Risky Business

wanted him—he could feel it. But even as his blood began to swim, his hands, as if under their own power, eased her away.
    Needs, so long unstirred, churned in her. As she stared back at him, Liz felt them spring to life, with all their demands and risks. It wouldn’t happen to her again. But even as she renewed the vow she felt the soft, fluttering longings waltz through her. It couldn’t happen again. But the eyes that were wide and on his reflected confusion and hurt and hope. It was a combination that left Jonas shaken.
    “You should get some sleep,” he told her, and took care not to touch her again.
    So that was all, Liz thought as the flicker of hope died. It was foolish to believe, even for a moment, anything could change. She brought her chin up and straightened her shoulders. Perhaps she’d lost control of many things, but she couldstill control her heart. “I’ll give you a receipt for the rent and the key in the morning. I get up at six.” She took the twenty-dollar bill she’d left on the counter and walked out.

4
    T he jury was staring at him. Twelve still faces with blank eyes were lined behind the rail. Jonas stood before them in a small, harshly lit courtroom that echoed with his own voice. He carried stacks of law books, thick, dusty and heavy enough to make his arms ache. But he knew he couldn’t put them down. Sweat rolled down his temples, down his back as he gave an impassioned closing plea for his client’s acquittal. It was life and death, and his voice vibrated with both. The jury remained unmoved, disinterested. Though he struggled to hold them, the books began to slip from his grasp. He heard the verdict rebound, bouncing off the courtroom walls.
    Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
    Defeated, empty-handed, he turned to the defendant. The man stood, lifting his head so that they stared, eye to eye, twin images. Himself? Jerry. Desperate, Jonas walked to the bench. In black robes, Liz sat above him, aloof with distance. But her eyes were sad as she slowly shook her head. “I can’t help you.”
    Slowly, she began to fade. He reached up to grab her hand, but his fingers passed through hers. All he could see were her dark, sad eyes. Then she was gone, his brother was gone, andhe was left facing a jury—twelve cold faces who smiled smugly back at him.
    Jonas lay still, breathing quickly. He found himself staring back at the cluster of gaily dressed dolls on the shelf beside the bed. A flamenco dancer raised her castanets. A princess held a glass slipper. A spiffily dressed Barbie relaxed in a pink convertible, one hand raised in a wave.
    Letting out a long breath, Jonas ran a hand over his face and sat up. It was like trying to sleep in the middle of a party, he decided. No wonder he’d had odd dreams. On the opposing wall was a collection of stuffed animals ranging from the dependable bear to something that looked like a blue dust rag with eyes.
    Coffee, Jonas thought, closing his own. He needed coffee. Trying to ignore the dozens of smiling faces surrounding him, he dressed. He wasn’t sure how or where to begin. The coin on his chain dangled before he pulled a shirt over his chest. Outside, birds were sending up a clatter. At home there would have been the sound of traffic as Philadelphia awoke for the day. He could see a bush close to the window where purple flowers seemed to crowd each other for room. There were no sturdy elms, no tidy evergreen hedges or chain-link fences. No law books would help him with what he had to do. There was nothing familiar, no precedents to follow. Each step he took would be taken blindly, but he had to take them. He smelled the coffee the moment he left the room.
    Liz was in the kitchen dressed in a T-shirt and what appeared to be the bottoms of a skimpy bikini. Jonas wasn’t a man who normally awoke with all batteries charged, but he didn’t miss a pair of long, honey-toned legs. Liz finished buttering a piece of toast.
    “Coffee’s on the stove,” she said without turning around.“There’re some eggs in the refrigerator. I don’t stock cereal when Faith’s away.”
    “Eggs are fine,” he mumbled, but headed for the coffee.
    “Use what you want, as long as you replace it.” She turned up the radio to listen to the weather forecast. “I leave in a half hour, so if you want a ride to your hotel, you’ll have to be ready.”
    Jonas let the first hot taste of coffee seep into his system. “My car’s in San Miguel.”
    Liz sat down at the