Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [93]
“Thank you.” She stepped into the Deckers’ living room. “You always know what to say. How can one boy be that charming? Do you practice in the mirror?”
“Every day along with my piano. Sometimes I combine it by practicing the piano in front of a mirror.”
Yasmine’s ultraserious face managed a small smile.
Gabe said, “Honestly, I just made a fresh pot of coffee. The Deckers don’t use the coffeepot on Saturday. They drink instant. It sucks.”
“I’m okay.” She perched herself on the edge of the sofa cushion, her back ramrod straight.
“Suit yourself.” He got up and went into the kitchen.
She raised her voice to be heard. “I really need to go soon, Gabe. It’ll take me twenty minutes to walk to shul.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Gabe came back carrying two cups. “Two sweeteners and a dollop of nonfat milk, right.”
“What am I going to do with you?” Yasmine sighed. “You are perfect.”
“Thank you. Wanna fool around?” When she blanched, he said, “I’m just kidding.” Not really. “We’ll just talk. Rather, you can talk and I’ll stare at your beauty.”
A blush rose in her cheeks. She took the coffee cup and sipped. She was still wearing her jacket. Beads of perspiration had gathered on her face.
He said, “Why don’t you take off your coat?”
“Because I can’t stay long.”
“I know that, Yasmine. It doesn’t mean you have to be uncomfortable while you are here.”
She put down the cup. He helped her off with her jacket, and then drew her onto the sofa, hugging her tightly. “Just relax, okay? I won’t jump your bones.”
“I am relaxed.”
“No, you’re not.” He kissed her soundly on the lips, receiving a healthy dose of red lipstick. “I know relaxed very well and it doesn’t say Yasmine. What’s wrong, my love?”
“I think my mom is getting a little suspicious.”
“Doesn’t surprise me, being as you leave home every day at six in the morning without explanation.”
“You’re taking it as a joke.” She was upset. “If she finds out, she’ll tell my dad. He’ll kill me.”
“He won’t kill you, he’ll kill me, which is okay. I’d rather die than to be without you.” He kissed her again. “Can we make out? I’ve already ruined your lipstick.”
“Do you ever stop?”
“Not when you’re around.” Gabe sat up and sighed. “Okay. I’ll let you drink coffee in peace.” He gave her back the coffee cup. “Oh. Guess what. I’ve got something for you. Well, it’s not exactly for you. It’s sort of for the both of us. Close your eyes.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“No, really. It’s not what you think. Close your eyes.”
Reluctantly, she obeyed. “This better not be a trick. Like you’d better not be naked when I open my eyes.”
“Now there’s a thought.”
She opened her eyes. “Ga . . . abe.”
She had turned his name into two syllables. He definitely wasn’t getting any. “Close your eyes, Yasmine. Just cooperate, okay?”
She let out a mock sigh and did what he asked of her. He whipped off his T-shirt. “Okay. Open up.”
She saw his bare chest and grew irritated. “Gabe, I don’t have time—” She stopped talking, and her eyes got wide. She brought her hands to her mouth.
Gabe grinned. “Do you like it?”
Wordlessly, she touched the blue ink on his right arm below the swell of his shoulder. He had gotten a tattoo of two armlets: the first one was interwoven flowers that framed her name in script; the second band consisted of treble clef notes. She was speechless.
“Did you notice that it’s a jasmine vine?” Gabe told her. “A little literal, but I think it came out nice.” She still couldn’t talk. “Do you like the band below it?”
She was still mute.
“Read the notes, cuckoo bird.”
She did. It was the coloratura for “Der Hölle Rache.” Her eyes grew moist. “Why . . . did you do that?”
“Why?” Gabe put his shirt back on. “Because I love you, that’s why.” Tears began to stream down her cheeks. “Don’t do that. You’ll smear your makeup.”
She wiped her tears with her fingers, then leaned her head against his shoulder. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Gabe said, “So now you know . . . that no matter what happens between us . . . I will never ever forget