Read Online In the Night of the Heat by Blair Underwood - Free Book Online Page A

everything in the hotel suite, except for my arousal. Erections are involuntary, but I knew better. The story was tough enough for April. I saw that in her face.
    â€œYou went to a hotel room with her?” she said. Hurt cracked her voice in a way I had never heard from her. It felt like breaking a rare crystal artwork. “And let her put her hands on you? Why the hell would you do that, Ten? You thought that was business as usual?”
    You shouldn’t have told her, my Evil Voice said.
    I put my arm around April to soften the way it sounded. “Baby, I didn’t know. They’d used it for a press junket. In the back of my mind, I wondered, but…you’ve interviewed people in hotel rooms, April. You know most meetings don’t include nudity. Be fair.”
    But you could have guessed, I heard her thinking, and she sat with that thought a while. I had culpability, too, and we both knew it. I could have left when Lynda Jewell first mentioned Pauline. I could have left when she unbuttoned her shirt.
    â€œI was stupid,” I said. “I won’t put myself in that position again.”
    â€œI can’t believe her!” April said finally, and I was glad her anger had found its rightful target. April’s mouth moved like a fish fighting to breathe, speechless with rage.
    That reminded me: I’d forgotten to feed the fish again.
    April followed me downstairs. When she regained her voice, her mouth set loose a flurry of curses rhyming with “rich,” and some that never leave my mouth but rhyme with “runt.” My ears felt polluted to hear April’s sweet voice wrapped around that language as we passed my father’s closed door. It was almost as bad as hearing Chela curse.
    â€œShhhh,” I said. “You’re gonna get us both kicked out of my own house.”
    â€œShe called your agent for that ?”
    â€œIt’s over, April.”
    â€œTrust me, it’s not. If she was as mad as you said, she won’t let that go.”
    Len hadn’t heard the full story yet. I’d managed to avoid his eager postmeeting calls because of the weekend, but he deserved a full disclosure by Monday. Len had always warned me my reputation was at risk. And if Lynda Jewell made good on her threat to bad-mouth me, my future in Hollywood was already my past. Hollywood is a small town.
    Once the fish were safely fed, I led April back upstairs. Toward the shower.
    By silent agreement, we were finished talking, or thinking, about Lynda Jewell.
    The upstairs bathroom didn’t have a double-headed shower like the one I’d given to Chela, but it was still a worthy meeting place. That night, it was sanctuary. Raising my finger to my lips, I locked the door behind us. Just in case Chela came looking.
    To the untutored, sex in the shower can be a nightmare. It sounds great in theory, but too many passionate inspirations go awry against wet shower tiles. Luckily, I’d had great teachers.
    While April undressed, I tested the water stream and temperature, keeping my eyes on my task. I knew April’s body well by then—it was mine, as she liked telling me, and I loved to hear—but sometimes I denied myself the vision of April’s nakedness as long as possible before lovemaking. I liked the surprise of her, new and fresh to my eyes.
    â€œIt’s ready for you, miss,” I said, like the perfect hotel porter.
    â€œThank you, sir,” she said, and slipped past me in a blur of brown nakedness.
    We were both playing the game of newness.
    I peeled off the formfitting black shirt and black slacks I’d worn to the fund-raiser, my all-purpose L.A. Chic that saved me from the hassle of a suit and tie. Last, my black briefs. The small bathroom smelled like us immediately; a combination of perspiration, old cologne, and subtle body scents; some sour, some sweet. Already, the mirror was beginning to fog.
    In the cabinet, I found two sea wool sponges