Barely Legal

39

Herbie was distracted. Yvette could tell at once. She tried to get him interested, but he wanted to talk about the trial. Yvette couldn’t care less about the trial, but she feigned an interest. It wasn’t hard, still it seemed like work.

And underneath it all was the nagging thought that, somehow, Herbie was on to her. That his lack of interest was because he couldn’t bear to touch her. Because he was just stringing her along, waiting for her to hang herself.

Yvette knew that wasn’t even remotely possible, that it made no sense. It was just that she was doing what Donnie wanted, and doing what Donnie wanted was always risky. It wasn’t that Herbie had suspicions, it was that she was about to raise them. And it wasn’t her fault, damn it, it was all Donnie. And the worry was making her self-conscious and arousing his suspicions.

Herbie flung himself into a chair and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m laying all this on you. Bringing my troubles home from work. The worst thing a guy can do. Who would want to marry a guy like that?”

Yvette nearly choked on her reply. Was he setting her up? Of course not. Things were fine. That was the only way to play it, as if things were fine.

She smiled coquettishly. “Would you like me to get your mind off work?”

Herbie relaxed for the first time since he’d been home. “You can do that?”

“Let me make you a drink. Martini?”

“Please.”

Donnie signaled to the waitress and ordered another cup of coffee. He didn’t need the caffeine, he was jangly enough already, but he couldn’t sit in the diner without something in front of him. And he wasn’t going to order their seventeen-dollar hamburger. Where the hell did they get off charging seventeen dollars for a burger — they were a diner, for Christ’s sake.

Donnie wasn’t worried about the job, he liked the job, it was the waiting that got to him. That was the problem with the long con. He didn’t have the temperament for it. The payoff was great, but the setup was excruciating. He didn’t know why Yvette couldn’t understand that. Of course, she was reaping the fruits of the con already, living the life of Riley in a Park Avenue penthouse, and she had the nerve to lecture him on patience.

The waitress brought the coffeepot and hit him with a refill. She didn’t write it down, so it was probably free. The waitress had a pad of unpaid orders hanging out of her pocket. His wouldn’t be much. He should probably leave her a tip.

There were a couple of blank pads next to the register that Donnie had spotted on his way in. He sipped his coffee and determined that it would be easy to swipe one on his way out. The devil was in the details, and he was determined to get this right.

Yvette shook up the martinis and strained them into chilled glasses. She took out the vial Donnie had given her, emptied it into Herbie’s glass, and stirred it around. She wrapped the vial in a tissue and placed it carefully in the bottom of the empty wastebasket behind the bar. Donnie had promised to take it with him. She had to remember to remind him.

Yvette picked up the martinis and had a moment’s panic when she couldn’t remember which was which. She paused to consider. It was definitely the one closer to the shaker, the one she’d stirred after dropping the liquid in. As she slunk back into the living room, she wondered how long it would take for the drugs to kick in.