Текст книги "Red Jade "

Автор книги: Henry Chang

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Wait Until Dark

It was only dinnertime but the Golden Star was already half full, a mixed-bag clientele of Chinese, black, and Puerto Ricans driven in by the cold. They were mostly spread out along the oval bar, bopping and drinking under the dim blue light. Candy Dulfer’s saxophone wailed out of the jukebox setup and most of the booths were empty, but Jack spotted Billy by the green-felt pool table in the back.

Billy was watching two Latinas shooting money ball, his apparently upbeat mood encouraged by shots of scotch and the display of cleavage leaning across the spread of colored balls.

Jack caught Billy’s attention with bottles of beer, and they moved to the end of the bar where Jack could watch the front door. They traded palms and Billy started right in, grinning like a fool.

“Caught the motherfucker in a poolroom, ha?” He laughed. “What the fuck did I say? Street always runs to street, right?”

They clanged bottles and Billy chased hot scotch with cold beer.

“And the boy tried to run?” He shook his head. “Shit, if I was the OTB shooter I’d run, too!” He drained the beer, ordered another.

“Whoa,” Jack advised. “Slow down, brother. Night’s young.”

Billy was deaf to the warning.

“You did good, brother! I knew you would.” He went on, “Another medal on your chest, kid! What kinda badge you get next? Platinum? ”

Jack grinned. “Fuck you, Billy.”

They banged bottles again, laughing.

“You know I love you, right?” Billy deadpanned.

“Fuck you again, Billy Bow.”

“I was right, though,” Billy challenged, “about you having to go out there, doing it yourself. Right?”

“You were right,” Jack admitted.

“Fuckin’ A.”

The smell of chicken wings and calamari wafted out of the kitchen. Jack checked his watch but Billy noticed Alex coming through the front door first.

“Hey, ain’t that the lawyer chick you keep getting the bok tong go for? The one with the kid?”

“Not so loud, man,” Jack shushed Billy.

“Sorry. I’m divorced. Lawyers make me nervous. But watch it, bro. Baggage.” Billy brought his attention back to the ladies at the pool table.

“Check you later,” Jack said, motioning Alex to one of the booths. She was wearing the red jacket again, the one he’d remembered in his dream.

They ordered drinks and food, and she lit up a cigarette.

“So, welcome back,” she said as they clinked glass.

Jack felt it would be better for Alex to just forget the shooting incidents, and spared her the confusing elements of the hand and the charm and the abandoned boat.

“Nothing ever came up,” he explained simply. “They haven’t found any bodies. Yet.”

“So we don’t know what happened to them?” she asked through the smoky exhale.

“Maybe we’ll never know. Also, I never told you the woman was a possible murder suspect.”

The revelation seemed to take some of the sympathy out of Alex. She shook her head, then shrugged her shoulders, knowing Jack would keep homicide details to himself.

“Okay then,” she said, ready to move on. It seemed unlike her, but Jack figured being back in New York, with her full workload, had brought her back to reality. She sipped her Cosmopolitan and eyed Jack curiously.

He pictured her from his dream again, swaying to music. Alex seemed more pensive than usual and Jack wondered if he was the cause. They shared a steak and a side of calamari. Jack could hear Billy’s laughter over the music from the jukebox.

“What’s on your mind, lady?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him and he felt her lawyer persona returning as she spoke over the rim of the glass.

“I’m six months into a divorce process,” she began. “My divorce law colleagues have advised me not to get involved with anyone. No entanglements, no semblance of infidelity that could surface in court.”

He allowed her to continue, the words entanglement and infidelity buzzing in his ears.

“Can I trust you?” she asked coolly.

“Me?” He took a swig of his beer.

“You’re a cop involved in some controversial Chinatown cases. I’m in your case files. You helped me avoid a D-and-D, and people have seen us together in Seattle.”

“I don’t think there’s a problem,” he said casually.

“Not legally maybe, but ethically …” She slipped into his side of the booth, nudged him over.

“Look,” he said smiling, “I don’t think I’d want to be an entanglement, legal, ethical, or otherwise. It wouldn’t be right.”

“What’s not right is the spousal jerk’s got himself a girlfriend, living it up in Westchester. And I’m the one who’s supposed to behave?” She snuffed her cigarette, put her hand on his chest like she was feeling for the heartbeats. “You wouldn’t want to get entangled with me?” she teased. “I’m not misbehaving, am I?”

“Well, as long as you’re not disorderly,” he replied.

She laughed and he saw an opportunity to ask her about what had been nagging him.

“As long as we’re talking legal,” he said, “what do you think about ADA Bang Sing?”

Alex was surprised. “Where’s that coming from?” she asked. “Did you guys butt heads or something?”

“No,” Jack answered. “Not at all.”

“He’s on one of your cases?”

“That’s right.”

She eyed him suspiciously but said, “He’s brilliant, but mercenary. He goes whichever way the wind blows.”

“So he always has the wind at his back,” Jack concluded.

“That’s right. But you’re both on the same side, no?”

“Well, yeah …” Jack retreated.

“So you’re plying me for this information and it’s strictly professional?”

“Right.”

“And not because, let’s just say, because you’re jealous? Or something?”

“Jealous?” Jack repeated. “Me?” He remembered she’d asked him that in Seattle. “Why would I be jealous? Does he have something I want?”

Alex was quiet for a beat before answering, “Don’t know. What do you want?”

“I want to know if I give love, I’m going to get love back,” he answered. “Sounds hokey, I know.”

“Sounds like quid pro quo.”

“It’s not a game to me.” He finished his beer. “You’ll know if it’s there. Or not.”

“This is beginning to sound like a trial. Like we’re in court.”

“Forget it,” he offered. “I was just curious.”

“Okay.” She let it go but he knew his concerns were still unanswered. There was a burst of raucous laughter and he could see that Billy was shooting pool with the Latinas now, and he felt happy for him.

The Golden Star was getting crowded and Jack paid the tab, offering to walk Alex home. They went out into the winter night and she linked her arm through his as they walked. She didn’t seem concerned about entanglements anymore.

“Come up for some sambuca,” she said. It came out soft but sounded like a command.

“You think?” he asked, still wondering about Bang Sing.

“Yeah, well, you have an outstanding rain check. You need to cash it in before something else happens,” she insisted.

“Okay then,” Jack agreed. “Good to go.”

They were quiet walking the last block before they came to the gates of Confucius Towers.

Alex led the way past the doorman guard in the lobby. At the elevator, she took Jack’s hand, led him in, and tapped the button for the thirty-third floor. A lucky yang number, Jack thought.

The interior of the elevator was a bright yellow, and they both knew they were covered by the surveillance camera, exchanging little smiles as they were whisked upward. The camera couldn’t see that she was squeezing his hand in hers.

Inside 33C, Alex hit a switch, and the lights went low and music started playing softly from somewhere. Jack could see it was the kind of Chinatown apartment that only well-to-do Chinese could afford: large picture windows with a high-rise view, granite countertops in the kitchen, an arranged fung shui living space.

A place he and his Pa could have never afforded.

Alex draped her red jacket on a chair and Jack did the same with his. She gave him a hug and started the espresso machine. There were family photos and children’s books on the shelves, law books to one side. Jack imagined her little girl, Chloe, had a room somewhere, but knew she wasn’t home because Alex wouldn’t have brought him up unannounced. There were art pieces and drawings on the walls.

He could smell the coffee as he watched her bring the sambuca out, setting designer coffee cups on the countertop. He remembered the night in Seattle, and Alex, in gold lingerie.

Quietly, she came up close, and the kiss she gave him made him forget all about Bang Sing, made him forget Seattle and the pain in his shoulder and the emptiness in his soul. He pulled her close, liked he’d wanted to do in his dream, heart to heart, and felt her softness against him. He took a shaolin breath and pressed his lips to hers, a slow smoldering kiss that felt like it was for real and meant something more than just alcoholic surrender to desperate need.

They took their time slow-dancing to the low music. The words ended and then they spoke with their eyes and hands. Along the way toward the bedroom Jack had a hopeful feeling that things were going to be all right, that maybe his hard-hearted cynicism was misguided, and the risks he’d taken were worthwhile after all….