Raging Heat

TWENTY

That night, with the blackout from the massive arc at the Con Ed plant still darkening the lower half of Manhattan, Rook said he couldn’t see the point of roughing it in their apartments and, after several calls, managed to score a junior suite at the Excelsior Hotel uptown, a lovely spot to camp out. He was in the shower when she came in, exhausted from the day, the week, the everything. Nikki announced herself from the bedroom then noticed he must have gone back down to Gramercy Park. A half dozen of her outfits hung tidily in the closet. He’d even brought shoes.

Over the stream of the shower, Rook put on a goofy show for her, singing “Reunited and it feels so good.”

“You know,” she called through the open bathroom door, “that would be fifty percent less creepy if you weren’t in there alone.” Which made him stop. But then he started again, only this time, belting out a Vegas lounge spoof of “After the Lovin’.” Nikki might have laughed if she didn’t feel the shadow of a pending, very big conversation looming over her.

Toweled and wearing one of the hotel’s plush terry robes, he joined her in the sitting area and poured them each a glass of Hautes-Côtes de Nuits from the bottle in the ice bucket. “Nice digs,” she said after they toasted.

“You kidding? It has everything. Electricity, electricity, and electricity. Plus, it’s an easy walk to the precinct. And check out the view.” He took her to the window and parted the drape, revealing the twinkling Upper West Side skyline, and more prominently, the Hayden Planetarium directly across the street. “Hm, makes it kind of a busman’s holiday, huh.”

“A little.” It had been just over a week since Fabian Beauvais crashed into that museum; now there was no trace of the event. The giant powder blue orb glowed as usual inside the glass cube that illuminated the neighborhood with its gentle glow. She found the couch and her glass of wine. “Thanks for picking out some clean clothes for me.”

“My pleasure. But just to be clear, this suite is clothing-optional. In fact, see this sash?” He waved the loose end of the robe’s belt and gave a licentious flick of his brow. “Guess what happens when you pull this.”

Heat smiled thinly. “Hey, now there’s a turn on.” She didn’t fault him for being playful. Nikki was busy feeling the weight of the confrontation on the horizon.

He joined her on the sofa and they talked, both deciding against any tube. Besides, Rook had watched the news all night and gave her the summary. Mostly it was about the devastation on Staten Island and along the Jersey shore. Little or no looting, in spite of the blackout. “Oh, and on News 3 @ 10, Opal Onishi was Greer Baxter’s guest on “Greer and Now,” showing clips from her Jeanne Capois interview.”

“That’s good.…I guess.” Nikki tried to balance mixed feelings about self-promotion versus getting the message out about human trafficking, and decided it wasn’t her call to make.

Of course the only other non-Sandy news was the rearrest of Keith Gilbert. “You know that cardboard crown I gave Raley for being the media king? I should do better than that after he found that flash mob video.”

“See? Early on I knew zombies figured into this case somewhere. And you dismissed me.”

“Rook, you’re like that broken clock you hear about that’s right twice a day.”

He grinned. “I’m sorry, the only thing I heard was something about me being right.” She gave him a swat. “What’s happening at the Twentieth with the interim dude?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been there yet. We processed Keith Gilbert at the nearest precinct, the One-three. When I was finishing, I got a call to drive to the OEM headquarters in Brooklyn.”

“Office of Emergency Management? Why there?”

“Because everyone from One PP is over there. Commissioners, Commander McMains, The Hammer.…” Heat looked down and used a finger to scoop a cork crumb out of her glass. “I guess I got back on their radar today. They wanted to meet with me about the job on the task force.”

“And they offered it to you?”

She wiped the cork on a napkin and brought her eyes up to meet his, knowing how emotionally loaded this subject was, but getting it on the table, at last. “Yes.”

“And what did you tell them?” He held up a hand. “Wait. Don’t tell me. I mean not yet. I just remembered. I want to show you something first. Don’t move.”

Rook dashed out of the room with his robe parting in a most undignified way. She heard the zip of his overnight bag and he came out, hiding something behind his back. Keeping his hand hidden he rejoined her on the couch. Nikki’s mouth felt dry. The wine wasn’t quenching it.

“OK,” he said, “where do I start? Recently, while I was in Paris, I made a quick side trip to one of my favorite jewelers in the Marais.”

“Oh, really?…” The college theater arts actress in Nikki hoped she sold ignorance to him.

“Why, you may ask? Because…last spring I had left him my mother’s antique engagement ring to put a bigger diamond in the setting, and I wanted to pick it up.” He brought his hand from behind his back and opened a bag — the one she had spotted in his kitchen trash can — and pulled out a small case that he opened and held out to her. “What do you think of the job he did on Mom’s ring?”

Nikki didn’t need to act at that point. “Rook…I’m, I’m speechless.”

“Édouard — he’s the master jeweler there. Been there forever. Probably designed those candlesticks Jean Valjean stole. Didn’t he do a great job?”

“Oh. Very, um, quite.” She was struggling to hold her composure, feeling foolish and, yes, crestfallen. “Very, very nice craftsmanship.”

“C’est très bon, n’est ce pas?”

“Ah.” Then she heard a wooden semblance of her own voice say, “…Oui.”

“Good, because otherwise you might not want to wear it.”

At first Nikki thought she’d misheard. She was so blitzed from the week’s ordeal, and so caught up in the shock of learning that receipt had been for his mother’s ring, that it seemed as if Rook was trying to indicate this engagement ring was actually for her. But that must have been what Rook meant, because he was taking it out of the case and holding the big diamond up to her. She stared at it, flabbergasted, as all the facets sparkled in an infinitely stunning display of pure light. “Rook. Are you saying…”

“I am saying this is for you.”

“Your mother’s engagement ring?”

“Don’t worry, Mom’s got a whole box of them. I dropped a quarter in the slot and worked the claw to pick out this one.”

They both laughed. “Romantic,” she said.

“Just because I ghostwrite romance novels doesn’t mean I have to be romantic.”

“No, this is plenty romantic. In a twisted, Rook kind of way.” Her face grew serious and she said, “I think before we go further we need to clear some air first.”

“…All right. Is this going to be about the task force?”

“In essence, yes.” She held a shielding hand up to the ring and chuckled. “Can you put that aside for a second? It’s very hard to concentrate.”

“That’s the whole idea.” He flashed it in her face again to tease, then slipped it back in the velvet and closed the lid.

“I haven’t figured out how to put this,” she said at last, “so can I just spew?” After his affirming nod she embarked. “I’ve wondered why this task force job was such a flash point. It really got us both at each other.”

She paused there to allow him a space to speak, but he just showed agreement, so she proceeded. “I asked myself why. When I heard about it, I knew it was an exciting job and a big promotion. But what did I do? I hid it from you. By reflex. Why? Because I knew it created major challenges for us. Logistically, in our lifestyle, and — here comes: as a couple. There’s a concept, right? A couple. Talk about an exciting job and a big promotion.”

He held his silence, letting her roll. “That job offer pushed me to define things. Define us.” Nikki shrugged a tiny shrug. “And to define me. I don’t mean me without you. I just mean, as a test of whether I am still young enough and independent enough to make choices in my life.”

“On your own.”

She borrowed a phrase from her shrink session with Lon King. “I can’t solve my life in ten minutes in a hotel room. But, even though I don’t have all the answers, I do know a few things after this week. Like, I know we are good together. You make me laugh. You shake me out of my earnestness and task-orientation. You’re the only one I ever met who also gets bugged by missing commas.” She laughed.

“I’m your comma cop.”

“My punctuation police.”

“Did I hear good in bed?”

“Awesome in bed; are you serious?…But, as much as I feel that we belong together, the idea of taking it to the next level scared the hell out of me.”

“Wait.” He held up the jewelry case. “Are you saying you knew about this?”

“A woman knows.” Not prepared yet to bust herself for her trash can revelation, she let it go at that, which he seemed to buy. “So what did I do? I fought with you. I accused you of things.”

“You baptized me with top-shelf tequila.”

“I didn’t know what the upset was.” She churned her hands in front of her chest. “It was all this stuff kicking inside me. All the quaint little idiotic theories you always come up with started feeling like attacks, so I hit back.” She rested a hand on his knee. “When I almost lost you in the car last night, I freaked. I thought I saw you take your last breath before you went underwater. And you used it to tell me you loved me.”

A choking sob escaped, and Nikki fought to hold it together. “Rook, I couldn’t picture myself without you. And reflecting on it now, I’m seeing what I was fighting with all week wasn’t you. It was the fear of losing my independence. I know it may sound selfish and indulgent — even a bit Self-Help section — but I need to be true to myself. You know, even in a relationship — no, especially in a relationship — I need to have that independence for it to be healthy. Does that make sense to you?”

He swayed a few inches side to side, a writer choosing his words. “Well, Nikki, may I make it short and sweet?” After she wiped a tear, he continued, “It so happens that this independent woman you are describing is the one I love.”

In the last hour of the day, at the end of a dark week, Nikki could swear she saw a rainbow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s see if you feel that way when you hear about my new job.”

Points for Rook — he didn’t blink, didn’t falter. “Please,” he said, and took a long pull on his white burgundy, waiting.

“It’s going to mean a lot of long hours, extra responsibility, days and nights apart, broken plans more common than not. It’s going to be a ballbuster.”

“So you you’re on the task force. Congratulations.”

“No, I turned it down.”

“OK, now you’re just fucking with me.”

She laughed. “And you just didn’t, with the ring?”

He lifted his glass to her. “Touché.”

“They offered it to me, that’s why they called me there. I said thank-you, but no, thank-you.”

“But I told you we could weather this, Nikki. I meant what I said about your independence.”

“I didn’t do it for you. How indie is that? I did it because there’s a job that interests me more. A job where I know I am needed. I turned it down once before, but now I am ready.”

“You’re taking over the Twentieth Precinct.”

“Damn it, Rook, do you ever let anyone deliver their own punch line?”

“Apparently not. Continue.”

“They weren’t delighted, that’s safe to say. But they got it. I saw what happened last time when I passed, and they brought in Wally Irons. Then I got a look at that doofus today, and I could see it happening all over again. To my squad.”

“I am with you a hundred percent.”

“Tell me that when we have our fifth canceled dinner in a row.”

“And this would be new?” He thought a moment and said, “Don’t you have to be a captain to command a precinct?”

“I already passed my boards, remember? The Hammer still has my gold bars in his desk drawer from three years ago when I told him to shove them where the sun don’t shine.”

Rook hefted the jewelry case in his palm. “Is that what you’re going to tell me?”

Heat finished her wine, set her glass on the coffee table, then bounced on the couch cushion to face him. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

He slid off the sofa, lowering himself on one knee before her. In that instant all the light in the firmament, the sum total of the heavenly glow of the sun, the moon, the stars, the comets, and the planets conspired to fall on the beaming face of Jameson Rook. Nikki’s skin chilled with excitement and irrepressible glee and she swallowed hard. Keeping his eyes true, caressing hers while she cradled his, he reached out a hand and she took it, thinking, thank God his fingers were trembling, too. His smile filled her heart, and somehow it grew bigger as he finally spoke.

“Well, Captain Heat…”

A sound came out of her, whether a laugh or a cry, it was born of joy, and that’s all that mattered. “…Yes, Mr. Rook?”

“I have loved you from the first day we met. And, as unbelievable as it would have seemed to me then, I love you more now — this day, at this moment — than I ever have.”

Nikki wanted to say I love you to him, and almost did, but didn’t dare interrupt. So she told him with her face.

And he got it.

“Nikki, I believe in destiny. Not only has everything I’ve ever done led me to you, every time we are apart — whether I’m in Paris or a jungle or across town in Tribeca — I measure everything, every minute, every breath, by how soon we can be together again. Which, in a way, means we are never really apart. But here. Now. Together like this. This is what I want forever. To spend the rest of my life with you. And you with me. Rockin’ happiness.”

After working some swagger, he paused before he continued. “I want to be your husband. And I want you to be my wife.” He started to choke up and some water rimmed his eyes. Rook collected himself, held out the ring, and smiled at her — an angel’s smile. “Nikki Heat, will you marry me?”