The Pack

by Jason Starr

  Alison dozed again. She woke up to Simon kissing her.

  “Mmm,” she said. “That was nice.”

  “It’s past eight,” Simon said.

  “Thanks, I better get up.” She kissed him again. “But I don’t want to. I just want to stay in bed with you all day.”

  “I’d love that too,” he said. “I made you coffee.”

  She saw that he was holding a mug. “That’s so nice of you, wow.” She took the mug and sipped a little, then said, “I can’t believe you’re not exhausted. We did it what, three times last night?”

  “Four,” Simon said. “But who’s counting?”

  “I must’ve fallen asleep during the fourth.”

  “You did, but you were still incredible.”

  They kissed again. She had to remind herself that this was the same man about whom she’d complained, “He doesn’t kiss me enough,” during a recent marriage counseling appointment.

  “I wish I could stay in bed with you all day,” she said.

  “Why can’t we?” he asked.

  She wasn’t sure if he was joking. “Well, I think it would be a little hard to explain to Jeremy. Besides, I have so much work to do today.”

  “In that case,” Simon said, “to be continued.”

  He kissed her again, longer this time, running his hands through her hair. She had flashes of the sex they’d had last night. If she hadn’t had so much work to do, she would’ve seriously considered staying home today and taking him up on his offer.

  She should have been exhausted, but after the shower she felt invigorated. Maybe the marriage issues had been wearing her down more than she’d thought. Now that she had a new outlook and all this great sex, a few hours’ sleep was more than enough to get her going.

  Simon was in the kitchen. He’d unloaded the dishwasher and put all the dishes away and now he was—shock and awe—scrubbing the stove. He had officially turned into the world’s most perfect husband.

  “Get over here,” Simon said when he spotted Alison watching him.

  She went over to him, and he kissed her hard and passionately, with his arms around her waist, pulling himself in close.

  On the crosstown bus she tried to read the Times on her iPad, but flashes from last night kept intruding on her concentration. She had a morning staff meeting with two other Manhattan sales reps at the Starbucks on Eighty-first and Second. Chandra, a young blond rep, noticed a change in Alison and asked, “Did you lose weight?”

  “No,” Alison said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, you look amazing,” Chandra said.

  “It’s true,” Rachel, another rep, said. “You’re like totally glowing.”

  After the meeting, she texted Simon:you were amazing last night!

  This wasn’t an obligatory text to follow through on a suggestion from their marriage counselor; she’d texted Simon because she’d wanted to text him.

  About a minute later she got:I can’t wait to make love to you again

  Was this really happening? Was she really exchanging nonfake, intimate, sexy texts with her husband?

  She had a break, so at the Starbucks she got a table upstairs in the corner where there was no one around, and Skyped with her sister in San Francisco.

  “Long time no see,” Lauren said.

  Alison realized she’d gone several days without being in touch with her sister, and hadn’t returned a couple of phone messages and a text over the weekend.

  “Sorry,” Alison said. “A lot’s happened lately.”

  Alison told her about the sudden shift in Simon’s personality, and about all the sex they’d been having.

  “It’s almost like he knew he had to do something drastic to save the marriage,” Alison said, “and for the first time I get the sense that he really cares, that he wants to fix things.”

  Lauren was staring, blank-faced. “You’re gaslighting me, right?”

  Alison held up her hands in front of the camera. “See? No fingers crossed.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Lauren said. “The guy who you were complaining has no passion, who doesn’t touch you anymore or seem to want you, is now too into you?”

  “I’m not complaining,” Alison said, “but, yeah, it’s like all of a sudden he’s a completely different person. I literally can’t get him off me.”

  Lauren had become distracted by something. “One sec,” she said, and got up. About a minute later she returned holding Isabella, her three-month-old.

  “Oh my God, she’s beautiful,” Alison said. “I wish I could hold her.”

  When Isabella was born, Alison was thrilled, of course, but she couldn’t help feeling occasional pangs of jealousy and regret. Lauren had two beautiful kids, but for Alison, it was one and done. For financial reasons, and because things had been so difficult on her marriage, having a second child was out of the question. For a long time it had upset Alison that Jeremy would never have a sibling and she’d never have a chance to have a daughter. But now that things had gotten so much better with Simon, she suddenly had a new perspective on her life. The regret was gone, and in the scheme of things, was having one amazing child really the worst thing in the world?

  They talked about the baby for a while, and then Lauren said, “So you really think he changed?”

  “Well, let’s see if he keeps this up,” Alison said. “To be honest, though, I don’t see how he possibly can.” She looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, then leaned close to the mike and said in a hushed tone, “I mean, it’s crazy how much stamina he has, and I don’t know how I can keep going like this either . . . I can barely walk today.”

  Lauren was suddenly glaring seriously. “And you say this happened after he stayed out all night?”

  “Yes.” Alison knew her sister so well, she could see the machinations in her brain. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not saying this to scare you,” Lauren said, “but I think you have a serious problem.”

  “Problem? What do you—?”

  “I don’t know how to say this,” Lauren said. “I mean, I’m three thousand miles away and I’m just hearing what you’re telling me and I don’t have anything else to go on. I mean, maybe there’s more to this situation, and I don’t want to say anything to frighten you if there’s no reason to.”

  “Can you just tell me already?” Alison asked.

  Lauren waited several seconds, glaring for melodramatic effect, then said, “I think he’s cheating on you.”

  Alison laughed. “Simon? Please.”

  Lauren was still glaring.

  “I’m telling you,” Alison said, “it’s ridiculous. First of all, he’s just not the kind of guy, he’d never do that. And he’s a horrible liar, he’d never be able to pull it off.”

  “That’s what I used to say about Alex,” Lauren said.

  Alex was Lauren’s first husband. They had been married for four years when Lauren discovered he was still secretly seeing his old girlfriend. And it was true—Lauren used to say that Alex would never cheat on her, even when the signs were obvious to Alison.

  “Simon is not like Alex,” Alison said.

  “Remember, Alex suddenly got interested in sex too,” Lauren said. “I was like, where is this coming from? And he didn’t come home some nights, or came home at three in the morning, always with excuses, and like an idiot I believed him. Not that I’m saying you’re an idiot, but you know what they say—the woman is always the last to know.”

  “I thought it’s the woman always knows?”

  “That too.”

  Alison thought about it for a few seconds, but it just didn’t make sense to her. She and Simon had had their problems, but he wasn’t a cheater.

  Alison changed the subject back to Isabella and, as if on cue, Isabella spit up on Lauren. Lauren had to go clean up the mess, so they signed off.

  Alison had back-to-back meetings the rest of the day, and at some point the lack of sleep last night caught up with h
er. When she came home at the usual time, sixish, she was zonked, but Simon was like the Energizer Bunny. He’d already given Jeremy his bath and gotten him ready for bed and dinner was ready—steak and potatoes for himself, but he’d thoughtfully made a Greek salad for her.

  The focus at the dinner table was on Jeremy, but every once in a while Simon gave her the same seductive looks he’d been giving her lately. It was like he wanted to jump across the table to rip off her clothes and was doing everything he possibly could to restrain himself. Alison couldn’t help remembering what her sister had told her. It was true that Simon’s behavior, especially his sexual behavior, had changed drastically. Was it possible that this was all just his way of covering up an affair, or even a one-night stand? She remembered how on Friday night, before his guys’ night out, he’d been stressing about what outfit to wear. When had Simon ever stressed about how he looked? She’d read an article in New York Magazine about some Upper East Side mother whose husband left her for a nanny he’d met at the playground. Maybe Alison was being incredibly naïve about all of this. Maybe Simon was the typical cheating husband and she was too deep in denial to realize it. She didn’t think she was in denial, but wasn’t that the definition of denial?

  “Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Simon asked.

  Alison knew she looked awful, with bags under her eyes. Still, it was nice of him to lie.

  “No,” she said, “you didn’t.”

  “Well, I’m telling you now. You look beautiful.”

  He was gazing at her so lovingly. It was hard to imagine that he was cheating on her and none of this was real, but she’d have to keep an eye on him just in case.

  FOURTEEN

  Waiting in front of her East Sixty-fifth Street brownstone, Olivia was experiencing the usual buzz she had before a date with Michael. This relationship was so different from anything she’d experienced with past boyfriends. There was always an addictive freshness about a new relationship, but with other guys the intensity started to wear off after the first few dates, after they got to know each other. But after each date with Michael, her attraction was getting more and more intoxicating.

  As usual, Eddie, his driver, picked her up in the black Lexus SUV. Eddie was a young black guy, maybe twenty-five years old. Olivia had tried to strike up conversations with him, but he barely spoke, probably on instructions from Michael. Olivia would have loved to pick Eddie’s brain and find out more about Michael. The enigma was sexy as hell, but it was frustrating sometimes when Michael answered her questions with questions or was just flat-out evasive. She was determined to get some answers. Some real answers.

  They wove through rush-hour traffic, eventually making it all the way downtown to Tribeca. The car pulled up in front of Michael’s building. “Thanks, Eddie,” Olivia said.

  Eddie didn’t say anything; he just drove off.

  After Olivia buzzed Michael’s apartment, he sent the elevator down for her. She got on, and then just before the doors closed, they reopened and a very old man got on with her.

  She’d never seen him before. Going by his extremely wrinkled face, he had to be ninety-something years old, but he seemed in remarkable shape for his age. He walked very well and there was no curvature in his back. Weirdly, Olivia thought he was extremely attractive. She wasn’t usually into older guys. She’d had friends who dated guys in their sixties and seventies—well, when the guys were rich enough—but she didn’t get the allure. She once went out with a retired surgeon—he was seventy-four, but in good shape, swam seven days a week, and colored his hair. He looked ageless in a longtime-game-show-host kind of way, but she still felt like she was having sex with her grandfather.

  This guy did it for her, though. He had thick gray hair, was in a black turtleneck, and had an aging rock star quality. If it weren’t for his severely wrinkled face he could’ve passed for sixty, easy.

  He didn’t seem to notice Olivia at all, acting as if she were invisible. In Manhattan, this wouldn’t have been unusual in a crowded elevator, or an elevator in a heavily populated building. But in a building that Michael had implied that he lived in alone, that had a private elevator, the old man’s total obliviousness seemed odd.

  Figuring just because he was being rude didn’t mean she had to, she gave him her most cheery smile and said, “Good evening.”

  Still no reaction. She said it again, much louder, but he still didn’t look over. Well, she gave it her best shot, what could you do? Then, suddenly, he turned toward her, glaring sharply. It wasn’t the evil eye; it was the evil eye on steroids. He was sizing her up, judging her, and hating her all at once. Now she realized why he’d looked so familiar. She’d seen those eyes before; they were just like Michael’s—so dark brown they were practically black. He had to be a relative or something.

  “Hi, I’m Olivia.”

  If anything, this just made his glare colder and emptier. Olivia might have even been afraid that the guy would try to attack her or something, if he weren’t so old and if she didn’t think he was a relative of Michael’s. Still, he was spooky as hell and she had her hand near her purse, where she kept her pepper spray, just in case.

  The elevator reached the top floor, where Michael lived, and the doors opened. She got off quickly, and he stayed on. As the doors closed she looked back and saw that he was still glaring at her as if he were Hannibal the Cannibal and she were his next meal.

  “You’re here.”

  Michael’s voice actually almost made her jump.

  “Jesus, you scared the—”

  Then she did a double take, shocked all over again. Michael was several feet away, buck naked with a full erection.

  “Oh my God.” Olivia was covering her mouth with her hand, now more turned on than shocked.

  “You look beautiful tonight,” Michael said, acting as if greeting a woman at the door with a hard-on were perfectly normal.

  “Thank you,” she said, trying not to stare, but it was impossible not to. “So do you.”

  He came over to her and closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if he were savoring the aroma. The thing was, there was no real aroma to savor. She wasn’t wearing perfume because he’d told her he preferred her natural scent.

  “You smell lovely this evening,” he said.

  He walked behind her and took a few more deep breaths. He’d done this on their other dates as well—sniffing her when she arrived, as if he were pretending he was a dog. With any other guy, all of this would have seemed completely bizarre, but Michael could pull off practically anything. She’d never met a guy with a perspiration fetish before, but if that was what it took to turn him on, who was she to complain? Besides, she’d dated guys who wouldn’t get up from the couch or put down the PlayStation joystick when she entered a room, so in comparison being sniffed didn’t seem so horrible.

  “Well, I can see you’re pretty excited to see me,” Olivia said.

  Michael either didn’t get it or refused to smile, it was impossible to tell. Without another word, he took her by the hand and led her through the loft to the bedroom. Then he said, “Get naked.”

  She happily obeyed.

  Olivia’s wrists still hurt and her hands were practically numb from being pinned down so hard for so long. She said, “This probably isn’t exactly a news flash, but this is the best sex I’ve ever had. I know a lot of women say that and, I’ll be honest, I’ve said it to practically every man I’ve been with, but I was lying all those times. This time I’m not. This is honestly the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  “You’re in love with me,” Michael said.

  Olivia sat up, startled. Was it possible she’d blurted out the L-word during the sex? She didn’t think she’d said it, but she’d been so caught up she could’ve said practically anything.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “Did . . . did I say something while we were—”

  “Love is the easiest emotion to spot,” Michael said. “People can disguise fear and hate, but they can’
t disguise love.”

  “Is this a bad thing?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes,” Michael said. “Love is weakness. Only humans love. Other animals never love.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Olivia said. “I had a friend who had two Chihuahuas, and they seemed to be pretty tight.”

  “You must stop loving me immediately,” Michael said, his German accent suddenly coming through.

  Olivia had to laugh—his total seriousness made the conversation seem even more absurd. Then she said, “Look, I’m not saying I’m in love with you. But I have loved other guys before, and I know from experience that love isn’t something you can turn on and off like a faucet.”

  Michael, staring at her with his dark blank eyes, didn’t say anything.

  Olivia said, “Look, I get that you probably have commitment issues, okay? I mean, you’re an older guy, you’ve never been married, or at least I don’t think you’ve ever been married, and I know it’s way too early to even be having this conversation. I get it, okay? But I just want you to know that I’m not that woman. What I mean is, I’m not out to sink my claws into you. So how about we shelve the whole love conversation and pretend it never came up?”

  Michael was still staring.

  His eyes were so captivating that she lost her train of thought for a few seconds, and then she continued, “What, you think I’m kidding? I’m telling you, I won’t put any pressure on you. I gave up looking for a husband a long time ago. And I’m not into having kids, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He remained silent. Was he absorbing what she was saying, or had he been completely ignoring her?

  After maybe ten seconds he said, “Leave now.”

  Olivia was used to the abruptness. He’d asked her to leave by saying “Leave now” on all of their dates; it was part of his crazy charm. Or was part of it. Suddenly his attitude seemed more rude than sexy, and her paranoia was setting in. Although he’d never invited her to stay overnight, he’d never wanted her to leave so early before—it wasn’t even eight o’clock.