Eye Candy (5 page)

I really didn't want to talk to him, but the machine was still rewinding and wouldn't pick up. So I lifted the receiver and clicked on the cordless phone. “Hello?”

I heard someone clear his throat.

“Hello? This is Lindy. Who is this?”

Then I heard hoarse breathing. Open-mouthed and slow.

“Hello? Who's there?”

No reply.

I felt a cold tingle at the back of my neck. “Hello—?”

I heard soft, slow breathing.

Someone at the other end. Someone listening to me. So close. Like being in the room with me.

A sharp intake of breath.

“Hello? Is someone there?” I didn't feel frightened, just annoyed.

More soft, steady breathing, just loud enough to be heard.

“Who's there? Who
is
this?”

No answer. A phlegmy cough in my ear.

I clicked off the phone, shaking my head. How stupid. Was that supposed to be sexy? Was it supposed to scare me? I tossed the phone onto the bed.

I kicked away my sandals and started to pull off my top. I stopped when I heard the front door open.

Footsteps in the livingroom. The front door clicked shut.

I froze.

A chill tightened the back of my neck.

First the creepy phone call, and now . . .

More footsteps, heavy thuds on the hardwood floor. Then whoever it was bumped something, the table next to the couch, probably.

I heard a muttered curse. In a voice I didn't recognize. A cough.

Dragging footsteps now, scraping the floor.

I took a breath and finally found my voice. “Who's there? Ann-Marie? Is that you?”

10

You totally freaked?”

“No. Not really,” I said. “Well . . . just a little. I mean, you'd think crazy things, too, wouldn't you, if you had a sick phone call and then someone came creeping into the apartment?”

Colin squinted at me over the round lenses of his blue sunglasses. “And so you screamed?”

It was the next day, a sunny Sunday afternoon, the sky blue and clear as glass, the Bleecker Street side-walks crowded with tourists window-shopping in the tiny stores and drinking espressos at little, round tables in front of cafés. Families enjoying the first nice day of spring, lots of babies in strollers and dogs eagerly tugging at their leashes, and kids on skateboards and silvery razor scooters.

“I only screamed a little,” I said.

“Lindy, how do you scream only a little?”

“Like this.
Eeek
.”

We both laughed.

Holding hands, we made our way past a group of Asian tourists trying to squeeze into a tiny boutique of Native American jewelry. A Hess oil truck making a delivery at the corner blocked the street, so traffic was backed up and not moving. Drivers honked and honked, as if that would speed up the oil delivery.

“And it was just your roommate Ann-Marie coming home?” Colin asked. “You called out, right? Why didn't she answer you?”

“Too wasted,” I said. “I don't think she remembered her name.”

Colin snickered. “You hungry?”

I nodded. “A quick lunch. I have to get back home. I have two manuscripts to read.”

He got a pouty look on his face. Did he expect me to go back to his apartment with him and make love all afternoon?

Actually, I wouldn't mind. . . .

He looked so cute. He hadn't shaved, and his face was covered in black stubble. He had his hair brushed forward. With that cleft in his chin, he looked like a young George Clooney. He wore a loose-fitting gray sweater over faded jeans torn at one knee.

We squeezed into a tiny sandwich place on Fourth Street. “You don't look like a mortgage banker today,” I said, wiping coffee stains off the menu with my napkin.

“I'm not really. I sort of do PR work. I recruit clients. You know. Go out to lunch with people. Be charming.” He flashed me a phony smile.

I laughed. “You're recruiting me?”

He didn't hesitate. “Definitely.”

“How did you get into that?”

He shrugged. “It's my dad's company.”

I stared at him. “I see.”

He raised both hands as if shielding himself. “Okay, okay. You know my guilty secret. My family is rich. So now you hate me?”

I laughed. “How do you know
I'm
not filthy rich?”

“You work in children's books.”

A frazzled-looking, young waitress with pierced eyebrows and a blue heart tattoo on one side of her throat squeezed through the narrow aisle to take our order. Colin ordered a chef's salad.

“Hey, that's what I was going to order,” I said.

He grinned. “See? We're totally in synch.”

I rolled my eyes and ordered the chef's salad. “Now tell me your life story, Mr. Rich Guy.”

Again, he didn't hesitate. I had the feeling he'd told it a lot. Grew up in quaint, quiet Greenwich, Connecticut. Had a garage band in high school. Wanted to be in a band forever, but ended up at the Wharton School of Business. Spent all his time in college going to the movies. Wanted to be a director and make commercial action films, but with style. Had a few PR jobs with productions around New York and lived off Dad. Desperately wanted money for his own apartment. Worked as a summer intern at Dad's investment firm, surprised himself by liking it and being good at it.

And girls?

It was too soon to ask him about that.

He held my hand over the table, but we didn't talk about last night. He's going with someone, I decided, and she's away for the weekend.

Stop it, Lindy. Just enjoy the afternoon.

He had an ad on the Web site, right? Would he do that if he was involved with someone?

Maybe. Who knows?

“So, do you think your life was different?” I asked. “I mean, coming from a rich family?”

His eyes locked on mine. A strange smile crossed his face. “Well . . . I'm used to getting what I want.”

An honest answer, I guess. But it made me a little uncomfortable.

And then I realized he might be talking about
me
. Am I what he wanted?

We finished lunch with espressos. I knew I should get home to my work. But I didn't want to leave him. So we made our way up Seventh Avenue, just talking and looking into store windows.

We were on our way back downtown when I felt a chill at the back of my neck. I suddenly felt uneasy.

Someone is following me, I thought. I had the strongest feeling, as if eyes were poking into my back.

I spun around, startling Colin.

Two women pushing baby strollers had the sidewalk blocked. One of them was talking rapidly on her cell phone. The other squatted down in front of her baby.

Colin raised his blue sunglasses. “Lindy, what's your problem?”

“I don't know,” I said. “I just have this feeling . . .”

We turned onto Eighteenth Street. Colin wanted to pick up a book for his niece at Books of Wonder, the children's bookstore.

“You can buy her some
FurryBear
books,” I said.

Colin snickered. “I don't think so. She's twelve.”

He disappeared into the store.

I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I glanced behind me again.

No, no one.

I turned to enter the bookstore—and saw Jack Smith coming toward me.

Had he been following me?

He wore a white shirt and yellow tie over black dress slacks. The tie flew up to his shoulder as he jogged up to me, waving and smiling.

“I thought that was you!” he cried.

You've been following me for blocks. And now you're acting surprised to see me?

“Jack! What are you doing here?” I tried to sound like it was a happy surprise, but I didn't quite pull it off.

“I had some business and stuff,” he said. His eyes locked on mine. “What a coincidence, huh? I mean, running into you here.”

“Well . . . yeah.”

He pulled the tie into place, then stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Were you going into this bookstore? It's for kids, right?”

“Yeah. I—”

“It's so funny running into you. A real surprise. Hey . . . maybe we could get a drink or something. Coffee, maybe.” He nodded toward City Bakery across the street.

“Well, actually, I'm with someone.”

Jack's expression changed.

Colin stepped out of the store, carrying some books wrapped in a plastic bag. I quickly took his arm and introduced him to Jack. They nodded at each other. We made awkward conversation for a few moments.

“Guess we'd better get going,” I said, still holding on to Colin's arm.

“Great running into you,” Jack said, flashing a half-hearted smile. “Small island, isn't it?”

Colin and I started walking to Seventh Avenue.

“Lindy, I'll call you!” Jack shouted.

At the corner, I turned and glanced back. Jack hadn't moved. He stood in front of the bookstore, staring after me.

He seemed so normal and boring.

Am I going to have a problem with him?

Well, Colin said he was used to getting what he wanted, and I guess he got it this afternoon. We ended up back at his apartment and made love, self-consciously at first, then passionately, with the bedroom windows open and sunlight streaming in, and the blanket and sheet kicked off onto the floor. . . . Sex in the daytime with someone you barely knows seems so much more decadent . . . and delicious . . . and . . . other adjectives.

What am I saying?

What am I
doing
?

No, Lindy. Dumb question. You really like him.

I didn't get back to the apartment until a little after six. Ann-Marie was in our tiny kitchen, searching for ingredients to make a sandwich. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I'm not meeting Lou till late. I'll put this away and we can order out or something.”

“I . . . don't know,” I said, dropping my bag on the white Formica counter. “I—”

Ann-Marie stared at me. “Your face is all scratched up.”

Colin's bristly beard.

I could feel my cheeks turning hot. I knew I was blushing.

“Where've you been? You said you were coming back at—ohmigod.” Ann-Marie's mouth dropped open. She always was a good mind reader. “Lindy, I don't believe it. Who was it? That guy who took you to the comedy club? Brad?”

“No, I—” I tugged at my hair. I realized I'd forgotten to brush it before I left Colin's apartment. “Colin O'Connor,” I said, avoiding her eyes. “Last night, Colin and I—”

Ann-Marie let out a scream and rushed forward to hug me. “You found someone you like? Someone you
really
like?”

“Yeah. I guess. He's very nice. He—”

She screamed again, clapping her hands. “I knew it! I knew you'd find someone. When can I meet him? Maybe Lou and I can go out with you two next weekend.”

Another hug. I'd never seen her so excited.

“No. Colin said he'll be away next weekend.”

She squinted at me. “Away? He isn't married—is he?”

I laughed. “I don't think so. He has to travel for work.”

“Lin, I'm so happy for you. What does he do? What's he like? Come on, spill. Tell all.”

“I will,” I said. “Let me just get changed. And maybe take a shower, okay? Call out. Get Chinese or something. We can sit and talk.”

“Excellent.” Ann-Marie opened the drawer where we keep all the restaurant take-out menus. I hurried to my room. The phone rang as soon as I entered.

I let it ring. After the weird breathing call last night, I put on the answering machine and left it on. I planned to screen my calls from now on. The machine picked up after four rings, and I heard:

“Hi, Lindy. Hope you remember me. It's Shelly. You know. The guy you met by accident. I found your number and—”

I picked up the phone and clicked it on. “Shelly? Hi. It's me. How'd you get my number?”

“Lindy, hi. You're there.”

“Shelly, how'd you get my number?”

“Easy. I hacked into your computer and got all your personal info.”

“No. Really.”

“Really. I found it online. You know. One of those
White Pages
pages. It was totally easy. You don't expect to have any privacy these days, do you?”

“I guess not. I—”

“I don't know if you kept my number or not. I'd really like to see you. I mean, maybe we could meet by accident again. What do you think?”

I laughed. He was talking so fast, racing.

“You didn't really go out with that Colin guy, did you?” he rattled on. “I warned you about him. He's a girlie man. What was he drinking, anyway? Some kinda pink ladies' drink, wasn't it? A Cosmopolitan? Lindy, hel-lo. You don't want to go out with a guy who wears tight designer jeans and drinks Cosmos.”

I thought of Colin's hand on my breasts. My cheeks burned from his rough, stubbly beard.

“Shelly, listen . . . I'm kind of busy.”

“No. Don't say that, Lindy. Let's keep it simple. We'll just have coffee. Or we'll go to a dance club. Or maybe the Bahamas for a long weekend.”

I laughed. “Are you trying to wear me down?”

“Yes.”

“It's working.”

Colin said he'd be traveling next weekend. No reason to feel guilty if I went out once with Shelly. After all, I didn't really know how Colin felt about anything. I mean, I hardly knew him.

“Okay. Saturday night,” I said.

“I'm not really in the mood,” he replied. And then quickly added, “Joking. Just joking. Why can't I stop joking? That sounds great, Lindy. Now, do you want to stay on the phone and get to know each other for an hour or two?”

“Bye, Shelly,” I said.

“Bye.”

I clicked off the phone and returned it to its base. Turning, I saw that I'd forgotten to make the bed. I make my bed every morning—one of my few habits left over from childhood.

I pulled off my top and started to slide out of my jeans when I saw the light blinking on my answering machine. A message I hadn't retrieved.

I pressed the NEW MESSAGE button and stood frozen, listening to a raspy, whispered voice . . .

“Don't say no, Lindy. Keep going out with me.
DON'T EVER say no, I'm warning you. I'll mess you
up—I'll REALLY mess you up if you ever say no to me.”