Convincing Alex
Page 19
He accepted that, because the choice had to be hers. And the prospect of changing her mind along the way was tremendously appealing. "We'll do this again."
"Yes."
He closed a hand over her restless one, brought it to his lips. "Soon."
She felt something, a small, vague ache centered in her heart. Confused by it, she slipped her hand away. "All right. Soon. Good night."
"Hold it." Before she could turn away, he took her face in his hands, held it there for a moment before lowering his mouth to hers.
The pressure was whisper-light, persuasive, invasive. Even as she responded, the kiss had that odd ache spreading. Helpless, she brought her hands to his wrists, clinging to them for balance. Though his mouth remained beautifully gentle, the pulse she felt beneath her fingers raced in time with her own.
Then he let her go, stepped back. His eyes stared into hers. "Good night," he said.
She managed a nod before hurrying inside.
There was something about Bess, Alex thought as he waited patiently for the light in her apartment to come on. Something. He'd just have to find out what it was.
Chapter 5
The last person Bess expected to see when she left her office a few days later was Rosalie. Even in the bustling crowds of midtown, the woman stood out. After a moment of blank surprise, Bess smiled and crossed the sidewalk.
"Hi. Were you waiting for me?"
"Yeah."
"You should have come in." Bess adjusted the weight of her bag and briefcase.
"I figured it would be better for you if I waited out here."
"Don't be silly…" Her words trailed off as she tried to see through and around Rosalie's huge tinted glasses. Those sunburst colors around the left eye weren't all cosmetics. Bess's friendly smile faded. "What happened to you?"
Rosalie shrugged. "Bobby. He was a little ticked off about the other night."
"That's despicable."
"I've had worse."
"Bastard." She said it between her teeth, but overlying her fury was a terrible sense of guilt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It was my fault."
"Ain't nobody's fault, girlfriend. Just the way things are."
"It's not the way they should be. And if I hadn't…" She let that go, knowing you could only go back and change things in scripts. "Do you want to go to the police? I'll go with you. We could—"
"Hell, no." Rosalie let out what passed for a laugh. "I'd get a lot worse than a sore eye if I tried that. And if you think there's a cop alive who gives a damn about a hooker with a black eye, you are as dumb as you look."
Alex would care, Bess thought. She refused to believe otherwise. "We'll do whatever you want."
Rosalie pulled out a cigarette, cocking her hip as she lit it. "Listen, you said you'd pay me to talk. I figure I can use the extra money. And I'm on my own time."
"All right." Ideas were beginning to stir. "How much do you average a night?"
As a matter of course, Rosalie started to inflate it, but found the lie stuck in her throat. "After Bobby takes his cut, about seventy-five. Maybe a hundred. Business isn't as good as it used to be."
"We'll talk." Distracted, Bess searched for a cab. "We'll never get a taxi at this hour," she mumbled. "I live uptown about twenty blocks. Do you mind walking?"
This time Rosalie laughed full and long. "Girl, walking the streets comes natural to me."
Once they reached Bess's apartment, Rosalie tipped down her shaded glasses and whistled. Unable to resist, she walked to one of the wide windows. She could see a swatch of the East River through other buildings. The sound of traffic was so muted, it was almost musical. A far cry from the clatter and roar she lived with every day.
"My, oh, my, you do live high."
"How about dinner?" Automatically Bess stepped out of her shoes. "We'll order in." Red meat, Bess thought. At the moment, she could have eaten it raw. "Sit down, I'll get us some wine."
Wine, Rosalie thought as she stretched out on the plump cushions of the pit. She figured that sounded just dandy. "You pay for all this just writing stuff?"
"Mostly." On impulse, Bess chose one of the best bottles in her wine rack. "You're not a vegetarian, are you?"
Rosalie snorted. "Get real."
"Good. I want a steak." After handing Rosalie a glass, she picked up the phone to order dinner.
"I can't pay for that."
"I'm buying," Bess assured her, and curled up on the couch. "I need a consultant, Rosalie." It was a risk, but so was breathing, she decided. "I'll give you five hundred a week."
Rosalie choked on the wine. "Five hundred, just to tell you about turning tricks?"
"No. I want more. I want why. I want you to tell me about the other women. What draws them in. What you're afraid of, what you're not. When I ask you a question, I'll want an answer." Her voice was brisk now, all business. "I'll know if you lie."
Rosalie's eyes were shrewd and steady. "You need all that for a TV show?"
"You'd be surprised." It had gone well beyond the show. The bruise on Rosalie's face grated on her. She had caused it, Bess reflected. She would find a way to fix it. "I'm buying a lot of your time for five hundred a week, Rosalie. You might want to take a little vacation from Bobby."
"What I do after I talk to you is for me to say."
"Absolutely. But if you decided you wanted to take a break from the streets, and if you needed a place to stay while you did, I could help you." .
"Why?"
Bess smiled. "Why not? It wouldn't cost me any more."
Intrigued, Rosalie considered. "I'll think about it."
"Fine. We can get started right away." She rose to gather up pads, pencils, her tape recorder. "Remember, this is daytime TV, and we can only do so much. I'll have to filter down a great deal of what you tell me. Why don't I fill you in on the story line?"
Rosalie merely shrugged. "It's your nickel."
"Yes, it is." She settled down again, and was weaving the complex and overlapping relationships of Millbrook—to Rosalie's confusion and fascination—when she heard the buzzer for her private elevator. Still talking, she walked over to release the security lock. "So, anyway, the Josie personality is dynamically opposed to Jade. The stronger she gets, the more confused and frightened Jade becomes. She doesn't remember where she's been when Josie comes out. And the lapses are getting longer."
"Yes."
He closed a hand over her restless one, brought it to his lips. "Soon."
She felt something, a small, vague ache centered in her heart. Confused by it, she slipped her hand away. "All right. Soon. Good night."
"Hold it." Before she could turn away, he took her face in his hands, held it there for a moment before lowering his mouth to hers.
The pressure was whisper-light, persuasive, invasive. Even as she responded, the kiss had that odd ache spreading. Helpless, she brought her hands to his wrists, clinging to them for balance. Though his mouth remained beautifully gentle, the pulse she felt beneath her fingers raced in time with her own.
Then he let her go, stepped back. His eyes stared into hers. "Good night," he said.
She managed a nod before hurrying inside.
There was something about Bess, Alex thought as he waited patiently for the light in her apartment to come on. Something. He'd just have to find out what it was.
Chapter 5
The last person Bess expected to see when she left her office a few days later was Rosalie. Even in the bustling crowds of midtown, the woman stood out. After a moment of blank surprise, Bess smiled and crossed the sidewalk.
"Hi. Were you waiting for me?"
"Yeah."
"You should have come in." Bess adjusted the weight of her bag and briefcase.
"I figured it would be better for you if I waited out here."
"Don't be silly…" Her words trailed off as she tried to see through and around Rosalie's huge tinted glasses. Those sunburst colors around the left eye weren't all cosmetics. Bess's friendly smile faded. "What happened to you?"
Rosalie shrugged. "Bobby. He was a little ticked off about the other night."
"That's despicable."
"I've had worse."
"Bastard." She said it between her teeth, but overlying her fury was a terrible sense of guilt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It was my fault."
"Ain't nobody's fault, girlfriend. Just the way things are."
"It's not the way they should be. And if I hadn't…" She let that go, knowing you could only go back and change things in scripts. "Do you want to go to the police? I'll go with you. We could—"
"Hell, no." Rosalie let out what passed for a laugh. "I'd get a lot worse than a sore eye if I tried that. And if you think there's a cop alive who gives a damn about a hooker with a black eye, you are as dumb as you look."
Alex would care, Bess thought. She refused to believe otherwise. "We'll do whatever you want."
Rosalie pulled out a cigarette, cocking her hip as she lit it. "Listen, you said you'd pay me to talk. I figure I can use the extra money. And I'm on my own time."
"All right." Ideas were beginning to stir. "How much do you average a night?"
As a matter of course, Rosalie started to inflate it, but found the lie stuck in her throat. "After Bobby takes his cut, about seventy-five. Maybe a hundred. Business isn't as good as it used to be."
"We'll talk." Distracted, Bess searched for a cab. "We'll never get a taxi at this hour," she mumbled. "I live uptown about twenty blocks. Do you mind walking?"
This time Rosalie laughed full and long. "Girl, walking the streets comes natural to me."
Once they reached Bess's apartment, Rosalie tipped down her shaded glasses and whistled. Unable to resist, she walked to one of the wide windows. She could see a swatch of the East River through other buildings. The sound of traffic was so muted, it was almost musical. A far cry from the clatter and roar she lived with every day.
"My, oh, my, you do live high."
"How about dinner?" Automatically Bess stepped out of her shoes. "We'll order in." Red meat, Bess thought. At the moment, she could have eaten it raw. "Sit down, I'll get us some wine."
Wine, Rosalie thought as she stretched out on the plump cushions of the pit. She figured that sounded just dandy. "You pay for all this just writing stuff?"
"Mostly." On impulse, Bess chose one of the best bottles in her wine rack. "You're not a vegetarian, are you?"
Rosalie snorted. "Get real."
"Good. I want a steak." After handing Rosalie a glass, she picked up the phone to order dinner.
"I can't pay for that."
"I'm buying," Bess assured her, and curled up on the couch. "I need a consultant, Rosalie." It was a risk, but so was breathing, she decided. "I'll give you five hundred a week."
Rosalie choked on the wine. "Five hundred, just to tell you about turning tricks?"
"No. I want more. I want why. I want you to tell me about the other women. What draws them in. What you're afraid of, what you're not. When I ask you a question, I'll want an answer." Her voice was brisk now, all business. "I'll know if you lie."
Rosalie's eyes were shrewd and steady. "You need all that for a TV show?"
"You'd be surprised." It had gone well beyond the show. The bruise on Rosalie's face grated on her. She had caused it, Bess reflected. She would find a way to fix it. "I'm buying a lot of your time for five hundred a week, Rosalie. You might want to take a little vacation from Bobby."
"What I do after I talk to you is for me to say."
"Absolutely. But if you decided you wanted to take a break from the streets, and if you needed a place to stay while you did, I could help you." .
"Why?"
Bess smiled. "Why not? It wouldn't cost me any more."
Intrigued, Rosalie considered. "I'll think about it."
"Fine. We can get started right away." She rose to gather up pads, pencils, her tape recorder. "Remember, this is daytime TV, and we can only do so much. I'll have to filter down a great deal of what you tell me. Why don't I fill you in on the story line?"
Rosalie merely shrugged. "It's your nickel."
"Yes, it is." She settled down again, and was weaving the complex and overlapping relationships of Millbrook—to Rosalie's confusion and fascination—when she heard the buzzer for her private elevator. Still talking, she walked over to release the security lock. "So, anyway, the Josie personality is dynamically opposed to Jade. The stronger she gets, the more confused and frightened Jade becomes. She doesn't remember where she's been when Josie comes out. And the lapses are getting longer."
