|
Rumors Jane Harper RATING: R for language and violence SYNOPSIS: Begins immediately after "Blood & Thunder"-in fact, it starts between the climax and the epilogue. This one's about playing telephone. ARCHIVE: Sure, just let me know where. DISCLAIMER: Sarah's mine; the rest of the characters herein belong to the Evil Genius and his minions. I'm just tossing them into a bag, shaking it up, and seeing what happens.
Sarah sat once more on the floor in their living room, holding on to Margaret for dear life, seeing her cousin and her lover wrestle for an eight-inch chef's knife, seeing them fall to the floor, seeing the pool of blood spread from underneath them... and this time it was Leo lying in blood and her cousin who got up, triumphant. She watched in terror as Joel split Leo's body open with the knife, screamed at Joel's face covered with her lover's blood, made a futile attempt to stand and wound up crawling over to the still-warm body. Now her hands were covered in her beloved's spent essence, as her cousin came toward her face with the blade- She woke up with a scream, covered in sweat and tears. The clock said 1:30, and her hands shook as she reached for the telephone. She dialed Leo's office, but there was no answer. She called his pager, then tried Mallory's home, but no one was there. Sam's cell phone was shut off. Leo's was sitting on the table in their room. She got up and went to the bathroom, threw cold water on her face. There were dark circles under her eyes. She had not slept the night before because her cousin had been stalking her. Now she couldn't sleep because he had found her. God, what I wouldn't give-- No. It's not worth it. Besides, I don't have any. . . Twenty-six years, and she still wanted the sweet oblivion that her drug would bring her. Not often, but when it hit, it hit hard. She went back to the phone and called her old sponsor. The machine answered; she left a message. "Marie, this is Sarah. I know I haven't seen you in awhile, haven't called, haven't been to our meeting--I'm going to a different one-but right now I'd kill for a downer and I really need to talk--I'm at the Four Seasons, please, please call me." She tried Leo's office again, and his pager. She turned on the television again, watched some mindless movie, watched CNN, watched Animal Planet. The refrigerator was right there next to the television, full of... well, it wasn't her drug of choice, but it would do. She rolled over and opened the door to the candy shop. Pulling out several bottles, she twisted off the caps, held her breath, and drank. God, how I hate the taste of liquor. It burned, and she had to rinse her mouth after each one--and she didn't much care what she was drinking. Two, three, four, and the buzz started, she descended into the familiar oblivion that she always described at meetings as "diving into a vat full of marshmallow cream." As she began to drift, she heard a voice. "And listen, take this number down. It's my cell. If you need anything--anything!--and you can't raise Leo, you call me, understand?" Shaking her head to try to resist the descent back into hell, she rummaged around on the desk for the number, and dialed. "Yeah?" a voice answered. "'Zat you, John?" "Sarah?" "Yup." "Jesus Christ, you're drunk." "Yup. Not even my drug of choice. Hate the damn stuff. Any port in a storm, eh sailor?" "Where's Leo?" "Work. Must not be by the phone, called four times. Even called my old sponsor!" She giggled. "Dammit Sarah, you could have called the number in the phone book, for Chrissake." He hesitated a moment. "OK, I'm coming over. It's 2:30. I'll be there by 3. Promise me you won't drink anymore, at least until I get there." "OK." She held her hand up in a scout-pledge. "I promise." The line went dead. "Shit," she said out loud. "Shit fuck. He's mad at me now." A familiar voice came out of the television, and she looked up to see CJ and Leo on CNN. The announcer said it was a briefing held a few hours earlier. She waved at the television. "Hey Irish!" she called to it. A knock came at the door. She rolled over and opened it. Hoynes strode into the room, went to the bar, pulled the ice bucket down, and handed it to the agent with him. "Rick, do this for me. Take that down to the concierge and tell her to fill it with coffee. Strong black coffee. I'll be here." The agent left and closed the door behind him. The Vice President's expression was as dark as his hair. "Sarah, what the fuck are you doing?" He picked up he empty bottles and threw them away. Then he collected all the full bottles from the bar and took them into the bathroom, pouring their contents down the sink. The agent returned, with the ice bucket still empty, but carrying a pot of coffee. "Thanks, Rick. Put the coffee and a cup down in front of Sarah. I'll be all right." He turned to her and went on. "Do you have any idea what happens when I go cruising out on the town like this? The guy across the hall, even as we speak, is getting thrown out of his room -- he could have been over there fucking somebody's eyeballs out, but now he's gotta put his pants on and go. Rick and Marty are tearing their hair out right now because I'm just not supposed to do shit like this!" He grabbed hold of the handles on the back of her chair and steered her toward the bathroom, where he turned on the cold water in the shower and shoved her under it. "And don't call me sailor!" He walked out of the bathroom and slammed the door. * * * * * Ten minutes later, she came out of the bathroom in a fresh terry robe, bleary-eyed but nearly sober. "God, John, what did I just do?" "Well you fucked up my night, that's one thing. I was on my way home when you called." "What the hell time is it?" "Almost four." "Oh God, you have to be back at work in two hours!" "Yeah well, if McGarry can do it, so can I. He's older than I am." She headed for the bar but he got up and stood in her way. "Water," she rasped. "Water!" He laughed and opened the door, pulling out a bottle of water. "Drink. It'll keep your head from coming off." "I know." "I thought alcohol wasn't your drug of choice," he noted quizzically. "It wasn't. It isn't. That doesn't mean I've never been blasted." "Obviously." She sat in silence and finished the water. "You hungry?" He nodded. "Let's get breakfast. Neither one of us is getting any more sleep tonight." She called room service and placed an order for four, suggesting that they might invite the agents in to join them. "They can't. At least one of them has to stay out there." "God, John, I'm really sorry." "Will you stop?? I told you to call me. I just didn't know you'd call so soon." He flashed that million-dollar grin. "Now, you want to talk about it?" "You're acting like my sponsor." "As of right now, I _am_ your sponsor. And you're doing 90 meetings in 90 days." "Aye-aye, sir." She saluted sharply. He returned the salute with a flourish. "You went to Annapolis?" "Yeah, then law school. Served four years in the JAG's office. Couldn't get out fast enough." "Yeah well, don't let that get around." "I don't." He grinned again, and waited a beat. "Now, you going to tell me what happened?" "Twenty-six years, John. Twenty-six fucking years. Down the tubes. Because of a nightmare." "Tell me what really happened last night. All I know is what I heard on the news." She described the events of the afternoon and evening, and the dream. By the time she was finished she was crying again, and one of the agents was knocking at the door. "Room service is here," he said. Hoynes went to the door of the room and opened it. "There's stuff here for you guys too," he said to his escort. "Want me to dish it up?" "Thank you, sir," they responded, nearly together. "We'll come in one at a time." An hour and a half later, the Vice President got up to leave. "You gonna be OK now?" he asked her. She nodded. "You?" "Yeah." "You're getting too old for this shit," she said with a grin. "Look who's talking." He put on his overcoat. "Promise me you'll call Leo and tell him to get his ass back here. If you don't, I will, and I'll make sure he thinks we were doing something besides playing pinochle." "Oh gee thanks, guy. That would make my week for sure." "I'm serious!" "I know you are. You be careful or somebody else will think we were doing something besides playing pinochle." "Naaah," he responded, with a wave of the hand. "I'm not very good copy." "You want me to check in tonight, oh sponsor of mine?" "Ya think?" he asked with a grin. "Seriously--" she finished with an earnest look, "thank you. I'll see you Thursday at the Card Game." He started for the door. "And you'll call me tonight?" "Yes, sir." He closed the door behind him.
TBC
|
|
|