Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

“It’ll only take a minute.”

I hesitated, then let him in. He walked past me, so I closed the door. He glanced around my living room as if it were foreign territory to him. It wasn’t, of course, but it was a lot barer than when he had last seen it. I had taken away all my personal effects, intending to pack up and bid the place good-bye, but I had never got around to the actual jump. The atmosphere was about as warm as Motel 6.

“You’re moving?”

“No.”

“A fan of the minimal look?”

“What do you want, Scott?”

“How are you doing, Cin?”

“I’m doing lousy. Why is none of your business.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Accepted. I have to go-”

“Can you give me a minute?”

“Why should I?”

“Maybe because you owe me?”

“ Excuse me?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets. “You know, you should have called me, Cin.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“I said ”-his eyes bore into mine, but his voice got softer-“you should have called me.” A pause. “You know, last year after it all happened. I must have left fifty messages. I left those messages because I cared about you. Surely you could have found the time to return just one of them.”

We maintained eye contact.

He said, “You don’t want a relationship with me, fine. I’m a big boy. No prob. But you could have just been nice about it. You know how that works-asked how I’m doing, how my cases are going, was Daddy giving me a hard time. You know… chitty-chatty. You never had trouble talking to me when you wanted to talk.”

He dared me to respond. I didn’t accept the challenge.

“I was there when you needed me,” he said softly. “I was good to you. You owed me civility.”

“I wasn’t uncivil to you, Scott.”

“You weren’t uncivil, no. You weren’t anything to me. As far as you were concerned, I was a fucking nonentity.”

A good defense was a well-placed offense. “Nothing I did compared to how vile you were to me Sunday night. I was in shock… in severe shock… and your wretched selfishness just about put me over.”

He broke eye contact and turned away. “You serious with this guy?”

“Not in the least,” I said.

“Then what’s the problem? So I’m a racist. I’m not a nice person. But I was nice to you. I never kissed and told, and believe me, I had lots of opportunity for that.”

I gave out a sarcastic laugh. “I don’t think it would have been good for your career.”

“Your father can’t do a thing to me so long as I do my job well. And I do my job very well. I could have made you look bad, Cindy. I could have made you look bad and your father look even worse. You know gossiping is a cop’s pastime. It would have enhanced my image to brag about nailing the boss’s daughter… made you both look like clowns. But I didn’t because I cared about you. So all I’m saying is… is… I’m saying you could have called.”

I started to answer but then checked my psychological armor. When I stopped a moment, I didn’t like what I felt. I thought how hurtful Koby’s silence had been and I had only known him for a little over a week. I’d known Oliver for a very long time and he had come through for me. He had been there when I needed a shoulder to cry on, when I needed a warm, strong body to get me through some terrible nights. He had tucked me into bed and fixed me breakfast in the morning… made sweet love to me.

He was a jerk, but I’d been one, too.

My eyes watered. “You’re right. I should have called. My state of mind wasn’t too great right after… and then… I don’t know… I just didn’t bother. I apologize.”

He gave me the strength of his eyes. “Rather formal… but accepted.”

He deserved better. I swallowed dryly. “Scott, I am so very, very sorry.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. “I really am.”

“Hey…” He came over to me. “Hey, it’s fine.” He put his hands on my shoulders, then drew me to him. I sobbed on his white shirt. Everything came crashing down: this dreadful, stark apartment, the shock of the accident, my horrible first year on the force. I clutched his shirt as I wept on his chest. He wasn’t the one I should be crying to and I was very resentful. He threw his arms around me. “Hey, the score’s settled, old girl. It’s fine.” He patted my back. “I mean it. It’s fine. Stop that!”

I sniffed. “Thanks for not gossiping about me.”

“Thanks for not gossiping about me. I’m certain I had a lot more to lose than you did.”

I laughed and so did he.

“Are you all right, Cindy?”

“No.” I wiped my tears. “But I’ll be okay.”

He was still holding me. It felt good, but it wasn’t what I wanted or needed. I kissed his cheek and broke it off. “You’ve been a good friend and I don’t have many. I should keep that in mind.”

He nodded. “Thanks. That was nice.”

“I really do have to meet Hayley.”

“Have time for a cup of coffee tomorrow?”

“Scott, that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Maybe not for you. For me, it would be a great idea.”

“You’re dating one of my good friends.”

“I’d take you back in a heartbeat.”

“It wouldn’t work, Oliver.”

“I’m not so sure.” He approached me from behind, slipped his arms around my waist. My robe was loosely bound, and his hands started to touch skin.

Again I pulled away. “You’re good, Oliver, but I’m trying to be better.”

“That’s no fun.”

“I’m trying to pull my life together. Please? Please, please, please?”

He frowned. “At least, tell me you were aroused.”

“I was aroused.”

“You fuck him?”

My face got warm. “Stop it.”

“Is it true what they say about bla-”

“Oliver, get the hell out of here.”

Still, he stalled. “So how are the kids?”

“What kids?”

“Didn’t your friend go to the hospital with the kids in the accident? What was the guy’s name again?”

Like he didn’t know. Oliver, like my father, was an excellent detective. Those kinds of details would never slip his mind. “Yaakov.”

“Yeah, but you called him something else at first.”

“Koby.”

“Like the basketball player? What the hell kind of a name is Koby?”

He was delving for more info. I said, “It’s short for Yaakov-Jacob. When he moved to Israel, he started using his Hebrew name, Yaakov, which is also Jacob.”

“Why does he have a Hebrew name?”

“Because Koby’s Jewish.”

Oliver laughed. “You’re kidding me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Convert?”

“No, he’s born Jewish. He’s an Ethiopian Jew. Can we switch the subject? Better still, can you leave and then I can get dressed?”

“Don’t let me stop you. You never answered my question. Did the kids in the accident pull through?”

“You know, Scott, I don’t know. I haven’t heard from Koby since the accident.”

“Ouch!” Oliver said.

“No big deal. I told you it was nothing.”

“Sure you don’t want that cup of coffee?” His smile was downright charming. “Talk it over with Uncle Scottie? Hmmm?”

I was down, he looked good, and it was tempting. But the past year had made me just a wee bit smarter. I kissed his cheek. “You were right to call me on my bad behavior. Let’s leave it on a high note.” Before I could weaken, I stepped out the door, waiting for him to follow. When he did, I closed the door behind me, hoping I didn’t lock myself out. “I won’t bother to tell Hayley about this.”

“What’s to tell? Nothing happened.” He smiled. “You still have time to change that.”