“Trust me, I learned my lesson.”
Dana hobbled off to rejoin Ashlee and told her how well the conversation had gone. As they headed toward the exit, Dana quietly debriefed her on the details. They were at the door when Margaux came dashing toward them, sliding gracefully through the crowd.
“Dana!” she called. “Wait a second.”
“What is it?”
“The guy that pulled you away—I just remembered. He had tattoos.”
35
Lorenzo DeSantis. It made so much sense. If anybody at the party was watching out for her, it would have been him. He was street-smart and wary—just the person who would have been alert to a problem. And they had a history that dated back to her early days at the Shopping Channel. In fact, it started even before she was officially employed. Lorenzo had given her a tour of the place, taking her up to the roof. Dana had been attracted to his earnest intensity, and initiated a kiss. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was, at that moment, ebullient with hope. And also a little stoned.
He came with a ton of baggage, and the relationship was probably doomed from the start. He was a single dad, who happened to be on parole at the time, and so he had other things on his mind. And anyway, Dana was distracted by the too-tall homicide detective nosing his way around the company, with particular attention to the one ex-con in the building.
Dana and Lorenzo had parted amicably. In fact, he was all set to move to another state when the Shopping Channel made him an offer that was hard to refuse. And so he and his precious daughter, Sophie, were still living uptown, in Washington Heights.
“What are you doing?” Ashlee asked, when Dana took out her cell phone. They had stopped to grab some dinner and were in a restaurant near the salon.
“Texting Lorenzo to see if he’s free,” she said. They had already agreed that he had to be the man Margaux saw.
* * *
“Now?” Ashlee said, checking the time. “He’s going to think it’s a booty call.”
“So?” Dana wasn’t necessarily looking for someone to distract her from Ari, but now that she thought about it, why not? Maybe it was just what she needed to help her accept that it was over.
Her phone pinged with a response from Lorenzo. He said he wasn’t doing anything, and she could come by if she wanted. She signaled the waiter for the check.
* * *
Dana had become so adept at ambulating with the splint that she didn’t think twice about getting onto the subway to head uptown. She arrived at the private entrance to Lorenzo’s semi-subterranean apartment and paused before pressing the buzzer, realizing Sophie, his five-year-old, might be asleep. Dana sent a text to let him know she was there, and a second later he opened the door.
Lorenzo was lean and ropey, with black hair and large dark eyes so earnest she trusted him from the moment they first met. Today, he greeted her in a worn gray T-shirt that looked like it had been through several hundred laundry cycles. His lived-in Levis sat low on his hips and his feet were bare. There was a beer bottle slung between his knuckles.
“Come in,” he said.
She followed him inside and glanced around the familiar living room. It looked mostly the same, with a collection of antique radios high on a bookcase, and Sophie’s toys arranged below it. She noticed he had bought himself a new TV, and wondered if this indulgence was a celebration of the significant raise the Shopping Channel had given him. Next to it, there was a stack of video games, and it was hard to tell if they were father’s or daughter’s. The glass ashtray still rested on the windowsill, which meant he hadn’t quit smoking. She took a whiff, and caught the scent of Febreze coming off the furniture.
Lorenzo offered her a beer, which she accepted as she lowered herself onto the couch. Seeing him at the studio every day, it had been easy to forget how sexy he was. But here, relaxed in his apartment, he exuded an undeniable radiation. She remembered how much she liked being close to his heat.
“How’s Sophie?” she asked, keeping the conversation innocent. She still wasn’t sure if it was smart to get involved with him again. Maybe it was better to stick to the business at hand and get out.
He sat next to her. “Great,” he said. “She’s with her mother tonight.”
“Oh?” Dana said, surprised. When she and Lorenzo dated, Sophie’s mother was in prison. She had no idea the woman had been released. “When did she get out?”
“About two months ago. So far she’s sober, living with her mom in the Bronx, trying to get her shit together.”
Dana looked down, contemplating a twinge of guilt. She knew none of this. At work, she’d had hundreds of opportunities to ask him about his life, and refrained, as if even a simple kindness might rekindle something. In retrospect, it seemed absurd. Why had she been so distant? But she knew the answer. Ari. He had a jealous streak, especially where Lorenzo was concerned. That’s why she kept things so cool. But Lorenzo didn’t seem to mind. Or at very least, he understood.
She recalled, now, what he had told her about his ex, Evy. She was batshit crazy. Jealous. Volatile. Drug-addicted.
“You trust her with Sophie?” she asked.
“I do now,” he said, looking thoughtful. “At first I supervised the visits, and when I saw she was okay, I backed off. She’s still fucked up in other ways, of course, but I think she’ll be alright. Got a crappy job at a restaurant that should keep her out of trouble. Tell me what’s going on with you.”
Dana shifted, trying to get comfortable. He seemed to think it had to do with her ankle, and moved a stool for her to rest her leg on. In truth, she was readjusting to the idea that Sophie wasn’t in the next room. It changed the dynamic. Not that the girl’s presence would have necessarily kept them apart. In fact, they’d often made quiet love out here in the living room during the dark late hours of the night while she slept. But in Dana’s mind, the idea of his daughter being there kept this visit innocent. Now, she was alone in an apartment with a single man...a single man she’d had a sizzling sexual relationship with.
Dana took a swig of her beer, and launched into her story, starting from the beginning, as she hadn’t said much in her text.
“That night of the party,” she began. “I know I seemed pretty wasted.”
“Out of control,” he agreed.
She exhaled. “It’s worse than you think. Someone slipped something into my drink.”
“Really?” He looked shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Dana sighed. She didn’t want him to take the omission personally. “I haven’t told anyone at work,” she said. “It’s part of the police investigation so I thought it was best to keep it quiet.”
“Did you get a drug test?”
She nodded. “Positive for Rohypnol.”
He grunted, disgusted, and rubbed his arm against a chill. “Who did that to you?”
“Probably Ivan, but I can’t be sure.”
“I wouldn’t put it past that piece of shit.”
“Here’s the thing,” Dana said. “I remember almost nothing from that night. But Sherry told me I had some huge fight with him. I thought and thought about it, trying to find a piece of it in my memory. And then I had this vague idea that...that maybe it was me—maybe I was the one who pushed him off the roof. It nearly drove me crazy.”
“Dana,” he said gently, “your mind was playing tricks on you.”
She nodded. “I had these two competing memories. One was that I pushed him, the other was that someone came to my rescue and pulled me away. But now I think the second one is correct. And I believe that someone was you.” She looked at him, waiting for confirmation.
He gave a small nod and put his beer down on the table. “It was me. It was a bad scene, and you were so messed up.”
Dana could barely breathe. “Just to be clear,” she said, “you pulled me far enough away to keep my hands off him?”
>
“I promise,” he said. “I brought you over to the bar so I could get you a Coke. I thought it might sober you up.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, and wanted to cry with joy. This was the final piece. The one thing she needed to know to assure herself she didn’t kill Ivan. Until that moment, Dana hadn’t even realized how tense she had been. But now, her muscles relaxed as if going from a frigid downhill slope to a warm fireside. Still, a question plagued her. If she didn’t kill Ivan, who did?
“Do you remember anything else?” she asked. “I mean, what happened next?”
He rubbed his stubble, thinking. “We were standing by the bar and that nerdy dude came over—his son.”
“Jamie,” she prompted.
“Yeah, Jamie. He wanted to know what happened and I told him. Man, he was pissed.”
I’ll bet, she thought. “What did he do?” she asked.
“He went charging over to Ivan. If it was anyone else, I would have suspected him of killing the guy. But it was his son. That would be fucking cold.”
She nodded, agreeing. It would be monstrous, and that wasn’t Jamie. He was a normal guy. Nerdy and gentle. Only psychopaths killed their own fathers. Not mild-mannered reporters for the Daily Beast. And besides, Jamie was too protective of his mother to put her in the position of losing her husband. Dana simply had to believe he was innocent, especially since Megan was getting deeper and deeper into the relationship.
But what if he wasn’t?
“So you really don’t think he could have killed Ivan?” Dana asked.
“I doubt it.”
Dana was relieved. She trusted Lorenzo’s ability to size up someone’s character. He’d seen the worst of human behavior, and didn’t easily let people off the hook.
“Where was Megan?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t see her at that point, though those two had been pretty thick most of the night. Maybe she was in the bathroom or something.”
Dana closed her eyes to concentrate, trying to picture the scene. “What was the timing? I mean, you saw Jamie charging over to his father in a fury. How long after that did the generator die?” She looked at him now, and his brow was tight in concentration.
“I don’t know. To be honest, I was a little buzzed myself so it’s hard to piece together every detail.”
“But do you think it could have happened right after that?” Dana asked, hoping for just a scintilla of proof that Jamie was innocent.
He shrugged, as if he just couldn’t summon the information. “Maybe someone else remembers.”
“Who might have seen?” she asked.
“A lot of people. We were right by the bar so it was a crowded spot. Maybe you can ask Ari. I’m sure he has detailed notes.”
She let that sit for a minute as she took a sip of her beer. “Very detailed.”
“What’s his take on the whole thing?”
Dana shook her head, shifted again. “I don’t know. He was under strict orders not to discuss the case with me. His lieutenant was adamant about that.”
“So you didn’t even tell him what you told me?”
“None of it.”
Lorenzo looked surprised. “That’s got to put a strain on a relationship.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “So strained it snapped in half.”
He backed up to get a better look at her face. “You broke up?”
She hadn’t meant to tell him, but it felt good to let it out. “Just before Thanksgiving.”
He picked up his beer again and took a long pull. Dana could feel the oxygen in the room shift. Until this moment, he was sitting on the couch next to his ex-girlfriend. The one seeing a jealous cop. And now, everything was different. She could sense him recalibrating the evening, from the text she had sent to this very moment. He was weighing his options. His concentration was palpable.
“Sounds rough,” he said.
“Hasn’t been easy,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry, Dana. Guys can be such pricks—even the good ones.”
She considered that, and realized he had leapt to the conclusion that Ari cheated on her. “It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Well, maybe my fault. I wasn’t a very good girlfriend.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing like that,” she said. “I didn’t cheat on him. I was more of a generic asshole, and he couldn’t take it anymore.”
“I’m sure you didn’t do anything that bad,” he said.
“You have too much faith in me.”
He stood. “Can I get you another beer?”
She looked at him then, and understood that it was the moment of decision. He wasn’t just offering another beer. He was asking if she was going to stick around for a while. And if she was, well, they’d probably wind up in bed.
She picked up her bottle to look at it. Still half full. “I’m good for now,” she said, which was a noncommittal answer. But she knew she would have to decide soon.
Lorenzo got himself another beer from the fridge and came back to the couch. He sat down close to her, and she could feel the heat of his thigh mingling with the heat of hers, and the urgency sent a desperate pulse to a spot between her legs. She wanted him. She wanted his kiss, his hands. She wanted enough passion to forget about all the pain of her loss. She put her fingers on his thigh. It was her yes to the question he was thinking.
Lorenzo leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. He was still holding his beer, so it wasn’t an embrace, just the tenderness of his lips. They came apart, and he looked at her. When she didn’t back away, his put down his beer and pulled her toward him, burying his face in her neck.
Her body responded with a shudder. She wanted this. Needed it. He put his mouth on hers for a long, deep kiss, and she needed to be naked with him. To feel her skin against his. Then he touched her hair. It was so delicate, like a feather, and the intimacy of it reminded her of Ari. A breath caught in her throat. It was such an intense déjà vu that she almost expected to pull back and see Ari’s face.
“Oh god,” she said.
“What’s the matter?”
Dana put her hands on his chest and gently pressed him away. “I can’t do this,” she said.
Lorenzo waited a long beat before reacting. Then he scooted away from her on the couch. “You’re sure?” he asked.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not over him,” he said.
“No, I’m not,” she agreed, but realized it was so much more than that. She wasn’t done with Ari. And she didn’t think he was done with her, either. She would win him back. She had to.
36
The next morning, before she got dressed to leave for work, Dana called Megan to fill her in on everything that had happened. There was so much to unpack.
“I tracked down Margaux yesterday,” she began.
“The bartender?” Megan asked. “How did you manage that?”
“Long story, but if you want a coupon for ten percent off a very expensive haircut, let me know. Point is, you were right. I didn’t push Ivan off the roof.”
“Of course you didn’t!”
Dana was standing in her tiny kitchen, where she had just poured hot water into her coffee press. She drummed the countertop, waiting impatiently for it to finish steeping. “I needed to hear it, needed to be sure.”
“You can’t let Sherry get inside your head. That bitch will mess you up.”
“She wasn’t lying, though. That’s the thing. I did get into a screaming fight with Ivan. Margaux confirmed that some guy pulled me away.”
“What guy?” Megan asked.
“At first she couldn’t remember. But then one small detail came to her: the guy had ink.”
“Tattoos?” Megan said, and Dana could almost hear her mentally walking the halls of t
he Shopping Channel. “Lorenzo?”
“Check,” Dana said.
“You talked to him?”
Dana paused, unsure how her friend would react to the next part. She exhaled. “I went up to see him. In his apartment.”
“Now this is getting interesting!” Megan said, a smile in her voice.
The kitchen timer dinged. Dana pushed the plunger and poured coffee into her favorite red ceramic mug. She tipped in a splash of milk and had a sip as she considered how to veer the conversation in the right direction. It would need to be delicately played, because she had to stop short of accusing Jamie of murder. It was just too outlandish. And deep down, she really didn’t believe the guy could have killed his father. But there was that tiny pinhole of doubt, and she wanted to test the waters with her friend to see if there was even a hint of suspicion leaking through.
“We talked for a while,” Dana said. “He remembered pulling me off Ivan, bringing me back to the bar to get me a Coke.”
“And you don’t recall any of this?”
“Not a thing.”
Megan paused, as if she was probing her own memory about the event. “I wonder if I was on the dance floor at that point.”
“I think you were in the ladies’ room, because Jamie came over and he was alone.”
“The ladies’ room!” her friend said with a laugh. “I remember that, because things were heating up with Jamie, and while I was in the bathroom I checked my purse to see if I had a condom. Just in case.”
“And did you?”
“Always prepared.”
Dana walked carefully over to the table, putting weight on her splinted foot so she wouldn’t spill her coffee. She sat. “Apparently, Jamie witnessed what happened between his father and me. At least part of it.”
There was a pause before Megan quietly said, “I know.”
“What?” Dana said. “You knew?”
“Jamie doesn’t keep secrets from me.”
“But why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were already wigging out. I was afraid you’d go to a dark place. And anyway, I didn’t know the particulars. Jamie just told me he saw you having an argument with his dad.”
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