Jonathan Kellerman - Bad Love

I walked out, closed the door, listened for a protest, and when I didn't hear any, went down to the carport. The night had cooled, massaged by sea current. The waterfall seemed deafening and I drove away listening to it diminish.

As I coasted down toward the Glen, a sense of dread dropped over me, dark and smothering, like a condemned man's hood.

I paused at the bottom of the road, looking at black treetops and slate sky. A faint bit of light from a distant house blinked through the foliage like an earthbound star.

No way to gauge its distance. I had no real neighbors because an acre-wide strip of county land, unbuildable due to a quirky water table, cut through this section of the Glen. Mine was the only buildable site on the plot plan.

Years ago the isolation had been just what I wanted. Now a nosy streetmate didn't seem half bad.

A car sped down the Glen from the north, appearing suddenly around a blind curve, going too fast, its engine flatulent with power.

I tensed as it passed, took another look backward, and hooked right, toward the Sunset on-ramp of the 405 south. By the time I got on the freeway, I was thinking of Robin's smile and pretending nothing else mattered.

• • •

Slow night at the airport. Cabbies circled the terminals and skycaps looked at their watches. I found a space in the passenger loading zone and managed to stay there until Robin came out, toting her carry-on.

I kissed her and hugged her, took the suitcase, and put it in the trunk of the Seville. A man in a Hawaiian shirt was looking at her over cigarette smoke. So were a couple of kids with backpacks and surfer hair.

She had on a black silk T-shirt and black jeans, and over that a purple and red kimono-type shirt tied around her waist. The jeans were tucked into black boots with tooled silver toes. Her hair was loose and longer than ever- well past her shoulder blades, the auburn curls bronzed by the light from the baggage claim area. Her skin gleamed and her dark eyes were clear and peaceful. It had been five days since I'd seen her, but it seemed like a long separation.

She touched my cheek and smiled. I leaned in for a longer kiss.

"Whoa," she said, when we stopped, "I'll go away more often."

"Not necessary," I said. "Sometimes there is gain without pain."

She laughed and hugged me and put her arm around my waist. I held the door open as she got in the car. The man in the Hawaiian shirt had turned his back on us.

As I drove away she put her hand on my knee and looked over at the back seat. "Where's the dog?"

"Guarding hearth and home. How was your talk?"

"Fine. Plus I may have sold that archtop guitar I did last summer- the one Joey Shah defaulted on. I met a jazz musician from Dublin who wants it."

"Great," I said. "You put a lot of time into that one."

"Five hundred hours, but who's counting."

She stifled a yawn and put her head on my shoulder. I drove all the way to Sunset before she woke up, shaking her curls. "Boy… must have hit me all of a sudden." Sitting up, she blinked at the streets of Bel Air.

"Home sweet home," she said softly.

I waited until she'd roused herself before telling her the bad news.

• • •

She took it well.

"Okay," she said, "I guess it goes with the territory. Maybe we should move out for a while and stay at the shop."

"Move out?"

"At least till you know what's going on."

I thought of her studio, separated from the mean streets of Venice by a thin veneer of white windows and locks. Saws and drills and wood shavings on the ground floor. The sleeping loft in which we'd made love so many times…

"Thanks," I said, "but I can't stay away indefinitely- the house needs maintenance. Not to mention the fish that're left."

That sounded trivial, but she said, "That poor fish. And you worked so hard to keep them alive."

She touched my cheek.

"Welcome home," I said glumly.

"Don't worry about that, Alex. Let's just figure out how to deal with this stupidity until it's resolved."

"I don't want to put you in any danger. Maybe you should move to the shop-"

"And leave you alone in the middle of this?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

"How okay do you think I'm going to be, worrying every minute about you? I mean, the fish are wonderful, Alex, but you can hire someone to feed them. Hire someone to look after the whole house, for that matter."

"Pack up the wagons and head out?"

"What's wrong with being a little cautious, honey?"

"I don't know… it just seems awfully drastic- all that's really happened is malicious mischief."

"So why were you so upset when you told me about it?"

"Sorry. I didn't want to upset you."

"Of course it upsets me," she said. "Someone sending you weird tapes, sneaking in and…" She put her arm around my shoulder. The light changed to green and I turned left.

"Goes with the territory," she repeated. "All those troubled people you've worked with over the years. All that misdirected passion. The surprising thing isn't that it happened. It's how long it took."

"You never said it worried you."

"It wasn't a matter of worry- I didn't obsess on it. Just thought about it from time to time."

"You never said anything."

"What would have been the point? I didn't want to upset you. "

I lifted her hand from my shoulder and kissed it.

"Okay," she said, "so we protect each other, Curly. Ain't that what true love's all about?"

• • •

I pulled up in front of the house. No obvious signs of intrusion.

I said, "Just let me check around for a sec before you get out."

"Oh, really," she said. But she stayed in the car.

I gave the pond a quick inspection. The fish moved with nighttime languor, and none was missing.

I jogged up the stairs to the landing, checked the front door, peered in through the living room window. Something moved as the drapes parted. The dog's face pressed against the glass, wetting it. I raised my hand in greeting. He pawed the window. I could hear the jazz through the redwood walls.

By the time I got back down, Robin was lifting her valise from the trunk. When I tried to take it from her, she said, "I've got it," and headed for the steps.

As I unlocked the front door, she said, "We could at least get an alarm. Everyone else has one."

"Never been a slave to fashion," I said, but when she didn't smile, I added, "Okay. I'll call a company tomorrow."

We walked in and almost tripped over the bulldog, who'd positioned himself on the welcome mat. He stared from Robin to me, then back to her, where he lingered with Churchillian dignity.

Robin said, "My God."

"What?" I said.

"He invented cute, Alex. Come here, sweetie." She bent down to his level with one hand extended, palm down.

He trotted forward without hesitation, jumped up, put his paws on her shoulders, and embarked on a lick-fest.

"Ooh!" She laughed. "What a handsome boy you are- what a cutie- look at those muscles !"

She stood, wiping her face, still laughing. The dog continued to nuzzle and paw her legs. His tongue was out and he was panting.

She placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a grave look. "Sorry, Alex. There is now another man in my life." Bending, she rubbed him behind the ears.

"Crushed," I said, placing a hand over my heart. "And you might reconsider- he doesn't have gonads."

"Them's the breaks," she said, smiling. "Look at that face !"

"Also, he snores."

"So do you, once in a while."

"You never told me."

She shrugged. "I kick you and usually you stop- well, just look at you, you little hunk. Apathy's not your problem, is it?"