by Jason Starr
When Geri arrived at the old, tenement-style building, she went up a few flights of stairs, then didn’t have to figure out where to go because she could hear the actors performing. It was a small theater—maybe fifty seats. There were only a few people in the audience in the front row, and Geri counted twelve people on stage, including Ramon. Although she’d never seen him she recognized him right away, before he said a word. He looked like he’d sounded on the phone—cocky, suave, smoldering—the kind of arrogant good-looking guy who knew he was good-looking and wanted to flaunt it. But Geri was surprised because, while Ramon looked and acted like the slick, phony kind of guy who normally repulsed her, instead of resenting him she had a sudden, strong attraction that she couldn’t explain or deny.
Geri couldn’t follow what was going on in the play—something about poisoned water, or a conspiracy or something, but even though the language was old-fashioned the actors were talking like they were from Long Island. But the main reason she couldn’t follow the plot was that Ramon was way too distracting. The guy had an aura about him. He was cocky, yeah, and he was strutting like he thought he was a combination of Antonio Banderas and Javier Bardem, but he was somehow able to pull it off and actually come across as the sexy, irresistible Latin lover he was trying so desperately to be. Geri didn’t know if it was star quality, charisma, or the X factor, but whatever it was, this guy had it.
It was as if the other actors had disappeared and Ramon were acting in a one-man show. Staring at him, Geri crossed and uncrossed her legs a few times, then discovered she was actually getting aroused. When had just watching a guy, a stranger, ever had this kind of effect on her? She was getting so turned on, she was afraid it was getting obvious, and she was about to go out and wait in the lobby when Ramon—maybe he sensed Geri was about to get up?—asked the director, the heavyset woman in the front row, if they could take a break.
“Okay, let’s break for fifteen and then I have notes,” the director said.
Ramon strutted—yes, strutted—over to Geri and, with a wide grin and dark smoldering eyes, said, “See, I was right, you are beautiful.”
Geri felt wetness on the insides of her thighs, and she felt something else she hadn’t felt in ages around a guy. She actually felt nervous.
“You must be Ramon,” Geri said, feeling like she was fumbling her words. What was going on?
“The one and only,” he said. “You like the play?”
“Just saw a bit; it was hard to get into.”
“Ibsen, Enemy of the People,” Ramon said. “We’re setting it modern day, New York City, but the themes resonate.” Ramon hadn’t stopped looking at her eyes. Was he sniffing her? He said, “You smell wonderful. I love your perfume.”
“I’m not wearing perfume,” she said.
He leaned in a little closer, maybe to get a better whiff, and said, “Even better.”
Geri’s face was hot and she had to uncross and then cross her legs again. What was she doing, flirting with a potential suspect in a murder case? Like when she was questioning Michael, she felt as if she didn’t have the upper hand, as if they were tangoing and he was leading, and Geri usually never felt this way at work. What had happened to the tough chick detective who was the bad cop in “good cop, bad cop”? Maybe they were right for taking her off the Washington Heights murder cases. Maybe she was losing her edge.
“Is there, um, someplace we can go to talk?” she asked, afraid that it had come out all wrong. She wanted to go someplace else, figuring a change of location would help her get her act together, but the way she said it, it sounded flirty, as if she wanted to go someplace where they could be alone.
“There’s a coffee place across the street,” Ramon said. “They got couches, dim light. We can sit in the corner where it’s nice and quiet and—”
She sensed he was about to touch her hand. She stood up quickly and said, “Okay, let’s go.”
On the stairway down, he said, “After you,” and she knew he was checking out her ass. But unlike when Detective Mangel and other creeps checked her out, she couldn’t help liking it this time. Instead of grossing her out, it made her feel sexy.
Outside, she asked him how long he’d been an actor. Again, it came out flirty, like they were on a freaking date, but she was glad because it gave him a chance to do all the talking and she could try to get control of herself.
At the quaint little coffee shop that Geri had passed many times but never gone into, Ramon said, “Let’s go to the back where we can be alone,” and even though she was tempted, she said, “No, the counter near the door’s fine.”
“What’re you having?” he asked.
“It’s okay, I can pay for my own,” she said, and went to the counter with him.
Waiting for the coffee, he asked her where her family was from, and she said her mom was from San Juan.
“Mi familia es de San Juan tambien,” Ramon said.
When they got their coffees and sat at the counter, Ramon started talking fast and excitedly in Spanish about Puerto Rico, and how he’d spent every summer in San Juan when he was growing up. Like before, Geri didn’t like the direction the conversation was going. She also didn’t like talking in Spanish, as she felt it was too intimate.
In English she said, “Did Michael tell you about Diane Coles?”
“Oooh, getting all coplike,” Ramon said. “I like that.”
“Did he?” she asked, aware that his leg was practically touching hers and that she wasn’t trying to shift hers away.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” Ramon smiled. “For now.” Then his expression suddenly shifted and he got very serious and said, “Yeah, he told me. I was devastated. Diane was a wonderful woman, had everything going for her. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, for her to go like that, it just ain’t right.”
Ramon seemed sincere, even a little teary eyed. But he was an actor, after all.
“And you can vouch that Michael was in New York last Wednesday?”
“Yeah, we were with our kids at the playground all morning, then we took ’em to Shake Shack for lunch.”
“And you’re not just saying this to protect him, right? If I look at that Shake Shack video I’ll see Michael there, right?”
Leaning closer, looking right into her eyes, he said, “One thing I won’t ever do is lie to you.”
Geri couldn’t help feeling weak inside. What was it about this guy?
“So you were in town all last week?” she asked.
“Yeah, of course,” he said. “Come on, I know you don’t really think I had anything to do with this. You’re just asking because you gotta be all cop with me ’cause it’s your job, right?”
Geri couldn’t help smiling a little, then said, “So somebody can vouch for you being in New York?”
“Yeah, somebody can vouch,” Ramon said. “Mi madre.”
“You were with your mother all week?”
“I live with my mother,” Ramon said. “After my father died she was lonely and didn’t want to be alone, so I had her move in with me. It works out with me, especially since I’ve got a kid. My kid’s mom left, so…” He seemed to be getting emotional. “Anyway, it’s nice to have my mother around to help out.”
Geri didn’t think he was acting anymore. Despite his ladies’-man persona, he seemed like a genuinely good guy. She also couldn’t help noticing that he smelled nice too. It wasn’t deodorant or cologne, it was just him, but it was arousing. She noticed he was looking right in her eyes again.
“You’re staring at me,” she said.
“Sorry,” he said. “When I look at something beautiful it’s hard to look away.”
Normally, a line like that would’ve grossed her out or made her laugh, but she was getting aroused again. Desperately trying to keep it professional, she said, “Did Diane tell you why she was moving to Michigan?”
“No, she just kind of started blowing me off, you know? Maybe she was upset ’cause her fri
end disappeared or maybe she thought it wasn’t working out, but that was cool. I’m not the kinda guy who puts pressure on a woman, know what I mean? If it ain’t workin’ out, that’s chill, I let them be.”
“So you didn’t talk on the phone at all?” Geri asked.
“No.” Ramon was giving her that look again. “Sorry,” he said, “I can’t help it.”
Crossing her legs, Geri asked, “What about Olivia Becker? Did Diane mention anything that was going on with her?”
“Just that she was worried about her, thought she was acting weird.”
“Weird how?
“Maybe weird’s the wrong word,” Ramon said. “Crazy. She thought Olivia was going loco. And I only met Olivia a couple times.”
“Did she tell you about any problems Olivia was having with Michael?”
“No, and trust me, the problem was Olivia, not Michael,” Ramon said. “I mean I know Michael can be kind of weird himself when you first meet him. He has that whole strong, silent type thing going on, and that funny accent. But once you get to know him you find out how chill he really is. You got a boyfriend?”
“What?” Geri said.
“Tienes un novio?”
“I heard you,” she said.
“Sorry I’m staring at you again, but I just can’t help myself,” he said. “I just love looking at your eyes too much. And they tell a story.”
“What story is that?” she asked weakly.
“About a girl,” Ramon said. “She acts tough, works all day long, but when it comes down to it, she just wants to be loved, like everybody else.”
“I should probably go now,” she said, but she didn’t get up.
“I know you’re feeling our connection right now,” Ramon said. “I see it in your eyes, the way you’re looking at me right now, and I feel it too. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life. I know what you’re thinkin’ right now—he probably says that to every beautiful woman he meets, and I’ll be honest with you, I have said it before. But I never meant it the way I do right now. I don’t care if we just met and we hardly know each other. Like Michael says, ‘You can hide hate, but you can’t hide love,’ and I know this is the real thing and you know it too. I know you know it.”
Geri knew this was wrong. While she didn’t believe that Ramon had had anything to do with Diane Coles’s murder, he was still a witness, a potential suspect, and she shouldn’t be flirting with him. But she couldn’t deny that she did feel an unusually strong connection with him. It was crazy, but she felt it.
“When am I going to see you again?” he asked.
“If I have any more questions, I’ll be in touch,” she said.
He reached out and grabbed her hand.
“I don’t mean that,” he said. “You know what I mean. I mean just the two of us, one-on-one, someplace where we can be alone.”
She wanted to move her hand, but then she didn’t want to anymore. His hand felt good and she thought maybe this wasn’t so wrong after all. Yeah, she was questioning him, but was he really a witness? She had no evidence that he had any connection to the deaths of Olivia Becker and Diane Coles, and besides, this wasn’t even her case. She could’ve met him on the street or at a bar, and would anything be wrong with it then?
“Come on, I know you want to see me again,” Ramon said. “You can’t hide from it. You gotta admit it. You gotta be free.”
His dark eyes were like magnets, pulling her in, but she wasn’t afraid, not anymore.
“I’m free tonight,” she heard herself say.
Into their second glass of Chardonnay, Alison was telling Vijay about her troubles with Simon when their legs touched. Alison could’ve shifted away, but she didn’t, wanting to see if Vijay would move any closer. She was glad that he didn’t.
“Maybe it’s just a phase,” Vijay said.
“No, I don’t think so,” Alison said. “I thought so at first, but it’s gone on too long, almost a month. I don’t know. It’s so crazy.”
Alison knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t help it. She was too distracted by the feel of her leg against Vijay’s, wanting to be closer to him. With the top buttons of his shirt open she could see his smooth tan chest.
“And you really think there’s someone else?” he asked.
She realized she was staring at his chest and shifted her gaze back toward his eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “Yes, probably. I mean, his behavior has changed so much, there has to be someone. That’s what I thought originally, but I think I’ve just been, I don’t know, in denial. I thought it might be Christina, our babysitter, but that’s probably crazy. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Alison started crying. She didn’t want to cry—it made her feel weak, and she hated feeling weak—but the stress that had been building up all day was too much and she needed a release.
Vijay took her wineglass from her and placed it on the coffee table, then put an arm around her and pulled her in close against his chest. She hadn’t cried with the motive of getting Vijay to hold her, but she was glad it had worked out this way. Being close to him felt so good, so right, and then they were kissing. She didn’t know who kissed who first; all she knew was that she was kissing this solid, supportive man and it felt great.
As they kissed, Vijay had his hand on her right leg, just above her knee, and he was kneading her with his fingertips. She wanted him to move his hand higher and, as if he could read her mind, his hand moved to the inside of her thigh, and she had a hand on his chest and she was biting on his lip, sucking on it, while she was thinking, I want more, please give me more. Responding, he had his other hand under her shirt, feeling her hardening nipple over her bra, and she moved her hand lower, over the bulge in his jeans. She wanted him to attack her, to tear off her clothes and pin her down to the couch, or maybe the floor, yes the floor, and feel his naked body on top of her.
Then she heard, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
She was so caught up it took a moment or two to register that they weren’t making out anymore, and he’d shifted away from her on the couch.
“Okay.” It was hard for her to get a full breath. “I mean, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not a matter of what I want,” he said, “it’s a matter of what I think is right. You’re an extremely beautiful, exciting woman and I love spending time with you, but you have to figure out what you’re doing in your marriage; that has to be your priority right now.”
She knew he was right, but she still wanted to be under him on the floor.
“That makes sense,” she said. “I mean, I get what you’re saying.”
They finished their wine and, holding hands, talked about other things. Vijay told her about a recent trip to Italy and how he’d love to go back. It was easy to imagine being in Rome with Vijay, taking long walks and having romantic dinners. Then they talked about recent shows and movies they’d seen, music—they both liked live jazz—and about Southampton, where Vijay owned a summer house. It was easy to fantasize about falling in love with Vijay, marrying him, and having a normal life in the city. Maybe they could even have a child together. The idea of another kid with Simon had been off the table for a while, but since he’d lost his job it had officially been shelved, since making it with two kids in the city on their current income was a financial impossibility. But Vijay had mentioned a few times how much he loved children and how he couldn’t wait to be a dad someday. Alison wanted another kid too, and her clock was ticking, and she had no doubt that Vijay would make a wonderful father.
Alison was dying to kiss him again.
He must have sensed what she was thinking, or maybe he just saw her staring at his lips, because he asked, “So what do you think you’re going to do?”
She knew he meant about her marriage, and she said, “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
“Well, all I can say from the point of view of a guy who’s divorced is if you decide to leave him you should do it w
ith a good conscience, especially when there’s a child involved. You want to make sure you’ve done everything you can to save the marriage before you leave, and that if you leave you’re leaving for the right reasons.”
“We’ve been in counseling for a long time and it hasn’t helped,” she said. “We’ve tried everything.”
“But you still don’t know what’s going on with him, so the question you have to ask yourself is, do you really want to know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you considered hiring a PI? If you’re right and there is someone else, then you’ll know you left for the right reasons. Then again, you might prefer not knowing.”