They got to the party by one o'clock, and it was just starting. Adam knew there were a lot of drugs around. Cocaine, Ecstasy, heroin, crack, crystal meth. The crowd was wilder than usual, and it didn't take him long to figure out it was not a good scene to be in. It happened that way sometimes after concerts. He danced with Maggie for a few minutes, and then got her out, and back into the limousine. He invited her back to his place then for a nightcap, and she looked at him and shook her head.
“I'd better not. It's pretty late. I have to be at work tomorrow, but thanks anyway.” He made no comment, and gave the driver her address. He was horrified when he saw where she lived. It was one of the most dangerous streets he'd ever seen. It was hard to imagine a girl who looked like her living there. Her life had to be a fight for survival every day, and he felt sorry for her, but he was also mildly annoyed that she hadn't spent the night with him.
“I hope you don't mind that I didn't go to your apartment, Adam,” she said apologetically, particularly after all he'd done for her. “I don't do things like that on the first date.” He stood staring at her, wondering if she actually thought there would be a second one. She had written down her number for him, and he had shoved it in his pocket. He was going to throw it away when he got home. She was fun for a night, on a lark, or would have been, but there was no reason to ever see her again. He could have a hundred like her anytime he wanted to. He didn't need a waitress from Pier 92, no matter how pretty she was, or how good her legs were. It wouldn't have been any different if she'd gone home with him. It just would have been fun.
“No, I understand. Why don't I walk you upstairs?” The building looked as though she could get murdered just trying to get home, but she was used to it, and shook her head.
“That's okay,” she said easily, smiling at him. “I have three roommates. Two of them sleep in the living room, it would be too weird if you came in. By now, they're all asleep.” He couldn't even imagine living that way, and had no desire to. He just wanted to leave her there, and forget that people led lives like hers. She wasn't his problem, and he didn't want her to be. All he wanted now was to go home.
“Thank you, Miss Mary Margaret O'Malley, it was a pleasure meeting you. See you again sometime,” he said politely.
“I hope so,” she said honestly, but even she knew it was unlikely. He led a charmed life. He knew people like Vana, had backstage passes, rode in limousines, and lived in a different world. She was innocent, but not as stupid as he wanted her to be. Instead of good-night, he might as well have said “Have a nice life.” But he knew that more than likely, she wouldn't. How could she? What could life possibly have in store for a girl like her, no matter how beautiful she was? What way out did she have? He knew the answer. None.
“Take care of yourself,” he said as she let herself into the building with a key, and turned to look at him for the last time.
“You too. And thanks, I had a fantastic time. Thanks again for my great seat.” He smiled at her, wishing he was in bed with her. It would have been a lot more fun than standing in the stench of her neighborhood and freezing on the street while he watched her go in. She waved then and was gone. He wondered if she felt like Cinderella as she walked into the building where she lived. The ball was over, and the limousine and driver were going to turn into a pumpkin and six mice by the time she got upstairs.
He got into the car again, and could smell her perfume. It was cheap, but it suited her and had a nice scent. He had noticed it when he danced with her, and he was startled to realize, as he drove back to his apartment in the East Seventies, that he was depressed. It was depressing to see people live like that, and know they had no way out. Maggie O'Malley would live in buildings like that forever, unless she got lucky, married some slob with a beer belly, and moved back to Queens again, where she could reminisce about the tenement she'd lived in in Manhattan, or the terrible job she'd had where drunken idiots reached up her skirt every night. And he was just as bad. He would have gone to bed with her, if she'd been willing to. And the next day he would have forgotten her. For the first time in years, he felt like a total cad as he rode home. It made him question his own morality. Charlie was right. What if some guy treated Amanda like that one day? It could happen to anyone. But in this case it was happening to a girl called Maggie, whom he didn't know and never would. He drank a shot of tequila when he got home, thinking about her. He walked out on the terrace of his penthouse, and wondered what it would have been like if she'd been there. Exciting probably. For a minute or two, an hour, or a night. That's all she was to him, and would have been. A bit of fluff and some fun. He took his clothes off then, and dropped them on the floor next to his bed. He slipped into bed in his jockey shorts, as he always did, and forgot about her. For him, Maggie was gone. She had to go back to her own life, whatever it was.
10
IN SPITE OF THE FACT THAT CHARLIE TOLD HIMSELF there was no reason to, he went back to the Children's Center to look around again. He brought doughnuts and ice cream for the children, a little teddy bear for Gabby, and treats for her dog. He had been haunted by them since he'd been there. But it wasn't Gabby who had drawn him back there, and he knew it the moment he walked in. It was Carole who had haunted him, as much as Gabby and her dog. In fact, even more. He knew it was a crazy thing to do, but he couldn't stop himself. She had been on his mind all week.
“What brings you back here?” she asked with a look of curiosity when she saw him. He had come in jeans and an old sweater this time, and a pair of running shoes. He'd been standing in the courtyard, talking to Tygue quietly when she came out of group and saw him.
“Just taking another look.” He had come without warning, and for a minute she thought he was checking up on them, and thought it was rude. And then Tygue told her about the ice cream he'd brought for the kids, and Gabby showed her the little bear and told her about the treats for Zorro.
“They get under your skin, don't they?” she said to him, as she led him back to her office, and offered him a cup of coffee.
“No, thanks, I'm fine. I know you're busy. I won't stay long.” He couldn't tell her he'd been in the neighborhood, because the only thing in it was the Children's Center and a lot of people in tenements, while dealers sold drugs in doorways. The only thing he could have done in the neighborhood was buy heroin or crack.
“It was nice of you to bring things for the children. They love it when people visit. I wish we could do more for them, but we never have enough money. I have to save what we've got for the important stuff like salaries, heat, and medication. They'd much rather have ice cream,” she said, smiling at Charlie. And as she did, he was suddenly glad he'd come.
He had wanted to see her again, but now that he had, he couldn't think of a reason to justify it. He told himself he admired the work she did, which was true, but there was more to it than that. He enjoyed talking to her and wanted to know her better. But he couldn't explain it to himself. She was a social worker, and he ran the foundation. Now that they had given her the money she needed, other than financial reports, there was no real excuse for further contact. Their lives were too different for there to be an excuse for social contact between them. He already knew that she had nothing but contempt for the life he led, and the world he came from. She was a woman who was sacrificing herself for a bunch of kids who were fighting for survival. He was a man who lived a life of luxury and self-indulgence.