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Rune Alignment

Chapter 24.

Bobby stood when Gleason came down the hall. He looked her up and down. She looks like a model, he thought, that dress. "This is all I have. It's alright, isn't it?"

He crossed to her, put his hands on her shoulders, moved them to her arms and said, "You are unbelievable." The dress did fit perfectly; it fell to just above her ankles in scarf like points. The bodice criss-crossed her bosom and met the skirt at her waist. The dress made her appear taller, it cinched her waist and accentuated her bosom – it was perfect.

He spotted the carpetbag. "That's one heck of an evening bag," he said with a smile.

"Oh, this, I actually don't have an evening bag. Can you carry my keys?"

"Certainly. Do I know what's in that bag?" Bobby asked.

Gleason reddened a little and said, "Yes, it's what you think. I am embarrassed."

"Embarrassed? Gleason, you've made me very happy." He gave her a hug and got a whiff of cinnamon.

"I don't need to take the new cell phone, do I? Because you'll have to carry it."

"No, I'm not letting you out of my sight." He took the bag and ushered her to the door. Gleason took her keys from her shoulder bag on the couch, and handed them to Bobby. He opened the door, she stepped through and he pulled it shut and locked it, slipping her keys into his pocket. She had pushed the elevator button and held the door for him.

In the elevator, on the way down, he said, "Can I ask you something?"

Surprised, she looked up at him and said, "Of course, anything."

"How is it that you smell like cinnamon?"

"It's my soap. It's from home. Do you like it?"

"There is something so sexy about cinnamon. That was one of the first things I noticed about you – that first day. Apart from your beauty, and the sound of your voice, and your brilliant mind, and your humor. . . "

"Ok, stop it. You're beginning to sound insincere." The elevator door opened and they stepped out.

Bobby held the lobby door for her and together they walked to his car.

What is this . . . what the hell are they doing? Look how she is dressed, whore, cunt whore! He is ruining her. What is that . . . her carpetbag? That old piece of shit rug bag. She's planning to spend the night at his place. The bastard copper, he's stolen her from me. Calm down. Calm down. She needs to play this little charade with him. This is not a real date, they're pretending. She's imagining that I am he. That's it – she misses me and wants me. But she knows she can't have me, not yet – soon, but not yet. I see, she is using him to enjoy me. She'll have to teach him what to do. He's a big stud, probably dumb as an ox, and hung like one. He watched himself begin to harden.

The car pulled up in front of the restaurant at ten of nine. "Here we are," Sledge said as he helped Eames from the car.

"I'm going to leave these flowers here till later."

"I'll take care of those for you, Miss," the driver interjected. Eames smiled her thanks.

Eames had never been to Bordegona. Local Chinese and pizza places, that delivered, were her usual fare.

A man in a tuxedo walked up smiling. "Edward."

"Guido, haven't seen you in a long time." He extended his hand to his old friend who returned the shake.

"Come, come I have a good place for you." Guido led the pair to a table on the right side of the big room. It was secluded. "This is a very lovely woman, Edward. Don't tell me she packs powder like you do."

"Alex, this is Guido Mariempetre, a good friend of mine. Guido, this is Detective Alex Eames."

Guido took her hand and kissed the back. "I bet you can take down a Sumo wrestler, can't you?"

"I do what I need to do," she smiled at him.

He snapped a finger over his right shoulder and a server approached with a standing wine bucket. The man opened the bottle and set it back in the bucket. He smiled, nodded and left.

"Enjoy, take your time," Guido said stepped away.

Bobby set her bag in the back, went around, got in and closed his door. "You look wonderful," he told her and leaned over for a quick kiss. She smiled and felt happy. He looked at his watch and thought to himself, we have about an hour, twenty minutes to the restaurant . . .; yeah, we have time.

"What were you figuring?" Gleason asked.

"What makes you think I was figuring anything?"

"Because you looked at your watch, and then looked to the left, your logical, analytical side. I'm right, aren't I, you were figuring something."

He looked at her and a smile crept over his face. "Now where did you learn about things like that?"

"Oh detective, you may know what I like, but you don't know everything," she returned with a sly look.

"Well, we're going to change that tonight."

"So, what were you figuring?"

Well! I wonder where they are going. Some place fancy it would seem. Shall I follow; peek in on their good time? Perhaps I should wait for them to return, wait for them to go to bed. Then I can play along with them from here. A ménage a trios from afar! I can do the things here that she would want him to do in there. Oh, such things I can do, things she misses, wants, tries to get the copper to do. But he can't, he cannot do what I do. He cannot satisfy her like I can. I can make her come, really come. He gripped himself.