“Where are we going?” Janene asked.
“To give you your money.”
“I thought you had it with you.”
“No, it’s in my apartment.”
“I don’t want to go to your apartment.”
“Why not?”
“Why don’t you just send me the money?”
“Put cash in the mail? Come on, it’ll take two minutes. I really want to make up for what I did to you.”
She looked away, trying to make up her mind, then she looked back at me and said, “All right, let’s go.”
It was weird walking next to her. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest and she didn’t say a word. I didn’t say anything either. I was pissed at her for threatening to call the cops. After what Rodrigo pulled in the kitchen, I was getting sick of people trying to blackmail me.
We turned on to Sixty-fourth Street. When we got to my building, I headed up the stoop, but Janene stopped on the sidewalk.
“You coming up?”
“No,” she said, “I think I’ll just wait out here.”
“Come on, it’s freezing out.”
“It’s okay,” she said.
“What? You don’t trust me?”
“I just feel like waiting down here on the street.”
There was a group of teenagers across the street, smoking cigarettes and laughing.
“Whatever,” I said.
I went upstairs and came back down with the four hundred dollars. She put the money away in her coat pocket.
“I really hope you quit gambling,” she said, “for your own sake.”
I watched her walk away toward York Avenue, hoping she was out of my life for good.
Twelve
Walking home after work, I didn’t feel like being alone. Remembering how Susan Lepidus had asked me to call her sometime, I stopped at the nearest phone booth. The phone rang four times and then her answering machine picked up. I was about to hang up when she said, “Wait—hold on,” then she turned off the machine and, sounding tired, said, “Hello.”
I realized that one-thirty was probably kind of late to call somebody.
“Hey, Susan,” I said, “it’s Tommy. You know, from O’Reilley’s.”
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds then she said, “Oh, hi, how are you?”
“Hope I didn’t wake you,” I said.
“No...I mean I was just getting into bed...what time is it?”
“About one-thirty,” I said. “I just got off work. I know it’s late to be calling, but I want you to know it was really nice seeing you again the other night. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since then.”
“That’s sweet. It was nice seeing you again too.”
“I know this is short notice, but I figured I’d be spontaneous. You want to go out for a late drink?”
“Now?”
“Why not? There are a few places still open.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean I have to go to work tomorrow.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I always forget how normal people work in the morning.”
She laughed.
“Maybe we could go out some other time,” I said. “Unless...nah, that’s a stupid idea.”
“What is?”
“I was thinking, I could come by your place, if you want. Just to say hi, have a quick drink and leave.”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Forget about it then,” I said. “I told you it was a stupid idea. I’ll call you some other time. I’m off on Tuesdays. Maybe tomorrow night we can do something.”
“I have plans tomorrow.”
“Some other time then.”
“Wait,” she said. “I guess you could come over now.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah...why not? Do you remember where I live?”
“I sure do,” I said. “Should I bring over some beer?”
“That’s all right, I have some in the fridge.”
“See you in a few.”
I started to walk, but my feet were cold in my motorcycle boots, so I jogged up First Avenue with the stiff wind in my face. Susan lived on Eighty-third Street between Third and Lex. It was about twenty blocks from the phone booth, but it only took me about ten minutes to get there.
I’d walked Susan home that night after we went out dancing, but I’d never been up to her apartment. It was a doorman building, but not nearly as nice as Frank’s. The doorman buzzed her and I took the elevator up.
Susan looked good, especially for two in the morning. She was wearing jeans and a long black T-shirt and she’d put on makeup—lipstick and blush.
After I kissed her hello on the cheek, she invited me into the apartment. It was a small place—bigger than my dump, but so was just about every other apartment in the city. It had an L-shape with a little kitchen and a living room in the big part, and the bedroom area was off to the right. A U2 poster was hanging on the wall above the couch.
She took my coat and put it on the back of a chair.
“Why don’t you sit down?” she said.
She pointed toward a seat at the kitchen table.
“That’s all right,” I said. “So this is a nice little place you got here.”
“Thanks,” she said, twirling a few long strands of her curly red hair with a finger. “Can I get you a beer or something?”
“Why not?” I said.
She went to the fridge, took out two Heinekens, and put them down on the counter.
“I’m really glad you called me,” she said, opening the beer. “I was hoping you would.”
“I should’ve called you right away,” I said.
“It’s all right,” she said.
“No, it isn’t,” I said. “I told you I’d call you and I never did. That was wrong.”
“It’s all right,” she said. “It’s just as much my fault as it was yours. I could’ve called you too.”
I put my hands against her hips and turned her around toward me. I kissed her—gently at first, then I pushed her back against the refrigerator, kissing her all over her face. She was kissing me back, sucking on my earlobes. As I was unhooking her bra she said, “Wait, you really think we should do this?”
“Yes,” I said. “Unless you don’t want to.”
Her bra fell onto the floor and she pulled off my shirt. I carried her to the bed, still kissing her, when the doorbell rang.
Susan looked terrified.
“Who the hell could that be?” I said.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“So let’s just ignore it,” I said.
“We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because he knows I’m home.”
“Who knows?”
“My boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend. The guy I was at the bar with the other night.”
The knocking was louder now. Then the guy—I remembered his name was Jim—said, “Come on, Susan, open up! Open the fuckin’ door, Susan!”
“Just forget about it,” I whispered. “He’ll go away.”
“No, he sounds drunk,” Susan said. “He’ll wake the whole building. Why did my stupid doorman let him up?”
“Susan!” Jim yelled. “Open the door Susan! Open the fucking door!”
“I’ll go talk to him,” Susan said.
She put her shirt on.
“You sure?” I said.
“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Wait one sec.”
Susan went to the door and I was thinking how, when she came back, I’d make up some excuse and go home. Although Susan was a nice girl and she was very good looking, we didn’t have anything in common and I couldn’t remember why I’d called her in the first place.
Susan and Jim were talking at the door.
“Come on, lemme in,” Jim said.