New York Nights: Shaken and Stirred

8

GABE DIDN’T COME HOME on Saturday night and Tessa pretended not to notice. What did she expect? Instead she studied the real estate book and plucked her eyebrows for the first time in her life. And because she didn’t want to face him when he did walk in the door, she changed for work and opted to spend Sunday afternoon in the park before heading to Prime.

Gabe wasn’t scheduled to work that night, and Tessa was almost relieved.

Almost.

The truth was, she loved working with Gabe. Daniel was nice, but he didn’t talk much. Sean was okay, but he didn’t let anybody get too close. And Gabe was…well, Gabe was Gabe.

When she tossed a bottle his way, he caught it. When she juggled three lemons, he juggled four. When he started a joke, she knew the punch line.

God, she missed that.

When she got in, the Thursday afternoon irregulars were sitting at the bar.

“About time you showed up, missy. My glass has been empty for a full—” Charlie checked his old windup watch “—eight seconds.”

“Why are you here on Sunday?”

“Lindy told me the yellow-sundress lady came here last Sunday. I want to find her. Wore my best tie.”

Tessa smiled with relief. She’d rather be spending time worrying about Charlie’s love life than Gabe’s. “You’re looking spiffy, Charlie. I don’t think that any woman could resist you with those—” Tessa took a good look “—dollar signs and Playboy logos running down your chest.”

Charlie shrugged what had once been extrawide shoulders. “When you’re my age, you don’t need a tie for much.”

Lloyd sniffed. “A man should always have appropriate attire.”

Tessa slapped her rag in his general direction. “Charlie’s a free spirit.”

EC nudged Charlie in the ribs. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

Sure enough, walking through the door were two young ladies—way too young for Charlie. But his eyes lit up. “That’s her, but where’s her grandmother?”

For a good ten minutes the men sat debating the wisdom of whether Charlie should talk to the granddaughter or not, and finally Tessa got miffed at all of them. No balls. Not a one.

Taking matters in hand, she approached the table where the two girls were sitting. “Can I get you something?” she asked, placing two bar napkins in front of them.

“Margarita on the rocks, no salt,” said the first one.

“Appletini,” said the second, and Tessa recognized her as the girl who wore the yellow sundress, although today she was in navy shorts and a classy tank top. “You’ve been in here before, right?”

“Yeah, I work down the street.”

“Weren’t you here with an older woman?” Tessa looked at the other girl. “No offense, of course, but I knew you were way too young.”

“That’s my great-aunt. She’s visiting from Kansas and she swore that she remembered being in this place a long time ago, but they called it something else. She made us stop that day.”

Tessa nodded, adopting her friendly tour-guide face. “That’s possible. Prime was O’Sullivan’s a lot of years ago. In fact, it was a speakeasy back during Prohibition. Your aunt has got a great memory. What’s her name?”

“Irene Langford. I’m Kristine Langford.”

Tessa leaned in low. “Listen, you see the group of old guys at the bar?” Kristine nodded. “One of them swears he knows your great-aunt. Maybe you could bring her in here sometime this week?”

“Really?” Kristine looked at the matched set of gray heads that were all turned in her direction. “That’s so sweet. But she’s not here anymore. She went back home.”

Tessa tried to look perky for Charlie, but inside she felt something tear. When you got to be Charlie’s age, opportunities were few and far between. “You expect her to visit again?”

“Doubt it. She’s terrified of flying. The doctor had to slip her a Valium to get her on the plane in the first place. But can I tell her his name?”

Tessa thought for a minute, looked at Charlie’s eager eyes, and nodded. “Charlie. Charlie Atwood.”

“Charlie?”

“Uh-huh, the one in the tie—but don’t hold it against him. I’ll buy him another one,” promised Tessa. “Let me get your drinks.”

Tessa went back behind the bar and was immediately bombarded with eighty million questions.

“What’s the woman’s name?”

“Irene Langford.”

“Langford? That doesn’t sound right.”

“Charlie, it’s been a long time. I bet she’s not who you think she is.”

He frowned. “That’s the problem. I can’t remember who I think she is. I only remember the face. And there was a song.”

“She’s in Kansas now.”

Charlie still didn’t get it. “She’ll be coming back?”

Tessa shook her head, hating to let the old guy down. He deserved better. “I don’t think so.”

Charlie stared into his mug until Lloyd tapped his glass to Charlie’s. “To lost loves, lost nights and lost chances. But may you never lose your beer.”

ON SUNDAY NIGHT GABE took out Marisa, just as Tessa wanted. He took her to 11 Madison for dinner and then some play that he didn’t really understand, but she’d been all fired up to go, and, fine, Gabe wasn’t up to disagreeing.

Marisa was nice enough, pretty enough, but man, the woman knew exactly what she wanted. When it came time to kiss her good-night or—God help him—something more serious, Gabe found himself dreading the whole ordeal.

This was one of the main reasons that he didn’t date. Trying to understand what women expected, what they didn’t expect, what they were saying, what they weren’t saying. Did they expect to have sex on the first date? Would they think he was a creep if he wanted to have sex with them after one date? These were questions that could boggle and confuse a man’s mind.

Still, he was going to do this. He was going to do this. Marisa looked up at him, smiled coyly, and he laid into her mouth.

Immediately she pulled back. “Okay, that was not good.”

Under other circumstances, Gabe would have been insulted, but he liked Marisa’s uncomfortable face because it proved that he’d been right and Tessa was wrong. And next time he saw her he was going to tell her that she shouldn’t be fixing him up with other women—even if they were nice.

“Sorry,” he said, noticing her confused expression. “My mind’s elsewhere.”

“Mine, too,” she admitted. “You want to come up?” she asked.

“I should go home,” he said, trying to figure out if “come up” was code for sex or not. And after that kiss there was no freaking way he was going near her for sex.

“I don’t mean to come up,” she said, adding suggestive emphasis. “I just thought you might want to talk for a few minutes.”

Gabe checked his watch. It was too early to show up at the apartment with his pride still intact. A man didn’t take getting dumped lightly, and who knew what Tessa’s reasons were, but the fact was Tessa had dumped him.

Gabe nodded because a man needed his pride. “Sure.”

They killed two hours discussing movies and arguing about whether chick flicks were a good thing or a bad thing. Marisa liked the Hamptons. Gabe liked the Jersey shore. Both agreed that subway fares were crazy expensive and the smoking ban in bars turned out to be all right after all.

They passed the time without incident when Gabe’s cell rang, and he looked down to see his brother’s cell number. He clicked the button. “Daniel?”

“Hello? Who’s this?” asked a voice that wasn’t Daniel’s.

“This is Gabe. Who is this?” Gabe asked.

“This is Vincent, the bartender at Champs. Listen, I think your brother needs some help getting home. I tried to call a cab for him, but he wouldn’t listen, and I’m not sure he knows where he’s going.”

“Daniel?” asked Gabe and then checked his watch. May twenty-fifth.

Damn.

While he’d been busy walking that tightwire that was Tessa, he’d forgotten about Daniel and Michelle’s anniversary.

“Where’s he at?” Gabe asked.

“We’re in Westchester.”

“Westchester? How’d he get up there?”

“Beats me. But he’s been knocking back double scotches for the last three hours.”

“He’s alone?”

“Deep in his cups.”

“I’m on my way.”

Gabe hung up and looked at Marisa. “Sorry. I’ve got a brother to rescue.”

“He’s in Westchester?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty smashed.”

“You need a ride?” she asked, and he gave her high marks for seeing the problem right off.

“You have a car?”

“Of course,” Marisa answered as if it was completely normal to keep a car in the city.

True, he didn’t want to have sex with her, but she was thoughtful and capable. Tessa had good taste in friends. “Are you sure you don’t mind? This won’t be pretty.”

“That’s all right, I don’t mind.”

And they ended up on the FDR, cruising out onto the Deegan, until she wheeled onto the exit for Scarsdale.

Marisa had a sweet little convertible and a heavy accelerator foot, but Gabe was happy for the rush. Daniel didn’t do this often, but when he did, Gabe was always there to bail him out.

The sports bar was on the main street in Scarsdale, a place with six TVs, flashing neon beer signs and bartenders dressed in striped referee uniforms that no man in his right mind would ever wear in a drinking establishment.

Hunched over said bar, blindingly drunk, was the O’Sullivan brother formerly known as “the sensible one.”

Gabe rushed forward. “Daniel?”

The bartender looked up in relief. “It was either you or the cops.”

“Does he come in here often?” asked Gabe.

“Never seen him before, but I’ve only been working here for a few weeks.”

Gabe paid the tab and gave the bartender a substantial tip. “Sorry.”

“He’s your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Kept talking about some woman.”

“Michelle?”

“No, he kept talking about Anastasia.”

Anastasia? Gabe shook his head, deciding the bartender was confused. “Doesn’t matter.”

He looked over at Marisa, who was watching the scene with interest. “You sure you want to do this?”

“It’s the most excitement I’ve had since a famous Grammy winner walked into the office, and I got to show him a SoHo loft that would have paid my rent for a year.”

With a quick smile, she took a shoulder, Gabe took the other one, and they carried Daniel toward the door.

“He doesn’t usually do this,” Gabe said, needing to defend Daniel.

“I’m not one to judge.”

“He lost his wife on 9/11,” he told her, not wanting to say too much, but he didn’t want Marisa thinking his brother was a lush, but Daniel kept things bottled inside, and when they came out, it was never pretty—and usually incoherent.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are we headed?”

“He’s got a place down in Battery Park.” He searched Daniel’s pocket for keys and found them—thank God—because he wasn’t up to explaining this to Tessa. Trying to explain it to the absolute stranger that was Marisa was bad enough.

It took some work, but they got him in the backseat, and Gabe climbed in next to him.

“He’s kind of sad.”

“Not sad,” muttered Daniel.

The car shot forward, and soon Gabe was sitting there in a strange woman’s car with a drunk brother who looked as if was going to wake up tomorrow and hopefully forget all of this. Gabe wasn’t up to reminding him, or correcting him, but he could feel Marisa’s curiosity in the darkness.

Finally Gabe broke the silence. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to talk to him. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what not to say. I want to pretend like nothing ever happened, but that’s wrong, too.”

“Has he been to counseling?”

“Daniel? Uh, no.”

“Why not?” she asked calmly.

“He’s not the counseling type,” Gabe responded, because nobody in their right mind went to counseling, and the O’Sullivans were all in their right minds, at least most of the time.

“Oh,” she said, then went back to being quiet.

Gabe glanced at Daniel, noted the nodding head, and sighed. One of the most frustrating things was that Gabe could usually fix anything—personal problem, leaky faucet, clogged beer tap. But lately he was striking out left and right. First with Tessa, now with Daniel. For a man who prided himself on the ability to handle every problem thrown his way, this wasn’t good. “You think I should do something, don’t you? Take him to a shrink or read some books to figure out how to talk to my own brother.” Yeah, he sounded defensive. So what?

“I don’t know.”

They didn’t say anything more on the way to the building, but Gabe knew that Marisa didn’t approve of Gabe. Easy for her to make judgments when there was no right or wrong, no good or bad, just a man who had a hole where his heart used to be.

It wasn’t right.

Daniel’s building was down near Wall Street, within the shadow of where the towers had stood.

Marisa eased the car into a parking garage and Gabe looked at her in surprise. “You can drop us off. I can take it from here.”

Marisa claimed the ticket from the attendant and shrugged. “You might need some help, and it’s not like I have somewhere to be.”

Gabe gave her a long look and then waved it off. “Your choice.”

Daniel was incoherent in the back, so Gabe was grateful for the help, and they lugged Daniel upstairs to his apartment.

When they entered the apartment, Marisa looked around. “Nice place. One bedroom but roomy. And the view’s good.”

Gabe smiled, maneuvering Daniel out of his suit jacket. He was the only man Gabe knew who would get shit-faced in a jacket and tie. “You sound like Tessa. No wonder you two are friends.”

“She’s nice,” Marisa offered and then ran forward when Daniel started to tilt.

“Just remember to stay on her good side.” Gabe smiled slightly.

“I don’t think she has a bad side.”

“You don’t know her well enough.”

“You two are roommates?”

Gabe wheeled Daniel toward the bedroom. “It’s a temporary thing. She needed a place to live. I had space.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“She would do the same for me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think she would.”

With one finger pressed to his brother’s chest, he landed Daniel on the bed. Daniel was going to be out for a long, long time. Gabe looked at the clock, saw that it was three, and suppressed a yawn.

“You don’t have to sit up. I’ll take the first watch. I think your brother’s out for a few hours.” Marisa was fast becoming a saint in Gabe’s eyes.

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah. I’ll turn the television on.”

Gabe gave her a hard look. “I’m sorry about earlier. Too bad it didn’t work. I like you.”

Marisa looked at Daniel, looked at Gabe and then shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

GABE STAGGERED HOME ON Monday morning. Tessa hadn’t wanted to stay up, but she had. But when she heard the key in the lock, she dashed back to her room and pretended to be asleep. Not for long, though, because eventually her masochistic tendencies got the better of her. Tessa had to know.

She came out, rubbing her head, hoping he wouldn’t notice the coffeepot that was filled with fresh coffee.

Sadly Gabe didn’t look as if he was noticing much. His eyes were red, and his wrinkled shirt looked as if it had been pulled from the clothes hamper.

“How was the date?” asked Tessa, keeping her face casually interested, not wanting to read too much into appearances—telling as they were.

“Great,” answered Gabe.

“Great is good,” she said and then pulled out her box of cereal. “Want some?” she ased, holding out a handful—which, after he declined, she forced herself to eat. The cereal tasted like cardboard or that plastic food that restaurants kept out on display for decades at a time. Neither of which Tessa had an appetite for.

Gabe watched her for a minute and then shook his head. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“You going to see her again?” asked Tessa as she watched him walk down the hall. He looked so tired, so exhausted, and she knew exactly why he was so tired, and the rock in her gut knew exactly why he was so tired, too.

Then Gabe turned around, spearing her with a glance. “Do you want me to see her again?”

With those bloodshot eyes and a shirt that should have been burned, Tessa knew she had to tread carefully. “Do you like her?” she asked, which seemed noncommittal enough. If he said yes, then she’d know that her fling with Gabe had been nothing more than that. A fling.

“She’s nice enough,” he answered, completely noncommittal—but not a yes, either.

“Yeah,” agreed Tessa.

Gabe rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, she’s nice or, yeah, you want me to go out with her again?”

“Yeah, she’s nice.”

He squinted at her. “Did you change your eyebrows?”

Self-consciously she smoothed them back. “It’s called grooming.”

He nodded once. “It looks nice.” Then he stared at the door to his bedroom, then stared back at Tessa. Then he sighed. “Are you ever going to tell me why I’m jumping through all these hoops, Tessa?”

There was something so disarming about the look in those blue eyes. This was the man who probably knew her better than anyone in New York.