Chapter 11

He drove back home figuring what the odds were. He didn't even know who was waiting for Robin in Cuba. Till she got back, the thing was out of his hands.

He found a parking spot across the street from his house, then went to a delicatessen to pick up a few things for Cee-Zee. She was a fiend for cole slaw, he had discovered, so he might as well feed her cole slaw to egg on her lagging appetite. That she wasn't eating too well worried him. She pushed away vitamin pills and she wouldn't eat cereal. Nothing could scare her into taking care of herself. So he bought pastrami and corned beef and a loaf of rye bread just so she would put something into her stomach.

With two heavy bags in either arm, he came into the hall. From the corner of his eye, Eric saw something move. Fists hurtled at his face. Cannon balls seemed to shoot into his chest and belly. The packages fell with a splatter. He started at the three men. Then he felt his head crack open. The men spun in his blurred vision. He sped into total darkness.

When he came to, he was sprawled out, his nose lying in smashed pickles. He got himself into a sitting position and felt his aching head carefully. An egg shaped swelling was growing larger by the second on his scalp. He blinked a few times and wiped his face on his shirt sleeve. Each breath he took made him wince. He got to a standing position, unconsciously taking up one of the small bags which had escaped destruction. Painfully he made his way up the steps and pushed into the apartment.

"Brought you some lunch," he said from between thick lips.

"Mary, Joseph and Jesus!"

"Sh. Softly," he said, flopping into a chair.

He sat with his eyes closed, feeling the lids too soft, too spongy to hold open.

A wet cloth touched over his face. "Hold that," she said softly. "I'll get some ice."

A few moments later, he felt the cold wet pressure of ice against his head.

"Anything broken?" she asked.

"Dunno." He concentrated on trying to breathe around the sticking pain. Gradually it dulled till he could tell that his ribs were still intact.

She got his shirt off and dabbed the cold cloth over the reddening knuckle prints. "You look beautiful," she said. "Just beautiful."

He touched his nose gingerly and sensed the puffiness around his eyes. "A real mess, huh?"

"To put it mildly. Keep your hands away."

Her own warm hands took his away from his face. "Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"Just out of breath."

"I know, hero. We better get you into bed."

"Don' wan' t'move." He spiralled away into darkness again, swaying on black waves.

She pushed his head down between his knees. "Stay like that. I don't go for any fainting around here." Then she got a glass of whiskey and passed it beneath his nostrils.

He grabbed it and swallowed the liquid in one gulp, feeling the stuff begin to brace him.

"Gettin' better ... better all the ... time."

Now he opened his eyes and the room was sitting in place. "Woosh. Today April Fool's Day or somethin'?"

"If it is, you got corny friends." She was sitting on the arm of the chair half dressed, her hair tied in a roll on the top of her head.

"You look cute anyway." He smiled and felt his face go mushy.

"Well, what did you do to the other guy?" she said hopefully.

"Not a damn thing. I was coming in the house, with lunch for you, sweetie, and bang crash. That's it."

He saw her frown. "Let's get you to sleep for awhile. You can work this out later."

He let her help him to the bed. The soft, comforting mattress embraced him.

The piercing odor of strong coffee awakened him. He wondered what the deuce he was doing in bed this hour of the day. As he turned over, the twisting pain of bruised muscles reminded him. "Hey, in there."

"Stay put," she called back. "I'll bring the coffee into you."

He managed to sit up. The strange head on his shoulders felt large and square and heavy.

Cee-Zee entered carrying a tray with two cups on it. She put the tray on his lap and he lifted one of the cups shakily. The steaming liquid burned his tongue, but it felt good along his insides.

"And now you see how Lilio fights back," she commented, lifting her own cup to her lips.

"What makes you think it's Lilio?"

"Got any other pals?"

"Plenty."

"Oh, I didn't know you were so well liked." She had put on a nylon blouse, leaving the buttons open down the front. A tiny pink rosette stitched to the middle of her brassiere moved with her breathing.

"I'm a doll," he said. "A living, breathing doll."

He continued drinking the coffee, thinking that sure, it could've been Lilio. But it also could've been Donald. He had no real way of deciding. And no matter which of the two had done the job, there still remained the possibility of the other one doing it over again. More thoroughly. He thought of Robin on her way to Cuba and now he was glad that he wouldn't have to see her for a week.

"You know what I think?" Cee-Zee said. "I think it's time for you to take a long vacation. Away from New York. The hell with your job. You can't go into work looking like a hamburger anyway." She spoke uneasily.

"Come on, girl," he said, resting the cup and motioning for a cigarette. "You're not scared, are you?"

She took the tray away and shoved it onto the night table, closing one button of her blouse to give her fidgeting fingers something to do.

"Why shouldn't I be scared? How do I know this isn't just the beginning? Maybe one of these days you'll walk in here and you'll be dead. Do I need that?"

"If it's Lilio," Eric reasoned. "He must be pretty scared himself."

"That's supposed to make me feel better, I suppose." She folded her legs under her on the bed and rested her elbows on her knees. "If he's scared enough to bother at all, he's not going to stop with half measures."

"But then again, maybe it isn't Lilio." The nicotine tasted unusually bitter. His tongue felt around and discovered a series of gashes in his lip.

"I'm not consoled." She saw him touching the split swellings and brought merthiolate from the bathroom and dabbed it over the wounds.

"Look, let's be reasonable," she continued. "I don't know about your friends, but I do know about mine. What we've got on the chubby one is not exactly tiddle-dee winks. Of course I've spared you the details, but how does he know that? From where he's sitting, you are a potential blackmailer. Extortionist extraordinary."

"And yourself?"

"Yes. Me too."

"Then how about you clearing out, for a starter?"

His challenge whizzed right by her without examination. She smiled quietly to herself and nicked an ash on the floor. "Nothing ever happens to me," she said. "I lead a charmed life."

"Yeah. Like the hospital," he answered, wrinkling his forehead.

"Well, forget it," she moved closer to him, taking care not to jounce the bed. "I don't run from anybody. At least not alone. If you go, I'll go along. Just to sponge off you, of course."

"Then forget it," he said with decision. "Because I stay here."

"You must have pretty good reasons."

He met her statement with a grunt. Whether he had good reasons or not, he wasn't the rabbit who ran. Gingerly he got out of bed and went to look at himself. His face resembled a blue sack of potatoes, the left eye practically closed, his lower hp sticking out clownishly. "Gad. It's been a long time since I looked like this."

"Seems to me you're enjoying it."

No, he wasn't enjoying it. He held a bundle of fury tight inside him. Only this wasn't the time to unloose it. He needed brains now, not anger. He had to find out who was after him. You didn't get the answer by raging. Plenty of opportunity for that when he knew more.

"One thing puzzles me," Cee-Zee interrupted his thoughts. "Why you haven't sicked the cops on Lilio anyway."

He turned from the mirror, glad not to have to look at himself any longer. "The answer is simple. You weren't for that idea. When you clammed up about him, I decided to let you scamper around on your nice long rope."

"Is now the time?" she asked.

"Not unless you want to clue me in on all the paragraphs." She shook her head.

"Okay, then. I don't do anything till you talk first."

He wasn't going to try to worm it out of her. That, too, would come in its own good time, he thought. Or at least, so he hoped.

Right now, though, he had to concentrate on getting himself back into shape. He couldn't go prowling around with a mug that looked like a hundred horses ran over it. And confined to the house, there wasn't much else he could do but play footsies with Cee-Zee. He scowled at the telephone, thinking it was his only source of supply and a pretty poor source at that. Sure, he could call Donald and feel him out. But Donald knew how to play with words.

Somehow he couldn't get Donald out of his mind. A sixth sense told him that Lilio wouldn't have waited this long for the strong arming job. But Donald, who didn't have the guts or the physical strength to fight back himself, was the more likely prospect. That was okay with him. If he could pry Donald loose from his confidence, then Robin could more easily see what her brother was made of. He hoped that it was Donald. He almost prayed for it.

"So here we are," Cee-Zee said, coming up behind him. "What do we do for entertainment?"

His mushy face distorted into a semblance of a grin. He flicked at the rosette on her bra. "I don't know. Got any suggestions?"

"We can have a party," she said, teasing him. "Invite all the big shots. The mayor. The governor. Whoever you like."

He touched his cheek. "I feel strangely anti-social."

The afternoon sun had begun to cool down, its burnished color fading from the room. Kids home from school yelled at each other across the traffic outside, lending a touch of intimacy to their own lowered voices.

"You're feeling sorry for yourself," she said. "And I don't blame you."

"Bull."

"Well, I really don't, poor thing. You're fun when you aren't losing your temper, Spooky. I really like you. Once in a while, anyway." She took one of his hands and placed it on the hollow of her throat.

He felt the silky dusting powder on her skin and smelled its subtle fragrance.

"I can be gentle," she said, "with an invalid." She took a step closer to him and lifted his hand now to her lips. "I can be sweet and soothing." She spoke with her eyes closed. "Wouldn't that be nice for a change? Like two babies playing in the play pen. You can teethe on my nipples."

"What a line," he groaned. But he didn't move away from her.

She took him over to the bed and made him sit down. Carefully avoiding his bruises, she snuggled closer, drawing small ovals on his chest with her tongue.

"We can play nice quiet games till you're all better," she said, without lifting her head away from him.

"Nice quiet games." He stroked the nape of her neck.

He counted back to the last time they'd gone to bed together. Quite a while for a girl so accustomed to popping in and out whenever the urge came. He felt the intensity lurking within her body.

"Take down my hair," she whispered.

He moved his fingers into the blonde mass and pulled out the few pins. Her hair tumbled warm and soft over him. He liked this hair, he liked everything physical about her.

"Take off my blouse."

He undid the single button and slid the thin cloth over her shoulders. He stroked them with his palm and felt the same powdered silkiness.

"My bra."

He pulled at the hooks, then moved his hand around to the front, feeling the weight of her breasts sag down into his palm. A wineskin of flesh, hot, yet somehow cool, the nipple beginning to harden as he circled it with one finger. She was being very gentle, very considerate, and he enjoyed her care. A lovely spring afternoon with this woman, out of time, out of space. What more could he want but to he like this on his back and have her work on him. Cee-Zee's consideration was almost worth his battered face. He took her other breast and pressed them both together, feeling them hump in deep cleavage.

Her legs were already naked and the loose skirt fell from her, revealing her transparent panties, her hips and buttocks milky white beneath the nylon.

"Take them down," she said.

He slid his hands in under the elastic and drew them over her thighs. She wiggled out of them so that he would not have to move. Then he brought his hands up into her armpits to feel the prickly sensation of where she had shaved. All of her felt tender, half damp, half dry, like a new born calf. She put one leg over his thighs and began to roll back and forth, still gently. Her breath touched his chest in long vaporous exhalations.

He let his hands wander as they pleased along the tightening belly, across the slick round thighs. He felt lazy today, wanting her to do it all, liking the way she pampered his body, nipping him in the waist, tonguing his own lean hips. The contrast of her soft curves with his lean angles pleased him.

"Let me be on top," she said. "I want to be on top."

"Sure, honey."

He felt her rolling her breasts on his legs and his languidness skidded away, replaced by a tensing of his groin. The aching in his face stopped and his jaws clamped together.

"I see you're still good," she said with a satisfied giggle.

He lifted her up so that their bodies met in all the right places. "Damned right," he said.

"But I must be gentle."

"Forget that crap."

"It's tickling me." She reached her hand between them. "I'm good at massages."

She knew what she was doing and he loved her for it. The sheet began to slide under his back in movement with their bodies.

He felt her thighs tighten, playing up his desire.

"You got a brain down there?" he said.

"Two heads are better than one."

They were making conversation that sounded casual on the surface. But their words were like feathers, tickling, urging, inciting their passion.

She rocked back away from him and extended her palm. "Can you reach it?" she said. "I bet you can't." Then she began to sing, "Inch worm, inch worm, measuring the marigold...."

"Cut it out," he said and grabbed her to him.

The sudden clash of their bodies dissolved her playfulness. Now she flung her hips downward, wiggling onto him, her face contorted with the bursting of desire. The bed creaked and bumped beneath them. Her voice rasped in animal grunts. He thrust himself up at her, hitting and hitting. She flung herself against him and they whacked against each other loudly. He put his finger into her mouth and felt her sucking it hard, not even realizing what she was doing.

"Not yet," she said around his finger as his other arm' flexed in the small of her back. "Hold off for awhile. Just a ... few...."

She did not need to finish the sentence. She almost bit through the skin of his finger as the rest of her contracted. In response he slammed himself upward, almost knocking her over his head against the wall. But she hung onto him as their bodies became two halves of the same being.

They lay at opposite ends of the soaked sheet. "You knocked me out," she sighed, a happy smile softening her features.

Eric raised himself on one elbow. "Any time, chickadee. You name it."

"I only wish we could stay this way." She was looking at his face now.

"I thought you thrived on trouble."

"Harmless trouble, yes," she said. "For all I know, you'll be a corpse tomorrow."

"Never." He laughed for her sake. But his mind clouded with the prospect of what the next step would be in this circle of complications tightening around him. The next gambit was his to make. And he'd better make it good.