“He’s still in the courtroom. Kezia, no … don’t go …” She was on her way to the door, her feet racing over the gray marble floor. “Kezia!”

“Go to hell!” She flew out the door just as he caught her arm. “Stop it, damn you! I have to see him!”

“Okay. Then let’s go.” He held her hand tightly in his, and hand in hand they ran down the hall. “He may be gone now.”

She didn’t answer, she only ran faster, her shoes beating like her heart, pounding the floor as they ran. The reporters had already thinned out. They had their story. Lucas Johns was on his way back to Quentin. So it goes. Poor sonofabitch.

Kezia shoved her way past two men blocking the door of the courtroom, and Alejandro slipped in beside her. The judge was leaving the bench, and all she could see was one man, sitting quietly, alone, his back to her, facing straight ahead.

“Lucas?” She slowed to a walk and approached him slowly. He turned his head toward her, and there was nothing on his face. It was a mask. A different man than she knew. An iron wall with two eyes. Two eyes that held tears, but said nothing.

“Darling, I love you.” She had her arms around him then, and he leaned slowly against her, letting his head rest on her chest, letting his weight go, his whole body seeming to sag. But his arms never moved to go around her, and then she saw why. He was already in handcuffs. They hadn’t wasted much time. His wallet and change lay on the table before him, and among them were the keys to the New York apartment, and his ring, the one she had given him for Christmas. “Lucas, why did they do it?”

“They had to. Now you go home.”

“No. I’ll stay till you go. Don’t talk. Oh Christ, Lucas … I love you.” She fought back the tears. He would not see her cry. He was strong, so was she. But she was dying inside.

“I love you too, so do me a favor and go. Get the hell out of here, will you?” The tears had gone from his eyes and she covered his mouth with her own as her answer. She was bending toward him, her thin arms and small hands trying to envelop the whole of his body, as though he were a child and had grown too big for her lap. Why had they done it? Why couldn’t she take this away from him? Why couldn’t she have bought them? Why? All this pain and the ugliness and the handcuffs … why was there nothing she could do? Fucking goddamn parole board, and the judge and …

“Okay, Mr. Johns.” There was a nasty inflection on the “Mr.,” and the voice came from right behind her.

“Kezia, go!” It was the command of a general, not a plea from the defeated.

“Where are they taking you?” As her eyes flew open wide with anger and fear, she felt Alejandro’s hands on her shoulders, pulling her back.

“To county jail. Alejandro knows. Then to Quentin. Now get the fuck out of here. Now!” He rose to his full height and faced the guard who was about to lead him away.

She stood on tiptoe briefly and kissed him, and then almost blindly she let Alejandro lead her out of the court. She stood for a moment in the hall, and then as though in a distant vision far off down the hall she saw him go, a guard on either side, his hands shackled in front of him. He never looked back and it seemed as though, long after he was gone, she felt her mouth open, and a long piercing sound filled the air. A woman was screaming but she didn’t know who. It couldn’t be someone she knew. Nice people don’t scream. But the sound wouldn’t end and someone’s arms were holding her tight, as flashbulbs began to explode in her face and strange voices assailed her.

And then suddenly she was flying over the city in a glass cage, and after that she was led into a strange room and someone put her to bed and she felt very cold. Very cold. A man piled blankets on her, and another man with funny glasses and a mustache gave her a shot. She started to laugh at him because he looked so funny, but then that terrifying sound came back again. The woman was screaming. What woman? It was a long, endless howl. It filled the room until all the light was squeezed out of her eyes and everything went black.


Chapter 27


When Kezia woke up, Alejandro was sitting in the room with her, watching her. It was dark. He looked tired and rumpled and was surrounded by empty cups. He looked as though he had spent the night in the chair, and he had.

She watched him for a long time; her eyes were open and it was hard to blink. Her eyes felt bigger than they ever had before.

“You awake?” His voice was a hoarse whisper. The ashtrays were filled to the brim.

She nodded. “I can’t close my eyes.”

He smiled at her. “I think you’re still stoned. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

She only shook her head, and then tears washed the too-open eyes. Even that didn’t help her to close them. “I want to get up.”

“And do what?” She made him very nervous.

“Go pee pee.” She giggled and choked on fresh tears.

“Oh.” The smile was brotherly and tired.

“You know something?” She looked at him curiously.

“What?”

“You look like hell. You stayed up all night, didn’t you?”

“I dozed. Don’t worry about me.”

“Why not?” She staggered out of bed and headed for the john, pausing in the doorway. “Alejandro, when can I see Luke?”

“Not fill tomorrow.” So she already remembered. He had been afraid that he would have to start from scratch after the shot they’d given her the night before. It was now six in the morning.

“You mean today or tomorrow?”

“I mean tomorrow.”

“Why can’t I see him till then?”

“County only has two visiting days. Wednesday and Sunday. Tomorrow is Wednesday. Them’s the rules.”

“Bastards.” She slammed the bathroom door and he lit another cigarette. He was into his fourth pack since the night had begun. It had been one hell of a night. And she still hadn’t seen the crap in the papers. Edward had called four times that night. He’d seen the news in New York. He was half out of his mind.

When she came back, she sat on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette from his pack. She looked tired, haggard, and pale. The tan seemed to have instantly faded, and dark rims framed her eyes all the way around, like purple eye shadow gone wild.

“Lady, you don’t look so hot. I think you ought to stay in bed.” She didn’t answer, but only sat there, smoking and swinging her foot, her head turned away from him.

“Kezia?”

“Yeah?” She was crying again when she turned to face him, and she felt like a very small child melting into his arms. “Oh God, Alejandro. Why? How can they do this to us? To him?”

“Because sometimes it happens that way. Call it fate, if you want.”

“I’d call it fucked.” He smiled tiredly and then sighed. “Babe …” She had to know, but he hated to tell her. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know if you remember, but the newspaper boys took a bunch of pictures as they led Luke away.” He held his breath and watched the look on her face. He could see that she didn’t remember.

“Those shits, why couldn’t they leave him his last shred of dignity? Miserable, rotten …”

Alejandro shook his head. “Kezia … they took pictures of you.” The words dropped like a bomb.

“Of me?”

He nodded.

“Jesus.”

“They just thought you were his old lady, and I had Luke’s attorney call them and ask them not to run the pictures or your name. But by then, they knew who you were. Somebody spotted the pictures when they were developing them. That’s a lot of bad luck.”

“They ran the pictures?” She sat very still.

“Out here, you’re page one. Page four in New York. Edward called a few times last night.” Kezia threw back her head and started to laugh. It was a nervous, hysterical laugh, and not the reaction he had expected.

“Man, we really bought it this time, didn’t we? Edward must be dying, poor thing.” But she didn’t sound very sympathetic. She sounded distracted.

“That’s putting it mildly.” Alejandro almost felt sorry for the man. He had sounded so stricken. So betrayed.

“Well, you plays, you pays, as they say. How bad are the pictures?”

About as bad as you could get. She had been hysterical when the photographers had spotted them. Alejandro pulled the evening edition of the Examiner from under the bed and held it out to her. On the front page was a photograph of Kezia collapsing in Alejandro’s arms. She cringed as she saw it, and glanced at the text. “Socialite heiress Kezia Saint Martin, secret girlfriend of ex-con Lucas Johns, collapses outside courtroom after …” It was worse than they had feared.

“I think Edward is mainly concerned with what kind of shape you’re in now.”

“My ass, he is. He’s having a heart attack over the story. You don’t know Edward.” She sounded almost like a child afraid of her father. It seemed odd to Alejandro.

“Did he know about Luke?”

“Not like this he didn’t. Actually, he knew I had interviewed him, and he also knew there’s been someone important in my life for the last few months. Well, sooner or later, I guess it had to come out. We were lucky till now. It’s a bitch that it has to be like this though. Have the papers called since?”

“A few times. I told them there was no story, and you were flying back to New York today. I thought that might get them off your back, and they’d keep busy watching the airport.”

“And the lobby.”

He hadn’t thought about that. What an insane way to live.

“We’ll have to call the manager and arrange to get out of here. I want to move to the Ritz. They won’t find us there.”

“No, but you can count on some coverage tomorrow if you want to see Luke at the jail.”

She stood up and faced him, an icy look in her eyes. “Not ‘if,’ Alejandro, ‘when.’ And if they want to be pigs about it, fuck them.”

* * *

The day slipped by in a haze of silence and cigarette smoke. Their move to the Ritz passed uneventfully. A fifty dollar “gift” to the manager encouraged him to show them out through a back door, and keep his mouth shut about it later. Apparently, he had. There were no calls for them at the Ritz.

Kezia sat lost in her own thoughts, rarely speaking. She was thinking of Luke, and how he had looked when they led him away … and before that, how he had looked in the law library. He had been a free man then, for those last precious moments.

She called Edward from the Ritz and struggled through a brief, anguished conversation with him. They both cried. Edward kept repeating, “How could you do this?” He left the words “to me” unspoken, but they were there, nevertheless. He wanted her to fly home or let him fly out. He exploded when she refused.

“Edward, please, for God’s sake, don’t do this to me. Don’t pressure me now!” She shouted through her tears and wondered briefly why they kept throwing guilt at each other. Who cared “who was doing what to whom.” It had been done unto Kezia, and Luke, but not by Edward. And Kezia had done nothing to Edward, not intentionally. They were all caught in the teeth of a maniacal machine, and no one could help it, or stop it.

“You have to come home, Kezia! Think of what they’ll do to you out there.”

“They’ve already done it, and if it’s in the papers in New York it won’t make any difference where I am. I could fly to Tangiers for chrissake, and they’d still want a piece of the action.”

“It’s really unbelievable. I still don’t understand … and Kezia … good God, girl, you must have known this would happen to him. That story you told me about his being sick … this was what you meant, wasn’t it?” She nodded silently at the receiver and his voice came back sharper. “Wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded so small, so broken and hurt.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I?” There was a long moment of silence when they both knew the truth.

“I still don’t understand how you could involve yourself.

You said in your own article about him that there was a possibility of this. How …”

“Oh shut up, damn you, Edward, I did. That’s all, I did. And stop clucking like a bloody mother hen about it. I did, and I got hurt, we both got hurt, and believe me, he’s hurting one hell of a lot more sitting in jail right now.” There was deadly silence and Edward’s voice came back with a measured venom that was totally foreign to him … except for once before.

“Mr. Johns is used to jail, Kezia.” She wanted to hang up on Edward then, but she didn’t quite dare. Severing the connection would sever something more, something deeper, and she still needed that tie, maybe only a little bit, but she needed it. Edward was all she had in a way, except Luke.

“Do you have anything else to say?” Her voice was almost as vicious as his had been a moment before. She was willing to kick at him, but not dismiss him entirely.