Page 72 of Solo

“Good evening, sir,” I say with a nod in his direction.

“You got business here?”

“Uh, yes sir. I’m visiting someone on the third floor,” I confirm.

Suddenly his door swings open and he’s waving a very big, very solid, wood baseball bat at me. “You’d better be! I find out you been making trouble up there and you’re goin’ to wish you’d worn a football helmet out tonight, you sombitch!”

Ah. Clinton, I presume.

“Yes sir. I understand. I swear I won’t be making any trouble.”

He gives me the hairy eyeball and slams the door shut so hard I can feel the vibrations on the stairs. I start moving before he has a chance to reconsider.

With my arms full and no elevator, it takes a few minutes for me to actually get to her front door, which opens just as I raise my hand to knock. Katherine is standing there in an oversize plaid nightshirt that hangs down to her thighs. It reminds me of the way she looked in my shirt not so long ago. Damn this girl’s got legs. For. Days. I wrest my eyes from them and when I do, my lust turns cold with concern.

There are dark circles under her eyes—which are rimmed in red, as if she’s been crying. She offers me an unenthusiastic smile as she holds the door open for me. I’m immediately struck by the size of the apartment. There isn’t any. The room, probably in the neighborhood of twenty-five by twenty-five, contains the very barest of essential elements.

In one corner is a tiny kitchenette with a pint-size refrigerator, a two-burner stove, small sink, and microwave. Just in front of it sits a two-top bistro table and a pair of chairs. Bookcases line two of the four walls. They’re crammed with books and scores, and one shelf holds a micro sound system and small flat-screen television. A third wall is taken up by a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, and the other with the front door as well as two other doors, which I imagine lead to a bathroom and perhaps a closet. In the middle of the room is an open sleeper sofa, the covers pulled back as if I’ve gotten her out of bed. A narrow coffee table sits in front of it, littered with pages of manuscript paper, pencils, and scores for symphonies and concertos.

I leave my shopping bag on the floor next to the front door while I drop the take-out bags on the two feet of counter space between her stovetop and sink.

“Sorry, if I’d known you were coming I’d have straightened the place up a bit,” she says, looking around the room.

I nod toward the huge windows. “I’ll bet that’s what sold you on this place.” I watch as her expression lightens considerably. “The view must be spectacular in the daytime.”

Katherine nods enthusiastically. “I know it’s a crappy apartment, but that view…it’s like being closer to heaven, Drew. It’s more stunning than you can imagine,” she says wistfully.

I walk up to her and put my arms around her waist. “I’d say I’m sorry to show up without calling first, but that would be a lie. I was afraid if I called, you’d tell me not to come. I didn’t want to hear that.”

“You’re right. I would have told you not to come,” she confirms with a sigh. “It’s been a long, hard day, capped off by a long, depressing night.”

“Well, the night’s not over yet,” I inform her, taking her by the hand and escorting her to the small dining table. I pull a chair out for her and she sinks into it. “I thought you might need a little moral support after seeing your father. I also had a feeling that you might not have made it through your meal, so I picked up some dinner for us.”

She looks at the grease-stained paper bags and then back to me. “God, you’re sweet,” she murmurs appreciatively. “And you’re right. It was awful, Drew. He didn’t come because he wanted to see me. He came because he wants me to pose as the devoted daughter on the campaign trail. He even offered to buy me a condo.”

“Oh, well, if he offered you a condo…” I tease with a grin, slipping into the other chair. She swats me playfully.

“I don’t know what I was expecting. Something different, I suppose. But he doesn’t change. It’s all about appearances. And, now that he might be trying for the presidency, he’s afraid someone will come snooping around and find out that I live in squalor and servitude.”

“Please, tell me he did not say that to you.”

I get a rueful grin from her. “He might as well have. He commented on my ‘ramshackle’ little apartment and my job as a ‘common maid.’ And you know, it’s not like he didn’t work his way up. My father wasn’t born wealthy, so he knows what it’s like to be starting out.”

“Yeah, but ‘starting out’ as a nobody and ‘starting out’ as the daughter of a prominent politician are two totally different things, Katherine. It’s like you told me the other night. It’s not the truth that matters, it’s what people perceive to be the truth.”

“Well, in this particular case, I’m pretty sure they’re the same thing,” she mutters. “He doesn’t want people to realize that I’m out on my own with no support from him. It won’t look good, considering the amount of money he has.”

“Maybe he should have thought of how it would look before he cut you off,” I scoff.

Katherine sighs and shrugs at the same time. “So, what’ve you got over there?” she asks with a chin nod toward the counter. “’Cause it smells really good.”

She wants to get off the subject, and I can’t say as I blame her. I’m only too happy to find other things to distract her attention.

“For you, Katherine, it’s only the best that Mr. Lu’s has to offer. I’ve got wonton soup, pepper steak, sweet and sour chicken, and fried rice.”

“Oh, yum!” she murmurs appreciatively, getting to her feet again. “Let me get us some plates.” She stops short when she catches sight of the shopping bag I’ve parked next to her front door. The one with the big, silver-wrapped present sticking out of it.

“What’s with that?”