“To any reporter or recording device.”
She lifted her purse, opened it, and withdrew a miniature recorder. “It’s not on. I’m eager for a story, but not to the point of deception.”
“Some journalists play a low game.”
“Yes, they do. But put it in perspective. Are they lower than the games a family of professional thieves plays?”
I went to finish off my drink and it was already empty. “Are you asking my opinion?”
Her grin eased into an expressive smile. I wondered how many stories she’d gotten out of men who never wanted to say a damn thing. “I bet if this wasn’t already turned off, you would’ve cased my house and stolen it while I was in the shower.”
“I would’ve waited until you were asleep.”
“I see. Well, if that’s the case, let me save us both some embarrassment and I’ll tell you now that I sleep in the raw.”
It made me laugh. She wasn’t flirting so much as she was trying to break through my hard shell, and I knew it. “I certainly appreciate your concern for my emotional well-being.”
There was a real affection in her expression, the frown lines smoothing, her face opening. But her fertile eyes were still trying to pin me down. “You were going to be the centerpiece of my report.”
“We’ll both survive the letdown. So will your viewers. You were bound to bore the hell out of them anyway.”
The tension between us thrashed and built and lessened like the sound waters. “People can’t understand your brother. What he’s done is too hideous. But you, they’ll sympathize with you. They’ll identify with you.”
“Why would they want to? Because I’m not so bad? Or because I’m not as bad as him? He’s going to be dead in a little more than a week. He’ll be forgotten two days after he’s in the ground. There are better stories for you to chase.”
“That’s a wonderfully honest response.”
“They’ve all been honest,” I said. “They just haven’t been what you wanted, sadly.”
She ran a hand through her hair, and the silver strands caught the light a little more brightly. She turned her face away for a moment and something in her strong profile seemed to call to me. The set of her lips or the distinct arc of her jaw.
Grey and Vicky returned. They were both flushed, their faces streaked with sweat. Grey was an amazing dancer. He’d tried to teach me over the years, but I had no rhythm. He used to say, “No woman will ever take you seriously if you can’t lead or keep up with her on the dance floor.”
The waiter appeared and presented Grey with the dessert menu. He ordered seven or eight items, more than we could eat, and said that we would share. We moved over to white wine. The chatter became even more casual. It wafted past me and I responded adequately and had no idea what I was saying. Eve spoke of her daughter, who was training to be a vet technician. She took out her phone and showed us photos that her daughter had sent her of a litter of newborn Rottweilers. Grey and I chuckled and talked about how my father had boosted JFK from a puppy mill he’d accidentally broken into. It was, to my knowledge, the one and only time my old man had ever called the cops.
The chocolate layer cakes and cheesecakes and pie à la mode arrived. We ate from one another’s dishes. Eve fed me forkfuls of icing. She leaned in a little farther. She continued her sweet yet powerful assault on my will.
I waited for Grey to use the men’s room. When he excused himself I gave it a ten count and then pushed away from the table.
“Excuse me, ladies, I need to use the house phone.”
“You can borrow my cell,” Vicky said.
I stood. “Okay, I lied. I want to talk to my uncle about you two.”
“Stay here and ask us instead,” Eve said.
“Sure,” Vicky concurred. “We’ll tell you anything you like.”
I grinned and turned away and headed for the men’s room.
Grey was in a stall. There was a towel guy who looked like he’d been put together from pieces of driftwood washed up in the Bay Shore marina. He could’ve been anywhere from forty to eighty, his rough-hewn skin colorless, his face pudgy and soggy from years of alcohol abuse. He glanced up at me as I entered, and his whole life story was in his glazed eyes. Condemned for his sins to sit in the corner of a shitter and hand out towels to rich men.
He nodded to me. “Sir.”
“Can you do us a favor and give us a little privacy?” I asked.
“I’m not supposed to leave, sir.”
“How about when you need fresh hand towels or more soap or something?”
He cocked a thumb at the stacks of towels, toilet paper, hand creams, soap, and cleaning products behind him. “We have plenty, sir.”
He made sir sound lidthke fuck you, shitheel.
I pulled out my wallet and dished him a fifty. “You just ran out, right? Take ten minutes.”
“Certainly. Thank you, sir.”
He tipped off his stool and clawed for the door handle, his vision burned out by hours of blinding porcelain-tile reflection.
I stood outside Grey’s stall and said, “So what’s this all about?”
“I’m busy at the moment, right?”
“I knew you had a thing going with Vicky, but why did you invite me along? Why expose us this way?”
“You like Eve, don’t you?” he asked.
“She’s sharp. She’s insistent. Forceful.”
“So why’s that bending you out of shape?”
“It’s not,” I admitted. “But we don’t need another pair of eyes on us.”
“Ah, she does have beautiful, enchanting eyes.” He sounded like he was half in love with her himself. “And since when do you speak for the whole family? You’ve been back a few days and you’re taking over the entire house? You running the show?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Eve is a lovely woman. I thought you’d like her.”
“I do.”
“See how easy that was?”
“But-she wants a story.”
“So feed her one.”
“That’s not what I do.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Terrier, I’m not sure what it is you do anymore. I thought you might like to come out and enjoy yourself for a night.”
Thunder broke over the sound, and the echo picked up such strength on its way to shore that it was like a colossal hammer coming down on the restaurant. The acoustics in the bathroom made it even worse.
“Jesus Christ, what are you doing in there?” I asked. “Giving birth?”
“It would go faster if you’d quit diverting my attention.”
“Sorry,” I said.
He finished up and unlocked the stall door and spent a long time washing his hands and staring at himself in the mirror. He combed his hair, smoothed down one eyebrow. “You’re going to have a good time with her. She’s very witty. She’s also very creative in bed.”
I shook my head. “Oh, Christ, did you really have to tell me that?”
“Go frolic. Have some thrills. Infiltrate. It’ll be an agreeable experience. Trust me.”
“Stop saying shit like that, Grey.”
He laughed and finished duding himself, checked the knot on his tie, and walked out. I followed.
Grey didn’t sit again. The bill was on the table. He said, “Are we ready?” He didn’t look at the check, just counted off six C-notes and laid them down. I wondered what he thought he was getting for his payout. He didn’t need to impress the women. Was he trying to impress me?
He held his hand out to Vicky and helo fped her put her wrap on. Eve began to put her own jacket on, and I realized there was no reason to be rude and I held it for her while she shrugged her arms in. Then she lightly touched my elbow, squeezed it twice, and then released me. I wondered what my play should be. I wanted to talk with Grey longer. I was worried about his health. I wanted to know if he’d seen a doctor as well. He hadn’t had any leafy greens with his dinner. He should be taking fish-oil capsules. Lobster wasn’t fish, it was crustacean. I thought maybe it wouldn’t count.