Nobody's Hero

by Melanie Harvey

  Rick had a hard time reading females, but reading men sometimes kept you alive. When the doorman started to speak, Rick held up a hand. “First, whyn’t you let me in on the joke, because I could use a good laugh right now.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ranière.” The doorman moved to the curb and turned to his right. He pointed past the Plaza, across the giant intersection, to the opposite corner. “That’s the Sherry.”

  Rick squinted. “That one? Right down the street?”

  “Yes, sir. Since 1927.” The doorman disappeared.

  Rick scanned the line of the building, wider at the bottom, then narrowing to a point, until the sun glared in his eyes. “Hope they check their elevators.”

  The doorman was back, and he chuckled. “I guess you won’t need a taxi?”

  Rick watched someone climb into a black Lincoln. “Might be needing a shrink.” He turned to the doorman. “What’s your name?”

  “George.”

  He held out his hand. “Thank you, George.”

  George shook it and smiled. “Is there anything else?”

  Rick studied him for a moment. “You know what, George? For this girl, I think I need a whole new game. You got any good plays?”

  The old guy laughed. “It’s been a long time.”

  Another Town Car pulled up. Rick shook his head. “Ah, don’t worry about it. My only hope’s amnesia, anyway.”

  He started off, heard the man’s voice calling after him. “Good luck, Mr. Ranière.”

  But it ain’t about luck. Rick was grinning when he waved. Sometimes it was.

  He passed the Oak Bar entrance at the Plaza and crossed toward Central Park; Zeus had pointed it out on the way to a limousine the first time he was here. That time the crowds and the noise hadn’t felt like they were going to swallow him whole.

  A cab driver hit his horn so the car in front of him would do something. Sprout wings, Rick guessed. He waited for the light with twenty other people, all more impatient than he was. In the middle of the street, his nose started swearing he was really in a Cuyahoga Fair horse barn. The stink made him look for horses that weren’t around until he remembered seeing them last night. He crossed Fifth Avenue and turned left toward the green awning, just beyond a black lamppost topped with a clock instead of a light. Eight-forty, if it was right.

  A dome topping the revolving door inside looked like gold. Hell, maybe it was. He pushed into the lobby and took a deep breath. This one was almost deserted. He took a few steps into the narrow space, saw the elevators around a corner on his right. If the Late Show boy was right, Carolyn was up there somewhere. He just had to get her to come down. Right after that, Louis would call to say the Gold record was being Fed-Exed today.

  The front desk was a window on his left and it felt like walking up to a Burger King counter. Mailboxes lined the wall behind the clerk, instead of bins of Whoppers.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  Sir. The desk clerk was maybe thirty. “I was told Carolyn Coffman’s staying here.”

  The guy nodded. Not ‘yes, she is,’ more like ‘okay, go on.’

  “All right, here’s the thing.” What was the thing? “We kind of met last night, and I might have made a bad impression. I know, it’s hard to believe,” he added, when he caught a smile before the clerk put his serious face back on. “So I was wondering if you could maybe call her, say she had a visitor. I’d kind of like to patch this thing up.”

  Just don’t ask me why. Rick checked his nametag, Daniel, but decided not to use it.

  “Well,” Daniel said. “I can ring her room, you can speak to her on the house phone.”

  He nodded, and Rick turned to see the gleaming wood table next to an armchair. He sucked air through his teeth.

  “I’m thinking she’s gonna be more receptive if it’s you asking her. She probably likes you right now, you know what I’m saying?”

  He almost smiled again. “It’s really our policy — ”

  “I know, and trust me, it’s a policy I believe in. Hell, my hotel room’s registered to Jack Diamond. But this is sort of a special circumstance.”

  Daniel looked him over, slowly. Rick took a step back, trying to look as harmless as possible.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Daniel put his hand on the receiver. “Would you like to use the house phone?”

  He could have used his own damn phone. “Fine.”

  His feeling that Daniel didn’t like his tone was confirmed when the house phone rang with him still five feet away. Asshole. He snatched it up and caught one more ring while he grabbed for some idea.

  “Hello?”

  Rick glanced over his shoulder and turned out of Daniel’s line of sight before he jammed his free hand against his vocal cords. “Miss Coffman? You have a visitor in the lobby.”

  His voice rasped, and he shouldn’t have screwed with it, but it was too late for that. She started to ask who, but he dropped his hand to the button to disconnect the line, then faked a conversation a minute longer for Daniel’s benefit.

  It couldn’t have been more than a moment before he heard the elevator doors slide open.

  10: Steak for Breakfast

  Eve’s voice rang in Carolyn’s ears as she rode the elevator down to the lobby. The single thing her sister found funny about Carolyn’s Late Show appearance was the rest of their family’s reactions. Only Eve had known which other guest Carolyn was joking about.

  She nodded to the elevator operator and stepped into the hallway. The desk clerk said good morning pleasantly, unlike he’d been on the phone, and tilted his head slightly to his left. The second she cleared the corner, she stopped. This wasn’t possible. It wasn’t even plausible.

  Same untied laces in the same boots. No white stripes on the navy pants today. A plain gray t-shirt. She hadn’t noticed the barbed wire tattooed around his left bicep last night. Carolyn told herself that her response was normal. He was … objectively … an attractive man despite the tattoos that seeped from the ribbed neck of his t-shirt, despite the jaw that hadn’t seen a razor today. Objectivity. That would be her word for the day. She took a few steps closer and saw red drops clinging to the silver barbs of the wire. Rick shoved his hands into his pockets when she looked up at him.

  Carolyn took a deep breath. “Didn’t I see you on TV last night?”

  The visible bit of his eyebrows disappeared under the brim of the hat.

  “Just what I was thinking about you,” he said. “But did you want to go there right away?”

  She felt her face heat up. “No. What I want to know is how you found my hotel.”

  “Doorman at my hotel pointed to it.”

  “How did he know where to point?” she asked.

  “I came outside and he said, Mr. Ranière would you like a taxi, and I said I don’t know, where’s the Sherry-Netherland hotel? He thought that was funny, because it’s right down the street. Did you know that?”

  She waited a moment. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “I don’t snitch.”

  That intern probably thought he’d been doing her a favor. “Was that you on the phone?”

  After a second, he shrugged.

  She took it as an admission. “So what now?”

  “You got me. I got no idea what people do this time of day anymore.”

  “Breakfast, usually.”

  He shuddered.

  Carolyn smiled and nodded at the doors to Cipriani’s. “Do you think you could handle coffee? It’s on the house.”

  He looked down the short hallway. Then he looked back to her. “They do room service?”

  “What do you think this is, Rick? The Ritz?”

  He grinned, a real one, mouth and all like normal people. And there went the milk bottles, right off the platform. This was such a bad idea.

  Except for a group of businessmen discussing something they found worthy of high-volume conversation, most of the tables were empty. They were led to the other side, a table by the window, the
view of Fifth Avenue shut out by café curtains.

  Carolyn studied Rick as he glanced around the restaurant. “Why are you here?”

  “Your idea. I’d a said McDonald’s.”

  “I really want to know.”

  The waiter brought coffee, and Rick nodded. He drank some, black, watching her over the rim of the cup.

  Carolyn stirred in cream. “If you don’t want to tell me, you can just say that.”

  He looked like he was considering it. Then he leaned forward. “You know, Carolyn, my experience has been that when a woman asks a question, the last thing she wants is the answer.”

  “So it’s not that you don’t want to tell me, you just think I don’t want to hear it?”

  “Ain’t that what I just said?”

  “Why are you here?”

  He leaned back. “A’ight, fine. I don’t know. Not that you ain’t really hot, but I wasn’t even thinking about it ’til the doorman asked if I wanted a taxi. I still got no idea why. You ain’t exactly my type.” He shrugged and reached for his coffee again.

  It took her a moment to realize he’d contradicted himself. She was hot, but not his type. The sensible part of her brain told her that was good news. “What is your type?”

  Rick’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, I asked another question.” She set her cup down. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to know the answer?”

  “I don’t know why. All I know is that’s how it is.”

  “What is your type?”

  “The type that wants room service!”

  Carolyn burst out laughing. She clamped a hand over her mouth, glanced at the staring businessmen, and slowly lowered her hand.

  “Maybe McDonald’s would have been better,” she said.

  He nodded once, but didn’t return her smile.

  She leaned forward. “It’s funny, Rick. That’s all.”

  “Wasn’t really a joke.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s funny.”

  His eyes didn’t lighten, they narrowed.

  Carolyn shrugged and took another sip of coffee. “So what’d you do after the show last night?”

  He looked like a trapped animal.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Rick. Don’t you ever have conversations with women?”

  “Not if I can help it. Like I said — ”

  “Right. They don’t want to know.”

  The waiter stopped, and Carolyn asked for a glass of orange juice. Rick was silent until the waiter returned.

  She took a sip of the juice. “You can just tell me it’s none of my business.”

  He studied her a moment. Then he shrugged. “Oh, hell. I ate a steak, had a meeting with my manager that lasted too damn long, then I got laid and watched you on TV.”

  The juice went down her windpipe.

  Rick watched her until she caught her breath. “You all right?”

  She managed a nod and reached for the napkin to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I think I’m seeing your problem with questions. You don’t leave anything out when you answer.”

  “Oh, I skipped all the personal shit.”

  She was sure she didn’t want to know. “Sounds like quite an evening.”

  “Well, the steak was good. You ever had a really good steak?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes. I have. My father … cooks a great steak.”

  “We ate a lotta hamburger, so first I thought any steak was good. But I had a little more of it now, and you can really tell the difference.” He set the cup down and twisted it a quarter turn. “I didn’t know that for a while.”

  She saw amusement light up the green in his eyes.

  “The show was entertaining, too,” he said. “But you didn’t want to go there.”

  “So you elaborated on the steak?”

  “I could try to give you a play-by-play on the meeting, but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

  “Hope it wasn’t important.” Rick rolled his eyes and she grinned. “Then I’m glad you enjoyed the steak.”

  He smiled — not really, it was only in his eyes. Carolyn felt a twinge of —

  No. She took a long, careful sip of the cool juice.

  “It wasn’t the best part of my night.”

  She almost choked again. “I don’t need any elaboration on that.”

  Rick frowned, then he snorted. “Oh, that. Could be online somewhere, by now anyway.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He shrugged.

  “Does that … bother you?”

  “Only when my brother’s reading it.”

  Carolyn hesitated. “Do you ever read it?”

  “Why would I? I was there. Least some of the times.”

  “You mean people just make up … then put it on the Web? Why would anyone do that?”

  He just took a long drink of coffee, as if people publicizing intimate experiences, real or imagined, was just part of a normal day.

  “I wonder,” Carolyn said slowly, “if you perform better when you aren’t there … or when you are.”

  He leaned forward, eyebrows disappearing under his hat again.

  “I wasn’t offering,” she said.

  * * *

  Rick closed his mouth. “I kinda picked up on that last night.”

  Carolyn wrinkled her nose, but not because she was trying to be cute. And he was sure of that — how? He was up too early.

  “Speaking of performances — hey,” he added, when her eyes widened. “Let me finish. I just wanted to say you did an excellent job on the lip-sync.”

  She groaned. “If I had any idea they’d put that camera on me … ”

  “Why? You were great. You’da been perfect, if the FCC hadn’t fucked you up.”

  She laughed. “Well, I’m glad you liked it.”

  “Highlight of my night.” She gave him a suspicious look, and Rick hardly believed it either. “That album didn’t drop until today.”

  “Do you think I’m a bootlegger?”

  Rick grinned. “I hope not.”

  “It was on his website.”

  “I know, streaming, but … how many times you play it?”

  “It repeated automatically.” She reached for the juice. “I was answering a hundred e-mails, I just didn’t stop it. Wish I could memorize everything that easy.” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, God — like my schedule. I have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “WWRL. Radio interview. I’m supposed be there at nine-thirty.” She was already out of the chair. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

  “After that?”

  She headed for the lobby, and he didn’t have much choice about following her.

  “Signing at ten-thirty, I think. Lunch with my agent and publicist.”

  “When’s that over?”

  Carolyn stopped just inside the lobby. Rick caught the door over her shoulder so it didn’t swing back and smack her in the face.

  “I’m busy after that.”

  He was closer to her than he’d been all morning. “With who?”

  “I’m meeting a friend.”

  “Skip it.”

  She took a slow breath, in through her nose. “I can’t.”

  He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Sure you can.”

  A throat cleared in Rick’s ear, and Carolyn jumped. Rick followed her out of the guy’s way, biting back a curse.

  “I can’t,” Carolyn said again. Sounded a lot more sure of herself.

  “Why not?” Too loud. Daniel raised his eyebrows.

  “Because,” she said, “I’ve been waiting to meet this guy for two years.”

  “What?”

  She shook her head a little. “I started talking to him two years ago.”

  “That don’t make sense. How do you talk for two years — ”

  “E-mail, I mean,” she explained.

  “On the Internet? You don’t even know him?”

  “I know him.”

  “You never met him.” />
  “We’ve been writing to each other for two years. Why am I explaining this to you?”

  Rick ignored the last question. He steered her to the corner of the lobby, out of sight of the desk clerk. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “Carolyn, trust me, when people write shit, they lie. Or make it up. Or leave shit out.”

  She straightened up. “You seem pretty congruent so far.”

  It took Rick a split-second to unearth the word. Nice one, Carolyn. “That what you really think?”

  She looked away.

  “So lemme get this straight,” he said. “You don’t know this dude, you don’t know anybody who does know him — ”

  “I don’t know anybody who knows you. I don’t know you.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  He waved that off. “I know me. This cat could be a fucking serial killer.”

  “He’s not.”

  “I should go with you.”

  “I don’t think that’s what he had in mind.”

  “That’s the goddamn point — you don’t know what he has in mind!”

  “I don’t know what you have in mind, either!”

  “What do I gotta do, spell it?” He gave his eyes a long drink of the rest of her instead, and found her mouth open when he got back to her face.

  She closed it and spoke through her teeth. “I have to go.”

  “Goddamn it!”

  Carolyn jumped at the volume, and Rick checked the mirror that reflected the lobby behind him. No one came running, but he lowered his voice anyway.

  “I thought you was smarter than some dumbshit groupie who thinks they know somebody ’cause of what they wrote down somewhere.”

  It wasn’t what he meant to say, but his override never worked when he was angry. He wasn’t sure he could have come up with something more insulting on purpose. What he could have said, if he’d have thought about it …

  Hell. It didn’t matter now. He shrugged. “Least you can hear me.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I hear you.”

  “Look, I didn’t mean — ”