The 6:20 Man

Chapter 40

“Well, twice in one day. What a lucky girl I am.”

Michelle Montgomery had answered Devine’s knock on the front door of her walk-up. She had taken off her business suit and wore faded, holey jean short-shorts, a white short-sleeved T-shirt, and no shoes. Her toenails were painted scarlet.

“Depends on how things turn out,” he replied.

She ushered him inside, and he took in the space. Clean, uncluttered, minimal furniture, some decent artwork, colorful rugs on the hardwood floors, a couple pieces of what looked to be African sculpture, and the scent of reefer.

“Well, a couple more breaths and I’ll be feeling quite mellow after my long day of toil at Cowl and Comely.”

“I’ve got some good weed if you’re interested.”

“If you have some cold beer, I’d be very interested.”

She got the beers and said, “Come on, I know where there’s a breeze. The AC here isn’t the best.”

She led him up to the flat roof, where a couple of deck chairs were set up. He took off his jacket and loosened his tie. They sat and she pointed out a sliver between two buildings and said, “Water view. That apparently costs extra.”

“And worth every penny. And so is that breeze.” He turned his face and let tendrils of air slide over his skin as he drank his beer.

“How’d it go with Brad?”

“Surprisingly well. We reached a mutual understanding.”

“I guess that’s good for you, then.”

“Good for us both. Hey, were you with Brad last Thursday night?”

“Thursday night?” She thought for a minute. “No. I was at his house, but he wasn’t there. He probably was in the city.”

Maybe at the place where Sara died.

“Do you know a Jennifer Stamos?”

“No.”

“Okay. Chilton said you were family friends. Since I know his family dates to the Mayflower and his blue-blood family comes from money, I guessed you did, too. But then you mentioned staying in a student hostel in Italy.”

“We’re not blue bloods and my family’s not rich. My father worked on the Chiltons’ Rolls-Royces and Bentleys, and my mother cleaned their house and took care of their kids. I was the wild and fun daughter of the hired help who lived on the premises.”

“Interesting. You have any siblings?”

“Two sisters. One younger and in college and thriving, and one older and married. To a doctor. And very happily.”

“Good for them. Do they look like you?”

“I think my younger sister is better-looking than I am.”

“Not what I meant, but that’s hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My older sister, Beth, is the one with the brains.”

He thought back to the disparaging remarks Cowl had made about her. “I don’t think you’re too shabby in that department, Michelle.”

“I couldn’t even make it through college.”

“You probably didn’t want to be bored with all the cookie-cutter courses in return for a boatload of student debt. And you wanted to see the world, like you said. And look where it landed you.”

She fingered her beer. “Yeah, I get paid to hang on the arm of a wealthy man and look wonderful. I like to think of it as living by my wits, but it’s not really that.” She looked down at herself. “I need this. Brad is not interested in my brain, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Use what you have. Guys do it, why not girls?”

She glanced at him. “Guys do it in a very different way. And I like you more when you’re less agreeable.” She stared off. “My mother wanted me to be a model. Pushed me from an early age. All the auditions, shooting local commercials when I was six, this pageant, that pageant, teeth fixed, lessons on how to walk a certain way and talk a certain way. I never got to have a normal childhood. She got mad when I tried to do my schoolwork. She told me my strength, unlike my older sister’s, was not my mind, but somewhat lower on my body. She was pissed off when I finally walked away from it all. Said I had betrayed her. Yeah, like it wasn’t my life, but her little vicarious fantasy.”

“My father rode me all the time, too. I was never good enough. Not like my brother and sister.”

She said suddenly, “How about giving me a foot rub?” She put her feet up in his lap. A little surprised by this, he put his beer down and started rubbing her feet.

“You have very strong hands. And I can feel the calluses.”

“What every guy wants to hear.”

“I am saving up,” she said abruptly. “Brad pays me and invests it for me. My portfolio is going gangbusters.”

“Good for you. I’ve got like ten bucks in my account.”

She took a sip of beer. “My goal is to retire when I’m thirty.”

He started grinding away at her heels, applying lots of pressure.

“Oh my God, this is like heaven. You should charge for that.”

“I just might, Miss Portfolio,” he said. “And then what would you do after you retire?”

“Maybe go back to college. Learn something that doesn’t require me to wear a bikini.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“It has to be. When my looks go, it’s over.”

“Come on, don’t sell yourself short. You seem damn astute to me, more than a lot of the so-called brainiacs I work with who can barely pack a lunch or cross the street safely.”

“You’re lying to make me feel better.”

“I don’t lie to make anyone feel better, including myself.”

She put a hand on his arm. “But you want to have sex with me, right? I am the fantasy train girl, right?”

The further they went in this direction, the less he liked it. Was Cowl paying her to do this, as some sort of chess move in the battle between them?

“I’m not on the train now. I’m rubbing your incredibly tense feet and enjoying the four-inch Hudson River view. And you’re flesh and blood, not a fantasy. And we’re having a nice conversation that is heading to pretty deep waters for some reason I’m not sure about.” He looked over at her. “And why would you want to have sex with me?”

She almost coughed up a mouthful of beer. “Okay, that’s a first. No guy’s ever asked me that before, especially when I’ve made the first move. I usually have to stop them from ripping my clothes off.” She eyed him appraisingly. “You’re a nice guy, or at least you seem to be. You’re certainly different. You don’t seem to care about what so many people care about in this city.”

“Meaning money? Prestige?”

“All of that. It’s a great town for culture and entertainment and I love the vibe, but it’s also hypercompetitive. Whatever folks have, it’s never enough. I hate that.”

“You mean like Brad Cowl?” he said.

She finished her beer and stared dully out at the gap to the water. He picked up his beer and asked, “If you went back to college, what would you get a degree in?”

“People,” she said slowly, drawing the two syllables out.

“So psychology, then?”

“No, I want to be a photographer. A picture can capture everything. No matter how much people lie to you, their true selves are always revealed in their pictures.”

“Always, even when they know you’re taking them?”

She looked at him. “Especially then, because they try so hard to hide who they really are, it comes out in some other way in their body language, their expression.” She slipped her phone from her pocket. “Say cheese.”

Montgomery took his picture and looked down at it.

“What do you see there?” he asked, mildly curious.

“A troubled man. But a good one. You have a lot on your mind.”

“So, you think we’ll get through all of it okay?” He didn’t know why he was asking, but for some reason he wanted to know her answer.

“I don’t know, Travis. I don’t think anyone knows for sure. Especially us.” She glanced over at him. “What would you do today if you knew tomorrow wasn’t coming for you?”

“I’d go and see my father.”

“Why? To make peace with him?”

The image of him and his father getting drunk the night they had celebrated Devine’s getting the job at Cowl and Comely came into his head.

“No. I’d tell him to stay out of my life and let me run it the way I want to. And that I didn’t want or care about his opinion of me anymore.”

She stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment.

“What?” he finally said.

“That’s pretty much exactly what I said to my mother.”