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“First things first.” Ina scrambled to get pots and pans out of one of several boxes on the kitchen floor. “You need to eat.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m going to a very fancy banquet tonight.”
Eric saluted his landlady and climbed the stairs. He stepped over the rim of a claw foot tub and turned the handles of the shower. Streams of hot water followed by blasts of cold rattled through the pipes and out of the old shower head. Nevertheless, it felt good to have even the frigid water pulsating against his aching body.
After returning from the pharmacy, Ina supplied him with a set of electric clippers meant to groom a dog. He removed a layer of whiskers from his face but intentionally left a five o’clock shadow to mask the chartreuse and purple that lingered on his jaw. Nick arrived with a tux, shirt, and tie.
After dressing, Eric inched carefully down the stairs to find his friend at the table, fork in hand.Leave it to Ina to prepare a meal from nothing.
“Mrs. Cummings, if I weren’t a confirmed bachelor, I’d marry you. This is the best meal I’ve eaten in…I can’t remember when,” Nick said. “Mmm, mmm, honest to goodness food with no sprouts or fancy lettuce clogging up the plate.”
Ina busied herself swiping crumbs from the massive slab of oak. “Bean sprouts are good for you. That’s why all you California folks are so healthy and good looking.”
Eric smiled, watching as Nick actually blushed. “I’m originally from Brooklyn and the handsome lad over there,” he said, pointing his fork at Eric, “is from Oregon.”
Though Ina was speaking to Nick, her head was tipped toward Eric. “Well do me a favor and take care of him tonight. He says he’s feeling okay, but he’s favoring his right side and his eyes don’t look good.”
She took Nick’s empty plate and threw it into the sink. Suds splashed the scuffed laminate counter because she’d dropped the plate with too much force. “Ash Baldwin was a spoiled little boy who grew into an arrogant and demanding man. He’s a vengeful bastard when he doesn’t get his way, and that doesn’t happen much around here. Eric is about the only one I know to ever cross him, and Ash won’t stop going after him.”
“Don’t worry. Eric can take care of himself, and I won’t be far away if he needs me.”
“Well I need you now.” Eric tossed his jacket onto a chair, stripped out of the shirt and spread his arms wide. “I need you to wrap my ribs.”
Ina gasped and shook her head. Irregular masses of color like a radar map of a storm still covered his ribs. “That bastard. I’d like to squeeze him by the balls until he hits the high note inThe Ave Maria.”
A thunderous roll of laughter spilled from Nick’s mouth while Eric gripped his side. “Ina, I begged you not to make me laugh.”
Nick rolled the ace bandage around Eric’s ribs, then helped him shrug into a shirt. “So what’s the plan? You going to crash this hospital benefit?”
Ina stepped over with a tie while Eric buttoned up. “I guess if I write a big enough check, no one will mind. By the way, how’d you get the tux?”
Smiling, Nick rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding? Every designer in New York has one altered to fit you.”
Hitching at the waistband, Eric declared the pants to be loose. “I didn’t eat much this past week.”
“Well, hopefully they won’t fall down. Let’s go.”
Nick drove a limousine with Eric sitting quietly beside him. His patience with Baldwin had been stretched tight and he was probably going to lose his reserve and do something stupid. Nick in his typical fashion would be there to prevent it.
Chapter Thirty
Stephen Powers stepped up to what served as a reservation desk—a high counter with both a phone and television sitting on top and a disinterested looking woman sitting behind. He signed in using a fake name and gave the desk manager enough cash to pay for a week’s worth of board.
He returned to Mark Chambers who was outside petulantly slumped in the car. “This place is a dump.”
“Stop complaining. It’s no worse than your apartment. They take cash and don’t ask questions.”
“Humph. Trails End. That bitch Bree put me in a dive on purpose.”
Powers’ lips were pursed together, his face bearing the expression of someone who had just eaten something spoiled. Every time Mark opened his mouth, a fetid smell filled the air. “Thatbitchis paying you a small fortune. Go to your room and I’ll get Belka.”
Powers drove to the back where a series of double unit bungalows stood lined up like army barracks. He knocked on number fifteen. There was no answer. “He’s not here. Just go inside and wait for him. I’m catching the redeye back to L.A.. I’ve had enough of babysitting you.”
Mark whined, “You can’t just leave me here. I’m hungry. Take me to that diner we passed.”
The motel sat amid a gnarled mass of plant life—dense conifers, reedy grasses, and tiny saplings with more girth than Mark’s physique. “From the looks of you, I doubt if you ever eat anything besides bar nuts and pretzels.”
“I’m hungry,” Mark insisted, but he appeared to be working on a good case of the shakes.
