point with her is that she craves intense distraction to take her mind off her skin condition. Be ready. Her skin may alarm you.”

“It won’t. What else?”

“I made you out to be the kind of guy who just takes over a person’s mind, a person’s life. I told her we only kissed once, and we shouldn’t have. It’s this big secret.”

“Justine, if I’m your dangerous boyfriend, we’ve had a lot more action than one kiss.”

“Well, last I told her, it was one secret kiss.”

“Do I know about the other boyfriend?”

“If you count my brother, Carter, I have two other boyfriends, but you only know about the main one.”

Simon smiles. “Nurse Jones. My goodness.”

I shake my head. “Aggie loves that sort of thing. Anyways, she’ll feel confident in taking you away from me because she’s prettier.”

“Is she?”

“Very much, in a luscious baby-doll way. She’ll be expecting you to be bossy and controlling.”

Simon narrows his eyes. “Bossy and controlling. Got it.”

I take a leisurely sip of ouzo. He seems to like the way I’ve set him up, which makes me feel good. “The bar’s set pretty high, Simon. I told her you have this dark gravitational pull on me, pulling me into things I’d never dreamed of doing. You’re leading me down this path I wouldn’t have chosen for myself, but there’s this weird magic about you, like I feel alive around you. Even though you’re sort of despicable.”

He smiles. “Excellent.”

“Mostly I talked about the kiss. She was very interested in the kiss.”

“Do I need to know anything specific about it?”

“Just that you better be good. I told her it was mind-bendingly erotic, and there was this intense connection between us where the touch of your lips lit up—I believe the phrase I used was ‘every molecule in my body’ Even the touch of your fingertips—electric.”

“If it was such a hot kiss, why did we stop?”

“We were interrupted.”

“So this was a public place?”

“I didn’t say where we were.”

“Hmmm. A public place.” Simon smiles in a way that makes me nervous. “A forbidden kiss.”

“It’s a pretty standard story,” I say. “Turn on any soap opera and you find the forbidden kiss.”

“You need a setting. If she asks me, I’ll tell her it was a restaurant like this. What do you think about that? We could’ve kissed back by the booth, or in the kitchen. Maybe even in the bathroom.” Simon smiles. “That would be something, wouldn’t it?”

I fight to keep my face devoid of expression. “It’s your story. Set it where you want.” The pressure in my temple devolves into a kind of throb. Not a good sign.