It was quiet for one hour. . then two. . and finally Eden slept.
The sun began to rise. The pillbox window framed a hard square of light that traveled Eden’s naked body.
She squinted and came awake.
She heard Harold’s car.
Satan, she prayed, give me strength. .
Harold said, “This is fucked. The dog is gone. So are your sisters. Your mama’s gone nuts and your daddy’s probably a corpse.” He shook his head. “And you want to know what else? That asshole Jack Baddalach is still alive, and he knows that Tony has something to do with the dognapping.”
Eden didn’t say a word. She just sat there. Harold couldn’t believe it. She just fucking sat there.
Naked. Rubbing her wrists. Crying.
Jesus Christ. Always with the tears.
She wasn’t going to make him feel guilty, though. No way. It wasn’t his fault that he was late getting back. Tony needed him. His brother needed him. Tony was hurting. Man, he couldn’t just walk out on Tony when he was like that. No way.
So they drank two sixes of Olde English. So they took some Percodan. So what?
He wasn’t going to feel guilty. No way.
And this crying shit. It had to stop. Right now.
“Eden, I told you. .” he began. “I told you not to let anyone touch the dog. I told you that, didn’t I?”
She nodded. Big heavy sobs now. Oh, man.
“Fuck,” he said, banging his fist against the door. “Fuck!"
Eden cringed as if he’d hit her. Jesus. His hand all of a sudden felt like it was busted, and she was acting hurt.
“I told you it was important.” Harold tried to stay calm. “I asked if you understood. I told you not to fuck things up.”
Eden looked up at him. Her icy blue eyes were wet with tears, like the irises were melting or something. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Harold picked up his.357. “I even gave you my fucking gun, Eden.”
She opened her arms to him, spread wide, palms open.
Oh, man, he couldn’t take this. Seeing her all fucked up. It was like everything was changing right before his eyes. Like getting out of Corcoran all over again. Like going to that hotel room, opening the door, and seeing that familiar anaconda tattoo on a woman he didn’t even recognize. .
Turning around. Walking out. .
“I’ve got to go set up the drop,” Harold said, even though it was way too early for that.
He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“Don’t go,” Eden said. “Don’t go.”
But he did. Harold was already gone when she said it. He had left her behind. And she loved him. She really did.
She couldn’t stop crying. It seemed she would never run out of tears. She had enough for everyone-for Harold, for Tura and Lorelei, for Mama and Daddy, for the little dog. .
Eden cried for all of them.
She did not cry for herself.
It was much too late for that.
FOUR
Jack was just about to phone Angel Gemignani when she knocked on his front door.
“I just got your message,” he explained. “What’s going on? You didn’t sound so great.”
Angel didn’t look so great, either. Her eyes were red and puffy. She had obviously spent the night crying instead of sleeping.
Jack showed her to the living room. “I couldn’t stand waiting around the Casbah,” she said. “I had to get out. I figured maybe you didn’t return my call because of the other night. I know you and Grandpa Freddy are friends and everything. . and I know I must seem like some kind of schizo to you. I guess I came on pretty strong, and then when my granddad showed up-”
“It takes two to dance that dance,” Jack said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Angel smiled one of those peculiar smiles that holds no pleasure. “Anyway, I thought maybe you were mad at me. I’m glad you’re not, because I really need to talk to you. If Tony Katt has something to do with Spike’s kidnapping. .”
“I’m not mad,” Jack said. “And I was going to call you. I just got in. As for Tony Katt, I’m not sure what part he plays in all this. All I know for sure is that one of the dognappers is an old friend of Tony’s.”
“Okay.” Angel yawned. “God. . what time is it, anyway?”
“Almost five.”
Angel sat down on Jack’s couch. “I can’t even remember the last time I was up this early.”
“You mean when you weren’t still up from the night before.”
Jack had intended the comment as a joke. Judging from Angel’s expression, she didn’t take it that way. She looked as if she’d been slapped when she least expected it.
“Hey,” Jack said. “I’m sorry. Whatever I said-”
“It’s okay.” Angel wiped her eyes. “I’m just really tired. This whole thing with Spike has me seriously screwed up.” Jack handed her a Kleenex. “I was just going to make some coffee. Feel like a cup?”
“Sure.”
Jack ground some French roast and got the coffee brewing. From the kitchen, he kept an eye on Angel. The way she was fidgeting, he got the feeling that she wouldn’t be able to sit still for long.
He was right. Angel rose and sorted through the old suspense paperbacks piled on his desktop, laughing softly at overblown cover copy hacked out in the fifties.
At least she could still laugh. Jack poured two cups of coffee and returned to the living room. Angel was looking at the framed picture of Kate Benteen that he kept on his desk, the one that he had clipped from an old issue of Vanity Fair. “Is this your girl?” Angel asked.
“Well, she’s nobody’s girl." Jack smiled.
So did Angel. “One of those, huh?”
“Yeah. One of those.”
“So what’s the story?”
“I’m waiting to see if she calls me or not.”
“How long have you been waiting?”
Jack blushed. He suddenly felt like looking at his shoes. Angel asked again. “How long?”
“Almost a year.”
“Uh-huh.” Angel smiled. “So, like I said, what’s the story?”
The question hit Jack between the eyes. He had to think about it for a minute. The whole thing with Kate was so complicated. But Angel’s question was really simple.
So was Jack’s answer, though this was the first time he had ever articulated it. “I guess the story is that I’m in love with her, and I’m waiting to see if she’s in love with me.”
“Do you know how long you’re going to wait, Jack?”
“No, I don’t. If I put a date on it, and she didn’t call. . well, I guess I don’t want to think about how I’d feel the day after that.”
Angel set the picture on Jack’s desk. “She’s a lucky girl. I mean woman. She may not know it, but she’s lucky.”
Jack didn’t say anything.
“I guess I’ve spent a lot of time not being lucky,” Angel said. “I guess in a lot of ways it’s my own fault.”
Jack said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Oh, I think I’m way past due being hard on myself.” Angel sipped her coffee. “Let me tell you about me and Tony Katt. .
Angel thought pink ladies were the prettiest cocktail going. She loved the thickness of the drink and the way the taste of gin and cream and grenadine lingered on her tongue.
The gin warmed her inside and made her glow outside. Angel was usually kind of nervous, actually. She didn’t have a whole lot of self-confidence, and she knew it. Oh, she acted tough enough. Hell, she had a rattlesnake tattoo and a closet filled with black clothes, and having those things made it easier to act like she actually was the way she wanted to be.
But Angel knew the difference between acting tough and being tough. You could buy a tattoo. You could buy black clothes. But you couldn’t buy confidence.
That was why she took Spike everywhere she went. He made her feel better and gave her something she could talk about if things got uncomfortable. Spike was especially good at parties. Get a stranger talking about your cute little dog and you wouldn’t have to talk about yourself at all.