The Lover's Children novel Chapter 117

KLEMPNER

"Your wife?” She gapes wide at her compañera. “Gotta say, I'll be interested to meet her."

"I think she might be interested to meet you too."

"Yeah? How come? Not many guys' wives wanna meet us."

"Oh, you might be surprised."

She chuckles, then her face turns serious. “We won’t stop long. We can see you’re not so good. But seriously, we came in to say thanks. Not just for us two. It’s all the girls. Everyone wanted to come ‘n see you…”

Donna breaks in… “…But the word was you’d been hit bad, so it’s just us. What you did…” She lays a hand on my cast… “… ID’ing this bastard, we really appreciate it.”

“They’ve not caught him yet.”

“They will. And we know what he looks like now, so everyone’s on their guard if he resurfaces.” She aims a polished scarlet nail at me. “You ever need anything… Anything… Ever… You call. You’ve got a lot of friends out there now.”

She checks her watch. “Yeah, gotta go, but some of the other girls would like to drop by sometime, if that’s okay.”

“Why not?”

*****

Another knock on the door. Actually, more of a tap…

How can a knock on the door sound hesitant?

It does…

Then a voice, quavering. A familiar voice. “Larry?”

“Hello, Georgie. The door’s open.”

“Hi.” Faltering in the doorway, a bunch of flowers in one hand, a brown-paper bag in the other, she shifts from one foot to the other. “Can I come in?”

Able to sit up comfortably at last, I’m finding the world a friendlier place. “Be my guest.” But as she draws closer…

What’s wrong with her?

Georgie’s dark eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, are stark against a face pale way beyond her usual appearance. She’s pallid to the point of waxen. Her long, dark hair, normally one of her most attractive features, hangs slack and lackluster.

She’s normally an attractive woman. Not now.

Do I ask?

Where’s Mitch when I need her?

She sits, then passes me the bag. “It’s grapes. If you don’t like them, I can bring something else.”

“Grapes are fine…” I’m trying to think how to ask when, right on cue, Mitch returns with a tray laden with teapot and mugs, scented of mint. “Larry, I… Oh, hello, Georgie.” She pauses, taking in the girl’s appearance and her eyes slip to mine, forehead creased. I shrug.

Mitch sets down the tray. “Would you like some tea, Georgie? It’s a fresh pot.”

“Um… Yes, thanks, Mitch.”

Mitch isn’t a huge fan of Georgie. I know that. Jenny may have finally become friendly with the girl after her earlier gaffs, but Mitch is less forgiving. Nonetheless, she reaches across, touching her hand. “Georgie, are you ill?”

She jolts, tugging her hand free. “Ill? Why would you ask?”

“You… don’t look yourself. Rather tired, in fact.”

Georgie looks away, face crumpling. I swear her lower lip is trembling. “We broke up.”

Mitch’s eyes widen. “Broke up? You mean you and Borje?”

The words like the crack of a whip, “Of course me and Borje. Who else?” Then, she droops her head, voice cracking. “Well, he broke up with me.”

“What did you do to upset him?”

Mitch awards me a daggered glance.

Crap…

Georgie’s chin snaps up. “Why would you assume it’s my fault?”

Mitch shoots lightning bolts my way, but I’ve already started…

I’ll pay for this later…

“Because you have a bad case of attitude, Georgie. Because I know that Borje was smitten by you. And because you have a penchant for opening your mouth inappropriately. .”

She stares, bristling, then the fight sags out of her. “What do I have to do?”

Mitch speaks quietly. “What did you do?”

“It’s what I didn’t do. I wouldn’t…” She trails off, gulping.

Borje… friendly with James, Michael and my Jenny

… those clubs of theirs.

Has he leapt in feet-first expecting Georgie to follow suit?

I have no idea to ask.

Mitch tiptoe through the words. “Georgie, If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly was Borje expecting of you that you found so offensive?”

She sags. “He wanted to tell me what to wear.”

wtf?

Mitch and I exchange glances.

“To wear?” I ask. “What’s wrong with what you wear, Georgie? I’ve seen you dressed to go out. You dress well. I think Mitch agrees with me.” Mitch nods, looking baffled.

“No… It was… Well… Under…”

“Under?” I’m swimming in foreign waters… “Your… underclothes… you mean?”

“Yes, he wanted me to wear…”

Mitch touches her hand again. “Wear what? You mean he bought you some underwear?”

“He wanted to buy me some, but I refused.”

Visions of fetish wear, vinyl and leather flit across my brain…

… but Mitch does the asking. “What kind of underwear was it, Georgie. Something… offensive?”

“He wanted me to wear stockings. Black stockings.”

Mitch stares, then bursts out laughing. “For heaven’s sake, Georgie. Learn to bend a little.”