The Finishing School (22 page)

Like most New Yorkers, Melanie knew by heart the sounds of a subway train gearing for takeoff. She listened to the familiar sequence now with intense focus. The singsong warning bells that accompanied the closing doors. The hissing as the brakes released. And finally—as her chest heaved with panic, as Esposito grabbed her arms with powerful hands—the thunderous rumble of the train moving into the tunnel, heading smack for her. She screamed, throwing her body weight toward the wall, away from the tracks. Esposito laughed and, holding tight to her bare arms, let her pull him along, using gravity and his bulk to trap her against the slick tiles. In an instant, the train was gone, and she was twisting away to avoid his sloppy tongue kiss. It seemed he hadn’t intended anything beyond a grope.

“You’re a crazy one,” he said. “I like that in a woman. Let’s see what other tricks you got up your sleeve. My office is right here.”

He pushed open a metal door set into the tile wall to reveal a small, brightly lit storeroom. It was meagerly furnished, with a couple of low foam sofas, a card table strewn with papers, and, leaning incongruously against the wall, a sleek leather bag holding a full set of titanium golf clubs. Her heart was still pounding with adrenaline as she quickly scanned the room. She didn’t see any drugs—or anyplace to hide drugs either. Esposito pulled the door closed behind them and advanced toward her.

“Hey,” Melanie said, backing away, “where’s the candy store you promised me?”

“Just using me to get hooked up? That’s not very nice, is it?”

“You
offered
.”

“I need a little showing of good faith first. Like one of them special Spanish-girl blow jobs.”

He reached for his fly. She started to gag. So much for her resemblance to good old Mirta.

Just then the metal door flew open with a crash.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dan O’Reilly demanded from the threshold.

“Who are you?” Esposito asked.

“That’s my girlfriend, asshole!” He turned to Melanie. “Answer me, you slut. What are you doing in here with this scumbag?”

“Nothing,” she said, shrinking away like she was afraid of Dan. “I swear, baby.”

Dan stepped into the room and grabbed her by the arm. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? I can’t turn my back on you for ten seconds without you spreading your legs for some lowlife. You’re coming with me.”

“Yo, calm down, pal, nothing happened,” Esposito said, making no move to stop them as Dan pretended to drag Melanie toward the door.

“Stay the fuck away from her, or I promise you you’ll regret it,” Dan warned.

Esposito just waved his hand nonchalantly. He let them go without a fuss, like it was nothing to him. But as she and Dan passed through the metal door, Melanie cast Esposito a final, curious glance and found him looking at her with cunning eyes.

AFTER A QUICK SEARCH failed to turn up anybody else from their team, Melanie and Dan decided to hop the next six out. She left a message on her sister’s cell saying she was safe and another for Bridget telling her to come back to the pub where they’d met earlier once she’d completed the buy.

“We had a deal,” Dan said as they settled into a booth at the pub twenty minutes later. He glared at her, so angry his breathing was rapid. “That was way out of line, what you did back there. You put yourself in danger, and other people, too. Prosecutors shouldn’t work undercover. They don’t know what the fuck they’re doing, so they don’t take basic precautions. Like a wire and a backup team and a prearranged signal for when things go south.”

He paused for breath.

“You done?” she asked.

“
No
, I’m just getting started.”

“Oh, come on, Dan, I wasn’t looking to work undercover, and you know it. Bernadette
ordered
me to go to the club to monitor Trevor. It was just chance that I met Esposito. Once he told me he had drugs in that room, what was I supposed to do? Ignore the lead? This is an urgent matter. Am I the only one who remembers that Carmen Reyes is still missing?”

“Esposito lied. There were no drugs in that room. I checked it out before you ever went in there.”

“Fine, he lied. How was I supposed to know?”

“Any idiot could see the guy was just trying to get into your pants. You’re not taking any more risks like that. I won’t allow it.”

“What are you talking about?
You
take risks every day.”

“That’s my fucking
job
. It’s what I’m trained for. You’re a lawyer, not a cop.”

“Hey, I can handle myself, all right? You have no business telling me what to do.”

“Yeah? Whose fault is that?” he snapped back, eyes blazing.

A young waitress dressed in black pants and a white shirt came over and swiped at their table desultorily with a damp rag. “Menus or just drinkin’?” she asked.

Melanie stared at Dan, taken aback by his last comment, but he deliberately avoided her gaze. After a moment she gave up.

“I missed dinner,” she said, sighing. “I could eat something.”

“Yeah, okay. Me, too.”

The waitress left them menus. Melanie studied hers for a second, then peeked over the top of it, watching him as he perused his. Whose fault
was
it that they weren’t together? He seemed to be implying it was hers. A pang of longing swelled her chest, making it hard to breathe. Even when they argued, being around him felt so right. This thing between them didn’t want to die, and maybe she shouldn’t let it. Life was too short. Weren’t they wasting time, being apart?

He looked up and caught her staring. “What?”

“Shouldn’t we talk?”

“About what?”

“You know. You and me. Us. Before.”

“What’s there to say?” he demanded angrily.

“I don’t know. Never mind.”

Her heart sank. It must’ve showed on her face, because Dan’s expression softened noticeably.

The waitress came back. Dan ordered a cheeseburger and a beer, Melanie a club sandwich and a diet Coke, though she’d completely lost her appetite. Her stomach hurt, in fact.

“Hey, look,” Dan said after the waitress left, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

She didn’t say anything.

“All right, you wanna talk about
us
? Fine. The way I see it, I laid my cards on the table from day one. I told you how I felt. And you said you didn’t have room for me in your life. So I took you at your word and walked away. End of story.”

“I never said that,” she protested.

“You’re right. You actually said something much worse. You said you didn’t have room to fall in love, which told me you weren’t. In love with me, I mean. August twenty-seventh of this year. See, I even remember the date. Not too often a person gets kicked in the chest like that.”

Their eyes held, and so much meaning passed between them that Melanie could’ve sworn her whole life flashed before her eyes. The past and the future all wrapped up in one glance. She imagined herself much older, married to Dan, with grown sons who looked like him. Without fully intending to, she slid closer to him until their knees touched under the table. Dan’s legs were as solid and powerful as tree trunks.

“You still with your husband?” he asked quietly, holding her gaze.

“No. That’s over.”

As they stared at each other, Bridget Mulqueen suddenly materialized at the end of their table. Her squeaky voice shattered the moment as effectively as a car alarm on a moonlit night.

“Hey, you guys! You’ll never guess what happened. We almost did a controlled buy of fricking aspirin!”

Bridget smacked herself on the forehead comically with her open hand as she slid into the booth next to Dan. Trevor Leonard appeared and just stood there looking awkward. Melanie patted the seat beside her, and he sat down.

“Didja lose the buy money?” Dan asked, frowning.

“Naw, dude, I know what X looks like,” Trevor said proudly. “I put a stop to it before Detective Mulqueen handed over the dough. Can’t scam a scammer.”

“I knew it was fake, too!” Bridget protested.

The waitress set down their drinks. Bridget picked up Dan’s beer and took a big gulp, then realized what she’d done. “Oh, jeez, I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Dan said.

“I was just really parched. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” Bridget seemed on the verge of tears.

“Hey, kiddo, no big deal,” Dan said, patting Bridget’s leg. “Keep it. There’s more where that came from. Want something to eat? You look like you could use it.”

“Okay, sure.”

Bridget gazed at Dan a bit too adoringly for Melanie’s comfort. Though she knew Dan was simply acting like a decent human being, Melanie felt a sharp twinge of jealousy. This was getting out of hand. She’d better calm herself down and chill out about this guy. They had a case to do. A missing girl to find. She couldn’t afford to get all distracted with emotions. Emotions were bad for your concentration.

“Yeah, you guys should both order something,” Melanie made herself say. “But no alcohol, Trevor. Since you’re underage, drinking is a violation of your bail conditions.”

“Fill us in on what happened,” Dan said. “What were you doing negotiating for ecstasy anyway? You were supposed to buy heroin so we could test it against the decks from Whitney’s apartment.”

“Well, we were trying to get to Expo’s people,” Bridget said. “Looking for the two bodyguards. Trevor recognized the big black guy, see, so we approached him. We told him we wanted to score heroin, but he steered us to the Russian guy, who said he only had ecstasy. So we said okay, figuring we start with ecstasy and work our way up, right? The guy asks for the money up front, but I didn’t give it.” She hesitated, struggling over what to say next, but honesty won out. “I mean, okay, I might’ve given it to’m, but Trevor, like, shakes his head not to. Then the guy brings back some blue tablets, and Trevor scrapes at ’em and goes, ‘This shit is counterfeit.’”

“Oldest trick in the book,” Trevor said. “They take fucking Excedrin, put a coating on it, and mark it like X. I tried pulling that once myself to make some extra cash, but for all the work you gotta do to pull the scam, it’s not even worth it.”

“But still, I think we made some headway, right, Trev?” Bridget said.

“Yeah, ’cause afterward we catch up with the black dude, and I go, ‘Yo, your boy tried to rip me.’ And he goes, ‘
Hakuna matata
, it’s a little hot in here right now, son, but I’ll catch you on the rebound.’”

“What did he mean by that?” Melanie asked.

“You know, no worries, like he’d do me solid next time. Make it right. Hook me up with some mad H,” Trevor said.

“No, what I’m asking is, what did he mean by ‘it’s hot’?”

It was a question Melanie already knew the answer to. Anybody in law enforcement or with even a passing knowledge of the street knew what “hot” meant.

“That just means there’s cops around,” Trevor replied, his tone implying she was slow.

“Exactly,” Melanie said.

“What are you saying? That Esposito’s guys knew we were there working undercover?” Bridget asked.

“Well…” Melanie raised her eyebrows meaningfully and looked around the table at each of them. “They knew
something
.”

FABULOUS DEON SPOTTED Linda at the bar. “Well, hello again, honeychild. Thought I’d lost you,” he shouted over the music.

“I was hanging for a while with that guy Aidan who has that radio show, remember him?” Linda shouted back. She took a sip of her cocktail, pinkie extended.

“No, but you have so many men, how can one keep track?”

“Look who’s talking, D!”

“Are you joking? I am in such a dry spell, I swear I’m thinking about paying for it!”

“Never say that! You take too many risks,” she scolded.

“Ah, well, dearest, thank you for caring. But a person does need love.”

“Sex is what
you’re
talking about.”

“Semantics.”

“I’m gonna set you up with that lawyer I mentioned. The one who does work for the station? He’s nice, and he’s looking for a real relationship.”

“I’ll take a pass on that one. He sounds stu
pen
dously boring.”

“You could use a little boring, and fewer party boys. Besides, this guy has a house in Amagansett.”

“What good does that do me in December? Remind me next August, and maybe I’ll be interested.”

“Oh, look, D, Bettina Lloyd is over there! She just signed a major deal with Def Jam. I’m gonna see if I can score an interview. Catch you later.”

Linda pecked Deon on the cheek and floated off into the crowd. Deon sighed and ordered a double Macallan straight up. He tossed back the booze when it came, glancing around restlessly, thinking maybe he should just go home. What would hanging around Screen get him, except a few hours older and a few more ego-bruising rejections? If recent experience was any guide anyway. Maybe he should take Linda up on her offer and meet Mr. Stable-and-Boring. He was turning thirty-five next week, and the party scene, which still held sway over him with its high-voltage thrills, was not welcoming him with quite the same open arms it once had. The writing was on the wall, the bloom off the rose. People had grown tired of him. Pretty soon even dull old sugar daddies like Linda’s friend would look at him with indifferent eyes, so maybe he should set himself up while he still had the goods.

A completely hot young man wearing tight pants and a filmy wifebeater pushed his way up to the bar beside Deon and stood so close that their thighs touched in the tightly packed crowd. The boy had that look Deon went for every time—dusky-skinned, pouty-lipped, built. He ordered an expensive single-malt, then glanced back over his shoulder at Deon enticingly. Deon recognized the move. He’d used it to good effect himself, back in the day.

“Here, darling, let me get that for you,” Deon said, reaching for his wallet.

“Yeah, awright.” The kid had the sound of the projects in his voice. Which to Deon indicated that he might be more available than his dazzling looks would otherwise suggest.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name?”

“Who askin’?”