I tasted my disdain and tried to swallow. I felt protective of Lou; but my reaction was more complicated than that, shaded with hints of stronger hurts and fears—stuff to avoid. So I scrubbed up a sweat—better success at something than nothing at all. Eventually, I uncorked my body back into the fresh air, reached into the glove compartment, and retrieved a joint. Before I sat down I took a last look at the damage. Manny was sure to shoot me a soulful look. The rear of the car, while acceptable, was no longer pristine.
Well, neither was I. I sat on the gravel, leaned against the oversized front tire, and welcomed the sun’s rays—another twenty-first century cancer monger but I wasn’t counting. I kept my eyes closed while I toked, letting myself fall into a pleasant swirl until, with a start, I realized I was high.
My eyes snapped open, the dead joint in my hand framed by a jean covered pelvis. I raised my head, my eyes meeting Lauren’s amused face. A strong face that now wore a light shade of lipstick and a hint of rouge. I quickly stood up, caught the whirlies, and carefully slid my ass onto the fender.
“Smells like good dope,” Lauren smiled.
“Pretty good.” My foot had fallen asleep so I pushed further back onto the hood to take off the weight. Somehow I wasn’t surprised by her familiarity with marijuana. “You look pretty good.”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to move away, I don’t bite.”
I grinned, but stayed where I was. “Who you kidding? I watched you nibble last night.”
Lauren returned the smile. “Extenuating circumstance. Paul and I are usually pretty good friends.”
I ignored her casual description of Ian’s suicide attempt. “Isn’t that a little unusual?
“Not really.” Lauren seemed no more eager to pursue last night than I was. “Over the last twenty five years or so there have been more rearrangements than total breakups among our old friends.”
“Rearrangements?” I took my flattened cigarette pack from my pant pocket, tilted them toward Lauren, then lit one for myself after she shook me off.
“Call it what you want. Paul’s been living with Anne Heywood for a long, long time. We were all close friends before the breakups and we still see a lot of each other. I don’t believe in throwing away whole chunks of your life.”
I grunted noncommittally. The idea of a friendship with my first wife, Megan, left me scratching my head. The same feeling I’d had when she fucked her way out of my life.
“Look,” Lauren continued, noting my distrust. “We laughed together, played together, argued together, and raised our children together. There was, is, no reason to reject your entire world because marriages don’t always work.” She moved a couple of steps closer to the Bimmer. “I’ve been happy for Paul and Anne and glad they’re part of my life.”
“You don’t have to explain,” I said, growing uneasily aware of Lauren’s attractiveness and my response. I immediately wanted to talk about anything—including Ian—rather than her personal life. But Lauren was quick to remind me I was part of that life.
“I’m not trying to explain, I’d like you to know who I am.” She held her palms upward, “You don’t seem thrilled about Lou and me. But I want you to know what you’re judging.”
I flipped the cigarette away from the car. “I’m not judging anything.” Disarmed by her directness, for that moment, I wasn’t. But when I thought of the previous night’s bitter interchanges with her ex-husband, today’s “we’re all friends,” and my response to her charisma, my ambivalence rushed right back.
“You’re being polite. Your karma is easy enough to read.”
I wondered about Lou’s notions of karma; he wasn’t exactly an old New Ager. “Lou means a lot to me.”
“It goes both ways. You mean an enormous amount to him. He’s pretty clear about that.”
“Lou’s usually clear about everything.”
Lauren nodded. “When he says something you can actually count on it. You can rely on him.” She grinned but there was sadness in her eyes. “It’s not something I’m used to.”
“Lou’s a good man.”
“Better than good.” Lauren paused then added quietly, “That’s why I want you to give me a chance. I want him in my life and if you and I don’t get along, well...”
I was embarrassed. “I’d never interfere with Lou’s friendships.”
“We’re more than friends, Matthew,” Lauren said gently.
Someone pushed a shopping cart into the chain-link fence that separated the grocery store’s parking lot and my back alley. The scraping rekindled my headache. I appreciated Lauren’s straightforwardness, her caring toward Lou, apparently her good looks, but right then there was no shaking my distance.
“Lou makes his own decisions, Lauren.”
She frowned and placed a hand on her cocked hip. “A touch disingenuous, don’t you think? You’re practically his entire life.”
I was spared from responding by the crunch of footsteps on gravel. Lou appeared around a corner of the building and walked alongside Lauren. “I didn’t realize you were back,” he said. “How is the boy?”
Lauren smiled, but the troubled look never left her eyes. “Ian’s doing great. I can bring him home in a few days.”
“That’s terrific! He must be strong.”
“Lou,” I blurted, “the boy tried to kill himself!”
Maybe it was the leftover stain on the car seat, maybe it was seeing them together, or maybe the ease with which they talked about bringing Ian home, but my criticism was harsh, and it stung. I saw Lou frown and Lauren’s hand pull off the scarf. Her thick, black hair dropped almost to her shoulders, youthful, despite wide streaks of natural gray. No more suspicions about dye.
“Don’t sound so damn sanctimonious,” Lauren said mildly. “I’ve already been in contact with a therapist. He’ll see Ian as soon as possible.”
I slid off the fender onto my wide awake feet. “I’m sorry, Lauren, I was out of line.”
She reached up and placed her hand on my shoulder. “That’s okay. You did me a huge favor and got rewarded for it with a ruined shirt, bloody car seat, and an ugly scene between me and Paul. I owe you the apology.”
I willed myself to leave my shoulder where it was. “How about no apologies, period? Ian’s okay, the car’s okay.”
“That sounds good to me,” Lou said, relieved. He nudged Lauren, “Did you tell him?”
Lauren removed her hand, “No, Lou. I told you it’s probably my imagination.”
“What if it is? It can’t hurt to talk.”
“Tell me what?” I lit a cigarette and eyed them warily through wisps of smoke.
“It feels as if someone has been stalking me,” Lauren reluctantly admitted. “I know it’s absurd, but I can’t get rid of the sensation.”
Lou chimed in, “This is no one or two day thing, Matty. It’s been going on for a while. I’m pretty sure I felt it too when we’ve been out together.”
I wanted to tell him paranoia was contagious but instead groped for something polite. “How long has it been happening? Is it regular?” I sounded like a fucking doctor.
Lauren gave no sign of noticing my skepticism. “Maybe six months. I can’t date it exactly.”
“But you’ve never actually seen anyone?”
“I told you it sounded foolish,” Lauren said with a quick toss of her head.
“Matt’s not saying you’re foolish,” Lou disagreed. “He’s asking for information. That’s how he does his job.”
I glanced toward Lou and confirmed my fear. He wanted to deal me in. “Let’s slow down a little. Have you seen anybody following you?” Right then I didn’t want to be dragged into Lauren’s life through any door.
Lauren shook her head. “No,” she grimaced, “but I’m not prone to delusions.”
I didn’t care what she was prone to. My game plan was “in again, out again, Finnegan.” “Does anyone have reason to stalk you?”
She paused. “Not that I can think of.”
> “But you feel it all the time?”
“Not all the time. Sometimes.”
“Is there a pattern?
She tilted her head appreciatively. “I’ve never thought about that.”
I plotted my escape. “Well,” I said, all business, “keep track of the situation. See if there is any rhythm or pattern.”
“That’s all?” Lou asked, dissatisfied. “I thought you would look into this, Matty.”
“First things first,” I replied.
“He’s right, Lou. Who knows? Maybe it will be like a toothache, hurts until you get to the dentist, then goes away.”
I wasn’t thrilled with Lauren’s metaphor, but at least she wasn’t forcing me to sign on.
Lauren stuck her hand in my direction. “I have to change clothes before I can walk into that hospital again. It’s been nice talking to you, Matthew, and I’ll take your advice.”
She let go of my hand and hugged Lou. “You don’t have to go back with me tonight.”
“You’re going to drive back and forth and again tomorrow?” he asked.
“Maybe I’ll just stay at the hospital.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ll come here after your visit. We’ll have tea.”
“It may be late.”
“It’s never too late to boil water.”
Lauren smiled appreciatively then kissed Lou on the lips. I was okay until he kissed back. I turned away and heard Lauren chuckle, “I think we’re embarrassing Matt.”
I watched them walk toward the front of the buildings before turning my attention back to the car. I had finished gathering the cleaning materials when I heard Lou approach.
“You had time to talk?” he asked.
“You knew she was back here?”
He nodded. “I want you to get to know each other. It doesn’t help to have me hovering around.”
“It’s been a long time since you hovered over anything.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” A wide smile lit his grizzled face and he winked.
“You’re a dirty old man,” I said grinning in spite of myself.
“So nu? There’s a problem with that?”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to tell me what you think of Lauren,” he replied obstinately.
I chose my words carefully. “She’s charming, forceful, a real looker, and direct. How’s that?”
“You don’t like her?”
“Her family situation makes me uncomfortable.”
“What do you mean?”
“She has a grown kid who tried to kill himself then called her on the phone when he changed his mind. That’s trouble, don’t you think? And last night’s scene between her and Paul was right out of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf. Today she tells me they’re close friends. You need this?”
Lou sagged against the car. “You line it up one way and that’s all you see. I can’t say anything about the boy, I barely know him. The couple of times we met, he didn’t talk much, just wandered around the house. Anyhow, Lauren’s doing right by setting up the therapist. What else can she do?”
Lou caught his breath then continued. “As far as her friendship with Paul, since when are you Mr. Conventional? They got married young and lived together for a long time. Why shouldn’t they be friends? You know better than most the changes there were in the seventies.”
“Seventies?”
“Their marriage ended sometime in the early eighties.”
“For a couple who haven’t been together for this long they seem pretty attached.”
“You make them sound like our buildings. So they’re friends, big deal. Last night brought out the worst, that’s all.”
“And you accuse me of seeing things one way?”
“You don’t know the rest of it. Since we’ve been together I feel alive. Not because Lauren’s younger than me, but because she is enthusiastic about life. She’s lived through hard times without forgetting how to enjoy, how to look ahead.” Lou stopped speaking as another wide smile covered his face. “I sound like a teenage romantic, but I can’t knock it. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to know someone new, a long time since someone has been interested in me.”
Lou was singing in the rain and I was freezing in the sunshine. Something old, something blue, something bitter was brewing. Something I still didn’t want to think about. I was growing very tired and my mind kept circling the living room couch. I had plenty of Fritos, Diet Coke, and the last half of my joint.
I must have yawned because Lou, cheered by all his good fortune said, “You’re tired, Matty. Why not take a little nap? Last night was rough on everyone.” He started heading toward the house, stopped, and about faced. “One last thing. You didn’t just tell Lauren to watch for a pattern because you wanted to put her off, did you?”
My words sounded like they came from a distant canyon. “Of course not, Bwahna.”
“It took you long enough to get here,” Boots complained.
Though there wasn’t much tooth to her bitch—when Boots was really angry she didn’t have to speak—I grew defensive. Actually, the defensiveness I’d been carrying since Lou’s late night telephone call just sprang to life. “I had some catching up to do.”
“With what, NCIS repeats?”
I smiled, determined to keep the evening light. Boots was leaving on business the next morning, and I didn’t want a lousy conversation to ruin our night. I took my traveling stash from my pocket, then removed my pants. “Of course. You think I can get by without my comforters?”
“I thought that was my job.”
“Certainly.” I reached under the elastic of my boxers, “Just ask Mr. Johnson.”
“Put it away,” Boots said unable to squash a smile. “I’m serious. It’s been a long time since your phone’s been turned off when we’re not together.”
I climbed on top of the covers and sat with my back against the headboard. “It’s getting close to fall sweeps.”
Boots didn’t answer until she’d stripped down to her string bikini, a bright white exclamation to her naturally dark, tanned body. She walked to the doorway, her faintly muscled cheeks burying the scanty white, switched off the overhead light, and tied her auburn hair with a black top-knot. “I’ve been thinking of buying a television.”
I felt my face flush, then hoped she couldn’t spot it in the dusky room. Boots hated television. Never owned one. Never would own one except for me. This was her strongest signal yet about our relationship. Unfortunately, it came at a bad time. A real bad time.
“How do you tan your entire chest?” I asked inanely. Well, inane was better than running home in my underwear.
“I roll onto my back.” Boots returned to the bed, and flopped beside me. “Light me a cigarette?” she asked.
Rotten timing or not, this just wasn’t going to be a no talk night. I glumly reached over to the night table and lit two. I wanted to raid my stash, but hung in with the nicotine.
“Why aren’t you saying anything about the TV?” she asked, studying her smoke.
“Where would you put it?” I finally asked, inanity still intact.
Boots pulled her eyes away from the orange glow of the cigarette tip long enough to flash me a searching look. “In here. I’d get the kind with earphones.” She paused, then disguised her hesitancy. “What’s happening, Matt? Did you go over the top with buds and booze?”
The image of sitting hooked to an earphone transformed into a picture of a plastic bag wrapped around my head. Suffocating me. “Not really. I’ve been okay,” I answered, my eyes drawn to the dope. I rushed to change the subject. Both subjects. “I told you at dinner. Dealing with Lou and Lauren fucks with my head.”
“You keep saying that, but you don’t say why.” Boots seemed relieved to drop the television talk too.
“I don’t trust her. However young she looks, the lady is too damn old for her karma crap. This is a woman who married too soon, stayed too long, and seems lo
st without her old life. I’m afraid she’s using Lou.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know, maybe she’s scared to end up alone. Her ex is apparently living with one of their ‘good old friends,’ and if Ian is representative of their brood...”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t. But I’m not talking about what I know. I’m talking about what I feel.” I also felt I was dodging a bullet, without knowing where it was coming from, or what it could hit.
“I don’t understand your problem,” Boots countered. “Lauren sounds like a straight shooter. So what if she’s old for New Age? That sort of thing helped lots of women take some important steps. It isn’t easy to regroup after a shitty marriage. You know that.”
I thought about Boots’s long term affair with Hal and wondered whether she was talking about Lauren or herself. But before I could feel too self-righteous she leaned onto her side and looked up at me. “Lauren wasn’t the only person who married young; you had your Megan.”
“I didn’t stay friends with her.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“Low blow.”
“Low blow,” Boots agreed. “Listen honey, Lauren has kids, that makes a clean break impossible.”
I was still rubbing my kidney. “I’ve basically let go of Chana and Rebecca and that seems a lot harder.”
“It is and you have. That’s why we’re talking instead of me getting an earful of silence. I’m not saying you’re off the wall, just jumping to conclusions.”
“Lou didn’t mention Lauren for more than six months. I’d say he has his own doubts.”
“Or he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Hurt my feelings?”
“Matt, you, Mrs. S, and the buildings have been his entire life since he moved here from Chicago. Now Mrs. Sullivan is dead and all he had was you and supervising Charles. He needs more than that to have a life.”
The Complete Matt Jacob Series Page 87
