But nothing brings sleep. Then, from the building across the courtyard, comes the faint sound of a cello playing the lush melody of Duke Ellington’s ‘Satin Doll:’ Cigarette holder which wigs me Over her shoulder, she digs me. Out cattin’ that satin doll.Lifting my flute, I join in on the second verse.The cello hesitates at the unexpected intrusion, but I rush ahead, filling the silence. After a few beats, the cello resumes. When our duet is done, I scan the dark windows for my unseen partner.As if reading my mind, a dim light appears, just bright enough to reveal the slender silhouette of girl who holds an upright cello in an impossibly sensual embrace. Where the glow spills over her shoulder, I can make out a naked breast pressed into the cello’s amber belly.Is it possible to be jealous of cello? Somehow I restrain myself from shouting, ‘please play me instead,’ or something equally dumb. Instead, I slip off my sweat pants and throw on my reading light, so she sees me in silhouette. Returning to the bedroom, she added everything to her collection. Tess needed to buy as much time as she could. Her best bet was to take as little as possible with her, making her absence look temporary. Leaving her purse behind was critical. Sooner or later, Tony would search it and discover that important items were missing, but she might have a few hours before he did so. Pulling a fanny pack from her closet shelf, she put her meager belongings inside and strapped it on. Placing her purse in its usual location on one end of her dresser, she gave the bedroom a final inspection. Then, satisfied that the rest of the apartment gave no hint that she was fleeing forever, Tess headed for the front door. Once again peering cautiously into the hallway, Tess concluded that it was as safe as it would ever be and pulled the door shut behind her. Pausing briefly in the entryway on the ground floor, she saw nothing amiss and stepped outside. She was now officially on the run. It was nine-thirty.
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