Night Blindness (40 page)

He winked at me. “Okay,” he said. “How about next Tuesday? I'm off on Tuesdays.”

*   *   *

Twenty minutes later, I parked behind David's side of the garage. Now that Emma had left him, I guessed both sides were his.

“The cake's here.” I stepped into the kitchen, and there were the people I loved most in the world: Gabby, David, David's best friend, Chandler, and Chandler's boyfriend, Odion. Chandler was standing at the stove, stirring a pot. Odion was at the sink washing what must have been a month's worth of dishes. It smelled like curry and dirty laundry. Gabby was sitting amid piles of socks and undershirts on David's kitchen table, pouring a thick, orangish drink into five glasses. Emma was a bitch, and I was glad she'd run home to her police chief father and overprotective mother, but she'd kept a clean house. Through the doorway, I could see my brother building one of his model cars.

I set the cake on the counter. “Smells good,” I said.

“Hope you like it spicy.” Chandler was wearing a half dozen rings and a chunky bracelet Odion had brought back for him from his last import trip to Cameroon.

I picked a piece of chicken out of the hot skillet and popped it in my mouth.

“What's with the stupid grin?” Gabby asked, putting Chandler's glass on the counter. She was wearing a heavy leather jacket with a fur collar, which explained the Harley sitting outside, even though it hadn't been above freezing for weeks. She'd changed her nose ring to a silver star, and it twinkled as she brought me a drink.

“You will never guess who I ran into at the prison.” I peeked in the living room, where David's head was bobbing to music on his iPod, all those little Mustang parts spread out in front of him. “Is he still at it?” I asked.

“He's moping,” Chandler said, turning off the stove.

“He's heartbroken,” Odion told Chandler. “Give the poor boy a break. It was Saint Valentine's Day yesterday, and he was alone.”

“Did you see Emma?” Gabby guessed. “Is she an inmate?” She gave Odion his drink, and he sniffed it before taking a sip. “Chief Fisher would have a hell of a time explaining that his perfect daughter got arrested for being a cow.”

I laughed. “No, I did not see Emma, and let me get David. He needs to hear this.”

We walked into the dining room with our drinks. David had on dorky magnifying glasses, because everything in a model car kit was about an eighth of an inch long. I handed him his drink.

He pulled out an earbud. “Is dinner done already?”

“Guess who I saw at the South Jersey Pen today?”

Even though his eyes were gigantic behind the magnifying lenses, David was handsome in that messy, absentminded professor way that sometimes made me wonder if he knew how to shower. “What the hell were you doing there?”

I waved my hand at him. “Research for the new book, but that's not important now.” I couldn't wait to tell them. “Brady Irons.” I took a sip of my cocktail—which, from the taste of it, was mostly rum.

David raised his eyebrows. “Brady Irons is in jail?”

I balled up my napkin and threw it at him. “Of course not. He works there. Isn't it amazing that after all these years I found him?”

Odion disappeared into the kitchen and came back with five plates. “Who is this Brady Irons? I missed so much not going to high school with all of you.”

Gabby took them from him and set the table as she talked. “Cady loved him in high school.”

“You did?” Chandler and David asked at the same time. Jesus, boys were so dense.

Gabby peered up and saw my flushed cheeks. “And apparently she still does.”

I picked up the napkins and silver I'd brought in and followed her around the table, setting each place. “I do not.” I could feel my face getting even hotter. “It was just really nice to see him again.”

David finished his drink in one long gulp and then let out a loud burp. “I don't think a married woman should be this excited about seeing an ex-boyfriend.”

“Hardly,” I said. “I don't think I ever spoke a word to him in high school.”

“Just because you were too shy back then doesn't mean you're too shy now,” Gabby said, puckering her lips.

David reached in his pocket and handed me his cell phone. “Call Lover Boy up,” he said. “Invite him for dinner next week. We won't tell Greg.”

“I'm not inviting him anywhere near here until it gets a little less sty-like.” I swept a pile of crumbs off the dining room table into my hand. “You know, sometimes I miss Emma.”

“Fuck you,” David said pleasantly. “I'll clean … eventually.”

“We can argue about Cady's crappy marriage later,” Chandler told us, bringing the chicken vindaloo in on a platter. “It's time to eat.”

“My marriage isn't that crappy,” I told them. But the whole way through dinner, I couldn't get Brady Irons out of my mind.

 

About the Author

SUSAN STRECKER holds a bachelor of arts degree from Drew University and a master's in marriage and family therapy from Southern Connecticut State University. She resides in Essex, Connecticut, with her husband and two children.
Night Blindness
is her first novel.

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

 

THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.

An imprint of St. Martin's Press.

 

NIGHT BLINDNESS.
Copyright © 2014 by Susan Strecker. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

 

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.stmartins.com

 

Cover design by Elsie Lyons

 

Cover photograph © plainpicture/Cultura

 

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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

 

ISBN 978-1-250-04283-5 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4668-4961-7 (e-book)

 

e-ISBN 9781466849617

 

First Edition: October 2014