Panic Attack (11 page)

Yeah, Johnny knew he had to do what Carlos would’ve done for him.
He had to give that uppity son of a bitch some payback.

Before the robbery and the shooting, Dana Bloom thought she had gotten back in control of her life. She’d told Tony that she wanted to end their fling and, although he didn’t take it very well, and it had been hard for her to let go, too, she’d made it three days without any contact with him and she felt like she’d made it over the hump, that she was ready to put the past four months with Tony behind her and rededicate herself to her marriage.

But now, suddenly, everything was falling apart again, and it was all because of that stupid gun. She had no idea why Adam had to go and shoot that guy— why couldn’t he listen to her for once in his life?— and now Gabriela was dead and she couldn’t help thinking that it was all Adam’s fault, too. That he wouldn’t take any responsibility or admit any fault for anything he’d done infuriated her more than anything. Why was it so hard for him to say
I’m sorry
?

After Detective Clements left, Dana felt completely helpless. Not only couldn’t she get through to her husband, but she felt like the police couldn’t protect them, and she didn’t feel safe in her own house.

They were walking along the hallway past Marissa’s room— she was in there blasting her stereo again, some god- awful music— and Dana was saying, “Let’s go to Florida, just to get out of the house for a few days or a week or whatever.”

Adam, heading into the bedroom, said, “That’s ridiculous. I’m not running away.”
Following him, Dana said, “Don’t call me ridiculous.”
“I’m not calling
you
ridiculous. I’m saying running away is ridiculous.” “Who’s talking about running away? I’m just saying I’d feel a lot safer if we

weren’t here, in this house, while that killer’s still out there, that’s all.” “What killer?” Adam said. “Think about what you’re saying. It just doesn’t
make any sense.”
“What doesn’t make any sense? What planet are you on? Gabriela was
killed, and—”
“And that has absolutely nothing to do with us.” He was raising his voice to
talk over her. She hated it when he did that; it was so demeaning and disrespectful. “You’re just making up stories, trying to scare yourself,” he added and
turned away from her, changing into his sweatpants. Another thing she hated—
when he gave her his back.
“I can’t believe you,” she said. “You really can’t be this stubborn. You’re just
doing it to get a reaction from me.”
“Really? And why would I want to do that?”
“Because you like it, you like provoking me. You like the way it makes you
feel.”
“That’s it, you have me figured out, all right. I woke up today and I said,
You
know what, I think I’ll provoke my wife today. That’ll be so much fun.
” “That’s exactly what you do.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, stop it. Your problem is you just refuse to see anything any other way. You know everything. You have all the answers. You even
know more than the police, apparently. I still love that, by the way, telling off
the NYPD. That was just brilliant.”
“You’re doing it again,” she said.
“Doing what again?”
“Spinning everything I say into something I’m not saying instead of just listening to me.”
“I’ll listen to you if you start making some sense.”
She was so angry at him she couldn’t even remember what they were arguing about anymore. She took a few moments and then said, “So what if I’m
right? What if it is all related? What if whoever killed Gabriela comes back
here, tries to break into our house?”
“He won’t get in.”
“What if he does? What’re you going to do then? Get your gun again? Shoot
him?”
“If he breaks into our house and heads upstairs in the dark, yes, I’ll shoot
him.”
Dana stared at her husband, slack jawed, her hands on her hips. “Who the
hell are you?” she said. “I feel like I don’t know you at all anymore.” “Oh, stop it with your melodrama.”
She continued, “You shoot one guy and you suddenly think you’re so tough,
you’re some kind of Mafia hit man or something? Acting so rational, so in control. You’re not afraid, and you won’t run away, you’re just gonna keep shooting people with your gun— your gun’ll keep us all nice and safe.” Shaking his head, he said, “I’m going to the gym,” and left.
That was so like him— just walking out of the room in midargument with
everything unresolved, leaving her all pent up and frustrated. It was so controlling, so manipulative, and she knew exactly why he was doing it— to push
her buttons. She used to complain about it all the time when they were in marriage counseling, but he kept on doing it anyway. If that wasn’t an indication
that he didn’t care about her, what was?
A little while after Adam left, Dana heard Marissa going downstairs, and the
door slammed again. Dana was alone in the house, and she
felt
alone. She just
wanted some emotional support at a difficult time; was that too much to ask
for? Things were going to get worse, she just knew they were going to get worse,
and no one was going to be able to help her, not the police, and not even her
own husband.
Then she did something that she knew she’d regret— she got her cell phone
from her purse and called Tony.
He picked up and said, “It’s so great to hear your voice, baby. I miss you so
much.”
She thought,
What the hell am I doing?
She wanted to hang up— she knew
that it was the right thing to do, that this wasn’t going to solve anything, that in
fact it was going to make things even more complicated— but she heard herself
say weakly, “I miss you so much too.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call,” he said. “Where are you?” She wanted to feel his body against hers so badly. She wanted to feel him inside her.
“When do you get off?” she asked.
“I’ll get off for you anytime,” he said.
If any other man had said that to her, she would have assumed he was making a bad pun, but she knew even a bad pun was beyond Tony. It was usually hard for her to hold conversations with him that didn’t involve bodybuilding, protein supplements, or sex. Not that Dana usually had any objection to this, especially the sex part. She was interested in Tony for sex and sex only, and
she’d made this very clear to him.
They arranged to meet at four at his place. Dana didn’t want to have to see
Adam again when he got back from the gym, so she left the house early and
killed time at the Starbucks a few blocks from Tony’s. She was dressed casually,
jeans and a black turtleneck, but underneath she was wearing a hot pink satin
halter from Victoria’s Secret. Adam didn’t like lingerie— one time she’d worn
sexy underwear to bed and he’d actually told her that it looked silly on her; way
to make a woman feel great about herself— but it always turned Tony on. Heading toward Tony’s building, she tried to talk herself out of going. She
reminded herself that she was jeopardizing her marriage, and did she really
want to lead Tony on more than she already had? Although she’d told to him
many times that they had no future together, that she had no intention of ever
leaving Adam for him, when he said things to her like “Wouldn’t it be great if
we were living together?” or “Imagine if it could be like this forever,” she’d felt
like she wasn’t getting though to him at all.
It was still hard for her to believe she’d gotten into this situation. For years
with Adam, even when things weren’t great, she’d never even thought about
cheating on him. She’d seen the way affairs had destroyed families in her
neighborhood, and she imagined growing old with Adam, for better or for
worse.
But she’d had opportunities to be unfaithful. Mr. Sorrentino, Marissa’s fifthgrade science teacher, used to flirt with her at parent- teacher conferences, and a
few years ago, Scott Goldberg, an old boyfriend from college at Albany, had
contacted her. He’d recently gotten divorced and was going to be in the city on
business, he said, and he asked her if she wanted to meet at the bar of his hotel
for a drink. She made up an excuse and didn’t go. There were other opportunities now and then, but any time she sensed a guy was coming on to her she
always maintained boundaries and let him know she was married and not interested.
But over the past several years her attitude had gradually changed. Part of it,
she had to admit, may have had to do with empty nest syndrome. When
Marissa went away to college, Dana and Adam had more time to spend together, but it was hard for her to shift gears, to become just a wife again instead
of a wife and mother. It was hard to remember what she liked about Adam, hard to remember what they used to talk about, and they actually spent less time together than they ever had before. Adam always seemed to be wrapped up in work, and she started to realize how lonely she was. For years she’d defended her life as a stay- at- home mom— she refused to use the word “housewife”— by telling her working friends, “I love doing nothing,” but secretly she regretted not going back to work years ago and was jealous of her friends who had careers. She was bored at home, and it was getting harder to fill her days. Last year menopause had started setting in, so she had to deal with the emotional ups and downs, and for a while she’d been on Prozac for what her psychiatrist had called “a mild depression.” When Marissa graduated and decided to move back home, Dana was actually thrilled. Things had been getting tense
with Adam, and it was nice having her daughter around again.
Around the time Marissa moved back in, Tony started working as a trainer
at the New York Sports Club. He was very friendly and flirty with Dana from
the get- go, smiling at her all the time and saying hi, or coming over when she
was using machines and saying things like “What you want to do is get some
more extension,” or passing by smiling, commenting, “You look sensational
today.” She thought he was just being nice and there was nothing more to it, but
she had to admit, it stroked her ego to hear those compliments, especially from
a guy in his twenties. She looked good for a forty- seven- year- old woman who
hadn’t gotten any work done. She was slim, still had nice legs, and though she
sometimes felt self- conscious about the lines around her eyes and mouth, most
people who met her thought she was in her early forties, even late thirties. But
it had been years since a man had paid any attention to her. When she was
younger and passed a construction site, guys would whistle at her and make
crude comments; yes, it had felt like harassment back then, but now she missed
getting male attention, even the negative kind. She liked how when she was
using the elliptical StairMaster she’d look in the mirror ahead of her and see
Tony checking out her ass and then looking away quickly when their gazes met. The most attractive thing about Tony was that he was attracted to her. He
wasn’t bad- looking—he had a cute, pudgy Italian face— but his interest in her,
the way he made her feel like a young sex object, was irresistible. When was the
last time Adam had told her she was pretty or paid attention to her the way
Tony did? She felt like Adam took her for granted and barely listened to her
half the time. She’d be telling Adam about something that had happened during the day, or something interesting she’d read about in the paper or seen on
TV, and she’d see his eyes wander and she’d know that even though he was answering her, saying “Really?” and “Okay,” he was thinking about something else and couldn’t give a shit about her. She started looking forward to going to the gym and seeing Tony, craving his flattering comments and the feeling she
got whenever he smiled at her.
Then one day she was on the exercise mat, stretching, when Tony came over
and asked her if she’d lost some weight. She’d actually gained a few pounds, but
she said, “No, I’m the same,” and he said, “Well, you look sensational.” She noticed his eyes pan toward her breasts for a moment— she loved when he did
that, and she was glad she was wearing that new exercise bra with that great
support— then he said, “Hey, I’m getting off at seven, want to get some coffee
or somethin’?” She had nothing planned— Adam had said he’d be in the city
seeing patients and wouldn’t be back till late— but she said, “Sorry, I can’t.” It was the right thing to do. Tony was a nice fantasy, but that was how she
had to keep it— a fantasy.
But the next time Tony asked her out for coffee, a few days later, she said yes. Coffee had somehow evolved into a drink at a nearby sports bar. As she’d
expected, they had zero to talk about, but she loved the way he looked at her,
like she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen— he actually said, “You’re
the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen”— and she wanted him to kiss her. Into
their second margaritas he asked her if she was happily married, and she said,
“We’ve had some problems,” purposely leaving the door open, wanting to keep
this flirtation or whatever it was going, loving the way it made her feel, terrified
to give it up. There was a long moment when they looked into each other’s eyes,
and she saw his shift downward slightly, toward her lips. She checked the time
on her cell phone and said, “I should really get—” and he reached out and held
her hand— when was the last time a man besides her husband had held her
hand in a romantic way?— and said, “Come back with me.” She told him she was
extremely flattered but she couldn’t, and she insisted on paying for the drinks
and left.
She barely slept that night. It hit her how truly unhappy she had become at
home, and she couldn’t stop thinking about Tony and wishing she’d gone back
to his place with him. She fantasized about him doing things to her until she
couldn’t take it anymore and had to go into the guest bedroom and use her sex
toy.
The next day Adam said he was working late again, and at around four fifteen Dana arrived at the gym, remembering Tony telling her he would be getting off work at five. Working out on the elliptical StairMaster, she looked in the mirror and saw Tony get distracted, checking out her ass several times
while training a client.
At five to five she went up to Tony and said, “So does that offer still stand?” About ten minutes later, they were at his place, screwing against the wall,
then on the living room floor. It was by far the hottest, rawest sex Dana had
ever had. God, it had been more than twenty years since she’d had sex anywhere other than a bed. She’d never been with a guy so strong, so powerful,
and it felt good to feel his strong hands pinning her down, squeezing her ass.
The fact that he wasn’t very bright and they had nothing in common made
him even sexier. It reduced him to being a total sex object. He was just man—
raw, simple man who gave her plea sure. She’d thought that so many things
were missing in her marriage, that she and Adam had such underlying problems, but under that grunting bodybuilder, she felt like all she’d needed all
along was to get laid.
In a few hours she had more sex than she’d had in the last two years with
Adam. Pathetic, but true.
She felt very guilty and conflicted afterward. She’d felt great with Tony, but
now she felt like a horrible person, a liar, a slut. In the past she’d watch a movie
and see a woman cheat on her husband and think,
What a total idiot,
and now,
somehow, she’d become that woman. She’d been faithful to Adam for twentyseven years, including the time they’d been dating, and now she’d have to go
through the rest of her life knowing that she’d been unfaithful. Making it worse,
she knew this was totally one- sided; Adam would never even consider cheating
on her. She didn’t plan to ever tell Adam, but how did she know Tony wouldn’t
go bragging about his conquest in the gym? For all she knew he was sleeping
with dozens of other unhappy married middle- aged women. Tony and Adam
saw each other at the gym all the time; they weren’t very friendly, but they said
hi to each other. She knew that if Adam somehow found out he’d never forgive
her, and she was angry at herself for getting into this position. With one phone