How surreal it was to see him lying, helpless and weak, in a hospital bed.
Michelle’s heart disobeyed her strict injunction to remain hardened, and she found herself rushing to his side and crouching at the level of his closed eyes.
He opened one, then shut it again and moaned.
“I’m hallucinating,” he muttered to himself.
“No, Charles, you aren’t,” she whispered. “I’m here. Michelle. Miss Object. Except I’m not your object any more. I’m my own woman.”
“Right on, sister,” breathed Cordwainer, sardonic even this close to death’s door. “Here to finish me off, are you?”
“No.”
“You should. I would. If I were you.”
“You aren’t. You don’t understand what it is to care for people, and I’m sorry for you. You might die without knowing how it feels.”
“I hope I do. I hear compassion sucks.”
“You have the chance to do something good for somebody. One chance. It could be your last.”
“Oh, please.” He tried to lift a hand to the call button, but his arm failed to complete the task. “Go.”
“There’s a policeman outside. I’m going to tell him you’re up to giving a statement. And you’re going to tell him the truth.”
“Why?”
“Why? I could give you a hundred moral and ethical reasons. But I know they wouldn’t appeal to you. So I’ll give you this one instead. If you tell the truth about who shot you, I’ll go to the Gazette and tell them that everything I said was a lie. All done in revenge, from a rejected lover. Even the papers I gave them—I’ll say I forged them. I’ll take every word back.”
“If I’m dying, it scarcely matters, does it? Besides, I was going to come and get you and force you to do that anyway.”
“This is easier, though, isn’t it? You don’t like complications. Let’s keep it simple. You tell the truth about Rhodes—because you aren’t particularly implicated in any of that—and I’ll go to the press. Even if you do die, your reputation is salvaged to some extent. But you won’t die. You’re immortal. You’re untouchable. The unsinkable Charles Cordwainer, right?”
His mouth twitched. “Right. Well, why not? Rhodes is a liability anyway. He’s one sacrifice I don’t mind making. Get that policeman in. I’ll talk.”
While Rocky was being interviewed, Flipp and Laura sat at distant ends of the waiting area, watching Rhodes pace the floor, looking like a man in the throes of demonic possession.
“Wedded bliss,” drawled Laura, looking up from her plastic tea. “Bet you’re glad I got you back together.”
Flipp gasped. “It was you. You bitch. Rocky doesn’t want you, you know. He never will. Deal with it.”
“Rocky will be going down for a very long time if I get my way,” snarled Rhodes. “Forget about him. You’re my wife.”
“I want a divorce.”
“You aren’t going to get one.”
“This isn’t Afghanistan, Pete. Of course I can get a divorce if I want one.”
“If anyone should be filing for divorce, it should be me. You’ve cuckolded me. You’re an adulteress.”
“So divorce me, then. I don’t care.”
“What, reward your behaviour with half of my incom
e? I don’t think so, love. Where I come from, bad girls get what’s coming to them.”
“Where you come from? Where’s that? Misogynyville?” Flipp appealed, despite her instincts, to Laura’s better judgement. “For God’s sake, Laura, even you must see that this man is a fucking psycho. I’d help you, if it was you he’d come for. Don’t you feel at all bad?”