“Sure is a nice way to start the day, Mama. What are you doing up so early?”

“I was hungry, and you said you had a lot to do today, so I got up and got organized.” She sat on the edge of the bed with a smile.

“Want to come back to bed and get unorganized again?”

“Not until after breakfast, hot pants. Your eggs’ll get cold.”

“Jesus, you’re practical. Such a cold-hearted woman.”

“No. Just hungry.” She patted his behind, kissed him again, and got up to take the covers off their breakfast.

“Boy, that smells good. Did they send up the paper too?”

“Yes, sir.” It was neatly folded on the tray, and she picked it up and unfolded it, handing it to him with a small curtsy. “At your service, monsieur.”

“Lady, how did I live without you before?”

“With difficulty, undoubtedly.” She smiled at him again and turned to pour him a cup of coffee. When she looked up she was shocked by the expression on his face. He was sitting naked on the side of the bed, with the newspaper open on his lap, and tears starting down his face, contorted with anger and grief. His hands were clenched in fists.

“Lucas? Darling, what is it?” She went to him hesitantly and sat down next to him, searching the headlines quickly to see what had happened. It was the main feature in the paper: Ex-Priest Prison Reformer Shot and Killed. The killing was thought to have been done by a radical left-wing group, but the police were not yet sure. Joseph Morrissey had been shot eight times in the head while leaving his house with his wife. The photographs on the front page showed a hysterical woman leaning over the shapeless form of the victim. Joe Morrissey. His wife was reported to be seven months pregnant.

“Shit.” It was the only sound she heard from Luke as she ran a hand gently around his shoulders, with tears running from her own eyes. They were tears for the man who had died, and tears of fear for Luke. It could have been Lucas.

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry.” They seemed such empty words, for what she felt. “Did you know him well?”

He nodded silently and then closed his eyes. “Too well.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was a whisper.

“He was my front man. Remember, I told you I never go into the prisons, and no one can pin anything on me?”

She nodded.

“Well, they can’t pin anything on me because of guys like Joe Morrissey. He was a chaplain in four of the joints before leaving the priesthood. He stuck around with some of the hard-core reformers after that. And he fronts for the heavies. Mostly me. And now … we killed him. I killed him. Goddamn fucking …” He got up and walked angrily across the room, wiping the tears from his face. “Kezia?”

“Yes?” Her voice was a frightened little sound from across the room.

“I want you packed and dressed right now. And I mean right now. I’m getting you the hell out of here.”

“Lucas … you’re afraid?”

He hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “I’m afraid.”

“For me? Or yourself?”

He almost smiled then. He was never afraid for himself. But this was no time to get her involved. “Let’s just say I want to be smart. Now come on, baby. Let’s get moving.”

“You’re leaving too?” She was talking to his back now though.

“Later.”

“What are you going to do before that?” She was suddenly terrified. Oh God, what if they killed him?

“I’m going to take care of business, and then get my ass back to Chicago tonight And you’re going to go to New York, like a nice girl, and wait there. Now shut up and get dressed, dammit!” He turned toward her with an attempted snarl, but then his face softened as he saw the look of terror on her face. “Now, Mama, come on….” He walked back across the room and took her in his arms as she began to cry again.

“Oh Lucas, what if …”

“Shhh …” He held her tight and kissed the top of her head gently. “No ‘what if,’ Mama. Everything’s going to be cool.”

Going to be cool? Was he out of his mind? Someone had just been killed! His front man, for chrissake. She looked at him with shock in her eyes and he pulled her gently up off the bed.

“Now I want you to get ready.” Too many people could figure out where he was staying. And Kezia was one gold mine he didn’t want in his pocket if someone was laying for him. Maybe killing Morrissey was just a warning. Some warning. His stomach turned over again at the thought.

She started to get dressed while throwing things into her suitcase and casting sidelong glances at Luke. He suddenly looked so businesslike, so foreign to her, so angry.

“Where will you be today, Lucas?”

“Out. Busy. I’ll call you when I get to Chicago. And you’re not going to a birthday party for chrissake. Just put on some clothes. Hurry up.”

“I’m almost ready.” And a moment later she was, looking very sober, with large dark glasses concealing the lack of makeup.

He looked at her for a long moment, tension rippling through his body, and then nodded. “Okay, lady. I’m not going to ride with you. I’m going to call a cab, and get the hell out of here. You’re going to wait in Ernestine’s office downstairs and wait for a cab with her. She will take you to the airport.”

“Ernestine?” Kezia looked surprised. The proprietress of the Ritz didn’t look the sort to play nursemaid to grown guests. And Luke was wondering about it himself. But he figured that for fifty bucks she’d do almost anything.

“That’s right. Ernestine. Go to the airport with her. And get on the first goddamn plane out. I don’t give a shit if it stops fifteen times on the way to New York. But I want you out of here. I don’t want you hanging around the airport. Is that clear?” She nodded silently. “It damn well better be, ‘cause Kezia, I’m not kidding. I’ll tear your hide off if you fool around somewhere. Get out of this town! Is that clear? I’m sorry I brought you here in the first place.” And he looked it.

“I’m not sorry. I’m glad. And I love you. I’m just sorry your friend …” Her voice trailed off and her eyes grew large as she looked at him, and he softened. He took her in his arms again, once more torn between wanting her and knowing he shouldn’t take her down with him. But he needed her too much.

“You’re quite something, lady.” He kissed her quietly and then straightened up. “Get ready to go, Mama. I’m going to tell Ernestine to get you out of here within five minutes, and I’ll be calling to check. I’ll call you in New York tonight. But it may be late. I want to get back to Chicago before I start playing around making phone calls.”

“You’ll be okay today?” But it was a pointless question and she knew it. Who knew if he’d be okay? What she really wanted to ask him was when she’d see him again, but she didn’t dare. She just watched with large damp eyes as he quietly closed the door to the room. A moment later she saw him leave the hotel in a cab. And ten minutes later, she and Ernestine did the same. Kezia got very drunk on the flight back to New York.


Chapter 19


It had been over a week since she’d left him in San Francisco. Now he was back in Chicago and calling her two or three times a day. But there had been a raw fiber of terror in her gut since she’d left him. He said everything was fine, and he’d be in New York any day. But when? And how was he really? She was aware of a guarded quality to his speech when he called. He didn’t trust his phone. And this was far worse than the last time they’d been apart. Then she had only been lonely. Now she was afraid.

She was desperately trying to keep her time, and her mind, as filled as she could. She had even suggested to Luke that she do a piece on Alejandro.

“On that fleabag center he runs?”

“Yes. Simpson says he might have a market for it. I think I’d like to do it. Think Alejandro would agree?”

“He’d love it, and a little publicity might help him get funds.”

“All right. I’ll get busy on it.” Either that or go crazy, sweetie pie.

“Okay, now what do I do? I’ve never been interviewed before.” She laughed at the nervous look on his face. He was such a nice man, with a good sense of humor.

“Well, Alejandro, let’s see. Actually, you’re only my second personal interview. Usually, I go about it quietly. Kind of sneaky.” She looked like a kid in her pigtails and jeans. But a clean kid. That was rare in those halls.

“Why sneaky? Are you afraid of what you write?” His eyes opened wide. It surprised him. She was so direct; it seemed unlike her to go through any back doors.

“It’s mostly because of the crazy life I lead. Luke covered it fairly accurately. I am one way, and live a number of other ways.”

“And what’s Luke to you, Kezia? Is he real?”

“Very. It’s my old life that isn’t real. Never was. And it’s even less so now.”

“You don’t like it?”

She shook her head in silent answer.

“That’s too bad.”

“I’m almost ashamed of it, Alejandro.”

“Kezia, that’s crazy. It’s part of you. You can’t deny it.”

“But it’s so ugly.” She toyed with a pencil and looked at her hands.

“It can’t all be ugly. And why ‘ugly’? To most people that life looks pretty good.” His voice was very soft.

“It’s an empty life, though. It takes everything out of you, and doesn’t put anything back. It’s pretense and games, and people cheating on each other, and lying, and thinking of how many thousands of dollars to spend on a dress, when they could be putting it into something like this. It just doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense to me. I guess I’m a misfit.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about that world.”

“You’re better off.”

“And you’re silly.” He reached out and touched her face, pulling her chin up until her eyes met his. “It’s part of you, Kezia. A nice part. A gracious part. You really think you’d be so much better off living up here like this? People lie and cheat and steal here too. They shoot junk. They fuck their children. They beat their mothers and their wives. They get frustrated and angry. They don’t have time to learn the things you know. Maybe you should just take that knowledge and use it well. Don’t waste your time feeling bitter or sad for the years before this. Just use it well now.”

She smiled at him for a long moment. He made sense. And he was right. Her world had given her something. It was a part of her life. “I think I hate it so much because I’m afraid I’ll get stuck there in the end. It’s like an octopus, and it won’t let you go.”

“Baby, you’re a big girl now. If you don’t want it, all you have to do is walk away. Quietly. Not with a bazooka in one hand and a grenade in the other. No one can stop you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” He looked surprised.

“I guess not. I never felt I had a choice.”

“Sure you do. We all have choices. We just don’t see them sometimes. Even I have a choice, in this ‘shithouse’ as Luke calls it. Any time it gets me down, I can walk out. But I don’t.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because they need me. And I love it I feel like I can’t walk out, but the point is, I can. I just don’t want to. Maybe you didn’t want to walk out of your world either. Maybe you still don’t want to. Maybe you’re not ready to yet. Could be you feel safe there. And why not? It’s familiar. And familiar is easy. Even if it’s the shits, it’s easy, because you know it. You never know the hell that is going to be out there.” He gestured vaguely with one arm as she nodded. He understood very well.

“You’re right. But I think I’m ready to leave the womb now. I also know that until now I haven’t been ready. That’s embarrassing to admit. Seems like at my age, I should have all that behind me, and be all squared away.”

“Bullshit. That takes a hell of a long time. I was thirty before I had the balls to leave my little Chicano world in L.A. and come here.”

“How old are you now?”

“Thirty-six.”

“You don’t look it.” She was surprised.

“Maybe not, querida, but I sure as hell feel it.” He laughed his soft velvety laugh, and the warm Mexican eyes danced. “Some days I feel eighty.”

“I know what you mean. Alejandro …” Her face grew serious.

“What, babe?” He thought he knew what was coming.

“You think Luke’s okay?”

“In what way?” Oh God, don’t let her ask. He couldn’t tell her. Luke had to do that himself, if he hadn’t already … but he should have by now.

“I don’t know. He’s so … well … so bold, I guess that’s the right word. He just does what he does and that’s it. I worry about his parole, about his safety, his life, everything. But he doesn’t seem to.” She wasn’t looking at him and he watched her hands; they were nervous and taut, playing games with her pen.