James Patterson - Roses Are Red

"How was everything at home?" she asked as soon as the bartender left with our order.

I laughed," I have two kids at home now, and they're both terrific, but there is a certain amount of flux and change to our lives."

'I'm one of six," she said," The eldest and most spoiled one. I know all about flux and change in families."

She smiled and I liked seeing her loosen up. I liked seeing myself loosen up.

1OQ

"You have a favorite? "she asked," Of course you do, but don't tell me. I know you won't anyway. I was my father and mother's favorite. Therein lies the recurring problem in my terribly self-involved life story."

I continued to smile," What's the problem? I don't see any problem. I thought you were perfect?"

Betsey nibbled salted nuts out of her hand. She looked me in the eye. "Overachiever syndrome. Nothing I did was ever good enough -for me. Everything had to be perfect. No mistakes, no slipups," she said and laughed at herself. I liked that about her: She had no airs, and her perspective on things actually seemed pretty healthy.

"You still live up to your own high ideals?" I asked.

She finger-combed her dark hair away from her eyes. "I do, and I don't. I'm pretty much where I want to be on the work front. I'm sooo good for the Bureau. What's that quote? "Ambition makes more trusty slaves than need." However, I must admit that I'm missing a certain balance in my life. Here's a nice image for a life in balance," she said. "You're juggling these four balls that you've named work, family, friends, spirit. Now, work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it bounces back. The other balls they're made of glass."

"I've dropped a few of those glass balls in my day. Sometimes they chip, sometimes they shatter to pieces."

"Exactly."

Our drinks came and we took the obligatory nervous sips. Pretty funny. We both knew what was going on here, though not where it was going, and if it was a good or a really terrible idea. She was warmer and much more nurturing than I had expected. Betsey was a good listener too.

"I bet you're actually pretty good at balancing work, family, friends. Your spirit seems okay too," she said.

"I'm not balancing work too well lately. You have good spirit yourself. You're enthusiastic, positive. People like you. But you've heard all that before."

"Not so much that I mind hearing it again." She raised her glass of wine. "Here's to positive spirit, and spirits. And here's to prison for life plus life, for our friend the Masterprick."

"To prison for life plus life for the Masterprick," I said and raised my beer.

"So here we are in greater Hartford," she said, staring out at the blurred scrim of city lights. I watched her for a moment, and I was pretty sure that she wanted me to watch her.

"What?” I said.

She started to laugh again and it was infectious. She had a great smile that featured her dark sparkling eyes," What do you mean, what?"

"What? Just a simple what," I teased. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

She was still laughing. "I have to ask you this question, Alex. I have no choice in the matter. I have no free will. Here it comes. This could be embarrassing, but I don't care. Okay. Now, do you want to go back to my room? I'd like you to. No strings attached. Trust me. I won't ever cling."

I didn't know what to say to Betsey, but I didn't say no.

We were both so quiet as we walked out of the hotel bar. I was feeling a little uncomfortable, maybe a lot uncomfortable.

"I kind of like strings," I finally said to her. "Sometimes I even like a little clinging."

"I know you do. Just go with the flow this one time. It'll be good for both of us. This will be nice. It's been building and it has a very fine edge."

A very fine edge.

Once we were inside the hotel elevator, Betsey and I kissed for the first time and it was gentle and sweet. It was memorable, like first kisses ought to be. She had to stretch way up on her tiptoes to reach my mouth. I knew I wouldn't forget that.

She started to laugh as soon as we pulled apart her usual burst of humor," I'm not that small. I'm five three and a lot, almost five four. Was it any good? Our kiss?"

"I liked kissing you,” I told her. "But you are that small."

The taste of her mouth was sweet peppermint, and it lingered with me. I wondered when she had slipped a mint into her mouth. She was sneaky fast. Her skin was soft and smooth to the touch. Her dark hair glistened and bounced lightly on her shoulders. I couldn't deny that I was attracted.

But what to do about it. I had the feeling that this was too much too soon for me. Way too much, way too soon.

The elevator door opened on her floor with a thud. I felt a rush of anticipation, and maybe a rush of fear. I had no idea what to make of it, but I knew I liked Betsey Cavalierre. I wanted to hold her close, wanted to know who she was, what she was like to be with, how her mind worked, what she dreamed about, what she might say next.

Betsey said," Walsh."

We quickly stepped back into the elevator car. My heart clutched. Shit.

She turned to me and started to laugh. "Gotcha. There's nobody out there. Don't be so nervous! ," am, though."

By this time we were both laughing. She was definitely fun to be with. Maybe that was enough for now. I liked being around her, laughing the way we were.

We hugged as soon as we were inside her room. She felt so warm. I let my fingers trail gently down her back and she sighed softly. I moved my thumb in the tiniest circles all over her back. I gently kneaded her skin and could feel her breathing pick up tempo. My heart was racing too.

"Betsey," I whispered, "I can't do this. Not yet I can't."

"I know," she whispered back. "Just hold me, though. Holding is nice. Tell me about her, Alex. You can talk to me."

I thought that she was probably right. I could talk to her, and I even wanted to. "It's like I said, I like ties. I'm big on intimacy, but I feel it has to be earned. I was in love with a woman named Christine Johnson. It seemed so right for both of us. There never was a time I didn't want to be with her."

I broke down. I didn't want to, but the sob came out of nowhere. Then I was crying a lot and I couldn't make myself stop. My body was heaving, but I could feel Betsey holding on to me, holding me tight, refusing to let go.

'I'm so sorry." I finally managed a few words.

"Don't be," she said," You didn't do anything wrong. Not at all. In fact, you did everything right."

I finally pulled back a little and I looked at her face. Her beautiful brown eyes were wet with tears.

"Let's just hug, "she said. "I think we both need hugs. Hugs are good."

Betsey and I hugged for a long time and then I went back to my room alone.

The Mastermind was feeling so goddamned confident, and excited, that he couldn't stand it. That night, he was there in Hartford. He had no fear anymore. No one scared him. Not the FBI. Not anyone involved with the case.

How to improve on his own victory ? How to reinvent himself? Those were his only concerns. How to get better and better.

He had a plan for tonight a different kind of plan. This maneuver was so clever, so perverse. He'd never heard of anything like it. It was such a lovely and original 'creation."

The most commonplace part was breaking into the small, garden-style apartment on the outskirts of Hartford. He cut out a pane of glass in the door of the loggia, reached in and turned the knob, and voila -he was in.

He listened to the house breathe for a delicious moment. The only sound he could hear was the wind whistling through a stand of trees that overlooked the still, black water of a country pond.