it. So that would make you sexually challenged…” She kissed his ear, then whispered, “That is to say—useless.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” The lines in Abe’s face softened.
She sat up, turned to look at him.
He raised up on an elbow, finding her eyes. “How could I ever be the man I’d like to be if I couldn’t please you?”
She drew her hand across his chest. “That’s nice.”
He sat, kissed her slowly, then lay back on the bed, kind of dreamy.
For a long time, Corey sat there, watching him think. She loved how nothing about Abe was quite what it seemed. Corey made a funny face, to see if he’d notice. He didn’t. She did feel better. She should have stayed in bed this morning, unplugged the phone.
“There’s something we need to discuss,” he finally said, interrupting her thoughts. He glanced out the window. His bushy eyebrows were almost touching. “It’s complicated, though, because it concerns a patient.”
She leaned toward him. “Confidentiality?”
“Right.”
“Shit.”
Abe looked up at her. “I’m seeing someone who knows Billy.”
“Who?”
“You’re not supposed to ask.” He touched her face. “The thing is, they’re doing drugs, and I’m worried about the whole set up. There’s an older girl involved.”
“Billy—Will—told me about Aaron and Maisie. They’re hanging out with an older girl that scared Billy. Sounds like she is or was an addict.”
“Is Billy with them?” Abe asked.
“He’s at Everyday Music.” When Abe furrowed his brow, puzzled, Corey said, “It’s that used CD store on Tenth. After, he was going to find Aaron.”
“Let’s find Billy,” he said, already on it.
“He won’t like it,” Corey pointed out. She imagined Billy with Aaron, Maisie and Star. Not today. Un-unh.
They reached for their clothes at the same time.
The Blue City Cafe was west of Twelfth Avenue between Pike and Pine. The old Victorian home had been converted to commercial space as the area changed. The owner of the café had a hunch and she signed a long-term lease. That first year she ran a coffee counter. She waited, she watched, and she figured out that more and more kids were going to be drinking more and more exotic coffees. She traded her Formica coffee counter for cheap oriental rugs, her Folgers and doughnuts for a state-of-the-art espresso machine, homemade cookies and fruit bars. The coffee counter reopened as the Blue City Cafe, with live music on Saturdays. Her sense of where the area was going was pretty much prescient.
Since then, the cafe had taken over the house. Most of the space had become an over-sized, laid-back living room, with small groupings of sofas, dark oak tables and chairs, exposed fir posts, and fir mullions on the windows. In the back, against the living room wall, Aaron and Maisie were deep in conversation, ignoring their lattes.
“Come down, Maise,” Aaron was saying.
“I am down. He knows my real dad.” She sat back. Just saying it gave her a rush. “I mean it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. He just knew things about me. About when I was little.”
“This is too crazy.”
“I think it’s like fate, you know. Maybe Jimmy’s a messenger, sent to get me off the twenty-four-seven Olympic treadmill.”
“And maybe we’re going too fast here.”
“It wasn’t too fast to get it on with Star.”
“I was stoned.”
“Kind of groovin’ on great big breasts, huh?” Maisie smiled when Aaron blushed. She watched him, so pumped about seeing her dad she wasn’t even jealous anymore.
“C’mon, hey…” He turned away.
Maisie kissed his neck, his ear, then she whispered, “You are so cool. And I think it’s so awesome, the way we went for it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it was…” He turned back, cracking the window, then offering cigarettes. They knew they were violating the no smoking ordinance, but here in the back, it wasn’t often enforced. Aaron lit her Marlboro, then his. “Did you think it was kind of weird, the way Jimmy just watched?”
“I liked it.” She took a slow drag, remembering. “I think he’s waiting.”
“Maybe. I guess. What about us?” Aaron asked.
“We’re good. We’re just experiencing some real life here. It will make us better.”
“I’d rather be with you than with anyone.”
“Thank you.” She gently ran her finger along the bright red Z in his hair. Sex made him act older, she was thinking. And after, he always looked good. “Me too.”
“Maise, we’re doing great, yeah, but here’s the thing—I’m not liking the coke, and I don’t know about Jimmy.” He let the words hang there, met her eyes. “I mean he’s really nice. But there’s something about the guy, the way he’s always out there, like he’s circling or something.”
Maisie closed her eyes, frustrated. She let go of his hand. “How many adults do you know who aren’t middle class? I mean really know. I’m not talking about the ones who work for your parents.”
“Some.” He shrugged. “I dunno.”
“C’mon, Aar. We live in this cocoon. I mean, we are groomed like thoroughbreds and sooo protected. I’ve been prepping for my SATs since the fourth grade. The adults we know actually believe that going to an Ivy matters. My parents check the value of their stock options every day. They worry about getting a window table at Canlis. These people aren’t like that. They’ve done some living. Hard times. Risk taking. Real life.”
He exhaled smoke through his nose, uncertain. “It’s cool, how easy it is to be with them.”
“Yeah,” she smiled, liking this better. “And they don’t seem so, I dunno, moralistic. Like Verlaine, always doing the hard thing.”
“Do you think they actually know your real dad?”
“Jimmy says he’ll take me to him.”
“When?”
“Soon. I think he wants to be sure I won’t tell Verlaine.”
“Can we talk to anyone about this?”
“No
