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the edge, wondering if anyone had ever jumped off the deck.
 Beautiful, isn t it? Jack said.
It was. She forgot her fear, caught by the glittering view:
the sweeping glory of the Seventeenth Street Causeway, the
splendor of the cruise ships. The sparkling tourist hotels and
DYING TO CALL YOU 89
the outrageous mansions. And the black, shining water that
made all this wealth possible.
Helen shivered. It was cold up here, so high above the
city. All this beauty, and no one to share it with. She won-
dered if she would ever find someone to love, or if she would
die alone. There are worse things for a woman than being
alone, she reminded herself. But that thought didn t warm
her.
Jack took off his suit coat and put it around her shoulders.
It smelled of some manly cologne, with a hint of citrus. He
put his arms around her and pulled her close. He felt warm
and strong. He felt right.
This was happening awfully fast, she thought. But she d
watched Jack today. He was decisive. He knew what he
wanted and he wanted her. She was flattered. She was
forty-two, but she made this man act like an eager young
lover.
 Helen, I promise you, the telemarketing is only tempo-
rary, he said.  I ll be back on top of the world soon and
you ll be with me.
He believes it. She liked his promises, even if they could
never come true. He seemed hopeful. That s what her life
was missing. Hope. The promise of something better.
Then Jack kissed her. The city sparkled below, just for her.
It was after midnight when Helen wove her way to her
apartment, giggly from kisses and cosmopolitans. The night
had been perfect. There was a slight awkwardness when Jack
had wanted to come back to her place. But she d said,  Not
tonight, and he d obeyed.
Then he d kissed her so hard she d almost changed her
mind. But she wasn t that drunk. She d had too many wrong
men. She wasn t going to hop into bed with this one. Not
right away, anyway.
She passed Phil s door and inhaled deeply.  I m higher
than you are. She was startled that she d said it out loud.
She unlocked her door and nearly fell inside.
90 Elaine Viets
 Hi, cat. Did you miss me? Thumbs sniffed her with dis-
approval.
 Don t look that way. I deserve a good time. I ll tell you
all about it. Just let me sit down a minute. She flopped into
the turquoise Barcalounger.
She woke up at six A.M. She d slept in her pantsuit. It was
covered with wrinkles and cat hair. Her mouth felt like it was
stuffed with fur. Thumbs had slept on her chest, judging by
the large patch of cat hair on her suit. The ten-pound tom was
gently patting her face with his huge six-toed paw.
 I m sorry, boy, she said.  I know it s breakfast time.
She stood up. The room had a funhouse tilt. Her stomach
lurched like Savannah s Tank. Savannah. She forgot to call
Savannah last night.
I didn t really promise I would, she thought. Not a firm
promise. But she remembered what Savannah had said,  My
baby sister s lying somewhere in an unmarked grave. I ve
got to find her.
And what had she been doing? Drinking cosmopolitans in
a penthouse, like some subtropical Marie Antoinette.
Helen stumbled into the bathroom. She didn t have the
courage to look in the mirror. She ate an inch of toothpaste
straight from the tube. Coffee. She needed coffee. It tasted
funny, but Helen didn t think that was from her Crest break-
fast. It was going to be a long day.
She clocked in at seven fifty-nine and sat down at her
desk. There was a half-eaten slice of pizza draped over her
phone like a pepperoni tea cozy. It left a trail of orange grease
on her desk. Her stomach flip-flopped when she dropped it in
the trash.
 Good morning, Jack said. He was smiling. She hated
cheerful people in the morning. Once again, he was beauti-
fully shaved. His skin was a healthy pink, his eyes clear, his
shirt crisp. It was unnatural.
 Thank you for a lovely evening, he said, and handed her
a single red rose.
 Oh, Helen said. It was all she could manage. The rose
DYING TO CALL YOU 91
looked so velvety dark and perfect in this boil of a boiler
room. It made the scuffed walls and shabby carpet look
worse.
 It s lovely, she said, as the computers flipped on.
 OK, people. Get your heinies in gear, Vito screamed.
 We re starting with Vermont this morning.
 Hi, Mrs. Cratchley, Helen said.  I m Helen with Tank
Titan 
Mrs. Cratchley said,  Well, isn t that lovely?
Helen stopped in surprise. She wasn t used to kind words.
 And how long have you been a telemarketer, dear?
 Several months now. I sell a product that . . . Helen tried
to get back on track.
 It must be difficult, a single woman like yourself, Mrs.
Cratchley said.  You are single, aren t you?
 Yes, ma am, Helen said.  And Tank Titan is the single
most popular 
 I thought so, Mrs. C said.  My daughter Rita s single,
too. She has to support herself and my grandson, Jerrod. That
poor girl works so hard. We never get to sit down and visit
any more. Jerrod is four now, and he s . . .
Help! Helen thought. I m trapped by a nice person. Nasty,
I can handle. I don t know what to do with nice.
 And then Jerrod said to me,  Granny  he calls me
Granny 
 Mrs. Cratchley, Helen said,  I d love to chat with you, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]