went back to what they were doing. The Levee, that’s where we were, a beer-y dive near the subway stop. Sarah was gossiping—her old roommate Jenna had been caught selling drugs in Calhoun, and rumor had it that Anthony the landlord had really been the one dealing, but he’d thrown her under the bus, the exact kind of microcosm-y drama we thrived on—and begging Kevin, who probably knew the drug scene better than most, for more details. Kevin was doing his usual reserved shtick, neither confirming nor denying.
“Is it true Jenna and Anthony are sleeping together?” Sarah asked, a little too eagerly.
“Why don’t you just ask her yourself?” Kevin said, poking a middle block loose.
“That’ll be the day,” she replied.
“Hey, let the man focus,” my voice broke in. “We’re going for a new world record.” Slowly I scanned the tower of blocks, from the bottom to the top. Then I zoomed in on his maneuver. Kevin had chosen one of the last three-block levels left, and the move threatened the whole stack’s structural integrity.
Kevin took a break, flexed his fingers. “I feel kinda bad. I mean, a bunch of people in Calhoun deal.”
“A bunch,” Sarah offered, smacking her glass on the table. “Shit.” The stack tumbled over, slow mo at first and then in a big crash. A few pieces skittered across the floor and I canted the camera down, focusing on the downed blocks for a few seconds before turning the Flip cam off.
Sarah had been so on top of the gossip, so quietly in the know. Onward, forward with the plan. I texted her and she agreed to come see me in the city that weekend. But to minimize her commute from New Jersey, she asked that we meet near Penn Station, which meant hanging around New York’s tourist-clogged hellmouth. I sent the info to Alex, all business, and he responded with a thumbs-up. He never did send me the video encryption link he’d promised. Perhaps he, too, had a hard time remembering anything we’d talked about before the kiss.
* * *
At work, I had a simple goal: to think of anything but Alex’s mouth on mine. I failed miserably and nearly doubled over in shame when Tessa texted, cheerfully asking how I was doing. I didn’t answer. My mind kept showing me snippets: a married man, on an errand his wife didn’t know about, sitting on my couch and sipping secret scotch. His hand gently guiding my head to the crook of his neck. The kiss like a stamp on my brow and then his eyes meeting mine…
I grabbed my phone and opened my messages. My text to Josh the night before was still unanswered: “How’s work otherwise?”
I drummed my fingers on the desk, then tapped out another message: “I confirmed everyone at Sir thinks the design startup is all smoke and mirrors, too. So your job should be safe. ☺”
A few minutes passed, then thirty. Then an entire afternoon.
Chapter 12
The Saturday subways were all delays and reroutes, but I still arrived early to the diner off Thirty-fourth Street. I sipped my bad coffee and felt my quickened pulse thumping in my fingers and neck.
Sarah burst in sweaty and frazzled and ten minutes behind schedule. “I walked the wrong way at first,” she gasped by way of apology. I waved it away and sped through the obligatory chitchat, my eyes on the entryway.
The front door jingled and Alex appeared, slick with sweat. He looked handsome and eager, like a golden retriever, and I watched him until Sarah cut herself off midsentence and twisted in her seat. Then she whirled back to me, confused.
“Alex, over here!” I waved, and he grinned and sauntered over, pausing to give us both hugs. I let go before he did. Sarah was smiling now, too, but still looking flummoxed.
“Well, surprise!” I said as Alex slid in next to Sarah.
“That’s for sure! I had no idea you guys were even back in touch!” Sarah leaned her elbows on the table.
“Yeah, we bumped into each other, and I thought it would be fun to get together,” I said. “Impromptu reunion.”
Sarah and Alex fumbled through some polite catchup. As I watched them, an eerie feeling spread through my stomach and ribs. Here was the crew from the rooftop, sitting in the same triangle ten years later, drinking sweaty cups of ice water instead of beer and shots.
“So, Lindsay, you said you had something to discuss,” Sarah prompted. “Was that just a ruse?”