Джонатан Келлерман - Crime Scene

“Thanks,” I said. Forced a smile. “I’m actually a lot more fun than this.”

She smiled.

I said, “I’ll be right back.”

She held on to me a moment, squeezed, let go.

I locked myself in a bathroom stall, feeling foolish for having bolted the table.

I fished out my phone to check the time.

Tatiana had texted me, twice.

U went to see my mom

Wtf

The more recent message had come in twelve minutes prior. I fussed with my reply, aware that my date was waiting for me. Before I could finish, the phone dinged in my hand.

U need to call me she wrote. And then: Right now please

Busy I typed. Tomorrow

I silenced the phone and put it away.

Back at the table, Amy was helping herself to more tea leaf salad. “I heard my dad kicked your ass at HORSE.”

“PIG,” I said, sitting down. “And I let him.”

“Did you, now.”

“Can’t beat up on an old man.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“Please don’t.”

“What’s it worth to you?”

“I’ll pay for dinner.”

“Didn’t you know?” One corner of her mouth went up. “You already are.”

Bellies full, we walked to my car, stopping to kiss on the cracked sidewalk beneath a gaudy streetlight halo.

It was easier than kissing Tatiana, because Amy was five foot ten and because I didn’t have to worry about her reporting me to my superiors. I could feel her long torso through the dense wool of her coat. She pressed into me and the lapels parted, and I tugged my jacket open, allowing the warmth of her body to find mine. She was trembling slightly.

She pulled away. “Is this weird for you?”

“A little. You?”

“Definitely,” she said, moving in again.

We didn’t talk much on the drive back to Lake Merritt, letting the air between us build up a charge.

Turning onto Euclid, I slowed beside her car to let her out. It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do: don’t make assumptions.

Amy said, “You can keep going.”

I kept going. I found a spot and parked, and we got out, walking in sync, fingers linked, bag of leftovers swinging in my right hand. We rounded the corner onto my block.

Whoever designed my building cared enough to mind the details. Fine exterior molding, for instance. Or the shallow alcove, framed in elegant green tile, enabling you to duck out of the rain while searching for your keys.

Amy’s grip tightened as a small dark buzzing shape stepped out to block our path.

“You went to see my mother ?”

My heart was a fist. “What are you doing here.”

“You didn’t want to run that by me first?”

“We can talk about this later,” I said.

“I’d like to talk about it now,” Tatiana said. She rocked on her heels, speaking to me as though Amy wasn’t there.

“Tatiana—”

“You really upset her. And me.”

“I—”

“Are you even aware, ” she shouted.

Her voice slammed off the asphalt and brick.

I said, “I’m sorry if I did.”

“Oh well that’s a superb apology,” she said.

I started to move forward, but Amy tugged me back. She didn’t know what Tatiana was capable of. Frankly, I didn’t, either. She was stinking drunk.

“Not to mention,” Tatiana said, “it’s pretty insulting you would believe she has any control over what I do.”

I said, “I don’t think that.”

“You must think something if you’re begging her to speak to me on your behalf.”

“That’s... No. If that’s what she told you, she lied.”

Tatiana pivoted toward Amy, acknowledging her at last, making a big show of looking her up and down, clocking her height, whistling. “Wow. Look at you. ”

Amy said, “I’m Amy.”

“Tatiana.”

“Nice to meet you, Tatiana.”

“You, too, Amy. Some advice, Amy? Keep him away from your mom.”

“You know what,” Amy said, “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I said, smiling hard at her. But the moment was dead, and her own smile was bruised.

“Walk me to my car?” she said.

Tatiana plopped down on the middle step. “I’ll wait right here.”

I tried to go slowly, buy myself a little time. But Amy had her own ideas and was taking giant, athletic strides, forcing me to keep pace.

“I’m so sorry about this,” I said.

“It’s fine.”

“We’re not together,” I said. “Tatiana and I.”

“Okay.”

“Just so you know. We — not anymore, though.”

“Roger that.”

“She’s in a bad place right now,” I said.

“So I gathered.”

“I really don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“I’d estimate about nine beers.”

I almost said Her father just died but stopped myself. Not only would that be a violation of Tatiana’s privacy, it would make me look like an uncaring dickhead. “I’m sorry.”

“I said it’s fine, Clay.”

“How much longer are you in town?” I asked.

“I leave Thursday.”

“I’m free tomorrow,” I said. “We could have lunch.”

“Why don’t you sort things out with her first?”

“Nothing to sort. I swear.”

She did not reply.

We reached her car. Last chance. “You really don’t have to go. I can...”

Amy tilted her head. “Can what?”

Choke Tatiana out? Cuff her to a lamppost?

I said, “I’ll go talk to her.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” She kissed me on the cheek. “It was good to see you, Clay. Don’t be a stranger.”

I watched her drive away.

Tatiana moved aside to allow me access to the entrance.

“Amy seems lovely,” she said.

I ignored her and went inside.

Tatiana clomped after me, up the stairs. “She’s the right size, anyway.”

“Please go home,” I said, not looking back.

She kept on coming. We reached the third floor. I let myself into my apartment and she pitched forward to block the closing door.

I was too tired to argue. Maybe my lizard brain was still holding out hope that I’d get laid before night’s end. I don’t know.

I started toward the kitchen to put the leftovers in the fridge.

“Is that what I think it is?”

I paused and turned. Tatiana was pointing at the tumbler on the mantel — the first thing you saw, as soon as you walked into the apartment.

“That’s my father’s,” she said.

“It used to be,” I said. I hurried to grab hold of the tumbler before she hurled it out the window or did something equally melodramatic. “Then it was yours. Now it’s mine.”

I took it into the kitchen.

“Clay.”

I stashed the glass up on a high shelf.

“I’m talking to you,” she said.

I put the leftovers away, opened a carton of milk and sniffed.

“Can you look at me? Please? ”

I put the milk back, poked around for another prop to demonstrate my indifference. Mine is a bachelor’s refrigerator, heavy on condiments. I pretended to examine pickles.

“Please listen to me,” she said softly.

I closed the fridge, faced her.

She was crying.

She said, “I’m sorry.”

“What for? Ruining my night? The part where you don’t answer me for a month ?”

“I needed to work through some things,” she said.

“It didn’t occur to you that I might be worried about you?”

“I — no,” she said, blinking. “It didn’t.”

I threw up my hands.

“Thank you,” she said. “That means a lot.”

“Whatever,” I said. “We didn’t set any rules. You’re entitled to do what you want.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did.”