Heart Stopper Read Free

before.
    “And last night?”
    “I remember leaving Massimo. No, actually, I remember going into Massimo. I remember a woman. That she was American. There was something about her, intense or dark. But she was cute. I think. Well, not exactly cute, more attractive than cute, interesting.”
    “Priya! This is surely not some weird dream brought on by drink and your endless search for the wrong woman! Jeez, that description...if you were one of my witnesses I’d never let you up on the stand.”
    “I’m trying! And no, it was not a dream. If it were, I’d be waking up nice and comfy in my own bed right now! Not sitting on your very hard floor half-naked.”
    “I’m going to call the Guards.” Michael got to his feet.
    “No!” Priya slipped on the floor as she tried to stand up. Michael caught her by the hand and she winced.
    “Please, Michael, no cops.”
    They stared at each other. She was clutching her blouse to her chest with one hand, her other hand hanging loosely in his.
    “I think a cup of tea might be in order, come on.” Michael turned and led her towards the kitchen. The relief spread through her, but she knew she would have to explain her reasons to him, at least some of them anyway.
    “You and your tea, I need a strong coffee or, preferably, a strong brandy.”
    “I think I can manage both. Why don’t you go and wash up and I’ll get everything sorted here. I need to think.”
    ∞
     
    She came back out a half hour later, her hair wrapped up in a fresh clean towel of his. She was wearing his sweatpants, the legs rolled up into two big tires of blue cloth, bumping off each other as she walked. His old UCG college sweatshirt snuggled around her chest and almost reached her knees.
    They’d gotten their college sweatshirts at the same time. That was how they’d met, bumping into each outside the college shop. He was a country lad from County Mayo, transplanted the hour away to the ‘big city’ to attend law school. He had that Irish complexion that reddened in a puff of wind. He was tall and lanky and had unruly hair the color of the brown gold gorse in the field behind her house. He wouldn’t have been much use on his family’s farm, his wrists too delicate, his nose permanently stuck in books on mythology and myth, Irish, Greek, Arabic.
    She had taken him to the Science Ball with her. He’d been so proud to accompany her, the trousers legs and jacket sleeves of his black rented tuxedo only an inch too short. She wore a pink satin dress that contrasted so well against her brown skin that both glowed. He wore a pink cummerbund and bow tie. She left him for a minute to collect their posed photo taken by one of the many official photographers who hung around the grand hallway of the Great Southern Hotel when the various student Balls were held. The photographer showed her the Polaroid that he’d taken and remarked, “How did this Irish sod manage to catch an exotic beauty like you?” He leered at her “Guess I might have a chance then.” Michael never asked why she held on to the Polaroid only and never picked up the portrait that would have been prepared from the professional camera and probably sat awaiting them in the studio pile. He had framed the Polaroid and it leant casually on his French oak sideboard.
    She forced lightness into her voice, “What did you do with my stuff? I thought I’d left some here.”
    He handed her a small glass of brandy. “I gave it all away to the charity shop.” He grinned at her shocked expression. “Ok, I put it in the hallway closet. Didn’t want my many women to think I had another woman living with me, did I now?”
    “Huh! Like you’d bring a woman through those doors without my prior approval.” She gulped the brandy down and snorted most of it back out through her nose. “Damn! I hate that stuff! Adds to the shock.” She grabbed a neatly placed dishtowel off the oven rail and wiped the brandy off her nose. “That hurts!”
    “Priya!