A Bird Without Wings by Pearce Roberta

Author:Pearce, Roberta [Pearce, Roberta]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2013-11-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The sun, red and threatening, crested the horizon into a brassy sky. It was already as hot as it had been midday yesterday. And damn, the city needed rain.

Collecting the Saturday paper from the front step, Lucius let himself into his house, tossing his keys haphazardly, anger simmering.

She had simply left, about an hour ahead of him. The doorman had arranged a cab for her, the front desk assured him when he, on the pretext of her safety (only a peripheral thought at that point), inquired after her.

Flicking on the TV in the kitchen, he went through habitual motions: making coffee, fishing the crossword out of the paper, listening to the news.

But focus eluded him and he stepped out into the heat and a wet wall of humidity, onto the unfinished back deck to sullenly peruse the orderly stack of lumber that waited for the remainder of the project. It was going to be a great deck when it was done.

Holy crap. It wasn’t even seven yet. There was no way he wanted to, or should, work outside in this. Stepping back into the cool house, he glanced at the TV. They were calling for a high of forty-two with the humidex.

Screw it. Lazy morning, then some paperwork in the afternoon. There were still Callie’s reports . . .

Though he had showered and changed at the hotel, he still imagined he could smell her on him; powdery sex. Little girl wanton. Sophisticated innocent.

Changing into board shorts and grabbing up a towel, he went back outside and dove into the swimming pool, the chlorine instantly wiping out the olfactory memory . . . making him glad he had not got around to switching the pool to saltwater.

Ludicrous and desperate thought processes.

Though quite warm, the water of the pool still felt refreshing compared to the cloying air. He did some laps, not working too hard, letting his mind run freely through the ludicrous and desperate as he found a steady pace in his crawl.

What the hell is going on with you? He felt all at-sea, pulled in so many directions that he felt torn apart. That scene with Anita had been upsetting for the sheer reason that it wasn’t upsetting.

That’s just stupid.

But the truth was that he hadn’t been that dismayed by losing Anita. She was merely symbolic of a moment in his life, and all the other things that occurred at the same time. And being stuck here in this bloody city trying to fix things again was the result of those ‘other things.’ But was he really so emotionally isolated from his surroundings that the woman who had done her damnedest to hurt him out of spite didn’t even spark an iota of anger? Regret? Loss?

Reaching up, he grabbed the diving board, stretching out his shoulders and arms. Almost immediately, the heat evaporated the water from his skin, but the humidity replaced it with a sheen of sweat.

And then he thought of Callie in that stuffy little apartment.

***

“I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.

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