Smoke Ch. 05

"I got caught up with the need to catch these two and forgot what was really important. I'm sorry... please, forgive me." He shifted nervously on the hard back, wooden chair.

Sophia vacillated. She knew she could have drawn out the scene until he would be pleading with her but, what was the point? She, herself, had jumped at the chance to play spy on her own. The danger, the excitement... it was enough to push her into easily agreeing with his hare-brained scheme. She smiled, though, remembering her little 'night out' with Jim. 'Oh, what a feeling,' she thought.

Sophia smiled... 'no sense,' she thought, 'in breaking his ego. After all, I do love him, just... just what?' she wondered, 'just what? Where was the fearless federal agent who risked his life every time he left the house?' He seemed to have lost his edge, somehow.

The pizza arrived just in time before she could answer her questions. Later, she realized that some questions were better left unanswered. One of them, though, was why she had to move to Los Angeles to get a good New York pizza.

**********

Al threw the dice again, watching the white cubes flying across the green velvet and bouncing back from the side.

"Six is the number..."

"Damn!" he said, throwing another ten dollar chip down. It was going to be harder, now. He had already lost over two-hundred in the last hour alone. The two whores hanging on his arms quickly left looking for a better mark as his stake dwindled. It was either dice or the slots; he had no other choice. The American card games were too complicated to learn quickly but the thrill of winning kept eluding him.

He was soon down to less than a hundred and if he was going to get a woman for the night and a room to stay, he knew he had to leave while there was still something left in his pocket.

As he left the casino, a slightly older woman approached, smoking a cigarette. Al looked at her, wondering if she was the one. Not as young as the two at the table, she nevertheless exuded a confidence that called to him. 'In the dark,' he rationalized, 'aren't all women the same?'

The blue-gray smoke trailed her as she followed him back across the street to the motel he was staying at.

The next morning, he awoke to find everything gone... his cash, his wallet, his camera, his clothes, his keys, his car... his assignment was a failure and worse, Tatiana was going to kill him.

"Damn this country!" he yelled, kicking the wastebasket across the motel room, stubbing his toe. He wrapped a towel around himself and walked outside to the payphone. "Yes, I'd like to make a collect call, please..."

**********

Greg would come in at ten o'clock each evening, have dinner with her at Raymond's and then drive home. With her fingers interlaced with his; her engagement ring glittering each time they passed under another softly glowing street lamp, they walked late at night toward the beach.

She looked up at her lover and sighed. He had quietly waited for her to set a date, which she had not done, yet. Why, she didn't know for sure, just that she hadn't. She felt guilty at her lackadaisical attitude toward marriage. It wasn't so much that she didn't love Greg, it was more that the implosion of her first marriage had left her gun-shy.

Every morning, she greeted him with an "I love you" and a deep and probing kiss followed by whatever he wanted to do. 'Whatever he wanted to do?' she asked herself... more than half the time, she was on him and enjoying herself before he was fully awake.

She laughed.

"What's so funny?" he asked, gently.

"Oh, nothing... I love you, Greg; you know that, don't you?" She looked up at him, again.

"Yes..." he answered, wondering where the conversation was going. He hated open ended questions.

"I know you want to get married and I've been... I've been sort of waiting."

"Oh, damn," he said, under his breath, positive that she was going to start a 'we need to talk' conversation with him.

She stopped walking and he swung around to face her, caught by her fingers. "Martine's going to have a baby, now and I was thinking..."

A slow sweat started across his forehead. 'Was she pregnant?' He hadn't heard any morning sickness, but that meant nothing. Some women didn't have it.

"Would October work?"

"For?"

"A wedding... nothing big, you know, maybe a few friends... would that be OK?"

He picked her up and swung her around and around, kissing her each time she passed the lamppost. "Oh, God, yes! I've been waiting so long to hear that."

"You're not mad?"

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" He held her two hands in his and looked deeply into her blue eyes.

"That I took so long? I mean..." Whatever else she was going to say was lost as her lips were covered by kiss after kiss after kiss.

"Oh, baby, I'm so happy..." He pumped his arm into the air; love conquered all, he had heard. Maybe, just maybe, it WAS true.

He kissed her again, even more happy than the day she had said 'yes' and accepted his ring.

That night, she made love with a renewed vigorous passion that surprised both of them and as he pushed deeply within her, he could feel her shake beneath him. One thing he had learned about his fiancée, she was quiet during sex and let her body express herself to him until right at the end when she let out a loud moan.

'Thank God,' she thought just before falling asleep in his arms, 'that the morning doesn't start for us until eight o'clock.'

**********

A day later, there was a knock on the door and Al gingerly looked through the window before cracking it, slightly. "Yes?" he asked.

"Albert Meadows? Sign here, please."

After the mailman left, Al tore open the package containing his new clothes and shoes, enough money for a bus ticket and a scathing letter from Angie. Strangely, as embarrassed as he was, he was also angry that he was robbed so easily by a prostitute. Too much vodka... he had to admit, though, that vodka and orange juice was SO much better than vodka alone.

He got dressed, put the money in his pocket and started the long walk to the Greyhound bus station downtown.

**********

"Well, it's about time," said Martine to her young friend. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to marry him."

Cindy grinned. "I... I don't know why, I just was afraid."

"Look," Martine said, "you've know Greg long enough, now. He saved your life... and mine, I'm not forgetting. Just because your..."

Cindy cringed. "Please, don't even mention his name. You're right, I was afraid, that's all. Once burned, twice shy."

"So, what's the date?"

"Late October? It's close enough not to make him think I'm putting it off more but far enough away that I can plan something." She smiled, wondering what new thing they could try on their wedding night. 'That's the problem with living with someone,' she thought, 'if you do marry them, the anticipation for the evening has already been lost.'

"How game are you?" asked Martine, mischievously.

"What do you mean?"

"Halloween... it's the last Friday in October. It would be a lot of fun and Cindy, you need some fun this time around." Already, ideas were flowing through her mind... orange, yes, but no black... God forbid, black...

"Halloween? You've got to be kidding! Greg'll never go along with that; he'll think we've lost our marbles." Cindy laughed, nervously. "This is his first wedding, his first marriage. I don't want to spoil it for him."

"You're already living together. Do you honestly think he'd balk at something like this? Besides, it'll be so different and you'll never have to worry about him forgetting your anniversary!"

"I don't know, Martine, it still sounds crazy to me."

"Go ahead, ask him."

'Easier said than done,' Cindy thought. 'Halloween? Insane! How'm I ever going to convince him of that?'

**********

Al arrived late the next day. The bus ride had been full of people who had lost everything to the casinos and riding home on a ticket from the casino. He had just lost what he had to a prostitute. Replacing the car was problematic but he knew he was in for an angry confrontation with Tatiana... Angie... he kept forgetting. Maybe he was drinking too much alcohol? The thought entered and left just as quickly. Russians can hold their vodka. It must have been the orange juice.

At that very moment, his car, with new license plates and VIN, was heading toward Chicago to, ironically enough, "Al's Used Cars."

"You stupid fool," she said, not even letting him close the door to the apartment. "That was our car and now it's gone. You lost everything, didn't you? You have nothing to show for your little trip. I'll bet you weren't robbed, were you? You were with a prostitute, weren't you? Just couldn't keep it zipped. Can you remember anything?"

Sadly, he shook his head 'no'. There wasn't anything of use. He did remember a giant tortoise out in the desert and the tall towers and the dam but his maps and photographs were all lost.

"I would get you out of here... I should, you know, but how can I bring anyone else in, now? The landlord would go crazy. Leave me alone, right now." She stomped out of the apartment and down the back stairs to where Greg and Cindy were grilling some hamburgers. Angie admitted that American food was much better than her native Russian and there was SO much of it but that would all change once the revolution would arrive. 'Americans are weak,' she thought, 'and anything that upsets their little world will bring it tumbling down.'

Greg looked up from the grill. 'Damn,' he thought, 'not her.' After Elliot confessed he was an FBI agent and the two new renters were Russian agents, he begged Greg not to evict them, calling on his patriotism to convince him. Even so, every time he saw her, he regretted agreeing.

"Hello," she said, flipping her head and sending her hair back. Greg noticed her shortness, as if she was angry at something. 'Well, that's just too damn bad,' he thought.

He nodded his head while Cindy answered back with a nervous 'hi.' For some reason, ever since her lunch with Angie at Cantor's, she had avoided the woman but never told Greg why. She just wasn't comfortable around her.

"Do you know where I can buy a good, cheap used car? Al lost ours in Vegas."

He almost spilled his beer. 'Al lost the car in Vegas? Oh, I have to hear this.' He laughed. As much as he knew about the two Russians, he knew this had to be a great story.

"Oh, that's too bad. Here, why don't you sit down? Want a burger? They'll be ready in a moment or two." As much as he disliked the woman for her trying to recruit Cindy into her evening escapades, he thought it would make an interesting way to pass the time... and, he might be able to tell Elliot something.

"Thank you. I don't feel like talking to him, right now, as you can imagine. What a fool he is!"

"Ran up a gambling debt?" Cindy asked, remembering how Chris had come to die. She didn't want another visit from loan sharks and bookies.

"No, nothing as simple as that... he lost everything to a..." She looked at Cindy. Not quite sure about the relationship the girl had with Greg, she decided to be discrete. "He lost it to a bad roll of the dice. He's back now. Stupid idiot..."

Greg wasn't sure but it sounded like her New York accent had slipped a bit, now that he knew what he was hearing. So, the great spies were no match for Vegas. The situation was too funny and he laughed. "Well, it seems we're going to be looking for a car, also. You're welcome to come along."

"Why, thank you very much."

Cindy went upstairs into the apartment to get another couple of beers and an extra place setting. She was surprised that Greg was so accommodating to Angie. She was sure that Angie had been on his list of worst people in the world.

While Cindy was gone, Angie turned toward Greg. "I want to apologize for my behavior with Cindy... and, I guess with Sophia, too. I thought that... well, let's just say that I didn't fully understand how things were and I'm sorry. I'll leave her alone, I mean, you know..."

"Apology accepted. Don't worry about it." He smiled, looking into the sweet face of the enemy. 'If people could make love and not war... well,' he thought, 'that's never going to happen.' "Is tomorrow morning a good time for you?"

**********

Kenneth Chevrolet was backed by the curve of one of the three palm tree lined plaza parks in Hawthorne. With the new models already in stock, the dealership was inundated with trade-ins from people tired of their post-War automobiles. The larger inventory had given Greg the upper-hand in dealing with the aggressive salesman.

"Listen," he told the man, "I'll get back to you when we've decided. Thank you." Greg could hear the man grumble as he walked away from the potential sale. Sometimes it was better to be subtle when dealing with customers, a trait he had never seemed to learn.

A 1948 Chevy sat near the sidewalk with a Silver Gray Green paint job. Greg laughed; it looked more like a green auto that needed a car wash. Next to it was a beautiful convertible in Moonlight Cream. That was the car for Cindy, he was sure of it. He lifted the hood and looked at the straight-6. The engine compartment was clean enough to touch. After looking for oil leaks and corrosion, he unscrewed the cold radiator cap and put his finger in, looking for oil or rust. It came back clean.

Cindy was already sitting behind the wheel, playing the radio. She had quickly found a music station and was bouncing on the seat to the beat. Angie sat next to her, looking in the glove box and then under the seats. She finally opened the door and got into the back, lying down on the wide bench seat.

"Now," he asked, "where's that stupid salesman?"

As if by magic, the man appeared with the keys to the two cars. "Made up your mind?"

"Maybe... let's take this one for a spin, first."

That afternoon, with her new car parked in the driveway next to Angie's new green car, Cindy was working hard to thank Greg for what she considered her wedding gift. She looked back and put her finger in her mouth as he bounced her body. Her long blond hair swayed while her head rocked back and forth until she was sure he was ready. His stamina was amazing and made all the other men seem like nothing.

He stopped, both hands on the small of her back as he knelt behind her.

She moved around and approached him, taking him into her mouth as deeply as she could. Even with her hand tight around it, it still was long enough to reach her throat.

Later, he promised a ride up the coast and a wild night in Ventura.