Live Fast Die Hot (19 page)

The next day, Jason's little sister, Veronica, showed up for the weekend. Veronica still lived in Bergen County and made an effort each week to drive into the city to spend time with Sid. Recently, she'd been spending more time with us than usual, due in large part to a dramatic breakup with a one-legged man. She didn't know right off the bat that he had only one leg. It was something that was revealed with time. Veronica pursued the relationship anyway, but things went south when the man became convinced Veronica was humping his stump during sex. After accusing Veronica of having acrotomophilia, or an amputee fetish, the one-legged man threw her out of his house. The relationship ended in a dramatic screaming match on the man's front porch, where he used his fake leg to barricade the front door, prohibiting Veronica from entering.

Hearing her talk, you would never guess that the five-foot-tall Snooki look-alike was in fact a Montessori schoolteacher. Outside of work, she was as refined as Joe Pesci in
Goodfellas.
She screamed, she cursed, she gave people the bird while driving. But Monday through Friday, she headed up the Parent-Teacher Association and was an authority on the rail industry of Sodor Island.

“You know I stopped smoking my menthols nine months ago!” Veronica said, emotionally stuffing her face with a crumb cake she'd sneaked into the apartment while I wasn't looking.

Normally I enjoyed watching others ingest empty calories, but there was something different about Veronica's urgency. It was as if she knew I was seconds away from snatching the cake out of her hands and jamming my fingers down her throat in a desperate attempt to get her life back on track. Part of Veronica liked having me police her and the other part of her hated me for it. Veronica needed a mommy figure in her life, and when I met Jason, I filled those shoes. After all, I liked having a project. Over the course of seven summers together I'd encouraged Veronica to switch jobs, break up with various (two-legged) boyfriends, and, most recently, to stop smoking. But now that I had an actual kid, my patience with Veronica had run thin and I found myself resenting her for not taking better care of herself and for placing any of that responsibility on me.

“I know it isn't you,” I said, charging across the room toward the window, like a mother bear protecting her den. “It's whoever lives in that apartment.” I pulled Sid up and bounced him on my hip, hoping to lock eyes with the offender. The smoker across the way was igniting something inside me that I hadn't felt since Jason's ex had written me, telling me to stop posting photos of myself in her old beach caftan. Peeking out the window, my blood boiled with outrage, but also my body tingled with excitement. Some kind of confrontation was in the imminent future.

“Does my brother know about this?” Veronica was accustomed to her brother having no idea what we were up to. She was merely asking so she'd have her story straight. In the past we'd omitted all sorts of details and facts in order to protect Jason from his reality.

Fact. Veronica and I spent every summer obsessing over Jason's ex.

Detail. I set Jason's ex up on a date with my former acting coach, then went on the date with them (sadly, not in her beach caftan).

“Not really,” I said. “Naomi and I are gonna walk around the block to see if we can collect more intel.” I pulled a baseball cap over my head and wedged Sid's swollen baby feet into a pair of sandals before grabbing my keys and leaving.

“What about me?” Veronica asked, wounded that she'd been excluded from the caper.

“You're too depressed. I need someone who can focus.” I brushed past her out the door.

The sun was just beginning to set as Naomi, Sid, and I slowly made our way around the block. Sid had been walking since his first birthday but still hadn't mastered the art of bending his legs. Instead, he just sort of willed himself forward with his upper body, leaving his rigid lower half no choice but to follow. He was becoming a person before my eyes. He was sweet and yet sadistic; his favorite pastime was pretending to run me over with a car. He showed signs of being an OCD clean freak, walking behind me, picking up towels and folding them. There were also signs of him being a total raging disaster, pouring oatmeal over his head and spinning the dogs around the room by their heads. He reminded me of all the things I loved about myself coupled with all the things I hated about Jason. But like a hot guy who never texts you when he says he's going to, even his annoying qualities were adorable. He was perfect. And he was gorgeous. More gorgeous than I ever thought a person could be. I was humbled every time he cast his eyes on me. I didn't feel good enough for him. I suspected I never would.

When we approached the smoker's building, Naomi and I spotted an older man with dark, wavy hair haggling with his dry-cleaning deliveryman out front.

“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “Do you live in this building?”

“Umm. Yes?” the man answered with trepidation.

“Oh, good. I was just wondering if I could speak to you for a minute. I live in the building behind you.”

The deliveryman counted his cash, then plugged his ears with headphones and pedaled off. Naomi carried Sid as we hiked up the front steps of the building, moving in on the clearly angst-ridden tenant.

“How can I help you?” he asked in a hurried tone. He had an accent that sounded French but not French and wore several chunky sterling chains around his stubbly neck.

“I—well, this is a weird question, but do you smoke or know anyone in your building who does?” I glanced at Naomi for approval. She nodded back.

“Smoke? No,” he said firmly.

“Oh, okay. Well, what floor do you live on?”

“I—” The man hesitated. “I live on six. But I have to go now, I have a conference call.” He punched a series of numbers into his call box and walked inside without another word.

“Wha—” The door slammed in my face before I could continue. I turned to Naomi, who was grimacing at the door.

“He's lying. I can taste it.”

“Really?” I asked.

Nothing made me happier than getting confirmation that somebody was hiding something from me, because it instantly justified my unhealthy need to pry into his or her personal life.

Turning to the call box, I impulsively pushed every button and waited for someone to pick up.

Beep, beep, beep.
The call box hummed.

“We're Amazon Prime drones, if anybody answers,” I said to Naomi, adjusting my beat-up Ramones tank to make it look more official.

After several seconds, a UPS man appeared. It was Rico, the same UPS guy who delivered to our building.

“Hola. Cómo estás?”
Naomi flirted. Rico opened the door and wheeled his hand trolley full of boxes past us.

“Hi, Rico! How's the family?” I smiled eagerly.

Naomi held the door for Rico, then motioned for me to enter behind him.

“Everybody is good, thank you,” Rico said, as I awkwardly and uncomfortably adhered to his ass.

Once I was in, I peeled myself off Rico and followed Naomi and Sid into the stairwell. Sid kicked and screamed as we made our way up to the third floor, desperate to negotiate a flight on his own. After spending ten minutes on one step, I decided that not only did Sid's motor skills suck, they were jeopardizing the entire mission. Soon Jason would return home and start asking questions. Stressed for time, I charged ahead, leaving Naomi to handle Sid. The third floor was dark, with worn-down commercial carpet that hadn't been redone since the year I was born. I let my nose guide me through the musky hall until I arrived at apartment 305. Stale tobacco residue permeated the air. Yellow nicotine stains framed the dilapidated door. This was the den of the dragon woman, I was sure. I could hear footsteps inside, but I didn't dare knock.

Minutes later, Sid barreled down the corridor behind me, screaming. Naomi tried to hush him, but it was no use, he'd gone completely rogue. Knowing it was only a matter of time before my rookie ride-along botched the entire operation, I started to panic. I snooped around the neighboring apartments, hoping to catch someone I could turn into an ally. Surely I wasn't the only person affected by the copious amounts of carcinogen affecting their community. But nobody was home. We waited several more minutes before Sid's face turned beet red. Standing at arm's length behind an imaginary wall, he was pooping. He stared straight at me to make sure I wasn't staring at him, as any direct eye contact during one of his bowel movements was strictly forbidden. Once he'd finished, he was back to his fun-loving self and amenable to being held. I threw him over my shoulder and scurried home, hoping I'd beat Jason.

“They're back!” Veronica screamed, before we got through the front door. In the time we'd been gone, she had changed into pajamas, applied five more coats of eyeliner, and confessed everything to her brother.

“I was about to call the cops! What the hell were you doing over there?” Jason stormed out of the bedroom, trying to catch his breath.

Veronica looked at me guiltily. “He promised we could watch
Dateline
if I told him where you were. I'm going through a breakup. I'm weak!”

There was no point in lying. I was too excited not to share what I'd learned.

“We made it into the building! The perp lives in apartment 305.” I went online and entered the dragon lady's address to see if I could get her name.

“Jenny, no. I don't want you engaging with our neighbors. We just moved here full-time. This isn't like Los Angeles. We're part of a co-op. We live with other people now, and this is not the way to start our relationship with them. Besides, I have a guy coming tomorrow to spray insulation foam in the brick.”

I ignored him, typing frantically. “Baby, it's pollution and it's affecting our lifestyle. Let me at least send a message to our board…”

Jason looked at me and shook his head adamantly
no.
“Jenny, if you send a message I am going to be extremely pissed.”

“Okay,” I said.

Seconds later, I sent a message to the board asking if anybody else was having a problem with the smoke.

Naomi took Sid into his room to change his diaper and break the news that he'd been temporarily fired from the snoop squad until he was potty-trained, had better cardiovascular endurance, and understood the meaning of “inside voice.” Veronica checked her text messages by the window, secretly hoping to hear from One Leg.

“There's a guy in there,” she said, glancing nonchalantly at apartment 305.

I rushed back over to the window and dropped my laptop in shock.

“NAOMI! It's the guy!”

Standing on the fire escape was the guy with weird man jewelry that we'd met hours earlier.

“He was lying! He said he lived on the sixth floor!”

Naomi smiled a knowing smile. “Told you.”

“What is happening to everyone?” Jason interrupted, breaking up the viewing party by drawing the curtains closed.

“What? I can't even wave at them?”

“No! That is the last thing I want you doing.” He turned his attention to Naomi. “My wife has a problem and you need to not encourage her,” Jason explained soberly, as though I wasn't in the room. Veronica disappeared into Sid's nursery so as not to get a lecture of her own. “She and my sister have a history of bad behavior, and I am hoping that now that she is a mother and role model she will show some restraint when it comes to invading people's personal lives.”

“I don't get what the problem is with a simple wave,” I huffed to myself. “It's neighborly.”

“He just lit up,” Veronica blurted out, now watching from Sid's window.

“What? Two smokers!” I ran down the hall to Sid's room.

Unlike his wife, who smoked strictly out the right side of the building, the wavy-haired man was smoking on the left-side fire escape, the fire escape that pointed directly at our bathroom.

I went back to the computer, where I was beginning to yield results. “Their names are Yosi and Esther Soha. They are Israeli Jews from Tel Aviv. She is an artist and he's a jeweler. They've owned the four-bedroom loft since 1983 and tried to sell it last year on some HGTV reality show. Two sons. One cat. Oh, and according to her Facebook, she bought a set of tea towels off Gilt Groupe yesterday.”

I talked aloud through the entire
Dateline
episode.

“I am going to be extremely pissed if you try reaching out to them,” Jason warned me.

Of course that just made me want to do it more. Jason could bring up something I wasn't even interested in doing and just like that I'd be intrigued. It was Pavlovian.

I stepped away from the computer and paced around the room, trying for once to make a mature decision.

“Jenny! I'm serious.” He turned from the couch and scowled.

I watched from the window as Esther sat in front of her computer, checking her e-mail. It would have been so easy to reach out and yet…I couldn't. Not this time. I was stuck between being the woman I wanted to be and being the woman I was supposed to be. I wasn't twenty-four anymore. I wasn't even thirty-four. I had to let this go.

The next morning, Naomi and Sid ate pancakes at the table while Veronica sat on the couch, rehashing the last fifteen minutes of her relationship with One Leg.

“He sat in his wheelchair using the fucking leg as a weapon! Who does that? He called me a ‘stubby chaser,' you know, instead of a ‘chubby chaser,' like I fuckin' set out to date a guy with one leg!”

“You can do better,” Naomi said sternly.

“But why does part of me want him back?” Veronica whined.

I bit my tongue, intent on not weighing in. Just then, Jason walked through the front door with the ventilation expert.

“Is everybody decent? We're going to the back room to do some caulking,” he announced proudly.

Two more workers appeared behind him and wandered into our bedroom.