Dangerous Loving (standard:drama, 1495 words)
Author: Cyrano	Added: Dec 30 2008	Views/Reads: 3167/2011	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Tom Schofield won't be home as promised. Katherine, his wife, gets the news in the middle of the night. She's one month from giving birth to their first child.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


Katherine sits on the side of the bed, magnificently naked, the early
morning light falling soft on her skin. She feels anger. She feels 
love. She has married her knight in shining armour – she knew it the 
first time she saw him. An afternoon five years ago when he knelt at 
her side, tending her bruised and cut head; her bicycle lying buckled 
and tangled after a speeding car had sideswiped her. She remembers him 
telling her not to move; that maybe there's a broken bone. With great 
tenderness he strokes her body, asking about pain. She was sore, cut 
and bruised, but not broken. She remembered being swept up in his arms, 
carried to a tractor where he gently raised her into the seat, his arm 
wrapped around her as the tractor moved off toward the farm. The only 
words spoken were reassuring words that she was okay. She lay on the 
sofa, in a strange house, shocked and bruised and being cared for by a 
man she didn't know anything about. He continued to care for her, 
dabbing blood from her forehead, bringing her a blanket...then a 
feather light movement in the depth of her belly brings her back to the 
present.  Her knight is not here. Life goes on. She shakes her head, 
and raises her eyes to the ceiling. Another day in front of Judge 
McKinley. 

* 

The hotel doesn't look much; in fact, it's pretty awful. Not anything
resembling the hotels he'd seen heading toward the ferry terminals. He 
let slip his overnight bag and slams the palm of his hand down on the 
plunger of a tarnished brass bell. From behind a bamboo curtain an 
elderly woman shuffles into view. She doesn't smile. The name on the 
badge says, Miss Ho. The signing-in book is turned. He enters the 
necessary details, paying over a hundred Honk Kong dollars. 

The room is barely decent; a true reflection of it's cost. He throws his
bag on the bed and goes directly to the window, looking across a narrow 
passage into another hotel room. A western man, with hairy shoulders is 
humping an Asian girl, not more than twenty feet away. Her screams are 
fake. He drops the blind, kicks off his shoes and falls backwards onto 
the bed. 

The noise of a motorcycle under the window brings him out of a deep
slumber. Twelve hours have elapsed. He hears mid afternoon sounds, sees 
sunlight shafting through the slits. He looks at his watch. 2.30 P.M. 
Sliding off the bed, cramming his feet into stinking shoes, he opens 
his bag and pulls out a wallet. He removes the folded paper with the 
directions and checks the condition of his hair in one corner of a 
broken mirror, set above a cracked basin. He brushes his fingers 
through his hair, and leaves the room. 

At the foot of the staircase, a bead covered doorway leads to a bar.
Miss Ho, shiny black haired tied back harshly, is sitting at the desk 
in the entrance lobby. He smiles at her, but is not encouraged to let 
it linger. He parts beadeed strands, entering the bar. It is strangely 
exotic, enchanting, but with shady sorts sitting at tables. The air is 
blue and thick with cigar smoke. He's woken with a thirst and orders a 
pint of their coldest beer, letting it slide down his throat till its 
coldness bites him. It is a satisfying pain. A beautiful young woman 
sides up to him. She has slick, olive toned skin, which under the 
lights looked oily. Her eyes are deeply innocent, her purpose, 
business. He slugs down the chilled beer, gasping in pain, and turns to 
leave when she touches his arm. 

“I can satisfy you well.” She says, one finger stroking his shoulder. 

Tom smiles, pushes her hand from his shoulder. Her large, innocent eyes
leave his gaze, scanning the bar for a more willing client. She 
couldn't have known the depth of his feelings for another woman. 

* 

The judge cleared his throat, then says quietly, ‘Any re-examination,
counsellor?' 

Katherine Schofield rises to her feet. 

‘No re-examination, my Lord.' She takes a deep breath. ‘I call my next
and last witness on this voir dire issue. Inspector Howard – but I will 
ask my learned friend, Mr. Larkin, to lead his evidence. 

His Lordship hunches forward. He said diffidently, ‘Ms. Schofield...From
Mr. Bernstein's cross-examination, it appears that you may be in a 
difficult position if and when this Raquel Valeriya is called as a 
witness for the defence.' 

‘To anticipate your Lordship's question,' Katherine responds, ‘if and
when Raquel Valeriya is called as a defence witness, I will leave her 
to be cross-examined by Mr. Larkin. Indeed, I will withdraw from the 
courtroom for the duration of her evidence.' 

‘Yes...yes...' his Lordship fiddles with his pen, ‘but were you aware,
when this case began this morning, That Raquel Valeriya would be called 
as a defence witness? Because, if so, it seems to me that you should 
have withdrawn from the case then.' 

Katherine looks good old Josh McKinley in the eye. And it was almost the
truth – she was not definitely aware. 

‘No, m'Lord, I was not.' 

His Lordship ponders a moment. 

‘So... she is – or will be – a surprise witness?' 

‘Precisely, m'Lord.' 

The judge sits back in his high, carved chair. Fifteen seconds of quiet
ensue. Then. 

‘Very well.  Call Inspector Howard.' 

Katherine gasps, knees buckling. 

* 

Tom Schofield steps into the drenching humidity and sets off along
Queens Street, heading for the Mandarin Oriental Hotel on Connaught 
Road. He has knowledge of the Chinnery Bar's secluded quiet. This will 
be the perfect place to meet. He has the ransom...and he has a plan. 


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