Two days later, when the police were finished with their investigation and they were finally alone, Charlie dressed Samantha’s leg wound with fresh gauze. They were in the living room. The new window had already been installed, but they were still missing a televisn.
They were listening to the intermezzo of Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana. Samantha sat with the dog asleep in her lap. Charlie finished with the bandages and stood in the sliding glass doorway to the patio. He used the remote to adjust the volume on Samantha’s stereo.
“The dog likes it,” Samantha said.
“It’s therapeutic,” Charlie said. “It’s used to show the passage of time during the opera.”
“How do they wake the audience up?” Samantha asked.
“Gently,” Charlie said. “The ushers come and shake them gently.”
Samantha laughed.
Charlie moved to a chair in front of Samantha. He set her wounded leg across one of his knees.
“This is looking better,” he said.
“It’s going to be hot again tomorrow. One-twenty.”
“We’ll stay inside.”
Samantha petted the dog. “Carol is in California. I hope she’s okay.”
“I’m sure she is. Iandolli, one of the detectives, claims Beau won’t be a problem anymore.”
“Huh?” Samantha said.
“It’s nothing to bank on,” Charlie said. “But I’m sure Carol is safe now anyway. The guy can’t show his face anywhere after what he did.”
Samantha peeled some of the gauze back to air her wound. “Do you really think it’s over now?” she asked. “For you, I mean. For both of us?”
“Not according to Iandolli,” Charlie said. “You decapitated that particular gang, my dear. They’re officially headless. The one I nailed had outstanding warrants besides the new charges.”
Samantha frowned. “I wish I could believe it’s that easy.”
Charlie kissed her. “Maybe this time it is.”
They sat quietly for a while. When the music stopped, Charlie stood up to stretch. Samantha used the empty chair to rest her leg again.
“We’re missing something,” Charlie said.
“What’s that?”
“A nice, light aria.”
Samantha made a face.
“Trust me,” he said, “it’s better than Aerosmith.”
Charlie was at the stereo searching for a CD from the collection he had brought to Las Vegas. He held one up. “‘Una furtiva làgrima,’” he said. “Down her soft cheek, a furtive tear.”
He set the disc in the CD player and pressed PLAY. He adjusted the volume as the first few strings of a harp were plucked. He sat on the couch alongside Samantha and kissed her cheek.
“What happens now?” she whispered in his ear.
Charlie pointed to the dog. “We need a bigger place,” he said.
“He can sleep with me,” Samantha said.
“What about me?”
“We’ll see.”
“You still holding a grudge?”
“I should.”
“I was -”
“Shhh,” she said. “I think I love you.”
Charlie could feel the dog moving on her lap. “You talking to me or the dog?”
Samantha reached for him. Charlie picked the dog up from her lap and set it on the couch. “There,” he said. “My turn.”