He nodded. "Once."
The memory made me shiver. "Once is enough."
"But you helped him control it."
"She did," Jamil said. He sounded pleased.
Louie looked at him and shook his head.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"I've been telling Richard that he won't get better unless he gets you completely out of his system. I thought he had to forget you to heal himself."
"You sound like you've changed your mind," I said.
"If you can help Richard regain control of his beast, then he needs you. I don't care what arrangement you work out, Anita. But if he doesn't do something soon, he's going to end up dead. To stop that from happening, I'd do almost anything."
For the first time I realized that Louie didn't like me anymore. He was Richard's best friend. I guess I couldn't blame him. If he'd dumped Ronnie as badly as I'd dumped Richard, I'd be pissed, too.
"Even encouraging Richard to see me again?" I made it a question.
"Is that what you want?"
I shook my head and wouldn't meet his eyes. "I don't know. We're bound to each other for eternity. That's a long time to bitch at each other."
Richard appeared in the doorway. "A very long time," he said, "to watch you in his arms." He didn't sound bitter then. He sounded tired. His thick hair and muscular upper body were covered in fine white dust. Even his jeans were coated. He looked like something out of a p**n o movie where the handy-man consoles the lonely housewife. He walked over to stand in front of the roses. "Forever to see white roses with your name on them." He touched the single red rose, and smiled. "Nicely symbolic." His hand closed around the crimson flower; when he opened his hand, red petals scattered across the table. A drop of blood fell to the pale table top. He'd found a thorn.
Ronnie's eyes were wide, staring at the ruined rose. She glanced at me, eyebrows raised, but I didn't even know what expression to give her in return. "That was childish," I said.
Richard turned to me, hand stretched out towards me. "Too bad our other third isn't here to lick the blood off."
I felt an unpleasant smile curl my lips, and spoke before I could stop myself, or maybe I was just tired of trying. "There are at least three people in this room that would love to lick the blood off your skin, Richard. I'm not one of them."
He balled his hand into a fist. "You are such a bitch."
"Woof, woof," I said.
Louie stood. "Stop it, both of you."
"I will if he will," I said.
Richard just turned away, speaking without looking at anyone. "We changed the sheets on the bed. But I'm still a mess." He opened his hand. Blood had spread along the lines in his hand like a river following its banks. He turned to me with angry eyes. "Can I use one of the bathrooms to clean up?" He raised the hand slowly to his mouth and licked the blood very slowly, very deliberately, off his skin.
Ronnie made a small sound, almost a gasp. I managed not to faint; I'd seen the show before. "There's a full bath with shower upstairs. Door across the hall from the bedroom."
He put one finger in his mouth in slow motion, like he'd just eaten some finger-lickin' good chicken. His eyes never moved from my face. I was giving my best blank look, empty, nothing. Whatever he wanted from me, blankness was not it.
"What about the fancy tub downstairs?" he asked.
"Help yourself," I said. I sipped coffee, the picture of nonchalance. Edward would have been proud.
"Wouldn't Jean-Claude be upset if I used your precious tub? I know how much you both like water."
Someone had told him that we'd made love in the tub at the Circus. I'd have loved to know who and hurt them. Heat rose up my face; I couldn't stop it.
"A reaction at last," he said.
"You've embarrassed me, happy?"