Working Stiff(68)
She was turning back to Arthur, saying, “So, what do you do—”
Arthur was leaning toward her, nearly nose-to-nose, and his pale eyes were perfectly serious. He said, very quietly, “Tell me quickly about the accident. Ana couldn’t tell us much, just that he had his spleen removed and some dry facts about the car, and he’s such a private person that he won’t. What has happened to Casimir?”
The switch in him astonished her again.
She said, “It was really bad. His car flipped at least twice, and the windshield shattered and came in at him.”
“It sounds like you saw it happen.”
She nodded. “I was right behind him. They had to use The Jaws of Life to cut him out.”
Arthur blinked, flinching. “Scars?”
“The windshield sliced through the air bags and cut him up. Lots of little cuts and scrapes all over him. They’re fading fast. In a month, most of them will be invisible.”
“It must have been bloody.”
“He was really beaten up. Both his eyes were swollen shut, and he had bruises all over him. The air bags hit him hard, but they saved his life.”
Arthur laid both his hands flat on the table on either side of the empty plate. “He must have hired nurses to take care of him afterward.”
“I stayed with him. After he got out of the hospital, he just needed someone to make sure he was okay and eating and stuff. He didn’t need a nurse.”
Arthur nodded. “So, his spleen. There is a scar?”
“On his side.” Rox pointed to her own ribs. “Near one of his tattoos. You know about his tattoos?”
“I helped him design them.”
“Oh. Wow. You did a great job.”
“And that bandage on his face?”
“I still don’t know.”
Arthur looked above her head. “Here he comes.”
Rox was still gaping at Arthur.
Arthur settled back in his chair, and his smile turned sultry. “So how long have you two been together? And just how happy are you?”
“Back off, Severn,” Cash said as he walked in.
Severn? Wasn’t his name Finch-Something?
Must be a nickname or something.
“I was merely asking,” Arthur said and winked at Rox. “You never know what could happen, three adults with natural inclinations. It’s not like we’ve never explored that.” He told Rox, “I’m discounting Max. He’s evidently decided to opt out of any games because he’s such an aesthete.”
Cash stood behind Rox’s chair and laid his hands on both her shoulders. “I said, back off.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and poured himself another glass of wine. “You have lived in America too long, Casimir. You’re going Puritan on us.”
TEACHING MAXENCE TO MAKE COFFEE
The next morning, Rox woke up in her own bed, alone but for the three cats who were snuggled tightly around her. Having two new strangers in the house had traumatized the beasts. They had hidden all evening and crept into her bed as soon as the house was dark.
The previous evening, Rox, Cash, and Arthur had indeed built a small fire in a saucer-shaped fireplace on the deck, and Maxence had rejoined them later.
Rox kept sensing snatches of things that she needed to quiz Cash on, things like “places with high ceilings” again and references to a lawsuit that Arthur was involved in.
She had finally crawled off to bed after midnight, but the three guys had stayed out on the deck, talking.
After she got ready, she went to the kitchen to rustle up some breakfast, and found Maxence already down there, holding the coffee maker and inspecting it. He was wearing head-to-toe black again, black slacks and a black dress shirt. His waistband puckered under his belt, and all his clothes hung on him like they were a size too large despite the fact that they appeared tailored.
This time, she looked closely, but this shirt, too, had a regular collar, not a Roman collar like priests wear. He had mentioned that he hadn’t been ordained yet.
He looked up when she came in, relief lightening his dark eyes. “Oh, thank heavens. Can you show me how to use this thing?”
“Okay, sure. You’ve never made coffee?”
He shrugged. “Not something they taught us at Le Rosey, and it seems to have slipped my experience since.”
She got the can of coffee down from a shelf and showed him how to put the filter in, how much coffee and water to measure into it, and how to turn it on.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“Yeah. That’s it.”
He laughed. “When I was last home, my housekeeper assured me that it’s a complicated process, something that I couldn’t possibly do for myself. She seems to believe that her job hinges on that. Doesn’t Cash have a staff?”