The Alphabet of Love Ch. 12

"Don't tell me you still want to play blackjack," I said to Derek as we hit the outskirts of Vegas.

He smiled over at me. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm beat and I know you are, too. I'm thinking a few stiff drinks might be in order, though."

"I could go for that," I agreed.

The cool elegance of the Bellagio seemed a world away from the dingy police station in Boulder City. Derek and I showered and changed, and took the elevator downstairs to a dark, quiet bar in the hotel. The bells of the slots were muffled by a plasma TV showing local news and soon, I hoped, by smooth alcohol.

Derek and I slid into a booth, and I nestled in the crook of his arm. It was odd for me to feel vulnerable, that I needed to be close to someone. I'd spent my life being strong. I'd relied on no one but me. Right now, though, I needed him. We'd been through hell today.

He sipped whiskey, and smiled at me. "Feeling better now, my love?"

"I am," I said with a sigh, and rubbed his thigh with two fingers.

"Oh, so you're feeling amorous after all that," he said, kissing my forehead.

"Maybe. I'm just glad you're here. I'm so glad you're here."

He tightened his embrace around my shoulders. "You were great today, Shiloh. You kept your cool."

"The 9-1-1 operator didn't think so," I said, smiling a little.

"That's her job, to tell people to calm down. She has to be able to get information in order to help people."

"I know. It just pissed me off."

"Maybe we'll stick close to town for the rest of our vacation," he said, sipping more whiskey.

"Good idea," I agreed, taking a generous glug of my Cosmopolitan. "Derek - are you sure there's no way those murderers can find us?"

He nodded. "Pretty sure. I don't know how they would."

"Oh my god! Look!" I pointed up at the television, just over the bar a few feet away from us. It showed the desert where we'd hiked and the blurb read 'Murder in the Desert.'

We both scuttled out of the booth to get a better look.

A reporter stood in the dark, apparently at the scene of the shooting, silhouettes of ocotillo against bright lights of the CSI team in the background.

"A possible mob or professional murder today in the desert south of Las Vegas has police and Sheriff's deputies on the hunt for two possible suspects," said the reporter. "The suspects abandoned their vehicle on a mining access road after pursuing two witnesses to their crime, who were interviewed by police and stated that the suspects had shot at them before killing a police officer who attempted to stop them for speeding. The witnesses, two doctors from Massachusetts and Seattle, were shaken up but otherwise unharmed."

"Shit!" I cried. "Why did they have to say where we were from?"

Derek shook his head. "It's all right. That still doesn't give anyone enough info to go on. There are thousands of doctors in Seattle and Boston."

"Christ!" I downed my drink and waved to the bartender for another.

"I'll call the police department and ask them not to divulge any other details about us," Derek told me, but I could see in his demeanor that he was a little shaken, too, by the descriptions of us.

I sipped greedily at my second drink as we returned to our table. Derek had his phone out, looking at local news sites.

"Any other stories?" I asked him.

He nodded. "It's all over locally. Apparently the cop getting shot thing is what makes everyone think it was a mob hit. Then again, if you've already killed someone, what's to stop you from killing more? You're going to fry no matter how many you kill."

"Jesus," I shook my head.

"Uh oh," he said.

"What?" I demanded.

"'Two nephrologists,' this one says."

"Shit!"

He put his hand over mine. "There are a lot of nephrologists."

"If they use our names can we sue them?" I asked.

"Probably."

"That's it, I'm buying a gun when I get home."

He laughed and put his phone down. "Do you even know how to use a gun, Shiloh?"

"I sure do. We went shooting when I was growing up. Mostly .22s, but I can take lessons. I'm thinking one of those Dirty Harry guns."

"Maybe a little Colt .45," he suggested.

"Maybe I'll change professions."

"That's a little extreme," he smiled at me. "Hon, nothing is going to happen. They'll catch these guys and we'll testify and that'll be it. We can probably testify via Skype and not even have to come back here."

"You think they have Skype in Boulder City?" I asked him.

He shrugged.

I leaned against him, he put his arm around me. "I'm sorry," I sighed. "But I'm scared. I really am."

"You can come back to Boston with me."

"Oh sure. I'll let you explain it to Dr. Couslard."

"Sure, we've met. I'll tell him I need you for my team. He'll understand."

I looked up at him. "I love you, you know."

"I love you," he kissed me.

We spent most of the next morning in bed, making love and ordering room service breakfast. Derek read off all the shows to me and we chose to go see Penn and Teller, the Vegas classic magicians. He paid for the tickets and we made reservations for dinner at the Rio before the show. We spent time on the gaming floor at the Bellagio; he played blackjack while I watched, then I went shopping in the upscale boutiques. He trailed after me indulgently, giving his opinion when I tried on clothes. I bought a new dress and he bought me a sexy, sparkling gown to wear to the show.

Holding hands, we meandered back through the casino. I finally felt relaxed; as if the events of yesterday had never happened. I still had concerns in the back of my mind about the SUV, explaining the bullet hole, getting it washed before I returned it. I tried not to think about how little time Derek and I had left to spend together. The day after tomorrow we'd both fly home and who knew when I'd see him again. I refused to let thoughts of the murderers finding us enter my head. I hoped only that if they did, it would be a clean shot and I'd never know what hit me.

Penn and Teller were fabulous; we laughed and gasped and applauded along with the rest of the crowd. We stayed at the hotel for an hour or so after the show, walking around, having drinks, before we took a taxi back to the Bellagio. I felt so good, so relaxed, so beautiful in the glittering pink dress that made me look slimmer. Derek and I kissed and fondled each other in the taxi; I could only imagine the tears when we had to say goodbye tomorrow.

We made love yet again; it was as if we couldn't get enough of each other. I knew his body better almost than I knew my own. His smell, his warmth - the tender look in his eyes. What would I do without him, when I had to board that plane alone? He fell asleep in my arms and I cried as quietly as I could. My god, I loved him. I loved him.

When I woke, he was gone, I guessed for his run. I ordered coffee from room service. We'd get breakfast together when he returned. I started sorting through my things, preparing to pack for the flight home. My mind filled with thoughts of work, getting back to my routine and the changes Dr. Couslard expected me to make in order to help him with his presentations. The fact that he knew Derek might make it easier for me to get more time off in the next few months; then again, I'd have to admit that I wasn't seeing Derek for professional reasons.

Trevor's face kept coming up in my thoughts, too. What would I do if he really came back to Seattle in a few weeks? Would I sleep with him? If I really loved Derek, I wouldn't be tempted. I shouldn't even be interested. Right? Trevor had so many wonderful traits, though. I couldn't just dismiss him. But I'd told Derek I loved him - what was wrong with me? I was such a slave to my feelings, to tender touch and kisses. I melted into Derek's arms, and I'd melted into Trevor's. They weren't much alike, other than both being doctors. The age difference, obviously. While Derek had energy and had proven to me that he was sexually willing and capable, Trevor had the lithe, supple body of a younger man, an almost-instant erection, a way of stirring me into excitement in minutes. But he didn't take his time like Derek did, exploring my entire body, kissing, caressing.

I threw a blouse into my bag, disgusted with myself. Sex. That was how I'd choose one over the other? Who made me happiest? Who offered me the best future? Who would be there through thick and thin? Despite my salacious behavior, what I really wanted was to find a man with whom to create a home and family. Someone I could be proud of as my husband, to give all my love and loyalty, the man I'd tell all my secrets and dreams. I'd barely scratched the surface with Trevor, though we'd been able to talk easily together. His irritation upon learning about Derek hadn't surprised me, and he'd called to apologize, which I thought magnanimous of him. A guy like him, good-looking, with a bright future as a surgeon and son of a President - women would be falling at his feet. Yet he found me unique enough to keep in his life. Why? We hardly knew each other. No doubt he was meeting beautiful, accomplished women every day on the campaign trail. He might even seduce some of them right under his wife's nose. But no. That wasn't his style. That was a jerk move, and Trevor wasn't a jerk.

The truth was, I needed to know Trevor better. That didn't mean I had to jump in bed with him. In fact, if he really did come to see me soon, I'd insist we not have sex. If he seriously wants to know me, to court me (what an old-fashioned term!), he'd agree. I needed to know that he'd go the extra mile for me, that we could sustain time together without getting bored or irritated. That our desires for home and family were similar. So far, Derek was winning in all these categories, but perhaps only because I knew him better.

Derek and I had met a few times a year for the last three years. We'd spent three or four days together at medical conventions, occasionally we'd extended our time in order to do something after the end of the event. In New Orleans, he'd taken me on a tour of the French Quarter, dancing in a jazz club, and to a fortune teller. In Orlando we'd spent two extra days on the beach, swimming and gorging on seafood in between sex and talk. Derek and I could talk, about work and many other things. I knew I'd been an escape from his unsatisfactory marriage; he and Brenda had been an odd couple from the very start. She, with her artsy pretensions, attracted him because she was unique and vivacious. She'd liked the stability and promise of wealth he offered as a budding physician. Unfortunately, their differences were what had driven them apart. With me, he'd found a colleague who didn't get bored listening to him talk about his work, someone a bit more conventional whose goals in life matched his. To my surprise and his credit, he'd never strayed outside his marriage until he met me. He'd told himself things would get better, that Brenda would tire of her weird friends as she got older. Sadly, her alternative leanings only intensified. She had the freedom that his wealth bought her; she was no longer a mere hanger-on in the art scene. She had clout.

He'd confided in me that they probably should never had had children; that her crazy ideas had turned them into neurotic teenagers and now, Mercury and her counterculture lifestyle and activism. Jonas, too, had only pursued a law degree in order to be able to effect social change through the courts. Derek wasn't particularly conservative, but he believed his children would have better futures should they work within the system rather than trying to overthrow it. I expressed no opinion on the matter; they weren't my children and I honestly hadn't given social activism much thought, despite living in Seattle, where it was widely practiced.

I did ask him what he would expect if he and I had children; he said he hoped they would be studious and fun-loving, able to balance between the two, and function in the world as responsible, respectful adults. I knew he'd be a good father, a loving yet stern force in a child's life. He had firm ideas about many things but didn't seem bent on making anyone else agree with him. He'd never even asked me about my politics.

Did I owe it to Trevor to get to know him better, to see how he stacked up next to Derek? After all, I was vetting the potential father of my children. Trevor had to be divorced, of course, before I'd ever consider a pregnancy. In all truthfulness, I did not want to even try for a baby until I was married. I had no desire to be a single mother. I'd seen the struggles Isabel faced with Tila, despite help from her family. I had a good career, high income, and all that - but single motherhood wasn't all about economic challenges. I wanted my child to have a father in his or her life, a loving, caring father who would show them he loved me and what being a family was all about. Maybe I felt so strongly about this because of my own disjointed upbringing. I'd longed to be my father's little girl, to have him pay attention to me. He'd lavished it on his two younger daughters, leaving me in the cold. For years I believed there was something wrong with me. It was only my Aunt who'd shown me that I was worthy of love and that he simply didn't care. That was a hard pill to swallow but it made me know what I wanted in life, in a man.

Derek bustled into the hotel room, cheeks ruddy and hair tousled.

"Have a good run?" I asked as he unzipped his track jacket.

"Sure did," he said, coming to kiss me. "I'm starved. Gonna shower and then let's get some food."

"I need to shower, too," I said, tipping my head to one side, leering at him.

He grinned. "Well, then."

Half an hour later we were toweling each other off, talking about what we wanted to eat. Neither of us wanted to mention that we'd have to say our goodbyes soon.

Over breakfast we talked about meeting in Omaha in January, at a nephrology conference that would be my first with Dr. Couslard.

"I'll book a room for us," he said, nodding, slathering jam on his toast.

"Us? Um, okay."

"What?" he looked up at me.

"It's just - Dr. Couslard will probably book the rooms from our end, or have someone do it. I'm not sure - he might not like it if he knew you and I were - you know."

"Well, then, don't tell him," he smiled as if that ended the matter.

I shook my head. "I don't want to lie. It'll come out eventually and he won't trust me. I just have to convince him that we'll be professional."

"Yes. I'll make love to you professionally when we're alone."

"Derek!"

He reached for my hand. "It's going to be fine, my love. I'll talk to him if you like."

"And tell him what? That we're having an affair?"

"Oh, I wouldn't call it that. After all, everyone knows. I'm sure the kids have told Brenda by now, we've already consulted lawyers."

I'd lost my appetite.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't know. This is going to be awkward. It wouldn't matter if I wasn't going as his associate or whatever it is I am. Helper. Underling. Apprentice."

He laughed. "Is he that much of a hardass as all that? He seems pretty cool."

"Honestly, I don't know. We hardly talk about anything but work. I don't know anything about him apart from work."

"No? Well, use that to your advantage. He doesn't need to know anything about you."

I sighed, pushing eggs around my plate with a fork.

"Hey," Derek tipped my chin up with his finger, and kissed me. "I love you. It's going to work out. Don't worry."

"I love you," I said. He was right. I shouldn't get so worked up. I should just be happy I'd be seeing Derek within the next month.

"What time is your flight?" he asked me.

"Three-forty," I said, hoping this wouldn't open a line of conversation about having to leave each other.

"Mine's at five. I'll wait with you until you have to go through security," he said. "As soon as we're done here I'll pack up and we can turn in your car before we head to the airport."

Oh shit. I'd forgotten about the SUV and its bullet hole. Derek and I had inspected it; there was a real hole there. For all I knew the shell was still inside. Funny the cops didn't want to take it out, though they had plenty of spent shell cartridges at the murder site in the desert. Maybe the killers weren't as professional as they were saying.

"So it was you two in that murder thing, huh?" the rental car attendant asked me, running a hand over the mark in the roof of the SUV.

I nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry. I hope the insurance will cover it."

"Let me talk to my boss," he said, loping away, leaving Derek and me standing there in the underground garage, cold air swirling around us, and the smell of tires and exhaust.

I leaned against Derek. I felt so tired, even though I'd slept well. I wanted the entire desert murder thing to be over. That would be one thing about getting home; I could put that out of my head.

Derek put an arm around me while checking his phone messages with the other. We'd already lugged our bags out of the SUV; they sat in a pile beside us. He was getting back into work mode already; a glance showed me he had texts from Boston Nephrology, notifications of meetings, presentations, speaking engagements he had to give.

"Huh," he said, frowning. "Mercury texted me. That never happens."

"What did she say?" I asked, just to kill time until the attendant returned.

"She wants to know when I'll be home. She probably finally got kicked out of that hoity-toity college."

"That's mean," I admonished him.

"Oh, hon," he smiled as he tapped a message back to his daughter, "she's a commie. The girl has to get herself straightened out."

"Maybe she needs her Dad to listen to her," I suggested, suddenly feeling irritated at his attitude toward his daughter.

He looked at me.

"Well?" I gave it back to him.

"Okay," he nodded. "I'll cop to that. You're right, I haven't been there for her like I should. I'll amend my message." He tapped in a second message to his daughter, but I couldn't see what he wrote.

"What did you say?" I asked him.

"I told her I love her and she can talk to me anytime."

I kissed his cheek. "I'm proud of you."

The rental car attendant returned, followed by another man with a badge reading "Manager." He had a sour look on his face.

"Yeah, we're gonna have to look into this," he said, speaking to Derek.

"I'm the one who rented the car," I informed him. "What do you need to look into?"

"How this happened. I don't think insurance is going to cover you getting shot at, or whatever really happened."

"You don't watch the news?" Derek asked him.

The man shook his head. "Not up to me. I'm going to write it up and we'll be in touch," he said to me.

With a sigh, I agreed. Even if I had to pay for the body damage, I just wanted this all to be over. Now.

"You should dispute this," Derek told me.

I shook my head. "No, I'm done. I just want to go home."

He didn't argue with me. A few more minutes and I'd signed a form, and we gathered up all our things and headed to airport check-in. We went to separate skycaps, showed our boarding passes, and were divested of our luggage. Together we found a restaurant and shared one last meal together before I had to go through security.

Derek smiled as our food arrived; his phone on the table had just lit up. "It's Mercury," he said. "She wants to come home tonight and talk."

"That's good," I nodded. "You'll have to let me know how it goes."

"Of course," he tapped a message back to his daughter.

It occurred to me that he had something to look forward to when he got home. What did I have? An obnoxious cat who'd only be happy to see me because it meant wet food and fresh water. Work. The standoffish Dr. Couslard. I used to have my patients every Monday morning, but he was gradually shunting them off to other providers so I could do his work. Was it worth the money?