12Chapter Twenty-One: The Whirlpool
Blake agreed with the judge about getting a good night's sleep. But back in his hotel room, he couldn't relax. Lying in bed in his frilly pajamas, he felt tense and jumpy. Partly it was the prison visit, of course. Even with his eyes shut, Blake's mind was busy, filled with images of guilt and punishment. He saw himself cuffed, led away by police, locked in jail for his crimes. And if the judge ever found out about the missing money it could happen for real!
Dialing Marco's number didn't calm his nerves. Blake wanted the muscular masseur to return the judge's money at once. But all he got was the big man's rough, sexy voice instructing callers to leave a message. Blake lay back on a pile of soft pillows, trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding, and he even felt a bit sweaty, as though he'd been running up and down the stairs.
Was Marco avoiding him? Was it about the money? The two of them hadn't made love in over a week! Blake realized he was on very thin ice here. If he confronted Marco directly and demanded the money back, the mouth-watering hunk might slam the door in his face and dump him right there. On the other hand, Marco might smile, and invite him in, and promise to pay the money back after they made love. And once they got going Blake might forget about the money. Making love to Marco was like a drug, he decided. At first it was just a thrill. But lately Blake wanted more . . . and more . . . and more . . .
Just then the phone rang, abruptly jarring him from a fitful sleep.
"Marco?" Blake's voice sounded husky and breathless.
"Fat chance!" A woman's voice, rough and gritty. "It's me, silly. It's Virginia!" A slight pause. "So who's Marco, anyway?"
"Nobody!" Blake scowled fiercely. But of course Virginia couldn't see him. "I was having a bad dream, that's all. It's late!"
"Sorry to wake you, Sleepy Sue." Virginia clucked, but then probed deeper. "Tell me, does this Marco character ever turn up naked in your dreams?" A knowing chuckle.
"He's a masseur," Blake growled. Virginia's sly teasing always got under his skin. It was like she could hear him say Marco's name and almost see the bulge in his pajamas. "My bad ankle kept me in bed for a couple of weeks, and Penelope hired him to give me some physical therapy in the afternoons. I was just, I don't know, thinking about him. I don't know why. How are things going with your painting? DId you get a gallery showing in New York City?"
"We've had a bit of a setback." Virginia clucked again, and this time Blake could tell she was not happy. Gradually more awake, he could make out traffic noises, sirens and buses, behind her. The restless sounds of a big city at night.
"Why, what do you mean?" Blake pushed himself upright in bed. In spite of all her teasing, Virginia Carter had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go. He owed her so much. And no matter what happened, Driftwood Cottage would always be home.
"Well, Charlie Claypool did his best, but none of the big Manhattan gallery owners were interested in a regional painter. That's what they called me. A regional painter! So now we want to try Savannah, but Charlie has business in Los Angeles and can't fly with me. And I can't very well ask him for more money, after everything he's done for me here in New York. Not to mention everything he's done for you!"
"All Charlie Claypool ever did for me was get me thrown from a horse!" Blake felt like a liar, because Charlie had bought him a ton of nice clothes and introduced him to all sorts of really nice people, including Judge Crandall and Charlie's Aunt Penelope. Blake was working for the judge now and living at Sweet Meadow, which was Penelope's country estate. In a way it was all because of Charlie. But when he thought of Charlie now Blake only remembered laughing at his endless filthy jokes, and trying to smile while fighting off his groping hands and greedy kisses.
"I know you're a big boy, and you don't need Charlie any more," Virginia said gently. "Penelope tells me you've made a splendid start working for Judge Crandall. That's why you're in Raleigh, isn't it? The two of you are working on a very important case."
"That's right." Blake felt very proud of sticking right by the judge all through his prison visit, even when they were talking to the most violent killers and passing rows and rows of criminals. The only bad part was knowing he'd lied to the judge about losing all the money that was meant for his daughter Billie!
"Well, now that you're getting a regular paycheck, do you think you could loan me a few thousand dollars? I'd pay you back. You know that, don't you?"
"A few thousand dollars?" Blake felt more frightened than when he'd been face to face with that awful serial killer in prison. "Virginia, I don't have that kind of money. I've only been working for the judge for a few days. I haven't even been paid yet!"
"Well, I'm sure this Crandall character would give you an advance on your salary," Virginia reasoned. "He's rich, isn't he? Penelope says Percival Crandall is one of the richest men in the state. He's a very respected man, baby. And he trusts you."
"Yeah," Blake said, sagging back against a pile of pillows. "He trusts me."
There was no way to say no to Virginia. Not after all the things she'd done for him. And there was no way to ask the judge for more favors, not after he'd already let him down and lied to him. Blake was getting in deeper every day, covering up for Marco about taking the money meant for Billie Birch. He felt like he was caught in a whirlpool, getting sucked down deeper and deeper. Even after he hung up the phone, all he could do was to shut out the light and punch the pillow. But the battle soon ended, and before long Blake was asleep, hugging the pillow with fresh tears glistening on his cheeks.