CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
NICOLA LAY ON her stomach on
Laurie’s bed, her new lap-top—a gift from Laurie, dainty and too
expensive—propped on the embroidered coverlet. Beside her, Laurie sat upright,
his legs crossed, his knee touching her elbow. He’d done that a lot since the
attack, reflexively seeking near-constant physical contact, small touches to
reassure himself. His attention was fixed on the wall-mounted flat-panel
television. He watched it intently, barely stirring or blinking.
Nicola glanced up at the screen and
grinned. “I haven’t seen this since 1986,” she said. “It’s as monstrously
stupid as I remember.”
“Yeah, but it’s also kind of
awesome, right? Post-apocalyptic teen orphans on roller skates. That’s
storytelling gold.” Laurie pointed at the screen. “Look at her outfit. That
off-the-shoulder, sun-faded jersey. Is that the sort of thing you wore in the
eighties?”
“Eh, sort of. Not too far off, at
least. The skates and shorts would have pushed it over the edge.” She squinted
at the screen, at Jami Gertz looking all frizzy-haired and grim and lovely. “Is
any of this useful for your collection?”
“Probably not. Almost certainly
not. But I’m never sure where I’m going to find inspiration, so it’s good to
watch and read everything I can.”
He shifted, stretching out his legs
and flexing his feet. Copper polish glinted on his bare toenails. He was still
in his work clothes, tight bronze leather pants and a fluffy black angora
sweater with a huge hood that draped all the way down to his lower back. His
hair was tinted the color of the midday sun, and his makeup was flawless. He
balanced his broken wrist on one thigh, the plaster cast covered by a wide
leather cuff with shiny gold buckles.
She couldn’t look at his wrist
without feeling a weird pang in her chest. “When you’re done with Solarbabies,
maybe we should think about dinner. My treat, provided you pick someplace
cheap-ish.”
Laurie shook his head without
turning his attention from the screen. “We’ll have something delivered, it’s
easier that way. Or you can run out and fetch me something.”
“You know I’m your partner, not
your assistant, right?” When Laurie didn’t answer, Nicola shot him a sidelong
glance. “You haven’t been getting out much lately.”
“I know. It’s no big deal. I’m not
in much danger of becoming a recluse, if that’s what you’re fretting about.” He
shrugged. “I’m not going to start storing my urine in jars in the refrigerator
or whatever. I just haven’t felt very social, that’s all.”
She wanted to say something more,
reassure him he was safe, that no one was going to kidnap him or hurt him
again, then thought it was best to stay quiet. She returned her attention to
the laptop screen.
They worked in silence. Laurie
watched his crappy movie with keen attention; Nicola sorted her way through
Laurie’s cluttered in-box.
“This might be something,” she
said. “Your manager for-warded a letter from some tech guru in Palo Alto. Paul
Izumi. Runs a startup called Black Lion. He has a proposition.”
“Anything good?”
“I can’t tell. His email is pretty
comprehensively crazypants, but I think he’s just enthusiastic, not insane,”
Nicola said. “He’s applying CGI techniques to the fashion world. 3D virtual
runways. He wants to use your designs in his presentation to investors.”
“Why me? Tech people usually aren’t
my demographic.”
“His wife’s a former Miss Oregon.
She’s a model in the Bay Area, and she loves your clothes. You interested in
what he’s doing?”
Laurie was about to answer,
probably in the negative, when the chirp of his phone alerted him to an
incoming text. After a furious hunt around his bed, he located it under a gold
velvet throw pillow. He checked his messages, frowned at the screen for what
seemed like a long time, and carefully placed his phone on his bedside table.
He stared at the television, his brow creased, his expression distant.
“Was that anything important?”
Nicola asked.
A quick headshake. “Nope.” A pause,
then he cleared his throat. “You know what, you’re right. We should go out.
Being social might do me some good.”
Laurie could change his mood or his
mind with baffling speed, but even so, this seemed abrupt. “Ah… sure. What are
you up for?”
“I know a place,” Laurie said.
“This isn’t going to be dinner, though. It’s a bar. So they only have bar food,
not real food.”
“What’s up?” Nicola asked. “Does
this have anything to do with the text you just got?”
Laurie shrugged, which was as much
of an affirmation as she’d get from him. “We probably won’t stay long. We can
go out for dinner afterward.” He crawled off the bed, then glanced at her jeans
and ragged sweater. “You might want to change. I still have Joelle’s dress, the
one you wore to the Emmy party.”
“I’m fine like this. I’m not
wearing a dress. It’s thirty degrees outside, and I haven’t shaved my legs
since October.”
Laurie wrinkled his nose. “The
first part of your argument is irrelevant, but I’ll accept the second. Can I at
least do your makeup?”
“Not unless you let me do yours,”
Nicola said. This shut Laurie up, as she knew it would.
A quick call to the ever-efficient
concierge desk downstairs, and a town car was waiting out front by the time
they reached the lobby. It was a chilly night, with sparkling white whiskers of
frost creeping across the sidewalk. Nicola bundled Laurie into the sumptuous
leather backseat, then climbed in after him. He’d thrown on a belted coat,
something luxurious and ridiculous in soft black fur that made him look like a
fluffy kitten. “You’re not wearing mink, are you?” she asked.
“I love fur. I love small, fuzzy
animals more,” Laurie said. “It’s synthetic. If I stand too close to a heat
source, I’ll go up in flames.”
Nicola fell silent. Laurie smirked.
“You were all set to give me a lecture about wearing fur, weren’t you?”
“Nope. I was searching for a punch
line about you and ‘flaming’ that wouldn’t seem too egregiously offensive.”
He grinned and shot a slim middle
finger at her, the gesture crude and childish and, because it came from
immaculate Laurie, hilarious.
The ride was silent and serene. The
car sailed down dark avenues lit by glittering skyscrapers to a two-story brick
house in Alphabet City. The windows were shuttered, and there was no sign out
front. It didn’t look much like a bar, or any kind of business at all. Laurie
breezed up the crumbling stairs and yanked open the door.
A small, cramped room, battered
wood floors and eggplant-colored walls, bronze chandeliers dangling from the
low ceiling. Tiny wood tables and frail chairs, a long bar against the brick
wall. It was all decaying elegance, dusty velvet drapes and candlelight and
shadows, less aggressively sleek than Laurie’s usual haunts. The clientele, at
least, consisted of his kind of people, i.e. ethereal young men, all of them
nearly as lovely as Laurie himself. The crowd was a sea of high cheekbones and
chiseled jaws and great skin.
The bartender was about Nicola’s
age, though he was beautiful enough to blend in with this crowd, with thick,
wavy hair and sculpted forearms. Upon spotting Laurie, he immediately came over
to their end of the bar. “He’s still here. Upstairs,” he said.
Laurie nodded. “Thanks, Mike,” he
said. “Something red and fancy for Nicola, and… do you know what I had here
last time? Champagne and something you said was made from flowers?”
“Elderflower liqueur. Sure.”
Standing on his toes, Laurie rested
his elbows on the bar and leaned forward to watch Mike fix their drinks. “So…
who’s he with?” he asked, his voice low.
Mike shrugged. “Some guy. I haven’t
seen him here before.”
Laurie frowned. “Is it a date?
Could you tell? Does the guy look like someone he’d date?”
“Couldn’t tell you. The guy doesn’t
look like you, and that’s really all I can say about it.” Mike slid their
drinks across the bar.
Laurie passed what looked like a
healthy wad of cash over to Mike, then picked up his champagne flute. Goblet of
red wine in hand, Nicola followed him over to the stairs at the far end of the
room. “Pretty big tip for two drinks,” she said.
“I can afford it. And Mike’s a good
guy.”
“And he did you a favor tonight,
didn’t he?” The stairs were made of wide slats of wood, unfinished and uneven.
She could see through the gaps to the tables below, which was unnerving. “Care
to fill me in? Who are we stalking?”
“Hmm?” Laurie assumed his most
angelic expression. It was an expression Nicola saw a lot, and it was an
expression she never, ever believed.
“The bartender sent that text to
let you know someone was here. So who are we stalking?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re
talking about,” Laurie said. He glanced around furtively. “Let’s sit, shall
we?”
The upstairs area was cramped and
dark. A long violet leather banquette bench ran the length of three walls, with
small tables and chairs spaced along it. Laurie took Nicola’s wrist and pulled
her down into a seat at an empty table. He slithered onto the bench across from
her and hunched into his fur coat, his head down.
Nicola glanced around. Ah. There.
Amazing cheekbones and dark plastic-rimmed glasses. Tall, slender and elegant.
She hadn’t seen him since that day at the hospital, when she’d hardly been in
the best frame of mind, but she recognized him at once.
“We’re stalking Jonathan, aren’t
we?”
“Hush. Yes.”
Jonathan wasn’t alone. Seated
across from him was a man with prematurely white hair, a pointy face, and very
tan skin. He was impeccably dressed in a gray suit; Jonathan was more casual in
a black sweater. They leaned close to each other, though the noise level was
such that the intimacy was probably necessary to carry on a conversation. “I
don’t know who he’s with. Does it look like they’re on a date?”
“I don’t know, Laurie.”
“He’s so old.” Laurie’s small mouth
pulled into a grim line.
“Please. He can’t be much older
than I am.” Nicola sipped her wine. Rich and complex. Hanging out with Laurie
had upgraded her palate.
“And if you were dating Jonathan,
I’d have a big problem with it.” Laurie looked gloomy.
“If it’s a date, you have no
business getting pissy about it. You’re no longer a couple. And you dated
Galen, remember?”
She was sorry she’d brought that
up. Laurie’s face darkened. “I slept with Galen,” he said, his tone brittle and
bitter. He looked down at the table and swirled his champagne in the glass. “He
called me yesterday.”
“Galen?”
Laurie nodded and didn’t say
anything. Nicola raised her eye-brows. “Ballsy of him. What’d he have to say?”
“Dunno. Don’t care. I didn’t pick
up the phone, he didn’t leave a message.” Laurie took a drink. “Maybe he wants
to apologize, maybe he accidentally butt-dialed me. Doesn’t matter. I don’t
ever want to talk to him.”
“Can’t say I blame you.” Nicola
glanced over at Jonathan’s table. “Are we going to go over and say howdy?”
“Hadn’t planned on it.”
“So… we’re just going to sit here
and watch them?”
“Yep.”
“This is a little too junior high
for me, Laurie,” Nicola said. “If you want to get back with Jonathan, you could
just call him, you know. Ask him out for dinner, see what he says.”
“I can’t. He’d say no.” Laurie’s
eyes went wide, and he looked frightened and young. “I just wanted to see him
again, that’s all.”
His phone chirped. Laurie looked at
it, winced, and passed it over. Nicola read the text: YOU ARE NOT AT ALL
INCON-SPICUOUS, YOU KNOW.
She glanced up and saw Jonathan
frowning in their general direction. He said something to his white-haired
companion, then gestured for Laurie and Nicola to come over. “I think we’ve
been busted,” she said.
If Laurie felt sheepish about this,
he didn’t show it. He approached Jonathan’s table, radiating careless
nonchalance. “Hey, Jonathan. Fancy meeting you here. I didn’t want to disturb
you if you were in the middle of something.”
“Laurie. How are you?” Jonathan
asked.
“Fine. Great. Couldn’t be better.
You know Nicola.”
“Of course. Good seeing you.”
Jonathan rose to kiss Nicola on the cheek. His lips were cold, and he smelled
expensive and tasteful.
Laurie turned to the white-haired
man and stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Laurie.”
The man shook his hand. “Sure. I
know who you are. That MTV show that Jonathan was on. NYC Elite, was
that it?”
“This is Dominick. I’ve been
temping at his PR firm,” Jonathan said. His cheeks flushed. “We were just
grabbing a drink after work.”
Nicola thought Dominick looked
irked by the faint emphasis that this wasn’t a date. The genial expression
returned to his face so quickly she might’ve imagined it. Jonathan continued:
“Dom, this is my… well, I suppose you know Laurie. And that’s Nicola, his
business partner.”
“Nice to meet you, Nicola.” A firm
handshake. “Laurie Sparks. You’ve been in the news a lot lately. Some kind of
trouble, what was it?”
Laurie raised his chin. “I was
kidnapped by a murderer. Nicola rescued me.”
“Right, that rich lawyer guy, the
one who killed those models. I heard about that.” Dominick nodded at Nicola.
“Nice going.”
She hadn’t rescued Laurie—Detective
Tally had saved them both—but this was the version he preferred, so she
wouldn’t contradict it. “Thanks.”
Dominick examined Laurie. The avid
curiosity in his face made Nicola understand why Laurie hadn’t felt social
lately. “Care to join us?”
“If you don’t mind, thanks.” Laurie
snagged an empty chair from a nearby table and plopped it next to Dominick.
Jonathan looked wary, but he shifted over on the leather bench to make room for
Nicola.
Despite the potential for
awkwardness, conversation flowed easily. That was a relief; when Laurie was in
a mood to misbehave, he could be horrid. Tonight, he was bubbly and delightful.
From Dominick’s charmed, rapt expression, Nicola saw he was smitten. This was a
common reaction to meeting Laurie for the first time. Nicola used to find this
less unsettling, before Joel Sutton had seen him, become fascinated by him, and
tried to destroy him. Dominick seemed okay, though, both charismatic and
engaging. A little shady, maybe, but he probably wasn’t a murderer. He told
some juicy tales about the PR industry, about managing publicity for one of the
big Vegas casinos before moving to New York.
Jonathan was still a cipher to
Nicola, polite and friendly but guarded. He sipped his wine and hid on the
fringes of the conversation, observing the interaction between Dominick and
Laurie with cautious interest. Nicola was surprised when he suddenly turned to
her. “So why are you and Laurie here tonight?” Behind his glasses, his eyes
were very blue. “Coincidence?”
A spike of irritation at the
question. She was loyal to Laurie, but she had no wish to get caught in a dumb
lie. “You’d have to ask him.”
“Oh, it’s no coincidence,” Laurie
said archly. Because he was tiny and whippet-slim, he was already a wee bit
drunk. “I have a network of spies all over town, monitoring your movements.”
A corner of Jonathan’s mouth
quirked up. “That’s creepy.”
“It’s only fair. You spied on me,
after all.”
Jonathan’s brows drew together
below the frames of his glasses. “I most certainly did not,” he said.
“You did. You skulked around the
hospital after I got attacked, but you didn’t let me know you were there. I
call that spying.”
Jonathan glared at Nicola. It took
her a minute to figure out the cause of his pique. “Hey, I didn’t tell him.”
“It was my mom. She gave you a ride
to the hospital, of course she was going to tell me,” Laurie said. “Why didn’t
you see me? It was the worst day of my life, and I thought you didn’t care
enough to visit.”
Jonathan fell silent, regarding
Laurie with that same cautious expression. He turned to Nicola again. “Has he
eaten lately?”
“You don’t need to talk about me
like I’m not here, you know.” Laurie sounded sulky and petulant.
“No, but you never remember whether
you’ve eaten or not,” Jonathan said. “And too often the answer is Not.”
“He probably hasn’t. He was at his
studio all day, and then we were working at his place before coming here,”
Nicola said.
“I could eat,” Jonathan said.
“Should we find dinner?”
Dominick cleared his throat. “I’ve
got plans, so I’ll bow out. It’s been a pleasure.” He shook Nicola’s hand, then
clasped Laurie’s hand in both of his. “Nice meeting you, Laurie. Glad Nicola
rescued you. You seem like you’re probably worth saving.”
Outside the bar, they parted ways
with Dominick. Nicola hailed a taxi. They all piled into the backseat, Laurie
wedged in the middle, and headed uptown. Nicola glanced over at Laurie and
Jonathan, both so young and so lovely, and felt a fierce, shameful stab of
envy. Jonathan was Laurie’s physical equal, his soulmate, his once-and-future
lover, and Nicola was an interloper at this party.
Laurie yawned elaborately and
snuggled against her, leaning his head on her shoulder. She slipped an arm
around him, feeling the softness of his fluffy, ridiculous coat under her
fingers. “Tired, kiddo?”
“Mmph. Famished, too,” he said, the
words mangled by an-other yawn. His eyes closed.
Jonathan’s gaze was fixed on the
leather cuff covering Laurie’s cast. He looked up, and over Laurie’s head, his
eyes locked with Nicola’s. His expression mirrored her own. For the first time,
she felt a visceral, near-tangible moment of connection with him.
They ate at a crowded diner on
Broadway, not far from Laurie’s building. They sat in a doll-sized booth, with
Nicola squeezed up against Laurie, separated from Jonathan by a table barely
larger than her laptop. Because the boys were young and had strong stomachs,
Laurie ordered waffles and ice cream while Jonathan ate fries topped with
gravy. Because Nicola was old, she had soup.
“So.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “How’s
the collection going?”
“Fine. It’s great. It’s fabulous.”
Laurie sounded defensive.
“You’re still doing that whole
post-apocalyptic theme?”
“Post-nuclear. But it’s set thirty
years after the bombs, so it’s not like everything’s still ruined. I bet the
world would be mostly okay.”
Nicola smiled. “Your apocalyptic
fetish always surprises me,” she said. “It tickles me to no end to think of you
trudging across a post-apocalyptic wasteland, desperately trying to find
champagne.”
Laurie looked disgruntled. “I’d
probably do just fine in a nuclear wasteland. I’m tougher than I look.”
Nicola raised her water glass in a
toast. “That you are, kiddo.”
Laurie leaned across the table and
addressed Jonathan. “Here’s my thought,” he said. “It might be a really good
thing that I ran into you.”
“Or that you were stalking me,
whichever,” Jonathan said.
Laurie ignored him. “Because I
still don’t have an assistant. If you’re just temping now… You could always
take your old job back.” He looked uncertain, almost shy. “I could pay you
more, if you wanted. I could pay you whatever you want.”
Jonathan stared at him. He was
suddenly very still and distant, a statue carved in ice. “Is that what you
really want?”
“No. I mean…” Laurie’s voice broke.
He cleared his throat, and his usual confidence returned. “I want you to move
back in with me. I want us to go back to the way we were, before I screwed
things up by being awful to you.”
Jonathan was silent. Sitting beside
Laurie, Nicola wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Rome. Madagascar.
Madagascar might be nice.
“I quit the show, did you know
that? I know that caused so many problems between us,” Laurie said. “And I’ve
grown up a lot over the past few months, I really have. Nicola can tell you
that. It’d work out better this time, I promise.”
There was a pleading note to his
tone that Nicola hated to hear. Jonathan shifted in the booth, then shook his
head.
“I love you more than I will ever
love anyone. I’m sure you know that,” Jonathan said. “But you’re a force of
nature. It’s like being in love with a hurricane. It’s wonderful, but it makes
me feel… insignificant.”
“I’m sorry,” Laurie said. “I don’t
mean to.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not anything
to feel sorry about. It’s just who you are, and right now, I need more time
away from it.”
Laurie wanted to argue, Nicola
could see that in his face, and she braced for tears or tantrums or some
combination of the two. Instead, he exhaled and nodded once.
“What can I do?” he asked. His
voice was small and miserable.
“Give me some space,” Jonathan
said. “This temp gig lasts through the end of the year. If you haven’t hired
anyone by January, we’ll talk.”
“I won’t have hired anyone,” Laurie
said.
Jonathan smiled, dazzling but
fleeting. “Yeah. I know,” he said.
They finished their meal in
silence. Jonathan walked with them back to Laurie’s building. “I’ll leave you
here,” he said to Laurie. “Nicola, which train are you catching?”
“Nicola’s sleeping over,” Laurie
said. “We still have a lot of work to do for my collection.”
Both statements were accurate, if
wholly unrelated. They wouldn’t do any more work tonight. They’d camp out in
his luxurious living room drink too much champagne. Laurie would mope about
Jonathan, and she’d distract him with eighties movies and Duran Duran videos,
and they’d have a nice time.
It seemed like Jonathan could
probably guess all this, because the look that crossed over his beautiful face
was, Nicola could swear, envy. It passed in a moment, and then he smiled.
“Okay, then,” he said. He gave Nicola a hug, which was bony and
awkward but very nice, before turning his attention to Laurie. Laurie clutched
his shoulders; Jonathan buried his nose in his hair. They rocked in place for a
moment, then Jonathan released him.
“Okay,” Jonathan said again, and
with a small wave, he walked off.
Laurie looked forlorn. Nicola
draped an arm around him and squeezed his shoulders. “Someday, kiddo,” she
said. “You’ll be back with him someday.”
“Not tonight,” Laurie said.
“Not tonight, no.”
They stood like that for a moment,
bathed in the streetlights and listening to the traffic noises from nearby
Central Park West. Nicola drew away first. “It’s freezing out here,” she said.
“Let’s go back inside and finish Solarbabies.”
“Excellent plan,” Laurie said.
They entered the warm lobby, the
uniformed night doorman touching his cap and greeting them by name, and left
the cold night behind them.
