A Half Dozen Fools (19 page)

Indeed, she felt nauseous. Since she was too angry to cry, hot tears stuck in the corners of her eyes. All she could do was shake her head and hope it wouldn't combust into flames.

"No!" Bobby insisted. "Elyse, everything I said about that is true. I--"

"Get away from me--don't touch me! And please--don't blow any more smoke up my ass!"

She stormed toward the door. "You make me sick! Let me out of here!"

"Elyse, don't yell, please. The whole building will hear."

"I don't care! I don't care who hears!"

She fiddled with the locks, but he'd only locked two of them and in her anger, she was screwing it all up by locking the two he'd left unlocked, then unlocking and relocking the others. She finally yanked irrationally at the handle knowing it wouldn't open.

She turned and screamed, "Let me out of here!"

Bobby practically fell over himself in his rush to correct the situation.

"You pig!" she cried. "I hate you!"

Her shouts made Bobby increasingly flustered as he tried to get the locks undone. "Okay, but, please--can you keep your voice down so the neighbors don't hear?"

"No, I cannot keep my voice down! Let them all hear what a liar you are! Scumbag! Liar! Let me out!"

"Jesus, you're insane!"

"Insane ever to trust you in the first place, you skeeving bastard!"

The tears she'd held back finally gushed. The second Bobby unlocked the last bolt, she burst into tears.

"Please, Elyse, get a grip--"

But Elyse could speak no more. Her anger and frustration burst through as she rammed the door back and let it slam against the wall. Racing down the hall, she passed the elevator and headed to the staircase sobbing. She flew down flight after flight of seldom-used stairs, crying the whole way down. When she reached the bottom floor, she leaned against the wall and let everything left flow out. Once she'd cried out every last tear, she cursed Bobby Kressner again and pulled herself together.

Regaining her focus on reality, she peeked through the glass window in the door off the stairwell. It faced the lobby, so she prepared herself to cross it. Pulling a tissue she found crushed up in a pocket, she checked her powder mirror for damage control. Luckily, her mascara was waterproof, but her liner had smeared. Dabbing at the corners as best she could, she put on her sunglasses to hide her red eyes. After another moment spent containing the last of her sniffles, she was ready to move on.

With head held high, she strode across the lobby. When the doorman held the door, she smiled and stepped outside.

The cool air cleared her head, and she was grateful. On the sidewalk, she put her face directly into the blustering winds. As they blew her hair every which way, she embraced the wild feeling of freedom they stirred inside her. She hoped they would also cleanse her of the pain and aggravation wrought by Bobby Kressner's lies.

Elyse was trying with all her might to enjoy the photographic collection of Manhattan architecture, but, in truth, she wasn't fully present at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The lingering effects of her break-up with Bobby Kressner had dampened her sprit, plain and simple, and she wasn't fully enjoying the event.

After venting the last of her outrage to Shar and Dylan, she'd felt somewhat better, then numb and lifeless later on. Tonight she'd accepted Shar's invitation to the museum because she needed to stop obsessing over her break-up with Bobby, and how she'd been duped from the beginning. Dinner at home alone every night for weeks was starting to get old. These after-effects were far worse than those of her break-up with Rick.

She glanced at Shar and Jerry with their heads together, gazing at a black-and-white photo of the Singer Building taken back in the thirties. While she wasn't quite sure what Shar saw in the paunchy attorney, they obviously enjoyed each other's company. She longed to enjoy a man's company, too, a loving man she could trust--one who would always do her right. She stole a quick glance at Henry, who had also been invited to the exhibit by her friends.

Clearly fascinated by the pictures, Henry also showed an interest in Elyse. She kept a discreet distance, however, and hoped he'd do the same. While she loved the Met, she would have enjoyed the experience more with a man she found attractive. Then again, after that terrible ending with Bobby, romance would be out of the question for some time to come. Staring at the photographs, she hoped for her heartache to pass, knowing Henry wouldn't help much.

Her attention drifted from the photographs to viewers around her.

A lady in a black cashmere sweater and a choker of fat pearls caught Elyse's attention. Elyse admired her straight, silver, chin-length hair and the thoughtful expression she wore while studying the photographs. Elyse wondered what the lady did for a living, and tried to guess.

Maybe she's an editor--a book editor, or editor of a magazine...or, wait, maybe she'd an interior designer! That would explain her interest in these photographs--

She jumped at the sound of Henry's voice too close to her ear.

"So, Elyse. What do you think of the photographs?"

She automatically took a step away.

"Oh, they're fascinating," she answered, pretending to have moved back for a better look. "I mean, some of them are phenomenal. I particularly like the ones by André Kertész over there. It's very cool to see how the city has evolved through its architecture."

"It
is
amazing, isn't it? It's always been my passion. I especially wanted to see this collection, as an architect for over twenty years. I'm glad you could join us tonight."

"Oh? You're an architect?"

"I was. Sold my practice years ago. Quite a hefty settlement, too, I might add. Enabled me to write full-time, finish the two books I always dreamed about."

"Oh? What books did you write?"

"Scholarly stuff, for the most part. One was a study of great male artists and the excessive testosterone that drove them to produce well beyond the average."

"Too much testosterone? That's what made them tick?"

Henry gave her a sly smile. "I don't know if there can ever be
too
much, but they had far more than the average male, that much I can tell you. It drove them to create at a remarkable rate. Testosterone will do that, when sublimated. Highly accomplished men have done it throughout all of history. When channeled accordingly, they've achieved great heights."

While he spoke, Elyse thought his jowly face had a bullfrog aspect to its appearance. With a chuckle, she wondered if he was implying that he, too, had more than his own fair share of testosterone.

"What's so funny?" Henry asked with a seductive tinge to his voice.

"Oh, nothing," she fibbed. "I was just thinking of pumped-up male artists driven to paint. Or create sculptures."

Henry lifted an eyebrow. "Or erect buildings."

She nodded and decided to let the innuendo slide. "It sure beats going to war."

"Make love, not war, that's my motto."

She smile mutely and decided to drop the subject.

Shar and Jerry sidled over.

"Hey, you two," Shar said, "we have to take off in a few. I forgot--I've got to stop by my shoe repair guy. He's fixing shoes I need to wear tomorrow."

"Oh?" Elyse asked. "Okay, I'm ready when you are."

"Well, hold on a minute. I thought we were grabbing a bite after this," Henry said.

"I thought so, too," Jerry said, "until this beauty remembered the shoe repair closes at six."

"I'm sorry, guys," Shar explained with a guilty look. "I forgot he said to come back before six. If I don't get over there tonight, I'll have to leave really early in the morning. Otherwise, I'm screwed for the matinee. This way, I can check them out, and he can fiddle with them if he has to."

"Well, I'll be glad to have dinner with Elyse." Henry glanced at Elyse. "If that's all right with you, of course."

Elyse wanted to say that it wasn't, but she couldn't think of an excuse fast enough and, of course, she couldn't be rude.

She shot a subtly pleading look toward her friend. "How long will you be at the shoe repair, Shar?"

"I don't know, darling. It's downtown, off Greenwich. That guy I've been going to for years. Why, you want to meet us somewhere?"

But Henry would not be ignored. "I'd like to take Elyse to a great little place on the Upper East Side. A bistro, European style. Very hot, right now. I think you'd really enjoy it, Elyse."

"Which place is that?" Jerry asked.

"The Brasserie Normandie," Henry answered.

"What, on Madison?"

"Mm-hmm. Just off Seventy-Eighth."

"Yeah...geez, I haven't been there since it changed hands. What, last year?"

"Just about," Henry said. He grunted jovially. "Oh, it's fabulous. I eat there at least once a week. You'll have to check it out one of these days."

"Let's plan on it. One night when the shoe repair man isn't waiting for us."

"Right," Shar interjected, "and we'd better run now to make sure I catch him before he closes shop."

She gave Elyse a hug and kiss-kiss on either cheek. Elyse widened her eyes to signal her lack of enthusiasm. Shar gave her another little hug and whispered in her ear. "It's only dinner. You all right with that?"

"Not really," Elyse mumbled.

Shar glanced quickly to make sure Henry was out of earshot. "You want me to get you out of it somehow before we go?"

Shar shot her a questioning look, but Elyse shook her head and gave in with a slightly hang-dog expression.

"It'll be fine, I'm sure," she said in a mopey voice.

With that, Shar blew her a kiss, hooked Jerry's arm and rushed him off. The thought of being completely alone with Henry made Elyse a bit uneasy, but dumping on her friend to rescue her had seemed immature. Well, she felt safe enough--at least, for now, with fifty strangers around.

* * * *

The Brasserie was packed with an Upper East Side crowd oozing class and money.

Elyse had to admit the ambiance and décor were great. She loved the mahogany interior, leather seats and frosted glass partitions. The only formality in the otherwise chic-casual restaurant was in the white table cloths.

The noise level was constant but not over-the-top, and the place teemed with moneyed urbanites who appreciated eating well, in addition to being seen. The acoustics were such that a decent conversation could be shared at any table, even with numerous others going on in the background. Elyse thought it was fun and decided to enjoy it as best she could, even though she got a pervy vibe from Henry. And while she did not find him physically attractive whatsoever, she figured he'd at least be intellectually stimulating, which might lead to friendship.

While looking over the menu, Henry asked Elyse what looked good to her. She mentioned the goat cheese salad, then pointed out the crab cakes, as well as the mussels. He hemmed and hawed, then tooted the horn for the pommes frites and potato pancakes. Was it her imagination, or was he intentionally steering her toward the least expensive items?

"The smaller plates here are fine, believe me," he suggested. "No sense in getting a full course, like an entrée. As a matter of fact, if you want to split something, we could even do that."

"No, that's fine," Elyse answered. "I'll get my own."

As she scanned the wines-by-the-glass list, Henry suggested the house wine was good enough.

She stopped and looked at him. "Henry? Don't worry about anything, please. I'll be paying my own check tonight."

"Wha-- Uh, no, that's not what I meant."

"Just want you to know it's not a problem."

"Oh," he said with a snuff of phony laughter, "don't worry about it. I was merely suggesting..."

Luckily, the male server arrived, bringing further discussion on the topic to an end. Elyse intended to pay for herself and, therefore, ordered exactly what she wanted. After the server left the table, Henry asked Elyse questions about herself, starting with where she'd grown up and gone to school. While Elyse sensed genuine interest on his part, she also suspected he was going down a check list seeking a certain response. If there were "right" answers to his queries, she had no idea what they might be. She wondered briefly if he thought she was applying to be his girlfriend--a position she held no interest in filling.

After their meals arrived, Henry let her know he had once been engaged to a member of the Nagan clan, that powerful American political family.

"Oh?" Elyse asked. "Wow. But, what--it didn't work out? Not to be rude. I mean, if you don't want to talk about it--"

"Oh, no, I don't care, doesn't bother me to talk about it, at all. In fact, I was happy to comply with her sexual requests, but then, it just got too weird after a while."

That wasn't quite the answer Elyse had expected. In fact, she'd really only wanted a general overview without specifics. The uninvited sexual-thing urged her to end the conversation there, so she buttoned her lip and reached inside the basket for another piece of bread. Henry, however, was more than glad to keep the discussion going.

"I mean, I was more than happy to accommodate her desire for anal sex all the time, until this one dinner party..."

Elyse blanched. This was way too much information so early in their friendship. Since she didn't really want to know more, she buttered her bread without looking up. Henry, however, was on a roll.

"There we were, at their family estate in Florida one summer. While the rest of the family and guests are having coffee and dessert, she motions me to meet her outside. So, I do. Right?"

Part of Elyse really didn't want to let on that she was listening. Then again, she didn't want to openly ignore him. After all, he was a friend of Shar's boyfriend, and her elder, too. And, even worse, she had to admit that a morbid sense of curiosity had sparked her interest in hearing the rest of his story. In spite of the unsavory subject of his private sex life with a poor little rich girl, Elyse found herself wanting to know more--the same way one gawks at the gory details of a roadside accident without turning away. So, in spite of a voice in her head suggesting she beg off, she nodded while savoring the taste of salty butter on fresh, warm bread.