stone-faced. “These are my clothes. Remind me to put on something more revealing for you when you feel better.”
“No,” he says. “You’re a lot less distracting this way. I can actually tell you have eyes and a face.”
“That’s funny, Jack. Almost.” She puts on a big, fake smile.
“I mean it as a compliment. You have some really nice—” Jack stops; from the look on her face, he can tell she doesn’t like where he’s headed, any of what he might have to say about her look at the club. “Eyes?” he asks.
She fakes a laugh, then gets up from her chair and leaves the room. Jack hears her walking around in the rest of the apartment. He tries to sit up, to move his feet onto the floor, but even attempting that much motion brings back the bell. He lies back, closes his eyes.
It’s dark outside the window when Jack finally gets up and turns to sit normally on the couch, even puts his feet onto the floor. He can see the bookshelves on the other side of the room, filled with books, too many for him to read the titles. He likes the way they look though, the sight of the shelves filled up. “Wow,” he says, putting his hands on either side of him on the couch. He falls back into a prone position, with his head on the pillow.
“You already said, ‘Wow.’” Maxine’s back in her chair, looking a little more relaxed and less concerned. “How are you feeling?”
“Not that bad.” There’s no bell in his head, no sensation of his skull being a toy that an animal would play with. “I’ll be all right soon. Just give me a few minutes to get up.” Then Jack remembers that Castroneves was supposed to call to set up the meet, or that he was hoping Castroneves would call. “Have you seen my cell?”
Jack’s wearing a T-shirt and there’s a blanket over his legs. He feels underneath and realizes he’s wearing only his boxers. Maxine points to a chair across the room where he can see his warm-up suit and under the chair his sneakers.
“Has anyone called?”
“It rang a few times. But I figured you weren’t in any shape to talk.” She gets up and sets down a steaming mug on the coffee table. Jack can see the string and the tag of a tea bag hanging down its side. She’s got on shorts under her sweatshirt, and Jack sees her legs are thick and firm, good enough that she could’ve been one of the dancers at The Coast and not just a bartender. But he doesn’t bring that up.
She starts to go through his things, pulls out his jacket and stops to look at him. “All right with you?”
He shrugs. “Of course. You’re my nurse.”
She smiles. In his inside pocket she finds the cell phone and brings it across the room. He flips it open, glad to find it still in one piece. The screen reads: 2 missed calls. One of them is Castroneves. The other Jack doesn’t know. “You mind if I listen?” he says, holding up the phone.
She shakes her head. “Back to business.”
“Yeah. That’s me,” Jack says. He calls into his voicemail. The first message is: “Mr. Palms.
Alex Castroneves. Thank you so much for calling to apologize about your incident with Juan José, though now of course he is very anxious to meet with you again. You understand. He is still very upset. But that is on the side. I would still like to meet with your friends tonight. Can you make that happen?”
If the Colombian’s guy wants to have another shot at Jack, he’ll need to wait in line, Jack thinks, erasing the message. That or he’ll have to deal with just these pieces, and not the whole Jack. Maybe that’s more his speed.
The next message starts, “Jack, my man. ” He can recognize the sergeant’s voice now. “Just calling in to see what’s up. Got a few items back from Ralph’s house I want to discuss, get your feedback on. Know what I’m saying? Call my cell. ” He leaves the number.
Jack hangs up and calls the Czechs, gets David. “Jack Palms,” he says. “We have been waiting here to get your
“No,” he says. “You’re a lot less distracting this way. I can actually tell you have eyes and a face.”
“That’s funny, Jack. Almost.” She puts on a big, fake smile.
“I mean it as a compliment. You have some really nice—” Jack stops; from the look on her face, he can tell she doesn’t like where he’s headed, any of what he might have to say about her look at the club. “Eyes?” he asks.
She fakes a laugh, then gets up from her chair and leaves the room. Jack hears her walking around in the rest of the apartment. He tries to sit up, to move his feet onto the floor, but even attempting that much motion brings back the bell. He lies back, closes his eyes.
It’s dark outside the window when Jack finally gets up and turns to sit normally on the couch, even puts his feet onto the floor. He can see the bookshelves on the other side of the room, filled with books, too many for him to read the titles. He likes the way they look though, the sight of the shelves filled up. “Wow,” he says, putting his hands on either side of him on the couch. He falls back into a prone position, with his head on the pillow.
“You already said, ‘Wow.’” Maxine’s back in her chair, looking a little more relaxed and less concerned. “How are you feeling?”
“Not that bad.” There’s no bell in his head, no sensation of his skull being a toy that an animal would play with. “I’ll be all right soon. Just give me a few minutes to get up.” Then Jack remembers that Castroneves was supposed to call to set up the meet, or that he was hoping Castroneves would call. “Have you seen my cell?”
Jack’s wearing a T-shirt and there’s a blanket over his legs. He feels underneath and realizes he’s wearing only his boxers. Maxine points to a chair across the room where he can see his warm-up suit and under the chair his sneakers.
“Has anyone called?”
“It rang a few times. But I figured you weren’t in any shape to talk.” She gets up and sets down a steaming mug on the coffee table. Jack can see the string and the tag of a tea bag hanging down its side. She’s got on shorts under her sweatshirt, and Jack sees her legs are thick and firm, good enough that she could’ve been one of the dancers at The Coast and not just a bartender. But he doesn’t bring that up.
She starts to go through his things, pulls out his jacket and stops to look at him. “All right with you?”
He shrugs. “Of course. You’re my nurse.”
She smiles. In his inside pocket she finds the cell phone and brings it across the room. He flips it open, glad to find it still in one piece. The screen reads: 2 missed calls. One of them is Castroneves. The other Jack doesn’t know. “You mind if I listen?” he says, holding up the phone.
She shakes her head. “Back to business.”
“Yeah. That’s me,” Jack says. He calls into his voicemail. The first message is: “Mr. Palms.
Alex Castroneves. Thank you so much for calling to apologize about your incident with Juan José, though now of course he is very anxious to meet with you again. You understand. He is still very upset. But that is on the side. I would still like to meet with your friends tonight. Can you make that happen?”
If the Colombian’s guy wants to have another shot at Jack, he’ll need to wait in line, Jack thinks, erasing the message. That or he’ll have to deal with just these pieces, and not the whole Jack. Maybe that’s more his speed.
The next message starts, “Jack, my man. ” He can recognize the sergeant’s voice now. “Just calling in to see what’s up. Got a few items back from Ralph’s house I want to discuss, get your feedback on. Know what I’m saying? Call my cell. ” He leaves the number.
Jack hangs up and calls the Czechs, gets David. “Jack Palms,” he says. “We have been waiting here to get your
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