Killing Season

by Faye Kellerman

  She was ten minutes late when the host led her to a corner table where Vicks was waiting. He stood up when he saw her. He was dressed in a black, wide-wale corduroy jacket, a white shirt, a red tie, and black jeans. He looked older in the dim light, definitely more masculine. She approved. She was wearing a black shearling coat that Vicks helped her take off.

  The host said, “May I take that for you?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She had chosen her outfit with great care—a deep purple sweater dress with a V-neck from which peeked a little cleavage. Her new suede black boots that were a gift from her mom. And of course, Ben’s bracelets. She wanted to showcase them.

  The host pulled out her chair and both Ben and Ro sat down.

  “I was getting nervous,” Vicks said.

  “Thought I’d bailed?”

  “It was a possibility . . . especially after seeing these prices.”

  She smiled. It wasn’t a genuine expression of happiness but she tried to make it lovely. “What’s good here?”

  “Thank you.” She regarded his face. “When did you start growing a beard?”

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I used to shave every other day when I was in school. Now I shave once a week Sunday night and that’s only because facial hair isn’t allowed at school. I’m really lazy.”

  “You shaved when we were in San Francisco?”

  “I didn’t want to appear sloppy.”

  “I like it. Makes you look very dark and mysterious.”

  The waiter came over with an ice bucket, two glasses, and a bottle of champagne. He was in his thirties and slightly balding. His name was Yves. “From the gentlemen over there.” Ro looked in the direction he pointed, toward four middle-aged businessmen who raised their glasses to her in a toast. She smiled and nodded back.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the waiter said, “but I’ll need to see your ID before I pour.”

  She beckoned him close with a finger. “Listen, Yves. I work as a cocktail waitress at a local hotel, so those guys probably assumed I am twenty-one. I’m not. Knowing New Mexico law, I wouldn’t dream of getting you in trouble. This is what I want you to do. Take the bottle back and bring us two diet 7 Ups with a couple drops of cranberry juice in champagne flutes. It is pink champagne, correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I don’t want to insult them. I’m going to take out my ID now. Look at it and nod. And then take the bottle in the back.” She pulled out a Gucci wallet and showed him the Gretchen Majors ID. He took the bottle back with him.

  Vicks said, “Admirers from the Jackson?”

  “Making friends wherever I go.”

  When the waiter returned with the flutes, Ro turned to her patrons and nodded, holding up the crystal container of colored 7 Up. Then she hid her face with a menu. “How’ve you been?”

  “All right.” An awkward pause. “I know you didn’t want jewelry for your birthday but someone gave you a nice set of ear candy.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want jewelry. What I said is I wanted your forgiveness more than jewelry. To have both is fine with me. I’m surprised you noticed.”

  “Hard not to.”

  “A gift from my grandparents. Someone still loves me.”

  “Everyone loves you. What did your parents buy you? The necklace?”

  “Yep. Cartier. Mom has excellent taste.”

  “Did JD get you anything?”

  “But of course: a Tiffany silver heart pendant.”

  “Where’s a Tiffany around here?”

  “There’s this new invention called online shopping.”

  “Ah.”

  “I am blinged out to the max.” The suits were walking her way. She gave them a demure smile. “Thank you very much.”

  The man who spoke was in his forties. He was graying, slightly stooped, and slightly pudgy. “A mere token for brightening our week, Miss Gretchen.” He kissed her hand then looked at Vicks. “And who is the lucky fellow?”

  “This is my boyfriend, Ben,” she told him. Vicks shook his hand.

  The man said, “Ah, to be your age again.” He turned back to Ro. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning—early. You shall be missed.”

  “Thank you for the champagne and your generosity. Have a good trip back to Springfield.”

  The suit knew he was being dismissed. “Thank you.” They all said their good-byes. She turned to Vicks. “Sorry about calling you my boyfriend. I had to discourage any sort of hope.”

  “Gretchen?”

  She turned bright red. “You have to be nineteen in New Mexico to work in a cocktail lounge.”

  “Your sister’s ID?”

  “Correct.”

  “I hope it’s worth it.”

  “Twenty-buck tip for a twelve ninety-nine cocktail, yeah, it’s worth it.” Her grin was the real thing. “We are no longer an item, so really, it’s none of your business. Besides, I occasionally do the desk. Even then I get a lot of leering, but it’s nice having a barrier between me and them.”

  “Why are you doing this? It’s not like you need the money.”

  “It’s an honest living. Stop being a snob.”

  “I’m not a snob. It just seems like . . . a poor fit.” He shrugged. “Why would you want to work in a place where sleazy guys are checking out your ass?”

  “It’s a nice ass.”

  “It’s a terrific ass but that’s not the point.”

  “Let’s move on, Vicks. We can talk about other things. What are you thinking about ordering?”

  “If you’re trying to be contrite, you have an odd way of showing it.” Actually, he liked her better for it. Perusing the menu, he said, “Chicken sounds good.”

  “You don’t have to get the cheapest entrée on the menu. How about we start with some caviar?”

  “Caviar, Ro? Really?”

  “I’m having some. If you don’t like it, start with whatever you do like.”

  “Are you paying for this or is this going on your dad’s credit card?”

  “I’ll disregard the dis. I am paying. I’m a working girl.”

  “I’m working too. Let’s split it.”

  “How much do you get paid for your part-time internship? Like a thousand a year?”

  “Twenty-five hundred.”

  “Friday night I made a little under two hundred in tips and that’s after splitting it with the bartender. I am definitely taking you out. Sure you don’t want caviar?”

  “I’ve never had it.”

  “It’s fishy, but really good. We’ll order a half ounce. You want a salad? I’m having one . . . golden beets, arugula, and artisan goat cheese. How about if you take the sliders and we’ll split?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “That’s what I want. What are you having for your entrée?”

  “Chicken.”

  “Ugh. Get the sirloin.”

  “I don’t want steak. Is that okay with you?”

  She grinned. “I’m sorry. If you really want chicken, get chicken.”

  “Actually, I like salmon.”

  “Then get salmon. I’m getting sirloin.” She put down the menu. “How’s that for a switch? The guy eating fish and the girl eating meat. How’s UNM, college boy?”

  “I wound up taking three upper-division math courses and a physics course.”

  “And Circuitchip?”

  “A little lightweight but I’m learning stuff.” A pause. “Heard from any colleges?”

  “Most of the acceptances won’t come out until April. I did get into St. John’s. Rolling admissions.”

  “Oh . . . I didn’t know you applied to St. John’s.”

  “At one point, I thought about staying here.” She looked pointedly at him. “That’s changed. I take it you got into St. John’s as well?”

  “Yep.”

  “So if I don’t get in anywhere else, we’ll be classmates.”

  “You’ll get into a ton of places.”

  “Could be. I raised my math
score thanks to some help.” Yves came back. She batted long, mascaraed lashes. She suspected he was gay, but even gay guys like attention from pretty girls. “We’ll start with the half ounce of Osetrova caviar. I’ll have the beet, goat cheese, and arugula salad and the sirloin . . . you know, make it the T-bone. Medium rare.” She handed him the menu.

  He looked at Ben, who said, “Angus sliders and the salmon.”

  “And how would you like the salmon prepared? The chef recommends medium rare.”

  “Medium rare?” Ben said. “For fish?”

  Ro said, “Do medium.”

  Yves nodded somewhat less than approvingly. When he left, Ben said, “What is medium rare for fish?”

  “It’s slightly raw on the inside.”

  “That sounds terrible.”

  “If the fish is good quality, it’s actually delicious. You’ve never had sushi?”

  “Not hot sushi. But I’ll take your word for it, Miss Sophisticate. How’s my sister doing? You probably see her more than I do.”

  “She seems fine. She and Lilly and Ezra and Griff have reunited. They are once again a tight little quadrangle.”

  Ben was quiet. Then he said, “How’s JD?”

  “Saw him last night at the party. First time in a long time we actually spent more than a minute talking. That’s when he gave me the Tiffany necklace.”

  “He likes you a lot.”

  “He loves me, actually.” She looked straight into his eyes. “First time he told me was right before we did it. Didn’t think too much of it because I knew he was sweet-talking me. I was also pretty plastered, so maybe I didn’t hear right. But I did make him wear a condom both times. I guess I wasn’t totally blitzed.” He was clearly uncomfortable. “I’m really, really sorry, for what it’s worth. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “I’m okay. And even if I’m not, like you said, let’s move on.”

  “At least it taught me something.” She studied her red-lacquered nails. “I mean, JD certainly didn’t force himself on me, but he did take advantage of me. Boys and alcohol don’t mix. Good lesson to learn before college. I should have listened to my mother.”

  Vicks’s smile was genuine. “You have this way . . . of turning bad stuff into good stuff.”

  “I appreciate the compliment.” She couldn’t stop looking at his face. There was so much depth in his eyes. “Do you still love me?”

  “Unfortunately, I do. That’s never going to change.”

  “If you want to be more than friends, now’s the time to speak up.” When he didn’t say anything, she said, “Okay. Got my answer.”

  “Dorothy, I thought I made this clear—”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m being selfish. If something happens to you, I don’t want it on my conscience.”

  “I absolve you, my son.”

  “We’re not starting up again.” He shook his head. “Besides, you’d just cheat on me again.”

  She had nothing to feel self-righteous about. Still, his words wounded deeply.

  “Ro, I’m boring!” He exhaled. “I mean, I don’t think I’m boring. Inside my head are all sorts of ideas. But you’re not a mind reader, and even if you did read my mind, you’d probably find my thoughts tedious. In the back of my brain, I actually understand what you did. I’m good company for an hour and then . . . I dunno . . . my mind starts to wander. I start thinking about a physics problem or a math problem or how the hell am I gonna get past those gates at Los Alamos. It’s gonna take a very unusual girl to put up with me. You, on the other hand, are . . . social and graceful and—”

  “What I am is a wit like Dorothy Parker. Actually, I was named after her by my grandmother. Or was it Dorothy Kilgallen.”

  “Who was she?”

  “Also a wit. If you’re named Dorothy, you’re either a forties socialite wit or someone from Kansas.”

  “You are a wit,” he told her. “I’m a loner. We’re terrible together.”

  “Not everything was terrible.”

  Vicks raised his eyebrows. The first honest smile turned his lips upward. “Was he good?”

  “No!”

  “You’re ly-ing.”

  “I am not!”

  “Ro, what you need to say is he was good, but I was way better.”

  “Of course you were way better. For one thing, I love you. And just for pure practicality, I actually remember sex with you. With him, I don’t remember anything.”

  “Except you made him wear condoms. Why’d you do that?”

  “I dunno . . . I was stalling. I really didn’t want to do it.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “I don’t know. It was stupid.” It was her turn to squirm. “You don’t hate me?”

  “No, I don’t hate you.”

  “What about JD?”

  “Don’t hate him since I punched him. The best part was he didn’t punch back.” He patted her hand. “Are you two officially back together?”

  “Nope. I tell him, ‘Do whoever you want. Say whatever you want. You’re not getting play from me.’” She threw up her hands. “What is it with you guys? You never want what you have and you always want what you don’t have.”

  “Hon, we’re all confused. Girls mystify us. I grew up with sisters and I still don’t have a clue.”

  “Fair enough.” The caviar came. She prepared a bite for him, adding shredded egg and onion to the fish roe and the cracker. “Try it.”

  Before he could object, she stuffed it in his mouth. He chewed. “It’s good.”

  “Have more.” She offered him another cracker. “How’s your research coming?”

  Vicks took the cracker. “I’m totally stumped on how to move forward. Shanks won’t do anything concrete with the labs because my ideas are based on intuition and a map. And even if I did have evidence, it’s doubtful if a guy like Shanks could penetrate a classified lab. I’m just that stupid hamster spinning in the wheel . . . all this exertion and going nowhere.” His face registered defeat. “This city is crazy. It can nab a visiting scientist shooting prairie dogs, but a serial killer? They’re helpless.”

  They polished off the caviar. Ro said, “You really are discouraged, aren’t you.”

  “Been some rough days lately.”

  The salad and the sliders came. She took a slider and bit into it. “This is really, really dope.”

  Vicks took the second slider. “Wow.” Another bite. “This is sick.”

  “Not to bring up the past, Vicks, but out of curiosity, where were you going to take me on Valentine’s Day?”

  “Here.”

  “Here?”

  “Yep. I had it planned for a month . . . roses on the table and everything.”

  “Roses?”

  “Yep. A dozen long-stemmed coral roses. I thought red was a cliché.”

  “I love coral roses.” She stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have chosen another place.”

  “You wanted to go here for your birthday. You’re entitled.” He gave a small smile. “You know it cost me fifty bucks to reserve a table on Valentine’s Day.”

  “You lost fifty dollars?”

  “I had to give them my credit card because they were packed.”

  “That’s awful. God, I’d be pissed for that alone. I’ll pay you back.”

  “You can pay for this. That’s enough.”

  The entrées came a few minutes later. Ro said, “How’s your salmon?”

  “Phenomenal. Do you want a bite?”

  “Of course.” He fed her and she cut off half the steak and put it on the bread plate. “Try this. You’ll die.”

  “Whoa . . . this is good.”

  “I didn’t know places like this existed beyond NYC.”

  “Snob.”

  “And proud of it.”

  “I really wish you’d quit your job. You’ve got like three more months of high school. You should be enjoying yourself. I mean, isn’t the spring fling comin
g up?”

  “First week in April.”

  “You should be shopping for a dress, not putting up with the creepy men ogling your butt.”

  “Maybe I’ll ask for the night off. JD has already offered to take me.”

  “Then do it. Why should you be miserable?”

  “Okay.” She pushed her plate away. “I’ll go to the spring fling with JD.” And that was that. “Dessert?”

  “I not only ate my food, I ate your steak. I’m stuffed.”

  “So . . . what you’re really saying is we should look at the dessert menu.”

  “I suppose we can share something.”

  “Not on your life,” Ro told him. “Are you coming to school tomorrow?”

  “Yep, I’ll be there.”

  “Okay. This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to start sitting with JD again . . . you know I haven’t been sitting at his table. Because I work nights, I like to sleep whenever I can.”

  “Will you please quit?”

  “No. I like the attention. I like the money.” Yves came and Ro ordered the cheese soufflé with Grand Marnier and the strawberry crêpes. “I want to sit with you tomorrow. Where do you eat lunch?”

  “Gomez’s office.”

  “Fine. I’ll meet you there. The rest of the time I’ll sit with JD.” She looked down. “Not to be a downer, but the vernal equinox is right around the corner.”

  “I’m well aware of that. I’m taking the day off to watch Haley . . . Haley and Lilly actually. Where one goes, so does the other.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can watch them at school. And I don’t have to be at work until five thirty. I’ll make sure they’re home and are going to stay there before I leave.”

  “I don’t want them walking anywhere.”

  “I know. I got it.”

  “If you take care of them at school, I can probably make it home by four,” Ben said. “Then I can relieve you. Is that okay?”

  “Whatever you want. I’ll be vigilant.”

  “The other thing is, when do you get off work?”

  “Me? Late. Doesn’t matter. I’m not his type. Too old.”

  “I’m serious, Ro.”

  “I’ll be in a public place. Stop worrying.”

  “Just answer the question, please. What time do you get off?”