other night would be obsessing her.
I catch hold of her wrist and push her hand away. “Come on, Jet. Paul’s bound to be looking for you by now. He’ll want to dance with you.”
“Oh, bullshit. He’s watching Jerry Lee Lewis.”
“Jet—”
“And there’s Nadine, remember?” she says in a singsong voice. “Paul will be happy to spend ten minutes dancing with that little number.” Jet grabs my cock again, and this time she hangs on, pulling steadily. “Besides, I don’t want you going back to her until I’ve marked my territory.”
“You marked it this afternoon.”
“Did you shower before you picked her up?”
“Did you snort coke or something?” I grab her hand and yank it up between our chests. “Listen! You’re going to take that service elevator back up to the roof. I’m going to wait here five minutes, then get on the main elevators. Find Paul and make him dance, so you’re busy by the time I walk back into his field of vision.”
She looks longingly down into the lobby. “You’re no fun tonight. You need some inspiration.” Without further conversation, she turns to the rail, leans against it, and hikes her skirt over her hips. “Come on,” she says. “Just go in. I’m still wet from this afternoon.” Her derriere is nut-brown and practically bare thanks to the thong she’s wearing. Another departure from character—she never wears thongs.
Not for one instant do I consider plunging into her. The absurdity of the scene comes home to me in a sickening wave of anxiety. This woman is smarter than any I’ve ever known, yet here she stands, leaning against a balcony rail with her dress over her hips, visible to anybody who might be in the dark lobby below. A security guard, for example. Or surveillance cameras. With a shudder of fear I scan the high corners but see no evidence of cameras. While she waits for me to enter her, I walk ten yards up the carpet, toward the main bank of elevators.
“Get back up to the roof,” I say in an urgent whisper, turning around for only a moment. “Right now. And think of a good story about where you’ve been.”
Very slowly, Jet straightens up from the rail, then pulls her dress down and presses it flat. “Please come back,” she says, looking at the floor.
Her voice is so lifeless that I walk back to her.
“Jet, what the hell? Has something bad happened? Are you afraid to tell me?”
She takes a deep breath, lets out a long sigh. When she looks up, there are tears in her eyes. “I think I’m losing it a little,” she says. “Maybe more than a little. I feel desperate. I’ve always known that my chance of getting custody of Kevin is nearly nonexistent. Buck’s murder was like an exclamation point on that. The power they have. Because they’re going to get away with it. Aren’t they?”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.” I take hold of her right hand and pull her away from the rail. “What about that plan you mentioned to me?”
She shrugs. “You’ll probably think it’s too dangerous. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. I’m drunker than I thought.” She swallows hard, then wavers on her feet. All I can see in my mind is Paul combing the roof for her. “When I saw you walk in with Nadine tonight,” Jet goes on, “that hit me hard. Took my breath away, actually. It drove home how stuck I am. And you’re not. You and she could leave for New Orleans tonight, or Paris, and I’d still be trapped in my marriage.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I assure her. “Nadine and I are friends, that’s all.”
“But it could. That’s my point. It’s the natural thing. You’re single, she’s single . . . she’s great, and she deserves somebody like you. Fuck!”
After looking to my right and left to make sure no one can see us, I pull Jet tight against me. “You’ve got to calm down. We’re going to find a way out of this. Buck’s death might even be it. If the Poker Club is really behind that, then Max could go to prison.”
Jet tries a smile, but it fails. The strain in her face is telling. She doesn’t believe she will ever get custody of her son.
I gently kiss her forehead, as she did mine this afternoon. “Come on,” I say softly. “You’re tougher than this. You’ve spent your life tilting at windmills. If anybody can nail those bastards,