Kinsman slammed a fist against the phone's OFF button. I know what the funeral arrangements are, he said to himself. Looking out the window at the darkening city, he thought, Four twenty-three this afternoon. Right in the middle of my goddamned presentation. Right in the fucking middle of it!
"What's the matter, Chet? You look awful!"
He turned to see Jinny standing a step inside the bath- room door, her hair loose and tumbling to her shoulders, an iridescent pink nightgown clinging to her.
"A friend of mine . . . died. I just called the hospital and found out."
She came to him and put both hands on his shoulders. "I'm so sorry."
"He was an old man. I expected it. But still . . ."
"I know. It's a shock." She sat beside him on the bed and slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed back and felt her mouth open for him.
She disengaged and reclined languidly on the bed. Pat- ting the covers, she said, "Come on, lay down beside me."
He remained sitting. "Jinny ... I can't."
She gazed up at him, smiling. "If it's my husband you're worried about, never mind. We have an understanding about this kind . . ."
But he shook his head. The picture was forming in his mind again. He could see her floating helplessly, arms out- 252 stretched, reaching toward him, screaming silently, eyes wide and blank.
"No," he said, more to himself than to her.
She was staring at him now, looking uncertain, almost afraid.
"I've got to go." He got to his feet.
Jinny sat up on the bed. "Because of the man who died?"
"Yes."
"He was someone close to you? A relative?"
"You really don't want to know about it," he said, feeling clammy sweat on his palms. Almost pleadingly, "Please don't ask me anything more about it."
"Are you ... a spy, or something?"
He focused on her for the first time since shutting off the phone. She was wide-eyed, lips parted, nipples erect with excitement.
