Chapter 2: Just Flesh
Either all the twists this case has taken have put Laura in a supremely good mood, or her aching feet have made her forget my transgressions all together, for I'm currently ensconced in her bedroom, sitting at the end of her bed while she lays prone upon it, massaging her foot. Rarely does she allow me to do so much as this, being the independent sort, determined to rely on no one but herself. I do wish she'd lean on me more often, but I'd be sorely disappointed if I got my hopes up.
As it is, each time she rejects my concern, thunders at me for protecting her, or pushes me away when she's tempted to turn to me, I take comfort in those days after her house was blown to bits by that sodding bastard, Veckmer, and his gang. It's both the last time and the most critical time that she willingly allowed me to be for her the strength she needed to carry forth. If I hadn't known before that she'd captured my heart, I'd have to be certifiably nutters not to know after, for what sane man turns down the woman he desires more than any other, ever has another? I'd been forced to face the truth: One night would never be enough with her and I was unwilling to risk it being just that.
She sits up, finally done mulling whatever it is that is troubling her. That it appears she intends to share it with me, has guaranteed she'll have a captive audience.
"You know, if Lila has done something desperate, I think I'd understand it. That meat line at Julian's would drive any woman to distraction."
"From sore feet?" I wonder, patting the bottom of her foot for emphasis.
"Sore hearts. Sore souls. Man is seen as many things. Doer, thinker. Woman? Bottom line?" She winces as she pulls her foot from my hands. "Flesh."
I try not to flinch at her words, for they bring with them a great deal of guilt. After all, hadn't I been one of the culprits, using my role to steal a few moments of intimacy she'd not granted me, but I'd claimed for myself, in disregard of how she might feel? I wonder if I will ever truly become the mythical man she conjured up in her mind, or if I will always struggle against the man I once was.
She stands, facing away from me as she speaks. It's never easy for her admitting her frailties as a human being. "Nobody told you what to be when you grew up. You're a man. You smoke cigars." She laughs, though it rings hollow, sad as it is. "They used to come by the office in droves. 'Steal away with me, Laura.' 'How's Palm Springs sound, Laura?' But handle a case? 'Better let Mr. Steele do that, Laura.'"
Ah, Laura, there's not a person that's met you who's walked away after believing you are only flesh. At least not anyone who uses their brain rather than their todger, that is. The intelligence that glimmered in her eyes was one of the first things that had held me enraptured by her from the moment we met. And watching as that amazing mind of hers dismantles a case piece-by-piece until she finds the answer she's seeking? I marvel at it, to this day.
"But you didn't, did you? Thank the Lord, or we'd both be scrounging or the rent," I remind her. Standing, I take my chances she'll take the support I wish to offer. I wrap her my arms from behind, and am relieved to find that instead of pulling away, her hands clutch at my arms, keeping them where they are. "No one's ever going to treat you as just flesh. Flesh, yes. But never just flesh."
Unable to resist, I bend my head down and kiss her. I know a moment of unadulterated joy when she not only turns her head to me so I might deepen the kiss, but opens her mouth willingly. Mary, Mother and Joseph, if Bulletz wasn't just down below, I'd be inching backwards towards the bed, futilely hoping that this might at last be the moment.
But, as my luck holds whenever I'm making any leeway with my Miss Holt, we're interrupted. Not by a door swinging open, the phone ringing or bullets flying. Yet a Bulletz is most certainly involved, seeking this inopportune moment to announce he's been raiding the fridge. Neither of us particularly prone to public displays of affection, nor inclined to announce our personal involvement to the world at large, Laura and I jump away from one another as though struck by a bolt of lightning, she flushing, and much to my mortification, I believe I may well be doing precisely that as well.
The moment irrefutably ruined, we part company and I go downstairs where I try to find the courage to tell Bulletz his baby brother is more than likely a murderer.
