When the waitress shows, we order a round of martinis and a dozen of the mix-and-match oysters. That’ll determine what we like best, and we’ll probably order another dozen after that. We’re both oyster junkies. Me most of all ’cause it’s a great source of protein with minimal effort. I could live on them.
“It’s nice getting out like this. We haven’t done that in a while,” I say.
“It is nice.”
Our drinks arrive before the oysters.
She lifts her martini glass, carefully holds it across the table toward me.
“Cheers to a good idea, Frankie.”
I lift mine and we clink glasses, but only spill a little. I want to tell her to take it easy on the drinks tonight ’cause she’s such a lightweight, and well, you know…I might have bad intentions.
Halfway through the martinis, the plate of oysters shows. I don’t hesitate, and neither does she. I dab a bit of horseradish on a small plump one and stab it with a little fork, lift it out of the half shell. A single bite and then I let it slide down. Leslie tilts her half shell back and slurps it in. Without a doubt, it looks a hell of a lot better the way she does it.
There’s a fine, demure look on her after, a kind of smile but not one meant for me. Something like being brought back to a pleasant memory.
She sips her martini, peeks at me over the glass.
“You miss the job, don’t you?” she asks as if she knows it’s something I’ve been thinking about.
“Yeah, sometimes, but it wasn’t the same a couple years after you left. The new mayor messed everything up.”
“A change in regime can do that.”
“Tell me about it. The focus changed with it. It was all about making the quick hits, build up the stats. Started not being so fun anymore. What about you? You miss it?”
“I miss certain aspects of the job. I liked working patrol.”
“You were a good officer, but you had another mission in life.”
“I did, but I didn’t realize it until I became an officer and went back to school.”
“And everyone that knew you just thought you were using the department to work your way through college.”
“And they were right. But I didn’t know where it was going to lead. You know that.”
I nod because I do know. That’s why I respect her.
“I always thought I would just make rank. Slowly climb the ladder,” she continues.
“Yeah, I remember. You would’ve made a good commander eventually.”
“No, that position is too political. I would have settled down at lieutenant.”
“Smart girl.”
She takes down another oyster, her lips moist with brine after, and her eyes seem to grow larger.
It doesn’t take long to get through a dozen oysters. I manage to get the attention of our busy waitress, and we order another dozen. I down my martini and order another one of those. Leslie’s still nursing what she has left.
“I’ll have another, too,” she says.
“Take it easy, champ. You know how that goes to your head,” I tease.
“I’m not the lightweight you think I am.”
“You were tougher when you were a cop and hit these spots on a regular basis with us.”
“You saying I’m not tough anymore?”
“Just when it comes to liquor, maybe not so much.”
“It’s called a healthy lifestyle, Frankie. Makes me tougher than you think.”
“You’ll outlive me, then.”
“Don’t say things like that. I need you around.”
If only I knew what she really meant by that.
We drive with the windows down on the way back to her home. The temperature has dropped, but only slightly.
I turn onto her block. Before I pull to the front of her house, she asks, “Do you want to find a parking space?”
Twenty-seven
It takes a moment before I realize where I am.
Leslie’s under the covers beside me, sleeping on her side with her back toward me. Her arm is tucked over the top cover, nuzzling it close to her face. The side of her breast is only partly exposed and a paler shade of ivory than the skin on her forearms.
The curtains are open. It’s barely light outside. A large holly tree with its waxy green leaves and red fall/winter berries obstructs the view to her neighbor’s house and vice versa. But I still want to close the curtain.
Once I’m up, I’m up.
I didn’t sleep all that long, but I slept hard. Haven’t done that in a while. Costello’s better than having to down a couple of Klonopins with some Jameson.
I don’t want to wake her and I don’t want to go home, so I lie on my back and roll to my side so I can look at her some more.
How her delicate neck curves into her shoulder.
Twenty-eight
Sunday rolled by like nothin’, and I’m already looking forward to the next time. But who the hell knows when that’ll come. Just her.
It rained most of the day, too, which made matters worse, ’cause after I left Costello’s house at about 11 a.m., I spent the afternoon and most of the night on a monstrous binge.
Hard Monday morning.