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"I'm afraid, dear phantom that you can still
set me on fire. You know you've been a wonderful fantasy lover for
the last six years. But that will soon come to an end."
    "I'm still owed that kiss, Mimi."
    Snapping off the meager range hood light,
Marlayna took her sandwich in one hand and the jar of pickles in
the other. "Next week, you can have your kiss." She elbowed open
the black cafe doors and, without looking back into the shadows,
added: "I may owe you a kiss, Noah Drake, but you owe me a
baby."

Chapter 3
     
    “Here's that sexy perfume you requested, an
oldie but a goodie." The heel of Sylvia Davies's taupe lizard skin
sandal kicked Marlayna's apartment door closed. "I couldn't believe
it when you called and actually asked for something." She
held out the petite monogrammed Lord & Taylor shopping bag.
"Especially when something, even with my discount, comes to one
hundred dollars an ounce!"
    "Wow, really…I only ever had samples."
Marlayna laughed at Sylvia's bobbing eyebrows. "Hey, I finally
begin to spend a few bucks and everybody gets apoplexy." She linked
their arms. "You should have heard Paul when I asked to keep some
of the lingerie wardrobe I modeled Wednesday."
    "That's because this new you is such a
sudden transformation. You've never spent money on anything but the
bare essentials, and you've always tried to refuse or return
pre-offered clothing. Now in the space of a week—" Her right hand
made a fluttering gesture, then returned to pat Marlayna's arm.
"Oh, well, I've always wanted to see a caterpillar explode from the
cocoon and try butterfly wings."
    "That's another reason I asked you to come."
Marlayna led Sylvia into the crisp white decorated master bedroom.
"I'm not quite sure what this novice butterfly should pack for
tomorrow's flight."
    Sylvia's amber eyes blinked at the confused
jumble of clothing that nearly obliterated the pink rosebuds that
bloomed across the white satin comforter. "I see that you like to
work in a state of controlled hysteria."
    Marlayna blanched, her skin defying its
sun-toasted tan to turn ash gray.
    "Hey!" Sylvia pressed her into a seated
position on the tapestry foot bench and pushed her head between her
knees. "Come on, sweetie, don't faint.” She bent to inspect
Marlayna's color. "That's better. What happened?"
    "That word." Marlayna murmured and then sat
up. "Hysteria." She took two deep breaths. "A neurosis whose
victims appear calm on the surface but suffer from hallucinations,
mental aberrations and uncontrollable fear and panic." Her mouth
made a feeble attempt at a smile. "I looked it up. That's me. Ms.
Hysteria."
    "But Paul said your shooting schedule this
past week included the best work you've ever done."
    "My face has been lying to the camera for
years," came her sighing rejoinder. Haunted eyes latched onto
Sylvia's confused expression. "I'm getting very good at lying, my
dear friend. Lying without ever having to say a word."
    Sylvia settled on a second bench at the foot
of the king-size bed. "I'm not quite sure what to do. Should I slip
out into the kitchen on the pretext of making tea and call the men
in the white coats? Or should I just sit and listen?"
    Marlayna smiled. "Sit and listen and then
make tea and call the men in the white coats." She balanced her
elbows on denim-covered knees, fingers folded under her chin. "I've
. . . I've been talking to Noah."
    "You called him?"
    "Uh . . . no."
    "He called you?"
    "No."
    "Hmmmm ... I don't quite understand."
    "That's the hallucination and mental
aberrations part."
    "How do you like your tea?"
    She turned her head toward Sylvia. "You
think I'm crazy."
    Amber eyes flicked over an anxious face.
"No, I don't. As I recall, I once shared my bed with three rather
vivid specters that were George, Sam and Brian. Sam took the
longest to get rid of, damn him. I kept whipping up biscuits,
making each batch flakier than the last, and leaving them on the
kitchen table with the butter and honey he'd asked for. And do