Lessons Learned

almost feel the prickle of the noose around his throat.
    But he was innocent. Carlo poured the mixture of tomatoes, sauce and spices over the browned chicken and set the cover. If he had to bind and gag her, Juliet would listen to him.
    He cooked his dish with the finesse of an artist completing a royal portrait. He performed for the audience like a veteran thespian. He thought the dark thoughts of a man already at the dock.
    When the show was over, he spent a few obligatory moments with his host, then left the crew to devour one of his best cacciatores.
    But when he went back to the green room, Juliet was nowhere in sight. Lydia was waiting. He had no choice but to deal with her, and the interview, first.
    She didn’t make it easy for him. But then, to his knowledge, women seldom did. Lydia chatted away as though nothing had happened. She asked her questions, noted down his answers, all the while with mischief gleaming in her eyes. At length, he’d had enough.
    “All right, Lydia, what did you say to her?”
    “To whom?” All innocence, Lydia blinked at him. “Oh, your publicist. A lovely woman. But then I’d hardly be one to fault your taste, darling.”
    He rose, swore and wondered what a desperate man should do with his hands. “Lydia, we had a few enjoyable hours together. No more.”
    “I know.” Something in her tone made him pause and glance back. “I don’t imagine either of us could count the number of few enjoyable hours we’ve had.” With a shrug, she rose. Perhaps she understood him, even envied what she thought she’d read in his eyes, but it wasn’t any reason to let him off the hook. “Your Juliet and I just chatted, darling.” She dropped her pad and pencil in her bag. “Girl talk, you know. Just girl talk. Thanks for the interview, Carlo.” At the door, she paused and turned back. “If you’re ever back in town without a…complication, give me a ring. Ciao. ”
    When she left he considered breaking something. Before he could decide what would be the most satisfying and destructive, Juliet bustled in. “Let’s get moving, Carlo. The cab’s waiting. It looks like we’ll have enough time to get back to the hotel, check out and catch the earlier plane.”
    “I want to speak with you.”
    “Yes, fine. We’ll talk in the cab.” Because she was already heading down the winding corridor he had no choice but to follow.
    “When you told me the name of the reporter, I simply didn’t put it together.”
    “Put what together?” Juliet pulled open the heavy metal door and stepped out on the back lot. If it had been much hotter,she noted, Carlo could’ve browned his chicken on the asphalt. “Oh, that you’d known her. Well, it’s so hard to remember everyone we’ve met, isn’t it?” She slipped into the cab and gave the driver the name of the hotel.
    “We’ve come halfway across the country.” Annoyed, he climbed in beside her. “Things begin to blur.”
    “They certainly do.” Sympathetic, she patted his hand. “Detroit and Boston’ll be down and dirty. You’ll be lucky to remember your own name.” She pulled out her compact to give her make-up a quick check. “But then I can help out in Philadelphia. You’ve already told me you have a…friend there.”
    “Summer’s different.” He took the compact from her. “I’ve known her for years. We were students together. We never— Friends, we’re only friends,” he ended on a mutter. “I don’t enjoy explaining myself.”
    “I can see that.” She pulled out bills and calculated the tip as the cab drew up to the hotel. As she started to slide out, she gave Carlo a long look. “No one asked you to.”
    “Ridiculous.” He had her by the arm before she’d reached the revolving doors. “You ask. It isn’t necessary to ask with words to ask.”
    “Guilt makes you imagine all sorts of things.” She swung through the doors and into the lobby.
    “Guilt?” Incensed, he caught up with her at the elevators. “I’ve nothing to be guilty for. A man has to commit some crime, some sin, for guilt.”
    She listened calmly as she stepped into the elevator car and pushed the button for their floor. “That’s true, Carlo. You seem to me to be a man bent on making a confession.”
    He went off on a fiery stream of Italian that had the other two occupants of the car edging into the corners. Juliet folded her hands serenely and decided she’d never enjoyed herself more. The other passengers gave Carlo a wide