Gloria was getting out of the shower at ten o’clock the following morning when her cell phone went off.
“It’s Gloria,” she said into it.
“Sweetheart,” Danny said, “I don’t know how you managed it, but I’m getting out of here at one today. Can you pick me up?”
“You betcha,” she said, and hung up.
—
Gloria fixed herself up and repatriated her car from the garage around the corner. The drive took an hour and a half, with traffic, and she was five minutes early; five minutes later, Danny was let out of a small door in a big door by a uniformed guard, who handed him an envelope and shook his hand.
She got out of the car to greet him with a big hug. “You’ve lost weight,” she said.
“I’ve had more exercise than usual,” he replied.
“I hope you weren’t getting to like it, that would be a great loss to the women of New York.”
“No, I wasn’t, but I was getting used to it. I’m never getting into a shower again unless I’m alone and the bathroom door is locked.”
“I’ve been paying the rent on your place,” she said. “We’ll go straight there.”
“No, not there,” he said.
“Where, then?”
“McDonald’s.”
“There’s one before we get to the interstate,” she said.
“I can taste it already. If I ever get sent to prison again, I want you to shoot me as soon as my sentence is pronounced.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“How did you spring me?”
“I happened to meet Governor Blake at a party last night,” she said. “We got along.”
“Oh, the magic you do with your body,” he said, laughing.
“The fun wasn’t all his. He’s a very attractive man, and I’m seeing him again tonight.”
“You mean we can’t have dinner?”
“You have a long list of girls to work your way through,” she said, digging an envelope out of her bag and handing it to him. “I stopped at an ATM on the way.”
“You think of everything.”
“Tomorrow, you can start thinking of everything for yourself—it’ll be fun. I made a couple of calls, and you’ve got an interview at ten AM tomorrow at W, with the Style editor. She’s going to love you.” She gave him a slip of paper with the name and address. “You’ll be at work again by noon.”
“That’s great,” Danny said. “Now what can I do for you?”
“Well, there was somebody I wanted you to murder, but I think I’ve pretty well taken care of that myself. Read the new issue, it’s on the stands in a couple of days.”
“I pity the poor guy. What did he do to you?”
“He was rude,” she said.
—
Gloria looked out the window and saw Benton Blake arrive downstairs, his black car followed by a State Police SUV. The two vehicles rolled away, leaving him on the sidewalk. Her bell rang a moment later.
“Top floor,” she said into the intercom.
“On my way.”
She let him in, and he had a good look around. “I like your style,” he said, “and I like the views.”
“Drink?”
“Do you have any single-malt scotch?”
She gave him a choice of three labels; he accepted one over ice, and she poured herself one. “Hungry?”
“Starved.”
“You like Chinese?”
“I like good Chinese.”
“I’ll give you great Chinese.”
“Is that a technique?”
“Yes, but that’s later.” She phoned in an order, then sat down beside him on the sofa. “Thank you for what you did for Danny,” she said. “He’s home safe.”
“I do only one get-out-of-jail-free card, so don’t ask me again.”
“I promise I won’t.”
“Something else—I didn’t know your last name or where you worked until I looked at your card. Don’t ever mention my name or refer to my office in your magazine.”
“What if it’s favorable?”
“In my experience, what’s favorable to one is a nightmare to another. Take Stone Barrington, for instance.”
“You know Stone Barrington?”
“He was a year ahead of me in law school, and he’s a reliable and generous contributor. I haven’t spoken to him, but I don’t think he would have liked what you said about him in your piece about Holly Barker.”
“I thought it complimentary.”
“Stone would think it extremely embarrassing. He’s not a part of the media culture—at least, not until your piece—and he’s unaccustomed to being handled that way.”
“Apologize to him for me when you see him again.”
“I don’t think I’ll bring it up.”
The doorbell rang, and she buzzed up the deliveryman. She spread half a dozen cartons on the dining table and got silver and napkins placed. “Dinner’s on,” she said.
He sat down and began serving himself, while she opened a bottle of Chardonnay. “You were right,” he said, tasting a couple of dishes, “this is great Chinese.”
“They’re practically next door.”
“Lucky you. I don’t do so well in Albany.”
“Do you spend much time in the city?”
“I have a place here.” He looked at her over a forkful of lo mein. “And I’m thinking about not running again.” He thought for a moment. “I haven’t mentioned that to anyone else, so if I see it in print, I’ll know how it got there.”
“You’ve already made your point,” she said. “I have a very good lock on my lips when I’m not using them for something else.”
He smiled and chewed at the same time.
“I was looking out the window when you got here. You arrived stylishly.”
“I could hardly take the subway,” he said, “and cabdrivers have magazines like yours on speed dial. Anyway, the State Police are very protective of me, not to mention discreet. It’s a nice way to travel, and I’ll miss it. And the helicopter.”
“You have your own helicopter?”
“Every governor in the country has a chopper,” he said. “Why do you think they run for the office?”
“More wine?” she asked.
“More you,” he said, reaching for her.
He got what he wanted, and more.