I shrugged noncommittally.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Me? Oh, I’m fine,” I answered, shrugging yet again.

She started to say something else, but was interrupted by Torbin.

“Is it a quarter to seven or eight?” he asked.

“To seven,” Cordelia answered. “We’re supposed to be there at seven.”

“Tonight?” I questioned, looking from Torbin to Cordelia.

“Yes, tonight,” Torbin informed me. “I could hardly enlighten the delightful Dr. James about all your foibles on a mere bike trip. Ergo, I’m doing my John Wayne imitation, well, perhaps, Noel Coward, and escorting Cordelia tonight.”

Cordelia gave me a slight smile and a shrug.

“I must be off,” Torbin continued. “Shower, shave, and all that good stuff. The hard part, of course, will be finding all those boy things to wear.” Torbin gave me a quick kiss, then hastened off to help Andy put their bikes on his car.

“Are you upset?” Cordelia asked.

“Me? No. Why should I be upset?”

“I don’t know. You seem upset.”

We were interrupted by good-byes from Danny and Elly.

“I need to get showered and changed for the ordeal tonight,” Cordelia said with a rueful smile.

I nodded as I waited by the passenger door for her to open it.

“I think I’m tired,” I said to explain my shortness.

“I guess you’re surprised about Torbin going with me,” Cordelia said. “Do you think I’m a hypocrite?” she asked abruptly.

“No. Do you?”

“Maybe. I feel…disloyal. I should take you and damn them all.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell the answer is,” I replied quietly.

“Torbin reminds me of you.”

“How?” I asked, surprised. “Torbin’s a good-looking blond. With blue eyes.”

“Not physically. But your, I guess, sensibility. And I can talk to him about you.”

“Yes?” I inquired sarcastically.

“Not like that. I mean, admit that…well…we’re lovers. And he’s a safeguard against the thing I hate most about these kinds of parties—unwanted male attention. I won’t end up by myself in the corner. I can be…quite inept socially.”

“It’s okay,” I said, reaching over and hooking my hand in her pocket. “I suppose if you’re not going to be with me, I prefer you be with Torbin. I can be sure he doesn’t have any lascivious designs on you.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at me. She covered my hand with hers. “Will you…will I see you tonight? I’ll try not to be too late.”

“You’ll see me,” I reassured her.

Cordelia let go of my hand for a moment to shift. “Next car I get will be an automatic,” she told me as she took my hand again.

As we drove into the French Quarter Cordelia asked, “Can I stick you with taking my bike and stuff up while I park the car?”

“Sure,” I replied. “But you’ll have to give me your keys.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything. We pulled in front of her apartment. She took two keys off her key ring and handed them to me. It took me a little juggling but I managed to get the bike, et cetera, upstairs in one trip. I had just gotten them in their proper places when Cordelia arrived.

She glanced at her watch, sighed, and, with a quick smile in my direction, headed for the shower. She emerged several minutes later, with a towel wrapped around her and that distracted look she got when she was rushed and late.

“The royal blue,” I advised.

“You think?” she asked, taking the dress out. “It’s not too low-cut?”

“No, it brings out your eyes. Besides, your cleavage should be worth a few bucks.”

“Right,” she replied, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Cordelia hastily dressed, slip, hose, grousing, “This is supposed to be my night off,” as I hooked her bra. She surveyed herself in the mirror. “Have I got everything?” she asked with a quick glance at her watch.

“You look stunning,” I told her.

She smiled at me, the distracted look disappearing. “I have forgotten something.” She put her arms around me. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know…understanding…helping. Telling me I look beautiful.” She gently kissed me for a moment, breaking it off, but still keeping her arms around me.

“Thank you,” I replied. “For holding me when you’re late and in a hurry.”

“I know what’s important. I love you, Micky.”

“Me, too,” I responded, then clarified, “I love you, too.”

“You’ll be here when I get back?” she asked as she picked up her keys and purse.

“In your bed. With my legs spread.”

“Yes, I like that,” Cordelia answered, grinning at me, “I am turning into a sex fiend.” She gave me one more quick kiss and left.

I took a long shower to pass the time. When I stepped out, I was confronted with an image of myself in a full length mirror. Not too bad, I thought, for halfway through my thirtieth year. I was tall. Thin, particularly since I lost the alcohol bloat. If you got close and looked very hard you could find a few gray strands, but my hair was still basically a raffish mess of black curls. I looked at my naked body in the mirror, absentmindedly running my hand down my stomach to my thighs, then brushing a few stray water droplets off my pubic hair. I didn’t feel sexual at the moment.

I tried to read, but I realized I was still upset at Cordelia for complaining about me to Alex. I didn’t know that I felt like making love with her. Actually, I did feel like making love with her, but I knew I would be holding some part of myself back from her and I didn’t want to do that. Talk to her, I told myself. Coolly and dispassionately, yet assertively would be the best approach. I was still trying to think of what to say when I heard her key in the lock.

“Hi,” I heard her call. “You still here?”

“Yeah, in here,” I answered from her bedroom. I was sitting at her desk pretending to read, wrapped in her bathrobe, not in bed like I had promised.

“Well, I survived that,” Cordelia announced as she entered the room. She kicked off her shoes, then pulled her dress and slip over her head with one motion. “Will you do the honors?” she asked, turning her back to me.

I reached up and unhooked her bra.

“Ah, comfort,” she said slipping it off. “Torbin was a major hit. I even had some of those painted dolls looking at me and wondering how I’d managed to get someone as handsome as he is.”

“I’m glad he was such a good cover.”

“You sound upset about something.”

“I’m not. Tired, probably,” I evaded.

“You didn’t need to wait up, you know. I’m sorry. I guess it is kind of late.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed. I remained seated at her desk.

For a moment there was an awkward silence. Then I abruptly said, “Joanne and I talked today. Or I should say Joanne gave me a talking to. She told me that Alex told her that you said I have a problem with money.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No, why should that bother me? I like having the things I say to you in bed repeated to me on the jogging trails of City Park.” So much for cool and dispassionate.

“I was going to talk to you about that.”

“Well, you needn’t bother. Joanne got there first.”

“Then I’ll have to talk to Joanne. She shouldn’t be using a sledgehammer to destroy a molehill.”

“Joanne shouldn’t be privy to our private conversations. Don’t you think that would be a better solution?” I retorted.

“It’s not quite like that,” Cordelia said calmly. “I think I mentioned, in passing, that you weren’t comfortable with my spending money on you. And,” she put up a hand to forestall the comment I was going to make, “and I only said that to be fair. Alex had given me the details of an argument that she and Joanne were having. At some point she got exasperated with my telling her how wonderful you were and demanded a fault.”

“So you told her I had problems with money?”

“I told her it was the one area we were not perfectly agreeable about.”

“What were she and Joanne fighting about?” I asked. Then added, “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t guess it’s any of my business.”

“Alex can’t expect me not to pass on things if she does,” Cordelia replied. “Joanne was supposed to get a brake tag inspection. She called Alex at the last minute and asked her to do it. Alex agreed, then she got caught up, resented being stuck with it, and didn’t get it done. Joanne had to get up very early the next morning to get the car inspected, woke up Alex in the process, and then stomped out without saying good-bye. It was after that, that I mentioned that you sometimes objected to my taking you out to dinner.”

“Oh,” I said. I was beginning to understand this was not the major transgression I had imagined.

Cordelia gave me a tentative smile, then extended her hand. “Am I forgiven?”

I nodded. “Of course.” I stood up, then reached out and took her hand, holding it for a moment before I stepped in to where she was sitting on the bed. She kissed my hand and put her other arm around my waist.

After holding me like that for a moment or so, Cordelia let go of my hand.

“Can I?” she asked as she started to unloosen the robe. I didn’t object, letting the robe fall open as she undid the belt. She kissed my stomach, then slid her arms inside the robe to hold me. She kissed my stomach again, moving up until she was kissing the underside of my breasts. I let go of her long enough to slip off the robe and throw it in the direction of a chair.

Cordelia lay back, pulling me on top of her, still kissing my breasts, now the nipples, tightening her arms around my waist.

My response was slow, not as immediate as I wanted it to be. I did want her to make love to me. I wanted her to love me. I wanted some small reassurance that I didn’t know how to ask for and that she had no way of knowing to give.

Her hand moved down my back, then around my hip. I took my breast away from her mouth, sliding down to kiss her on the lips, moving on to run my tongue down her neck to her already erect nipples. I would make love to her first to slow the pace and as an oblique apology for my anger.

“Oh, yes,” Cordelia responded to my tongue on her nipple. Her hands were in my hair, pressing me close.

I began kissing my way down, but a slight pressure from her hands stopped me.

“Um, no,” she murmured. “I want you beside me.”

We rearranged ourselves on the bed, Cordelia on her back, me lying next to her. We kissed as my hand moved to where my tongue had been going. Cordelia broke off our kiss to gasp as my fingers entered her.

It had been easy for her to ask for what she wanted. Why hadn’t I? Why had I been unwilling—scared?—to simply say, “Just hold me for a minute more, then kiss me softly and slowly and I’ll be ready?” Didn’t I think I had a right to my small requests? Was there any possibility she would refuse me? I pushed these questions aside.

I had always been amazed and delighted by Cordelia’s quick and unbridled response when we made love. Her hesitancy and awkwardness disappeared. In some ways, it was consistent with her everyday self. She made decisions slowly and thoughtfully, but once decided, the doubt was gone and no hesitancy reappeared to plague her.

After we had agreed to be lovers, to make love, and done so time and again, a covenant had been reached. Her body was open and responsive to me. Unconditionally. It thrilled me. And in odd moments, scared me. I was slow to respond, at root, slower to trust.

Sex had been, at times, problematical for me. Consent sometimes so shifting and muddled that I was left with only a vaguely uneasy feeling in the morning and no clear way or place to have said no, but unsure if I had really meant yes.

Cordelia hadn’t had that many lovers. Not compared to me and my list of one- or two-night stands. Hadn’t traded sex off for small kindnesses, clutching at it for its resemblance to love as I too often had.

And hadn’t, finally, used people as I had, sleeping with them indiscriminately for any number of reasons—lust, boredom, and, ultimately, for the sheer power of the erotic. Making women want me because I could, because it gave me control over them. I became not only the betrayed but the betrayer, burdened with the shame of the victim and the guilt of the user.

I had hoped that with Cordelia, with someone with whom I finally connected and touched as a person, not as a shadow or an object, I could walk away from what I had been. With the shining newness of our passion, it had seemed possible; in the initial exhilaration, anything had seemed possible. I was different. I was better than I had ever been, and my demons, as in a fairly tale, had been permanently vanquished.

I was upset, angry even, at my unsureness and hesitation now. And at the one possibility that I hadn’t considered—that my demons were slowly creeping back, tainting my bright and shining love.

I hoped that she wouldn’t notice, that, touching her as closely as I was, I could still hide a part of myself. And that the morning would drive away all doubt and confusion.

I felt her arms around me, holding fiercely to me, as if some deep part of her trusted absolutely that I would be there, that I had no doubts about loving and wanting her.

I watched Cordelia’s face closely as I stroked her, one arm returning her tight embrace. She was close to coming; I could feel that tautness in her breath. She moaned softly, her hand clutching, control gone or let go of. I watched until I saw it, the absolute nakedness possible only in these fleeting moments. Take me as I am, beggar, fool, sinner, saint, touch me as I am. What more could you risk?

I held her tightly, protectively as her face contorted and body arched. She had no control. Trust so deep should not be betrayed. The moment passed, we lay together quietly, her breath warm on my cheek.

We spoke no words as I let her go down on me, not wanting her eyes next to mine, looking into them. My body responded, finally succumbed to the flow and sway of her touch.

“God, I’m tired,” Cordelia said after I had come and she was lying next to me. “Do you mind if I just roll over and go to sleep?”

“Mind? No, of course not.”

“Sorry, I feel rude doing this.” She disentangled herself from me, then rolled over on her side. We were no longer touching.

“You’re not rude. If you’re tired, you’re tired.” Cordelia’s only reply was steady, even breathing. I watched her for a moment, relaxed in sleep, then turned away, willing sleep to come.

Chapter 5

Hordes of parents were awaiting their progeny. I scanned the joyous faces of the just released children, searching for Patrick Selby. Today was the day we were to meet.

“Micky,” Patrick called, spotting me first. I waved in his direction. He looked like his mother. His dark brown hair would be the color of Barbara’s if she didn’t keep hers ash blond. His eyes were a dark brown, also hers. And like hers, his face was rounded, chin and nose with no sharp lines.

“Cissy will be here in a minute,” Patrick informed me as he got near. We settled on going to a local burger-thing to have our meeting.

“Hi, Cissy,” I called when I saw her. She glanced over her shoulders, then started running for us as if she’d caught sight of some demon behind her. Cissy’s looks brought reminders of their absent father back into the family. Her hair was much lighter, streaks of blond that would follow her into adulthood. Her eyes were green, the shape of her face sharper, her nose a straight line.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked as she came to a stop in front of us.

“Nothin’.”

“So why are you running?”

“Just wanted to,” Cissy answered with a shrug.

Two chocolate shakes and a small Coke sat before us on the far corner table Patrick had selected. The shakes looked good, but Patrick had insisted on buying.

“What’s going on?” I asked, scanning the two faces opposite me.

“Judy Douglas,” Patrick said. “She was a girl in Cissy’s class. She died about a month ago. Cissy thinks she was murdered.”

“Why do you think that?” I asked Cissy.

“I dunno. Some girls said so.” She shrugged and started sucking on her milkshake.

“What girls?”

“Just some girls,” she answered, barely letting the straw out of her mouth.

“Why do they think she was murdered?”

This time all I got was a shrug, the straw didn’t move.

“How did she die?”

Patrick answered. “They say it was an accident. That she fell and hit her head. Maybe the grownups aren’t telling us anything.”

“Have you talked to your Mom about this?” I asked.

“No.” It was Cissy who replied. “There’s no reason to tell her,” she added.

“Well, I mentioned it to her,” Patrick started.

“I told you not to,” Cissy cut in.

“Why are you upset about it?” I asked to forestall a sibling argument.

“I’m not upset,” she said, slamming down her milkshake. “I just don’t like Pattie doing things I ask him not to. Mr. Know-It-All.” The last was directed to Patrick.

“Don’t call me Pattie.”

“Will if I want to.”

“Patrick,” I said, “Could you please get me another Coke?” I pulled a crumpled bill out of my pocket and handed it to him. He glanced at Cissy, rolled his eyes, then took my dollar and headed to the counter.

“Were you and Judy good friends?” I asked Cissy.

“No, uh-uh. Sometimes she’d beg rides home with us and complain 'cause no one picked her up. She had to take the bus.”

“It’s scary when people we know die, even if we don’t know them very well.”

Cissy just nodded.

“Are you scared that it might happen to you?”

She shrugged. “Good girls don’t get hurt.” It sounded like whistling in a dark cemetery to me.

“Was Judy a bad girl?”

Cissy gave me another of her shrugs, then mumbled, “I guess.”

“What did she do that was bad?”

“I dunno.” The straw was back in her mouth. I didn’t say anything, letting her answer hang. Cissy finally added, “She talked a lot.”

“What did she talk about?”

“Just things.” The straw made a loud slurping noise.

“Cissy, sometimes bad things happen. I don’t want you to be scared. Telling doesn’t hurt anyone. Is there something you want to talk about?”

“No.” Another loud slurp. Then she added, “Judy told secrets. She wasn’t supposed to.”

Patrick returned with my Coke. I didn’t get anything more out of Cissy. Even if Patrick hadn’t been there, I don’t know if she would have told me anything else.

After I drove them home, Patrick remained behind as Cissy went into their house. “Cissy told me that Judy was murdered,” he informed me. “That’s why I wanted to hire you.” He added, “I can pay you. I’ve been saving up my paper route money.”

“I can make a few inquiries,” I answered. “Then we can discuss money.” I wasn’t going to take his paper-tossing pennies.

“She’s been acting real strange ever since,” he added. “I think someone needs to get to the bottom of this.”