You’ve Been Warned

Chapter 74

IF THERE IS SUCH A THING as a very bad, very good thing, then that’s what I do the next day.

Penley is going to be gone all day at some fancy-schmancy kitchen tour out in South Hampton – so she says, anyway – so instead of taking the kids to school, I call there to say they have the flu, and then we play hooky.

I really feel that Dakota and Sean need this. Especially Dakota. And so do I.

First things first, we have a total pig-out breakfast at Sarabeth’s, our favorite restaurant in all of New York. Blueberry and chocolate-chip pancakes, with loads of syrup, for everybody. Then we head off to Central Park with only one purpose in mind: to get absolutely filthy dirty, to be real kids for a change, to have a blast.

For three hours, we run and jump and scream our brains out, play tag, play catch, play keep-away, and I don’t have a single crazy thought, don’t smell anything bad, don’t even see any dead people.

We end up at a little concrete playground with swings and slides, and Dakota and Sean are grimy dirty – which I love, and they love too. In fact, I’ve never seen such big smiles on either of their faces.

Of course, I have to take photographs of the kids. Dozens and dozens of beautiful shots. So cute, so picture-perfect.

And then – disaster strikes!

Sean catches his bright red Keds sneaker on the ladder at the top of the slide, and he literally goes head over heels. I watch and I can’t believe what I’m seeing as he tumbles way too fast, then hits the pavement with his face. I swear to God, with his forehead.

Ten minutes later, we’re at the emergency room at Lenox Hill, and amazingly, miraculously, Sean is totally okay and doesn’t even need a stitch. He even gets a lollipop, and so does Dakota.

It’s quiet in the cab from Lenox Hill going home, and then Dakota leans into me and puts her head on my shoulder. I wish I could take a picture of the two of us.

“It’s all right, Miss Kristin. It’s all right,” she says. “We won’t tell.”

“Promise,” says Sean. “We won’t tell. We love you, Miss Kristin.”

And I love these kids so much.

I just love Dakota and Sean to death. Who wouldn’t?

I also feel guilty, and I don’t know how to get away from that. Not about playing hooky for one stupid day, which was great – but about everything else.

And I mean everything else.

Chapter 75

HELL, I SHOULD JUST TOSS my alarm clock out the window. What’s that joke Sean likes to tell? About seeing time fly?

Really, what’s the point of an alarm clock when I’ve got this dreaded dream to wake me every morning? I get the feeling it’s going to be with me for an awfully long time. Like forever.

Same for all the other bizarre stuff filling my days. And all I can do is wonder, Can I really handle this?

Can I get on with my life, such as it is?

Damn it, I’m going to try. With a little help from my friends.

Beth and Connie conference call me on my cell phone minutes after I drop off Dakota and Sean at school. They want to take me to lunch and won’t take no for an answer.

Of course, what they really want to do is see if I’m okay or completely mashed potatoes. The social worker in Connie undoubtedly has her hyperconcerned after my surprise sleepover-cum-meltdown at her apartment. Naturally, Beth heard all about it.

Imagine if I tell them everything that’s occurred since.

Only that’s not going to happen.

That monster Delmonico has me scared silent. About everything. I can still feel his grip on my neck, the look in his eyes.

Anyway, it’s with an “all’s well” attitude that I walk into the Comfort Diner – how fitting – on 45th Street between Second and Third. Connie and Beth are already seated at a table by the window, and I make sure to greet them with a healthy smile.

Unfortunately, the rest of my body didn’t get the memo.

“You look like shit, Kris,” says Beth almost immediately.

Connie rolls her eyes while I enjoy a much-needed laugh. There’s blunt, and then there’s Beth. No wonder she has such a hard time finding acting work. She once told Martin Scorsese that he needed to “trim those caterpillars” above his eyes.

“You do look a bit tired, Kristin,” says Connie, trying to be a little more diplomatic and gentle. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“I certainly got plenty at your place the other night,” I say.

“Until you woke up screaming like my apartment was in a wing at Bellevue,” she points out.

As if I need to be reminded.

“Have you been to see a doctor?” asks Beth. “Maybe you’ve got a virus.”

“And what about seeing your psychiatrist again?” says Connie in tow. “Have you given that any more thought?”

Call me crazy, but I think I’m done with psychiatrists.

I look at the two of them, their faces full of genuine concern. “Listen, I know you guys are trying to help and I appreciate it, I really do. But right now, the best thing for me is to have a fun lunch with my girlfriends. Can we do that? You think?”

They both nod, getting the point. I need to be distracted, not prodded. So they dig deep into their daily lives and share the best stories they can think of.

Connie kicks things off by telling us about the guy from her office who got caught making photocopies of his penis. I don’t believe her, but she swears it’s true.

“I bet he was using the enlarge button,” quips Beth.

We laugh and order, and by the time our food arrives, the conversation has made its way around to my job and the wonderful Penley.

“Let me guess,” says Beth. “While we’re stuffing our faces, the Pencil’s at the gym, burning off her last remaining calorie.”

“She definitely is a gym rat,” I say. “Though right now she’s out in Greenwich for some charity lunch.”

“You know, we really should meet her,” says Connie.

Beth raises a brow. “Why on earth would we want to do that? ”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. What do you think, Kris?”

“I think she’s better left to your imagination,” I say with a chuckle. God, that feels good.

Connie smiles and digs back into her chef’s salad. I’m reaching for my iced tea when Beth starts to giggle. She’s looking out the window.

“Check out that serious PDA going on across the street,” she says, pointing.

Connie and I follow her finger to see a man and woman engaged in a serious lip-lock right under a “Don’t Walk” sign. There’s not an inch of daylight between them as their “public display of affection” seems to last forever. Eventually, the woman pulls back, playfully pushing the man while glancing about as though to see if anyone’s watching.

“Omigod!” I sputter.

Connie and Beth turn to me in unison. “What is it?” asks Connie.

“That’s Penley!”

“Are you serious, Kris? You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

“I thought you said she was out in Greenwich,” says Beth.

“I know. That’s what she told me.”

The three of us look back out the window. The man is whispering something in Penley’s ear. Sweet nothings, it appears.

“Wow,” says Beth. “You never mentioned how good-looking her husband is.”

“You’re right,” I say. “Only that’s not her husband.”

Chapter 76

I JUMP UP FROM MY CHAIR, jolting the table and nearly knocking over my iced tea. I sprint for the door with a hurried “good-bye” to my friends.

“Kris, wait!” I hear Connie call.

But I don’t. I can’t. This could be important, a key to unraveling everything.

Spilling out of the restaurant, I immediately look across the street. The “Don’t Walk” sign now reads “Walk.” And Penley’s gone.

So is Stephen. Tall, dark, and handsome Stephen. Her lover, from the look of it.

Quickly glancing around, I spot the couple farther down the sidewalk. Before I know it, I’m following them.

I can’t believe this. The plot, as they say, is thickening.

Not only is Penley having an affair, the guy is someone she set me up with as a blind date!

But for all my disbelief, there’s something else.

Relief.

I’ve been dragging a full measure of guilt like a heavy suitcase since the first day Michael – “a married man” – and I got together.

But now, seeing Penley cheating on him, suddenly I don’t feel so bad.

Yeah, I know, two wrongs don’t exactly make a right. It simply makes it a little easier.

I continue to follow Stephen and Penley. They’re not arm in arm or holding hands, and to the passerby they could just as easily be friends as lovers.

That is, until they reach another “Don’t Walk” sign. It’s as if something comes over them, or, more specifically, over Stephen. As they stand waiting at the corner, he can’t take his hands – or lips – off her.

Penley doesn’t stop him, but I can tell she’s aware they’re out in public. She has a lot of friends in the city, and though they’re mixed in with about eight million strangers, one can’t be too careful. There’s no telling when someone she knows might see her.

Like me.

The “Walk” sign flashes, and the make-out session gives way to their continuing stroll. I fall right in step while confronting my next emotion. Fear.

There’s no way Penley and Stephen only started seeing each other in the past couple of days, and that can mean only one thing.

She knows.

Something, at least. If Penley doesn’t know for sure about Michael and me, she at least suspects. What else could explain Stephen’s dinner talk about being involved with someone married? Was he trying to help her get a confession from me or was it all about screwing with my mind?

Either way, Penley’s “setting me up” with Stephen was truly a setup! And I didn’t see it.

This changes everything.

The two of them come to a stop at the next corner, and Stephen picks up where he left off with more tonsil hockey and some pretty serious groping. Penley’s going at it now too. They really ought to get a room.

I stand on the sidewalk a half block behind them and miles away from being able to collect all my thoughts and emotions about this new development. There’s so much to think about; there are so many angles to consider.

That’s when I realize what I should be doing.

Don’t think, just shoot.

I reach for my camera. If I’m quick enough, I’ll get them tongue kissing before the light changes.

Only I don’t feel anything where I’m reaching.

No camera. No shoulder bag. I forgot to grab it when I bolted out of the Comfort Diner.

Shit fire and save matches! I think.

And I remember who used to say that -my dead father.

Chapter 77

“WHAT?”SAYS MICHAEL.

I start to repeat myself, but he heard me the first time. He just can’t believe it. Or is it me he can’t believe?

We’re standing before floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room of the Wall Street apartment his company provides for out-of-town VIPs. Apparently there are a lot of them, because we’ve only been able to meet here a few times. Those were romantic interludes, however, and something tells me there’ll be a lot less sex tonight.

“Are you sure it was Penley?” Michael asks. “This isn’t just a fantasy you’re having?”

“I’m positive. I saw it with my own eyes.”

I’m trying to put myself in his shoes. Less than forty-eight hours ago he was rescuing me from a Brooklyn hospital before they could check me into a padded room.

Now this bombshell.

Maybe I’d be a little skeptical too. Especially when I tell Michael that I didn’t have my camera with me. He knows I practically sleep with it.

So with no pictures -no proof – all I’ve got is my word and his trust in me.

“And you’re sure it was the same guy she set you up with?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes, it was that ‘cute guy,’ Stephen.”

“That would mean…”

“Exactly,” I say.

“But how could she know? We’ve been careful.”

I shoot him a dubious look. “I distinctly recall the Maytag club, among other things.”

“Still, I’d know if she knew. Penley would be trying to kill me, not playing games.” He begins to pace, thinking out loud. His neck and face are getting very red. “She sent this guy out to dinner with you on a reconnaissance mission? I mean, the woman has balls, but we’re talking King Kong cojones here.”

“It doesn’t seem so crazy if she only suspected we were involved.”

“Trust me,” he says. “What you’re telling me is crazy no matter how you slice it.”

The word seems to hang in the air – right above my head. Crazy. Does he think that’s what I am? Also, he’s starting to get very pissed. Maybe even at me. I do not need one of your meltdowns here, Michael.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” I say.

Michael abruptly stops pacing. He comes over and takes me in his arms. “Of course I believe you,” he says. He tacks on a loving squeeze lest there be any doubt.

But there is doubt. I can hear it in his voice. I see it in his eyes. He’s not really sure what to think.

Of all the ways I thought he might react to the news, uncertainty wasn’t in the mix. I could understand his anger, and even resentment. I could tolerate a twinge of jealousy. No man likes to share a woman, regardless of whether he loves her.

Nonetheless, when the emotional dust settled, what I hoped for from Michael was that he’d see this the same way I now do – as an opportunity. No longer the only adulterer in his marriage, he won’t have to worry about being raked over the coals in a divorce settlement. Once and for all, he can do what I’ve always wanted him to do.

Dump Penley.

“So now what?” I ask.

“I want to sleep on it,” he says. He stares at me for a moment. “You’re absolutely sure it was her, though, right, Kris? You’re certain.”

“Yes,” I answer. “I saw them.”

I’m sure of it.

At least I think I am.

Chapter 78

ALL NIGHT I TOSS and turn, thinking about Penley and Stephen, and whether Michael believes me. Or for that matter whether I believe me.

The only silver lining is that I’m spared again from the dream when morning arrives. If only I could figure out how to live the rest of my life without sleep, I’d be all set.

When I arrive for work, Penley does a double take. “You forgot what day it is, didn’t you?” she says.

I smack my forehead. “You’re right, I did.”

Once every two weeks, Penley steps in for me and walks Dakota and Sean to school. I get the morning off.

Michael calls it her “guilt trip,” but I don’t think guilt has anything to do with it. If it did, it would mean she’s aware of what a bad mother she is. And about that she’s definitely clueless. Rather, in her oh-so-twisted mind, Penley probably sees subbing for me as a required sacrifice. Community service, with her children.

“Well, since you’re here,” says Penley, “the chaise cushions for the patio need to be brought out for the summer. Make sure you thoroughly clean the furniture first, okay?”

“No problem,” I say.

“And the cushions, of course.”

“Sure thing.”

She folds her arms across her Chanel gym outfit, which cost more than a month of my salary. “After I drop off the kids, I’m going for a workout. I should be home by lunch, though.”

“That reminds me,” I say, “how was your charity luncheon out in Greenwich yesterday?”

I watch her carefully, hoping Penley flinches or blinks or stammers – something that gives her away.

Instead, she’s seamless. “Oh, you know how those things are. You’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all.”

I bet.

Penley heads for her bedroom to continue getting ready, and I check on Dakota and Sean in the kitchen, where they’re finishing up their breakfast. Their mother microwaves a mean bowl of instant oatmeal.

“Hi, Miss Kristin!” they giddily say in unison. They’re surprised to see me. And happy!

“What are you doing here?” asks Sean.

“Yeah, I thought it was Mommy’s day to take us to school,” says Dakota.

“It is, honey. Silly me, I forgot.”

“But you never forget,” she says.

“Never ever, ” adds Sean.

I look at them both and smile. Kids are so smart.

They’re right. I didn’t forget.

Not by a long shot.

With a zoom lens.

Chapter 79

TEN MINUTES LATER, I follow Penley and the kids to school, hopefully at a safe distance. If any of them spots me, I’m dead. Let me change that to toast.

For maybe the tenth time I check to see that my camera is tucked safely in my shoulder bag and that the bag is actually by my side.

Up ahead, Penley, Dakota, and Sean are just past halfway to Preston Academy. It truly is a perfect opportunity for a mother to spend some quality time with her kids. Too bad Penley’s gabbing away on her cell phone, paying no attention whatsoever to Sean and Dakota.

Not that I mind. It keeps her distracted. It keeps her from looking over her shoulder.

With each step in their shadows, I can’t help thinking how strange this feels, almost like an out-of-body experience. Most every morning, that’s me up there with Dakota and Sean.

To see someone else in my place makes me realize even more how important those kids are to me. I always want to be there for them. I also know it would be selfish and wrong of me to want this if Penley was any kind of a decent mom.

We cover another block heading south and, yet again, I check to make sure I’ve got my camera.

Minutes later, I duck into a phone kiosk and watch Penley in front of the school’s gates as she practically shoos Dakota and Sean away. Amazingly, she’s still on her cell.

Is she talking to Stephen?

Is he meeting her at the gym?

“Excuse me, are you using that phone?” I hear.

The man’s voice startles me. Does it sound familiar? Actually, yes.

I turn around to see a guy in baggy jeans and a Gap T-shirt. Damn it, I know him! I haven’t seen this guy since we were in high school together. I have no idea what happened to him after school, but here he is, wandering into my nightmare.

I point at the phone. “I don’t think anyone’s using it,” I say. “You’re Harvey, right? From Concord?”

He stares at the frayed wire jutting from the receiver like a rat’s tail. “There’s a call coming for you, Kristin,” he says. Matter-of-fact, just like that.

Then the phone rings, and I literally jump. But I sure don’t answer it.

“Yeah. I’m Harvey,” he says, then he shuffles off.

“And let me guess,” I say to him. “You’re dead, right?” But Harvey doesn’t bother to answer.

I immediately turn back to Penley standing in front of the school. Only she’s not there. Oh, great.

My head turns like one of those automatic sprinklers. Not until my second three sixty do I spot her humping down Madison. Her walk gives her away. “I’m better than you,” it says with each stride. “So get out of my way!”

I hurry across the street, falling in behind her again. Now that the kids are gone, she’s off the phone. I’m shielded by the crowded sidewalk – the morning rush hour traffic – but I’m careful not to get too close.

We head south a few more blocks, and I try to remember what gym she belongs to. Is it Reebok? Equinox? Did she ever even tell me?

Anyway, I’ll find out soon enough. If I know Penley, it can’t be too much farther. Otherwise, she would’ve cabbed it, for sure.

My eyes remain trained on her while my mind looks ahead. One kiss, that’s all I need. A suggestive embrace would do the job, but a kiss, that would be the money shot.

That’s assuming Stephen’s even there.

She told me the gym is where they met. Then again, she also said he and I would make a nice couple. Ha!

Maybe this is nothing more than a wild goose chase and maybe it isn’t. I don’t care. I’m determined to get the proof I need – that Michael needs – if it’s there to get.

Then why am I starting to feel so uneasy about this?

There’s a hollow forming in my stomach, and with each step it grows. It’s not nerves or nausea, it’s something different. And this isn’t the first time I’ve felt it.

Streets, time, everything seems a blur to me. I’m so pre-occupied with the feeling, I almost miss Penley’s arrival at her gym.

I focus my eyes and watch her walk in. At that exact moment, the feeling takes over, consuming me. I know what it is. Dread.

And I know when I felt it last too.

Here.

Right outside Penley’s “gym.”

Otherwise known as the Fálcon Hotel.

Chapter 80

I WANT TO RUN, but I can’t decide which way to go.

I’m desperate to get the hell out of here, and yet I absolutely have to keep following Penley and see where this is going. I take a step forward, then back. I’m a human yo-yo.

Finally, I run.

To the hotel.

I push back the fear – the dread – and sprint up the front steps beneath the Fálcon’s red awning, slowing down only as I enter the lobby. Which I remember – from my time here after I moved from Boston. Block it out, Kris. Not relevant now.

Here comes the first tricky part – seeing which room Penley’s heading to while still not being seen.

Where is she?

Nowhere. I scan the swank lobby with its minimalist decor. They’ve redecorated, I see. The furniture is all black, as is most of the clothing. It’s like a Prada convention. There are thin people everywhere, but not one of them is Penley.

I rush to the two elevators on the wall to the left of reception. The first is open and waiting, the second heading upward. A digital panel on the wall tells me where. I watch and wait until it stops on the fourth floor.

Off I go, taking the empty elevator. When the doors open, I peek out, hoping to see Penley from behind, moving toward a room.

Instead, the hallway’s empty. I feel like one of those characters in a scary movie, with the audience shouting, “Get out of there, Kristin. Run! Get away!”

I won’t do that. I worry that I’ve missed Penley or that she’s not even on this floor.

Then comes a woman’s laugh from a few rooms down. Or is it a cackle? Either way, I know it instantly. It’s the Pencil.

I get close and listen, my ear maybe an inch from the door. When they’re not laughing, they’re talking, and though I can’t quite make out the conversation, I recognize the other voice in the room. It’s him.

Stephen.

I listen for a minute to their frolicking. They almost sound like kids in there, albeit very naughty ones. Is this really the woman who has me alphabetize her cans of soup?

I feel for my camera again. No problem this time – it’s there. At the ready.

I spot the door to the stairwell at the end of the hallway. There’s a small cut-out window at eye level. Looks like a perfect place to set up shop.

I figure if Penley and Stephen arrive separately, they probably leave separately. Not that it really makes a difference. Solo shots of them slinking out of the same hotel room will more than do the trick. Michael will be able to fill in the blanks.

I back away from the door, the mix of their giggling and God-knows-what now like nails on a blackboard to me. If I’m going to commit to a stakeout, I can only hope that Stephen isn’t into tantric sex, like Sting. I’ll be waiting forever!

I start walking toward the stairwell. Halfway there, I stop as if I’ve hit a wall. The feeling of dread rushes over me again as I turn and face a room on the opposite side of the hallway. I feel dizzy; I’m shivering.

All because of what I hear.

Chapter 81

IT’S THE MUSIC!

This time it’s not between my ears, it’s behind the door. The same song that accompanies the dream -about this hotel! – is coming from inside this other room. It must be on the radio. How convenient. Or how sadistic of someone. But who?

I lean in and listen, my ears straining. It’s faint, and I still can’t make out the damn lyrics. The name of the song remains stuck on the tip of my tongue.

Not for long, though.

I knock softly on the door. I hate to bother you, folks, but it’s time to play Name That Tune!

No one answers.

So I knock a little louder.

C’mon, answer already!

Are you in the shower?

Asleep? With the radio on? I guess it could happen.

I drop to my knees, peering in at what little I can see beneath the door. It’s definitely dark in there.

This is so frustrating! Whatever it takes, I need to get into that room right now.

I stand and begin banging furiously, my fist bruising right before my eyes. If no one’s in there, I’ll knock down the damn door myself!

I hear a lock snapping open.

Behind me!

It’s Penley and Stephen’s room.

RUN!

I sprint for all I’m worth toward the stairwell. From behind me, I can hear the door opening and Stephen’s voice echoing in the hallway.

“I don’t know; I’ll check,” he’s saying to Penley. “I heard it too. I’m checking. ”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I was too loud!

I reach the stairwell entrance, frantically pushing through the door. Did he see me? Would he recognize me from behind? Or from the front, for that matter?

I’m about to race down the stairs when my gut steers me in the opposite direction. Up! Go up!

Dashing up the steps, I reach the landing halfway to the next floor and throw myself against the cold concrete wall, out of view, I hope. I hold my breath, listening for Stephen.

Sure enough, he was right behind me. He’s running down the stairs. My gut was right.

I tiptoe to the railing and steal a quick glance. A couple of flights below, I can see the top of Stephen’s head. Also on display are his bare shoulders. He’s wearing nothing but a towel.

He continues downward, probably thinking I’m headed for the lobby.

That’s when I hear it. The voice I love to hate.

“Honey?” Penley calls out. “Where are you?”

On a dime, he stops. Penley must have him wrapped around her bony little finger.

“I’m down here,” he calls back.

“Who was making the noise in the hall?” she asks.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“Oh, I see. So you’d rather run around the hotel half naked than have sex with me? Okay. Fine.”

It’s classic Penley. And before you can say “horndog,” Stephen’s racing back up the stairs to her.

It’s a miracle, all right.

Praise the Pencil!

Chapter 82

“YOU’REWHERE? ” he asks.

“Outside the Fálcon Hotel,” I answer. “Where you need to be right away. Please come… Yes, I want you to drop everything.”

I quickly explain why.

“I’ll be right there,” Michael tells me. “Don’t move.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

I don’t. I remain perched on a stool behind the window of a Starbucks across the street. There’s a perfect view of the Fálcon’s entrance, the red awning eclipsed only by the occasional bus or delivery truck passing by. After Stephen chased me into that stairwell, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to stick around inside. Plus, there’s the matter of my history with the hotel. Poor little Kristin’s first days in New York. A horror story in itself. But definitely one for another time.

Anyway, a picture might be worth a thousand words, but having Michael see Penley’s affair in the flesh -as it were – speaks for itself.

Now he has to get here before they leave. Which means I change my mind about one thing: I hope Stephendoes have sex like Sting… on one of his best days too.

Twenty minutes later, Michael storms through the door of Starbucks. All at once, the loitering latte drinkers glance up from their laptops.

“What the hell are you looking at?” says Michael’s expression. “Go back to writing your stupid spec screenplays that will never get made!”

He spots me and hurries over. “They still in there?” he asks, nodding at the hotel.

“Yes, thankfully,” I answer.

He frowns, and I get it immediately. Thankfully really isn’t the right word. As much as he wants to catch Penley red-handed, I have to remember this isn’t something he relishes.

In fact, he seems completely on edge and on the verge of going over the top, which is something I don’t want to experience.

That look of doubting me, of thinking that I’m “Crazy Kristin,” is entirely gone from his eyes, though. He knows I’m not mistaken or making it up. This is real.

He asks me to tell him everything again, from my first steps following Penley to when I called his office. “Give me every detail, Kris,” he says. And I do. Right down to their room number.

Of course, there is one thing I leave out, and that’s the other room and the music. Was there really no one in there? Was there even music playing?

Michael pulls back a sleeve to reveal his Rolex. “How long has it been?”

“About an hour,” I say, watching him tap his loafer impatiently. “Just so you know, they’ll probably come out separately. That’s how they arrived.”

He bristles. “She’s walking out of a hotel, for Christ’s sake. At eleven in the morning. Alone or not, what more do I need to see?”

He sees it anyway, the whole sloppy enchilada.

To my utter disbelief, Penley and Stephen emerge together seconds later. How brazen. How stupid. How very Penley.

And how enraged Michael becomes.

I’m watching him watch them, his face reddening, his nostrils flaring. Maybe a picture would’ve been better. I’m afraid he might explode right here in the coffee shop.

Then it gets even worse.

Penley and Stephen engage in one hot and heavy, no doubt about it kiss. It’s the money shot, and while I no longer need to capture it on film, I do anyway. The photographer’s instinct takes over. Don’t think, just shoot.

As for Michael, it’s as if he’s watching a spectacular car wreck. He can’t turn away from the Kiss. I don’t really blame him. It is compelling stuff, in a sick sort of way.

“Unfuckingbelievable,” he mutters under his breath. “Un-fucking-believable.”

I lower my camera and look at him. It’s his voice. I’ve never heard it like this before. The tone, the register – it’s beyond anger. It’s beyond anything.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Michael? I’m sorry you had to see this.”

“I could kill the bitch” is his answer.

Chapter 83

MY MIND IS SPINNING a little, but Michael’s seems completely focused, locked in. For the first time I can see how he is at his job. “Where does she think you are right now?” he asks.

I barely hear him. “Huh?”

“Penley- does she think you’re at the apartment?”

I nod, and he immediately whips out his cell phone.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Would you ever disappear from work this long without leaving a note?”

He’s right. I didn’t think that far ahead. “No,” I say. “In fact, I’m supposed to be getting the patio cleaned up for summer.”

Michael hits his speed dial. “So we need to buy you some time,” he says.

The next moment borders on surreal. So what’s new? I watch across the street as Penley breaks her lip-lock with Stephen and reaches into her purse. She checks her cell phone and immediately looks uneasily at Stephen, raising a finger to her mouth. Shhh.

She answers the phone, and I see her lips moving. This is weird but also exciting.

“Hi, honey, how are you?” says Michael, standing about a foot away from me. “You still at the gym?”

His voice is completely normal, even chipper, not a hint of stress.

This is so bizarre, I’m thinking. Of course, this is also so Michael, the same guy who threw his arm around my shoulder and introduced me to everyone at his business dinner. One cool cucumber.

I’ve got my eyes trained on Penley as my ears pick up her voice through Michael’s phone. It’s sort of like watching a foreign movie with subtitles.

“I’m leaving the gym now,” I hear her answer. “What do you want? I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

“You must be exhausted, ” says Michael. He shoots me a grin. She’s not the only one with King Kong balls.

I strain to hear what Penley says next, something about why Michael is on his cell and not in his office.

“Oh, I’m just out grabbing a cup of coffee,” he replies. “You know how I hate the crap they brew at the office; it’s weak as shit. Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I need a favor.”

Penley tells him to hold on for a second.

Michael and I watch through the window as she puts her hand over the phone and says something to Stephen, who appears to be losing his patience. Poor guy. Clearly she’s explaining that she can’t ditch Michael’s call easily. A few seconds later, a frustrated Stephen marches back into the hotel.

What, does he live there?

Penley gets back on. “So what’s the favor?”

“Is everything okay?” asks Michael.

“Yeah. For a second I thought I left my keys at the gym. I found them, though.”

Pretty clever, Penley.

“So, about that favor,” says Michael. “We’ve got a client coming in from Tokyo tomorrow morning, and someone told me that store in Midtown, Takashimaya, sells this amazing Japanese coffee. I was wondering if you could pick some up for me on your way home.”

Penley sighs so annoyingly loud through the phone that a few people sitting nearby turn their heads. They probably can’t believe what a bitch she is.

“You can’t send your secretary to do this?” she whines. “I have to go buy coffee for you?”

“Honey, it would take Amanda over an hour to get there and back. I figured you were only a few blocks away. Please, Pen. Could you?”

Another sigh, even louder. “So what’s this supposedly amazing coffee called?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll recognize the name. Call me on my cell when you get there, okay?”

“Fine.”

Penley gives her phone the finger as she flips it closed. All Michael can do is laugh.

“I’m going to miss the little woman,” he jokes as Penley disappears from our view.

I smile, but only because I’m glad he can joke at all. I’ve never seen him as dark as he was a few minutes ago.

I shoot him a look. “Japanese coffee?”

“God is in the details, remember?”

I nod. “So, what now?”

Michael takes my hand. “You love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“And you trust me, right?”

“Yes.”What’s this about? Why do I need to trust Michael right now?

“What you do,” he says, “is go back to work, get that patio in order, and pretend that everything’s fine and dandy on the home front.”

“That’s it?”

“For the time being, that’s it.”

“What about you?”

He doesn’t answer. He lets go of my hand and walks toward the door.

“Michael, what are you going to do?”

He glances back, flashes me his best smile. Then he winks. It’s my wink.

“You’ll see.”