Tengu Read Free Page B

he
queried.
    She opened the
door. The office faced east, and it was suffused with the milky light of
morning.
    Gerard, dark
and unshaven, and wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, was sitting
behind his wide white desk. On the corner of the desk, her eyes wide with
anticipation, was his receptionist Francesca, auburn-haired, tall, and dressed
in skin-tight white cotton jeans and an olive-green silk blouse.
    There was a
silver cigar box on Gerard’s desk. It had been Eva’s tenth-anniversary present
to him. It was engraved: “With undying love, your Evie.” That was how much he had taken her character away from her.
    Gerard said,
“You’re up early.”
    He was a very
lean man, with thick black wiry hair that was just beginning to turn gray. His
face was long and angular, with a thin, sharp nose and sharply defined lips.
His eyes were deep-set and dark, and yet she had always felt they were oddly
lacking in expression. You couldn’t look at him for very long without having to
glance away in search of something more sympathetic.
    Francesca stood
up. Eva was conscious of the receptionists’s breasts, shifting under the thin
silk of her blouse. Thirty-six C cup, she guessed, but definitely braless
today. There were cheap silver puzzle rings on the girl’s fingers, and Eva
could almost picture those fingers clutching Gerard’s stiffened penis. The same
way any prizewinner holds a trophy.
    “I, er… Evie,
it’s good to see you,” said Gerard. He stood up, and came around his desk to
greet her. He was far taller than she was, nearly six two, but somehow he
seemed shorter today, diminished.
    Francesca said
uneasily, “I think I’ll go make that coffee now.’’
    “Sure,” said
Gerard, with pretended ease. “Would you like some coffee, Evie?”
    Eva shook her
head. “I don’t think so, thank you.”
    There was a
moment of tension. Gerard rubbed his hand across his mouth, as if he was
unconsciously making sure that there were no traces of strange kisses. “Well,”
he said, “I kind of guessed that you wouldn’t.”
    Francesca was
still standing by the door, and Gerard glanced across at her and closed his
eyes briefly in a catlike expression which meant. You go make coffee, I’ll
handle this. Francesca paused, then left, leaving the office door fractionally
ajar.
    “Sit down, why
don’t you?” Gerard asked Eva, indicating a white revolving armchair.
    Eva said: “No,
thank you. I don’t think it’s going to take me long to ask you where you’ve
been these past three nights.’’
    He was walking
back around his desk. He looked up at her, his dark head outlined against a
bright golden painting of drying tobacco leaves. “Where I’ve
been?” he asked her. “You know damn well where I’ve been.”
    “You’ve been
working three days and three nights without sleep?”
    “Almost. I had paperwork up to here.” He raised his hand up
to the level of his eyes.
    “The Turkish consignment?”
    He narrowed his
eyes. “Mostly.”
    “So David
Orlando’s lying?”
    “David Orlando?
David’s in Dallas.”
    Eva lowered her
eyes. “I know he is,” she said softly. “I called him there yesterday. He told
me he handled the Turkish consignment all by himself, and finished up two days
ago. He also told me you had almost no work in the office this week, and that
you wouldn’t be pushed until early next month.”
    Gerard stared
at her for almost half a minute, without speaking. Then he opened his silver
cigar box, hesitated, and finally chose a small Havana. He reached for his
cutters, snipped the end off the cigar, and placed it with exaggerated
precision between his lips. Eva found his silence, his meticulous actions,
distinctly unnerving. His eyes seemed less penetrable than ever.
    If only she
didn’t want him so much, and need to know that he still loved her. If only she
was weak enough to stay at home and be satisfied with what she had.
    Outside, a fire
siren warbled and whooped along the