Coffee in Common (5 page)

Introductions completed, Debbie said, "Pardon us for a minute. We need to find the little girls room."

The glare returned and as soon as the girls were out of earshot, he blasted Rob. "What the fuck is this? Did you set me up or something and not bother to ask me?"

"Take it easy, man. Debbie said her friend was staying with her for a few days and asked if I could find her a date for the evening. She wasn't even sure Marianne would want to come out, so I didn't say anything in case she didn't show. I didn't want to get your hopes up, you know?"

"Get my hopes up? Are you kidding? What if I already had a date tonight?"

"But you don't."

"But
you
didn't know that. Besides, I'm not interested in a date tonight. I want to go home and call Jillian."

"Who?"

"Jillian. Focus, Rob. The girl from the coffee shop. The girl I've been talking about all day. And who's Debbie?"

"I met her yesterday at the gym. If you think she looks good now, you should see her in spandex."

Paul's head moved slowly from side to side, unbelieving.

"And what about Lisa? You just finished telling me how much you love her, how much you miss her, how you never think of other girls, and now you're ready to date this Debbie? Was that a joke? What if she sees you with her?"

"Hey, she's the one who wanted to take a break. Am I supposed to sit around and wait for her to make up her mind?"

"I don't believe this. Did you hear
anything
I said before? I told you to go after her, to convince her she wants you back. Do you think going out with someone else will accomplish that?"

"I don't know."

"Man, I really don't want to spend the night with…oh shit, here they come."

Rob glanced over his shoulder as girls emerged from the ladies room.

"Come on, man, be a friend. Be nice to her for a few hours so me and Debbie can get to know each other. I'll owe you one."

"A big one."

"A big one what?" Debbie asked.

Paul raised his hand and wiggled his little finger. "We were discussing Rob's desire to find a way to overcome his, ah, shortcoming."

7:55 PM

Laughter rang through the room. Jillian, Liz, and Jenna were sitting on the sofa. The table in front of them was littered with open take-out containers and water bottles.

"I'm telling you, he was so goofy and cute and he was trying so hard, but I really thought it was some kind of totally bad pick-up thing, you know?"

Liz and Jenna nodded.

"So my evil twin took over and I was
so
mean to him. But then, when I saw his face as I passed him, I started thinking maybe it wasn't just a line. So I let him know where I'd be for lunch and he, umm, he looked like he'd won the lottery."

"The lottery?" Jenna asked.

"Uh-huh, all happy and excited. I spent all morning debating if I should really go, you know. I mean, he could have been a good actor or some weirdo, but I went."

Jillian's eyes closed as she smiled again.

Liz grinned. "Jeez, she's at it again." She poked Jillian's arm. "Come on girl, snap out of it."

Jillian made a face but resumed her recitation. She reported everything that happened at lunch. Her friends interrupted frequently with questions, for clarifications, and to laugh out loud. They analyzed every sentence, every word, every inflection, gesture, raised eyebrow, scratched ear, and twitch of the lunchtime conversation. They chewed it all up and spit out every possible shade of meaning of every minute point until there was simply nothing left to scrutinize.

"So how ugly is he?" Liz asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, so far, we've heard how goofy he was and then how charming he was and blah, blah, blah, but not a word about how he looks. What's the matter with him?"

"I already told you he was cute."

"No you didn't," Jenna said. "You said he
acted
goofy and cute."

"Well my mistake. I'll tell you…" Jillian took several long sips from her water bottle before checking the various containers to see what morsels might remain. Then she said, "You know, I really should go pee. I'll be back in a minute."

Liz grabbed her left arm. "You're going nowhere." She motioned for Jenna to hold her right.

"Yah," Jenna said. "Pee your pants if you have to but you're not getting up until we know what he looks like."

Jillian pretended to struggle for a few seconds, until all three were laughing again.

"He is sooo cute. He's about five-ten, has brown hair, cut short, and these incredible brown eyes that seemed to see right inside me. He's thin, but not skinny and has a really nice smile with a dimple right here." Jillian pointed to a spot on her left cheek a little less than an inch away from the corner of her mouth. "Satisfied?"

"He sounds really great," Jenna told her. "Is he cuter than Aiden?"

Jillian flinched. Liz glared at Jenna, who just shrugged.

"I'm sorry. It's been so long I didn't think his name was still verboten."

"Well, it is," Liz barked. "And you should…"

Jillian laid a hand on her friend's arm. "It's okay, Liz, it just caught me off-guard." But her dreamy smile had vanished. She turned to Jenna. "Neither one is cuter, really. They're too different to compare like that. Paul has a kind of Mediterranean look while…the other one had that blond, Nordic thing going."

Jenna nodded. "I remember."

"But when's he supposed to call?" Liz asked, to change the subject.

"I don't know," Jillian replied, as her smile returned. "I was hoping he'd call tonight. He said he would, but it's after eight already so maybe not."

"Could be he had to work late." Jenna said.

"Or had a date," Liz teased.

"Maybe." Jillian shrugged. "I'm not worrying about it. If he calls, he calls. If he doesn't, he doesn't." She jumped up from the sofa and headed for the television. "Let's watch a movie."

10:05 PM

"The guy had been knocking over jewelry stores for six months." Marianne said, her eyes on Paul but aware of Rob and Debbie playing darts behind him, at the end of the room. "Mostly smash and grab, although once he showed a knife when a store manager started to chase after him. Anyway, we're taking lunch, and my partner's sitting in the car while I run in for some stuff I needed. I'm almost at the drugstore when an alarm goes off and this guy comes barrel-assing out of the jewelry store, knocks down two teenagers, and flies off away from me. I yell, ‘Stop, police' and take off after him. He was fast, but I was faster.

"So I chase the guy through the mall and into the parking garage. I'm only about twenty feet behind him and closing when he decides since he can't outrun me, he's gonna whoop me. He stopped so abruptly my momentum carried me right in front of him before I could stop, too. Now he figures to get in a quick punch before I can set myself, so he throws a roundhouse."

She paused half-a-second, giving her head a quick shake. "I reacted without thinking, you know? I've had some martial arts training and it just kicked in. I grabbed the arm and used the momentum to pull him forward and off his feet as I twisted. But somehow, as he's flying by me, he reaches out, grabs at me with his free hand and suddenly the front of my shirt is ripped open and one side of my bra is up here."

She ran a finger across her chest from the opening in her v-neck, across the top of her left breast, to her armpit. "Now, the guy is down, but scrambling to get back on his feet, so I pull my weapon and yell ‘Freeze asshole.' Well, he looks up, sees the gun, then sees my boob waving in the breeze, and his eyes kind of bug out and start flitting back and forth from one to the other. I swear, despite the adrenaline and being pissed and everything, I almost started laughing."

Paul grinned, but said nothing, not wanting to interrupt her.

"Well, by this time, there's about a dozen civilians watching, so I yell at them to stay back, then order the guy face down on the ground. Holding the gun on him with one hand, I get the cuffs on him with the other. Now I can holster the gun, get myself back into the bra and pull my shirt closed, even though most of the buttons were gone. And as I'm doing that, the civilians start applauding."

Paul was laughing, loving both the story and the easy way in which she was telling it.

"Sure, laugh at the poor cop's embarrassment," Marianne said. "But you haven't heard the best part yet.

"When I ordered him to get on the ground and he was going back and forth between the gun and my boob, you know what the jerk said to me? He said ‘Man, I wish I had a camera. Nobody's ever gonna believe this in the joint.'"

By now Paul was howling and it took him a minute to get his voice back. "You're an amazing woman, Mare." He started chuckling again. "I'm sorry, but I can't get the picture of you and the gun and the guy looking at you out of my head. Somebody should put that scene in a movie."

That drew a laugh from Marianne. "Well if you ever write the script, remember to give me credit."

She swallowed some of her beer. "The strange thing was, though, even though it was a little embarrassing while it was happening, I didn't think it was all that big a deal until I started writing the arrest report. Then I had to think about whether to put those details in. Technically, I'm supposed to, but it was too much to think of the report being copied and passed around for some cheap chuckles, so I said the guy tore my shirt and left it at that."

"And nobody found out?"

"Oh, they found out. When the uniforms arrived, they took statements from the civilians who'd witnessed the arrest. I took a pile of crap from the guys for almost a week. But it was worth it. Catching the guy was a real coup. They couldn't give me a promotion so soon after the last one, but they did ask me if I'd be interested in a special two week training seminar in Boston. I hadn't seen Debbie in almost a year since she took the job here and these seminars are like paid vacations, so I jumped at it."

She paused to take another sip from her beer.

"Hey, ummm, I want to thank you for being so nice tonight. It was obvious you didn't know you'd been set up to baby-sit. Yet you stayed and listened to my stories and had some pretty good ones of your own. You even made me laugh and I really appreciate it."

Paul started to protest. But she cut him off.

"Stop, please. You don't make detective at my tender age without being able to read people and situations. So who is she?"

"Who is who?"

Doing her best to sound like a TV cop, she said, "Hey, I'm asking the questions here. Who's the girl you've been thinking about all night while you've been paying attention to me?"

Paul's grin told her she'd been on target. "Was it that obvious?" he asked. "I'm sorry."

Marianne waved off his apology. "It wasn't obvious at all. Just an educated guess. So, who is she?"

"You really are good at your job, aren't you? I'll have to remember never to commit any crimes in Seattle. Her name is Jillian. I met her this morning in a coffee shop."

"A coffee shop? Good coffee? You know how we cops like our coffee."

"The best in Boston. It's across the common on Tremont Street. Coffey's Coffee."

"You're kidding about the name, right?"

"Nope. It's been in the same location forever. Way before either of us were born. If you go there, try the blueberry muffins."

"I will. Thanks. Now tell me about Jillian."

Paul spent the next ten minutes relating the story of how he and Jillian met, his pursuing her out of the coffee shop, and their lunch date.

When he was done, Marianne's hand was at her cheek, her face and eyes soft with emotion.

"What a great story," she said. "What a great way to meet. So when's the first date?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Well, I'd planned to call her when I got home tonight, but, ahh, something came up."

"You mean…"

She abruptly stood up and waved. "Yo Debbie, Rob, over here now."

"Mare, you don't have to…"

"Oh yes I do."

Hearing the tone of her voice, Rob and Debbie hurried back to the table.

"What's wrong?" Rob asked. "Did he…"

Marianne cut him off with a glare. "You are in big trouble, pal."

She turned to Debbie.

"Deb, we have to go. Paul has something important to do and it can't wait any longer."

She turned to Paul, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you again." She said. "You were very sweet. Jillian is a lucky girl, even if she doesn't know it yet."

"Jillian? Who's Jillian?" Debbie asked as Paul said goodbye and headed for the door.

"I'll tell you later." Marianne turned back to Rob. "As for you…"

10:45 PM

The windows of Paul's third floor condo on the corner of Charlesgate East and Boylston Street looked out across the busy intersection onto the north end of the Fens, a beautiful and peaceful park of ponds, flower beds, and manicured lawns as well as a running track, basketball court, and a baseball field.

He let himself in, dropped his coat on a chair, and headed for the bathroom.

Man, Marianne was something else. Who knew cops could be so hot? And funny. I really had a good time with her tonight…and she seemed to like me…maybe I shouldn't have said anything about Jillian…but she knew…damn she's a good cop. And there
is
something about Jillian…

Three minutes later, his mind was still racing as he walked back into the living room.

…but there's no way I'm moving to Seattle or she's staying in Boston, so forget about her and call Jillian.

He flipped open his wallet, retrieved a small slip of paper, and held it before him with reverence. On it was written
the number
.

A glance at the clock as he fished his phone from his pocket told him it was 10:50.

Is it too late to call?

He sat on the edge of the recliner, next to the table that held a small lamp. After switching on the light, he studied the clock again for half a minute.