Rogue

“They're fantastic,” he said to her, “absolutely wonderful, Arabella.” She opened a bottle of champagne, she said to celebrate his first visit to her studio, the first of many, she hoped, as she toasted him. He drank two glasses with her, in spite of his aversion to champagne. He would have drunk poison for her, and then he suggested they go back to his place. He wanted to show her his treasures now too. He had some very important art, and an absolutely spectacular house that he loved and was very proud of. They found a taxi easily, and half an hour later, they were wandering through his house, as she screamed with excitement over the art she saw. He opened another bottle of champagne for her, but he drank vodka this time. He turned on the sound system, showed her the theater he had had built, he showed her everything, and by nine o'clock they were in his enormous bed, making mad, passionate love to each other. He had never had an experience like that with any woman, even on drugs, which he had experimented with lightly at one point, and never liked. Arabella herself was like a drug to him, and he felt as though he had gone to the moon and back, as they lay in his enormous bathtub together later, and she slid on top of him, and began riding him again. He moaned in exquisite agony as he came in her, for the fourth time that night, and he heard the magical sound of her laughter, as the impossible wood sprite he had discovered at Kensington Palace drove him to the edge of sanity and back. He didn't know what this was with her, love or madness, but whatever it was, he never wanted it to end.

Chapter 10

The following Friday night, Charles and Maxine managed another very grown-up dinner at La Grenouille. They both had lobster and an exquisite white truffle risotto that was almost like an aphrodisiac, it was so good. And once again, Maxine had enjoyed the meal, even more this time. She liked their intelligent, adult conversations, and he didn't seem quite as serious as he had before. He had a sense of humor after all, although he kept it in check. Nothing about Charles ever seemed out of control. He said he preferred everything in his life planned and in good order, moderate, predictable. It was the kind of life Maxine had always wanted, which had been impossible with Blake. And it wasn't totally feasible for her either, with three children and the unpredictable elements in their lives, and the kind of practice she had, where the unexpected happened regularly. But their personalities were a good fit. He was far closer to what she wanted than Blake had been, and she told herself that if Charles was less spontaneous, that was reassuring in some ways too. She knew what to expect of him. And he was a nice person, which appealed to her too.

They were in the cab on the way home, after their second dinner date at La Grenouille. He had promised Le Cirque next time, and maybe after that Daniel or Café Boulud, all his favorite haunts, which he wanted to share with her, when her cell phone rang, and she assumed it was one of the kids, looking for her. She was off call to Thelma Washington that weekend. Instead, it was her service trying to locate her for Dr. Washington, which Maxine knew meant it was something serious with one of her regular patients. That was the only time Thelma called her on weekends. Otherwise, she handled everything herself, except the situations she knew Maxine would want to be told about and participate in. Thelma's voice came on the line after the service put her through.

“Hi. What's up?” Maxine said quickly, and Charles thought it was one of her kids. He hoped it wasn't an emergency. They had had such a pleasant evening, he didn't want anything distressing to intrude. Maxine was listening carefully, frowning, with her eyes closed, and it didn't look good to him. “How many units of blood have you given her?” There was silence again as Maxine listened to the answer. “Can you get a cardiothoracic guy in right away? Try Jones … Shit … okay … I'll be right in.” She turned to Charles with a worried look. “I'm sorry. I hate to do this to you. One of my patients just came in, code blue. Can I hijack the cab to Columbia Presbyterian? I don't have time to go home and change. I can drop you off on the way.” Her mind was full of what Thelma had said to her. It was a fifteen-year-old girl she had been seeing for only a few months. She had attempted suicide, and was hovering near death. Maxine wanted to be there, to make whatever decisions she could. Charles looked instantly sobered, and said of course she could take the cab.