The Mentor

by Monticelli, Rita Carla Francesca

  “Will you keep me company?” added Adele once he was near. For the first time she looked him in the face when talking to him. She wasn’t smiling. In fact, she didn’t seem all that convinced of the offer she’d just made him. It was as if she’d asked only out of common courtesy—another favor that might prove useful to her in the future, just like with Jane.

  Even though he was aware of how things stood between them, Eric felt a jolt of adrenaline course through his veins. For a moment he was short of breath.

  Adele continued to look at him. In just a few seconds her expression turned from cordial to impatient. Maybe she was already regretting the question, now tired of waiting for an answer that still hadn’t come. “So?” she asked.

  Part of Eric was opposed to the way she addressed him, but at the same time he couldn’t let such a terrific opportunity slip through his fingers. “Sure, why not?” He tried to say it as naturally as he could, but his voice came out practically choked with tension.

  A slight smile appeared on Adele’s lips. “Good.” Then she headed out the door. Once outside, she paused and opened her umbrella. “Come on. I’ve got you covered,” she added, looking up at it high overhead.

  By the time they came out at Leicester Square station, the rain had stopped. During the ride and their transfer at Embankment station, Adele hadn’t said a word. She checked her cell phone half a dozen times, apparently entertained by the messages she was answering, and smiled vaguely in his direction every once in a while.

  The more time that went by, the more crestfallen Eric felt. How could he possibly aspire to a woman like this? She was undoubtedly chatting with her boyfriend, telling him she’d be late because she’d taken pity on her poor, ancient boss and now had to nanny him through dinner. He wished he could come up with a decent excuse and escape back home, but he had nothing.

  They walked across the square and soon wound up in a little side street bustling with people. It was just like any other Saturday night. There were people of all ages and from all over the world, all ignoring the foul weather, wandering around as couples or in groups. The females were dressed to the nines, wearing thin, clingy clothing even though it was barely fifty degrees Fahrenheit out. They didn’t care. Eric looked around and smiled. This unexpected landscape of laughter and happiness lifted his spirits almost immediately. He remembered when he too enjoyed blending in with the crowds. It wasn’t so long ago, walking along with his wife and enjoying life in general.

  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Adele was scrutinizing him.

  They reached a pub, and as soon as they stepped inside, a young man ran over to Adele and gave her a big hug. Eric realized she was a regular here, because after the warm welcome they were ushered to a table instantly, almost by magic. He suspected that his companion had skipped ahead of a few reservations thanks to her friendship with one of the managers. Maybe she came here every Saturday; maybe there was always a table waiting for her.

  He didn’t know much about her. In fact, now that he thought about it, he knew nothing about her. She might as well be co-owner of the pub, and it might be possible that the young man worked for her. Maybe he was her cousin. He certainly hoped so, because given the way they said hello, they seemed on intimate terms. Watching them together had already made him a little jealous.

  They ordered steaks, and after they’d enjoyed their first beer, Eric’s mood improved even further. Adele seemed to be having fun and was more inclined to have an actual conversation. To tell the truth, they were just talking about work, but they didn’t have anything else in common, and in any case it was nice to do so in an atmosphere other than their cold, impersonal office.

  “Do you come here a lot?” he asked her.

  “Often enough. It’s a nice pub.” Adele looked around. “The people who work here are really nice. They serve great food and the prices are even better.” Her lips expanded into an enigmatic smile.

  The alcohol was helping Eric feel a little more sure of himself, and he responded to that smile in a natural manner without a trace of guilt. He tossed back the last of his second pint and stood up. “All this liquid is starting to crank up the pressure,” he said without thinking.

  Adele burst out laughing. “Go ahead, boss. I won’t hold you back.”

  When he got back from the bathroom, he saw that his empty glass had been replaced with another full mug. They’d finished eating, but evidently they hadn’t finished drinking. He had no idea what time it was and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. He hoped the night would keep going and going forever.

  Adele lifted up her glass theatrically to salute him. “To his majesty!” she declared solemnly, then started laughing.

  Eric accepted the toast and they clinked glasses. “God save the queen!” he replied, then guzzled his beer until his breath gave out. He felt a wave of heat hit him almost immediately. It wasn’t the same beer they’d ordered earlier. It was much stronger, but he didn’t mind the added punch. What he did care about was that Adele was having fun, and from the smile on her face, she seemed to be having plenty.

  “Maybe you don’t know this,” he said, “but your colleagues don’t like you very much.” Wait, what? Had he really just said that? His mouth appeared to have disconnected completely from his brain.

  She laughed, tilting her head into her right hand and plunging her fingers into her hair. With her other hand, she ran her fingers lightly around the edge of the beer glass.

  Eric couldn’t figure out whether she was amused more by what he’d said or by the way he’d said it. He realized he was a little drunk. No, that was wrong. He wasn’t a little drunk; he was drunk, simply and completely. He hadn’t gotten drunk in years and would undoubtedly have a raging headache tomorrow and regret every word that was coming out of his mouth—but what the hell? Maybe he wouldn’t even remember what he’d said. Whatever the case, he felt incapable of stopping himself.

  “I’m serious. Except for Stern, who’s crazy about you . . .” He wondered why the heck he’d been so scared of talking to her just a few hours earlier. It was so easy now.

  “Lord, that louse?” said Adele. She straightened her head and let an index finger slide down across her lips. “He’ll do anything I say. You have no idea how useful that can be, really.”

  She really was every bit the bitch they all said she was, but instead of annoying him, it just made him laugh. For a moment it occurred to him that she might be saying equally unpleasant things about him to the others behind his own back, but he pushed the thought aside as quickly as he could. He didn’t care about that now. Nothing mattered except the moment.

  He finished his glass. When he put it back down on the table, his aim was inexplicably off, and it wound up in pieces on the floor, earning him a cheer from the rest of the pub.

  “Okay, boss. Maybe we’d better step outside for some fresh air.” Adele stood and took him by the arm, pulling him up too. But when Eric tried to stand, his head started spinning out of control, and he had to lean on the table to keep from falling over.

  He found it harder and harder to keep track of what was happening around him, while his companion struggled to help him get back on his feet.

  Fresh air, swollen with humidity that promised more rain to come, seemed to help pierce the fog that was muddying his thoughts.

  Adele and the young man from the pub had him sit down on a low stone wall. He watched them chatting right in front of him. Every once in a while she reached out and touched his arm in an intimate manner. “Everything okay, boss?”

  Eric nodded, trying to smile, but he immediately felt a wave of nausea and had to bend over to vomit. The other two grabbed him immediately to give a helping hand, keeping him from toppling over. After he’d liberated his stomach of what was left of his dinner, the nausea passed, along with most of his sense of disorientation.

  “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
asked the young man. Now that he could see him more clearly, Eric realized he must have been around thirty years old.

  Adele handed Eric a tissue. She kept her other hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Thanks, but I think I can take care of him myself from here on out.”

  “Okay.” The young man gave her a good-bye hug. “See you soon then.”

  “Count on it.”

  He winked at her and then headed back into the pub. Adele waved to him, then sat down on the wall alongside Eric.

  Eric knew full well that under normal circumstances, he would have been incredibly embarrassed by what had just happened, but right now he couldn’t feel it. Despite everything, he felt filled with a warm glow of well-being.

  “Are you feeling better? I mean, seriously.” She threw him an inquisitive look, the same he’d seen her use countless times before when she was concentrating on her work.

  “Yes, seriously.” The words came out of his mouth clearly, a sign that perhaps his brain and his vocal cords had reestablished their connection. “You guys seemed really close. He your boyfriend?” There we go. The connection worked, but data transmission was still a little sketchy.

  Adele turned in the direction her friend had headed. He could barely make out the expression of affection mixed with melancholy cross her face. “He’s my ex.”

  “Oh . . .” Fortunately Eric’s brain didn’t come up with anything inconvenient to say. “Were you guys really close?” Ah, there it was.

  “We’re divorced.”

  Those last words stunned him for a moment. They had something else in common. Up until now, it was the only thing he’d found.

  “So young and already divorced . . .” He said this with a very sincere tone of sadness. He knew full well the repercussions something like that could have on a person’s life. Eric reminisced for a moment about the way this woman had behaved ever since she’d arrived in their department, and he found himself understanding her a little better. Her standoffishness and the way she interacted with her colleagues might all have far simpler motives than the thousands of unpleasant suppositions that had crossed his mind.

  “I’m old enough to have a failed marriage behind me, yes,” she said, turning back to Eric. She seemed almost annoyed that he’d said she was too young, but her eyes told another story. The tale of a woman who was poking fun at her elderly boss.

  “But you guys stayed on good terms,” said Eric. “I wish I’d been able to do that with my ex.”

  “To be honest, we still love each other, but . . .”

  He waited for her to finish, staring at her lips.

  Adele hesitated a little longer, apparently enjoying keeping him in suspense. “The problem is . . . he’s gay!” Then she laughed.

  It wasn’t much of a laugh. The divorce must have been an incredibly upsetting experience, although perhaps over time she’d gotten over it. Or maybe she was just really good at hiding her emotions. Even now that they were alone, with Eric’s defenses lowered thanks to alcohol, Adele appeared to keep up the walls that separated her from the rest of the world, preventing anyone from getting too close to her.

  She took out her cell phone for the umpteenth time. As soon as she touched the screen it lit up, casting a cold light onto her face. “You’re too drunk to take the tube,” she said, touching buttons on her screen. “I’m calling a cab.”

  Ten minutes later they were sitting in the backseat of a taxi. Eric intended to rest his head for a moment on the window, but he slipped into a deep sleep. Adele watched him, a little worried, while the car took off down Oxford Street. She was concerned he’d collapse from one moment to the next.

  When the taxi driver took a right turn into Portman Street a little too quickly, she put her arms around her boss to hold him upright. The last thing she needed was for him to knock his head on something. Then she would have to take him to the emergency room, and the news that the most famous squad leader in the scientific investigations department of Scotland Yard had wound up at the hospital, too drunk to function, would make its way around London in a heartbeat. It would deal quite a blow to his reputation, and Adele didn’t want to be the least bit responsible for that.

  The car came to a brusque stop. She realized they’d already reached Dorset Street, right outside the building where she lived. She tried to shake Eric gently.

  “Boss, this is my stop. Can you hear me?”

  He mumbled something incomprehensible in response.

  “I have to get out here. We have to tell the taxi driver where to take you, so that he can get you home,” she said, raising her voice a little.

  This time Eric didn’t even try to respond. He’d fallen asleep again.

  The taxi driver turned around and opened the little window that separated the front from the back of the car. “Hey, your buddy’s good and drunk, isn’t he?” There was a certain element of commiseration in his eyes. “I don’t think the evening’s gone quite as planned, has it?”

  The man seemed to have developed very clear ideas about the two passengers in the back. Maybe he thought they were a classic pair: the boss with his young secretary. He’d invited her out for drinks in the hope of taking her to bed, and she’d accepted in the hope of getting a raise or a promotion, but things had gotten out of hand, and now all they’d have left were hangovers and hazy memories. The driver’s laughter seemed to confirm that was his opinion of the events.

  “Listen,” said Adele, turning to face the taxi driver. “I’ll give you twenty quid on top of the fare if you’ll help me get him up to my place.”

  “Hmm,” said the man, and nothing more. Maybe he was thinking this request didn’t fit well with the story he’d imagined. Or maybe he just wanted to barter his way to a bigger bonus.

  “Have you gotten any tickets lately, by any chance?” Adele asked. Perhaps there was another way they could work out a deal.

  “What do you care?” replied the taxi driver, and not politely.

  At this point Adele pulled out her badge and showed it to him. The driver’s face turned serious, then melted into a timid smile. There was no doubt that if she checked the vehicle’s paperwork she’d find something out of order. She wasn’t a street cop, but this man didn’t know that.

  “Ah!” he exclaimed. “I don’t want a thing, miss. I’m happy to give you a hand.” The way he said it, it almost seemed true.

  “Where are we going to put him?” asked the driver as soon as they were in Adele’s apartment. “Wow! Nice flat you’ve got here!”

  Adele’s home may have been small, but it was very modern. Even she stopped to take an admiring look around when they came into the flat. The entrance opened straight into the living room, separated from the small corner kitchen by a low wall with counter space. Most of the apartment was painted white, with gray trim here and there. The walls, furniture, and other decor followed the same scheme, while the floor was paved with small lead-colored bricks. Two doors opened into the room: the bedroom and a large walk-in closet. When she’d bought the place, the closet had been a smaller, second bedroom. She’d had it converted. Between these two rooms, and connected to both, was the bathroom.

  Adele had no intention of letting the man ogle the rest of her home. “On the couch,” she said, and the two of them stretched Eric out on the sofa. More than asleep, her boss was now passed out. She lifted his legs to make sure he didn’t fall to the floor, then put a pillow underneath his head.

  The taxi driver snorted. “Bad thing that is, getting drunk like that. Happened to me once too. I can’t even remember how I made it back home.” Then he laughed, setting his broad belly jiggling.

  Adele had no desire to entertain a conversation with the man. She took a twenty-pound note from her pocket. The other hand was inside her purse, fingering her gun. Better safe than sorry. “Here, please take this,” she said, holding out the money.

 
The man looked at the bill, wavering. “No, no,” he said, shaking his hands. “No need, miss.”

  “I insist,” she said. “You were very kind to help.” She accompanied these last words with the sincerest smile she could muster. Better to be very courteous to people who give you a helping hand. Her father had said as much a thousand times when she was growing up.

  “Okay,” said the man, taking the money reluctantly. “But . . .” He took a business card from the back pocket of his pants and handed it to Adele. “If you ever need to reserve a taxi, call me directly. That way you won’t have to pay the company for the reservation.”

  Oh yes. There was always something to be gained from being courteous.

  As soon as the taxi driver left, Adele turned all four locks on the door. She took off her jacket, hung it on a hook inside the closet, and picked up a blanket she kept folded on a shelf.

  She went over to Eric, who was still sleeping peacefully on the couch, and covered him up with it. Even though it was late June, the nights could still be quite chilly. She didn’t want him to catch cold. She took off his shoes, one after the other. Looking at him now, like this, he seemed truly fragile. Nothing like the powerful, self-assured man she saw walking around the department. The great Eric Shaw, a boss feared as much by his subordinates as by the criminals he hunted.

  She laughed a little to herself at that thought, then went into the kitchen to boil some water. After that she went into her bedroom, got slowly undressed, and put on a pair of light pajamas, yawning as she went. She was more tired than she’d realized.

  A little later, just as she was dropping her used bag of chamomile tea into the trash, her attention was drawn to some movement in the living room. She tiptoed over to the couch, abandoning her teacup on the table for the moment.

  Eric had moved, uncovering himself a little, and now part of the blanket had slid down onto the floor.

  Adele picked it up and spread it back over him. She ran her fingers through his hair, almost as if he were a child. His hair was thick and soft, a very light brown with just a faint dusting of white at the temples. She bent her head and gave his forehead the lightest of kisses.