Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

“I understand,” I told him. “I’m not happy, but I understand.”

“Next time, don’t send your witnesses home,” the DA added.

“I’ll try to remember that, sir.”

Then the little prick had the nerve to wink at me as he left. I turned to the lieutenant. “That’s sexual harassment.”

“It’s a tic, Decker.” Stone laid his hand on my shoulder. “You did a good job. It’s a shame that some rotten apples got in the way of a righteous bust. But I understand his position. Now go get some lunch before your shift starts.”

I remembered my manners. “Thank you, sir, for your support.”

He smiled at me. “You’re welcome.”

Brill said, “I’m still on the hit-and-run from a couple of weeks ago, Cindy. You okay from that?”

“An occasional street dream. No big deal. Thanks for asking, Justice.” I turned to the lieutenant. “Can I go?”

“Absolutely.”

I stood, and before I reached for the doorknob, I gave a nice little feminine wave. As soon as I was alone, I called Koby and had him paged. He picked up the line five minutes later.

I said, “It’s okay. I’m okay. A little disappointed, but I’m not in any trouble.”

“ Baruch Hashem. ” He sounded genuinely relieved. “What was it?”

“I’m on a cell phone, Koby. We’ll talk later. What time do you get off?”

“I’m doing a twelve-hour rotation. More money, and we’re off at the same time. Shall we meet at home?”

“ Your home, you mean?”

“No, Cindy, I mean just plain home. ”

That was sweet and I told him so. I told him that I’d see him later.

I was sweating. Whether they saw it or not, I don’t know.

Work came,work went. A routine week and I liked it that way. The following Sunday, Koby and I finally managed that romantic dinner, driving down Pacific Coast Highway just as the sun was sinking over the horizon, the sky bursting with fireworks in a palette of hot pinks, regal purples, and flaming reds. When we turned right onto Malibu Canyon Road, the mountains were bathed in reflected light, turning the surface mossy green and rust orange. The moon could be seen swimming in the pale gray sky of dusk. It was a wonderful moment, an incredibly delicious evening, and I was giddy even before sipping my first glass of wine. We shared food while we cracked wise, the banter eventually turning into a series of racy innuendos. By the time we hit the road, we couldn’t wait. So we checked into an old Malibu beach motel-a series of tiny, private cottages with beds the size of coffee tables, foam rubber mattresses, and scratchy sheets. No view of the ocean, but that didn’t matter. It was all lightning and thunder, and when it was over, the shower worked.

I felt as if I were finally living those glorified high school days that had eluded me as an adolescent. It was nice to walk on air and really nice that the guy involved was incredible in bed. It was too early in the relationship to feel this way and I knew that the carpet could be yanked from under my feet at any moment. Still, I had carried Koby’s key and he hadn’t asked for it back. In fact, the only thing he had asked for was my key in return.

It was just past midnight when we made it back to the city. I had fallen asleep in the car, but I awoke around Sunset and La Brea, about twenty minutes from Koby’s house. I roused myself and rubbed my eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Nice nap?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Need me to drive?”

“No.”

“You’re not tired?”

“Not tired at all. Too aroused.”

“Aroused like in up aroused or aroused like in sex-”

“That one.”

I was amazed. “How can you be horny?”

“Because I fantasize while you sleep.”

“You’re an animal.”

“No, Cindy, I’m a guy. We are simple: cars, sports, and sex. At this hour, not many cars on the road and no game is on… I think about sex.”

I gave him the eye. “Was I in your fantasy at least?”

He grinned. “You were the fantasy.”

I hit his shoulder. “Liar!”

He laughed. “No, no, I prove it to you when we get home. I act it out for you.”

Again, I slugged him. “Would you like me to de-arouse you?”

“Not particularly.”

Silence.

“What?” Koby asked.

“I told my mother about you,” I said.

Koby’s hands gripped the wheel, but he didn’t answer.

I said, “Did it work?”

“Very much. It has died a sudden and pitiable death. What did she say?”

“She asked if it was serious.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said I’ve known you only about a month and serious was still a relative concept. I told her I like you very much. She wants to meet you.”

He smiled. “You like me very much?”

“No, I think you’re a bum.”

“I work too hard to be a bum.”

“That’s true. You must have worked like a dog to afford the down payment on your house.”

“No, a dog has a better life.” He laughed at his joke. “The house has a story. I have a friend who had a start-up in the late ’90s. Usually I am cautious, but I don’t know. I gave him a couple of thousand that quickly turned into twenty-eight months maybe. The house came up, I took out my profit. A year later, the company went under. Pure luck.”

“The secret was you weren’t greedy.”

“Whatever it was, I don’t question, I just say thank you. When you want, I will meet your mother.”

“How about this weekend?”

“Sure.”

“You’re a sport, Koby.” I pulled down the passenger vanity mirror on the sun visor and began to play with my hair. “We usually have lunch on Saturday. I told her that wasn’t good for you because of Shabbat. I think the fact that you’re traditional about Shabbat bothers her more than your complexion.”

He made a face. “Why?”

I smoothed back a strand of bothersome locks. “My dad’s wife is very religious.”

“Ah. So I’m identified with the enemy camp.”

“More or less… although my mother remarried before my father.”

“Do you get along with your stepfather?”

“Yeah, Alan’s all right.” I took out a tube of lipstick and touched up my mouth. “I don’t see him a whole lot. I usually meet my mother alone, so I only see him when they have parties. They have quite a few of those-about six a year.”

I narrowed my eyes and studied the traffic behind us.

Koby said, “So what day did you pick for us to meet?”

The seconds ticked by.

“Cindy?”

“Next Sunday… hold on a moment.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hold on!” I glanced in the side mirror. “Don’t do anything, Koby. Don’t look in the mirror, don’t pick up your pace. Just keep driving. I think we’re being followed.”

He didn’t speak. But once again, he gripped the wheel. It must be something he did when he was nervous. He had reason to be.

“Bronze Chevy Nova,” I said. “Haven’t seen one of those in a while. Primer on the left side. The windows have been darkened. That’s illegal, but right now it’s beside the point. I can’t make out the driver’s face this far back. He’s just a shape right now.”

“Should I slow?”

“No. I told you, just keep driving.”

He swallowed. “Is it the guy I whacked in the back?”

“Maybe. Although I thought he was still locked up in County.”

“The hit-and-run driver from the accident?”

“Could be. We’re driving in the same car. Why anyone’s following us is up for grabs.”

“And you can’t see him?”

“No.”

Koby was quiet. It suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t a fellow cop. It was up to me to guide us both through this. “I’m a little tense. Sorry if I’m short. It’s probably nothing.”