Last Night Read Free Page B

Who is it?
    — It’s Booth.
    — Who?
    — Booth, he said loudly.
    — Just a minute.
    An equally long time passed. The dog had stopped barking. There was silence. He knocked again. At last, like the sweeping aside of a great curtain, the door opened.
    — Come in, she said. I’m sorry, were you waiting?
    She was wearing a tan silk jacket, casual in a way, and a smooth white T-shirt beneath.
    — Something spilled in the bathroom, she explained, fastening an earring and preceding him into the room. Anyway, this ghastly dinner. What are we going to do?
    The dog was sniffing his leg.
    — The thought of spending the evening with that boring woman, she went on, is more than I can bear. I don’t know how you put up with her. Here, sit.
    She patted the couch beside her. The dog leapt onto it.
    — Get down, Sammy, she said, pushing him with the back of her hand.
    She patted the couch again.
    — She’s an idiot. That driver at the airport had a big sign with my name on it, can you imagine? Put that down, I told him.
    Her nostrils flared in annoyance or anger, Keck could not tell. She had two distinct ways of doing it. One was in pride and anger, a thoroughbred flaring. The other was more intimate, like the raising of an eyebrow.
    — The stupidity! He wanted to wave it around so people could see it, make himself important. Exactly what one needs, isn’t it? If there’d been anything, the least little thing wrong here at the hotel, I’d have flown straight back to New York. Bye-bye. But of course, they know me here, I’ve been here so many times.
    — I guess so.
    — So, what are we going to do? she said. Let’s have a drink and figure something out. There’s white wine in the fridge. I only drink white wine now. Is that all right for you? We can order something.
    — I don’t think we have enough time, Keck said.
    — We have plenty of time.
    The dog had gripped Keck’s leg with its own two front legs.
    — Sammy, she said, stop.
    Keck tried to disengage himself.
    — Later, Sammy, he said.
    — He seems to like you, she said. But then who wouldn’t, hm? You have your car, don’t you? Why don’t we just drive down to Santa Monica and have dinner?
    — You mean, without Teddy?
    — Completely without her.
    — We should call her.
    — Darling, that’s for you, she said in a warm voice.
    Keck sat down by the phone, uncertain of what to say.
    — Hello, Teddy? It’s Booth. No, I’m at the hotel, he said. Listen, Deborah’s dog is sick. She isn’t going to be able to come to dinner. We’ll have to call it off.
    — Her dog? What’s wrong with it? Teddy said.
    — Oh, it’s been throwing up and it can’t . . . it’s having trouble walking.
    — She’s probably looking for a vet. I have a good one. Hold on, I’ll get the number.
    — No that’s all right, Keck said. One is already coming. She got him through the hotel.
    — Well, tell her I’m sorry. If you need the other number, call me.
    When he hung up, Keck said,
    — It’s OK.
    — You lie almost as well as I do.
    She poured some wine.
    — Or would you rather have something else? she said again. We can drink here or we can drink there.
    — Where’s that?
    — Do you know Rank’s? It’s down off Pacific. I haven’t been there in ages.
    It was not quite night. The sky was an intense, deep blue, vast and cloudless. She sat beside him as they headed for the beach, her graceful neck, her cheeks, her perfume. He felt like an imposter. She still represented beauty. Her body seemed youthful. How old was she? Fifty-five, at least, but with barely a wrinkle. A goddess still. It would have once been beyond imagination to think of driving down Wilshire with her toward the last of the light.
    — You don’t smoke, do you? she said.
    — No.
    — Good. I hate cigarettes. Nick smoked day and night. Of course, it killed him. That’s something you never want to see, when it spreads to the bone and nothing stops the pain. It’s horrible. Here we are.
    There