He’d get a few things together and head down to the Caribbean for a bit. See old friends and sort out some financial stuff. Then maybe he’d head west, far west, to Saigon. Vietnam was hot now. He could spend the foreseeable future traveling around Southeast Asia. Keep moving until the Plumbs got the picture. He wasn’t coming back for a good long time, if ever.
“Hey.” A young woman walking her dog appeared at Leo’s shoulder. “I don’t suppose I could bum a cigarette off you?” she asked.
She was tall, fair skinned, and her cheeks and nose were tinged red from the cold and the exertion of her walk. Her black hair was pulled into a high ponytail, her light eyes striking. Her voice was radio pretty. An actress, he thought. She smiled at him apologetically.
“Sure,” he said, taking the pack out of his pocket.
“I’d be happy to reimburse you,” she said, winding the leash around her hand to pull the dog closer. “What are they? Twenty bucks a pack now?”
“Almost,” Leo said. “I haven’t bought one in years, I thought the guy charged me for a carton by mistake.” He turned away from the water again and lit her cigarette from the end of his.
“I know. It’s crazy. Still, if my boyfriend didn’t freak every time I smoked, I’d happily pay for them. I don’t care how much they cost.” She took the cigarette from Leo and took a long, deep drag, groaning a little as she exhaled. “Oh, that’s so good. So good. Does that sound awful?”
“Not to me,” Leo said.
“Do you mind if I stand here and smoke with you for a minute?” They both stood at the railing, watching the water. “Remember when everyone used to be able to take cigarette breaks?” she said. “How you could leave the office and stand in front of the building smoking and gossiping and watching people walk by? God, I miss those days.”
“I remember when you could smoke inside the building,” Leo said.
“Oh. From the olden days.”
He was pretty sure she was flirting with him. It was hard to tell what might be beneath her bright green, puffy jacket, but if her long, lean legs were a clue, it was bound to be nice. They were facing each other now and Leo noticed a tiny constellation of freckles down her left cheek that looked just like Orion’s belt. The single imperfection made her face even more perfect. Her skin was smooth and tight and Leo couldn’t help but think of Stephanie and how she was starting to show her age a little—deeper wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, a slight hollowing of her cheeks, a bit of droop around the jowls. The girl turned back toward the water and took another drag off the cigarette; she held her profile serenely, someone accustomed to being admired from all angles. She glanced at her watch.
“Some place you need to be?” Leo said.
“Not today. How about you? Do you work around here?”
“Sometimes,” Leo said. “I move from project to project. And you?”
“I live nearby. This is my boyfriend’s dog. He’s out of town for a few days, so I’m dog sitting. Right, Rupert?” she said to the dog. “Just you and me until Saturday.” Leo let the out-of-town boyfriend sit there and acquire a little heft. “Seriously,” she said, fiddling now with the zipper on her jacket. “Can I give you money for the cigarette?”
“Absolutely not,” Leo said. “My treat.” He was gauging whether he should ask her to grab a cup of coffee now or just ask for her number.
“I’m Kristen.” She pulled off a glove and put out her hand and Leo shook it. Her palm was warm and dry. She held his gaze and tilted her head a bit, hesitating. “Are you Leo?”
Leo sighed. “I guess that depends,” he said.
Kristen laughed. “We met a few times. At that theater in Tribeca? I, uh, I know Victoria.”
“Ah,” Leo said. He didn’t know which night she was talking about. Victoria was always dragging him to some awful performance in that tiny theater.
“I was in a play. You probably don’t remember, it was kind of stupid, but I was the younger brother’s girlfriend.”
“I do remember!” Leo lied. “You were terrific.”
“Oh, thanks, but you don’t have to say that.”
Leo studied her face and had a tiny flash of memory. This girl, standing on stage in a ripped sweater, sobbing and going on and on and on and on. He also thought he remembered her from a long, boozy dinner afterward. Had there been flirting? “You had the monologue at the end, right? You were wearing a brown sweater.”
“Wow.” She beamed. “You do remember.”
“I remember you. Couldn’t tell you anything else about the play but your performance—it stuck with me.”
“Wow.” A tiny line appeared on her brow, so isolated and faint that it had to be a minor failure of Botox. “That’s so great to hear. I worked really hard on that monologue. For weeks I drove everyone crazy practicing.”
“The effort showed,” Leo said. He held her gaze. This was exactly what he needed today. “We talked afterward, right? At that French place?”
“Yeah,” she said, amused. “We talked.”
And then he remembered. He’d cornered her in a small hallway leading to a bathroom. Nothing had really happened, a little body contact, she was there with someone, too.
“So …” She trailed off, laughed a little, and looked down at the dog then back at Leo smiling.
“So,” Leo said.
“I’m not friends with Victoria or anything.”