PALINDROME (6 page)

Gelfman smiled a sad smile. “You’re
twenty-one and legally an adult, so the decision whether to inform
your parents or not is completely up to you, but speaking as a
parent, if I may, I think you should have all the support you need,
and I’m sure your parents would want to know. It’s a big burden for
you to carry alone. I think the support of your family would help a
great deal at a time like this.”

Tears now, just a few.
Perfect,
Allie, that was just right, just enough.
She dabbed at the
corner of her eye. “Thanks, I’ll think about it. Please, give me
the details. I want this to be over as soon as possible.”

“Bottom line,” Gelfman began, “the
defendant’s attorney will be here in a few minutes. His counsel
insisted on meeting with you to present the offer, and since you
were nice enough to agree—”

“Is that unusual?”

“A little. Opposing counsel usually
communicates directly with me, and then I put forth the offer, but
in a case like this, I’m happy to expedite the process as quickly
as I can.”

The door to Gelfman’s office swung open.
Another attorney, who looked a lot like a stocky Woody Allen leaned
in through the doorway. “Your appointment’s here, Louie. Where do
you want them?”

Gelfman checked his watch. “He’s very
prompt.” He turned to his colleague. “Can you put them in the small
conference room, please?”

“Sure thing, Louie.” Woody Allen gave Gelfman
a smile and a thumbs-up before he pulled the door closed behind
him.

“Is that a good sign?” I asked.

Gelfman smiled in a most learned manner.
“That’s a
very good
sign. Are you ready?”

“I guess.” Gelfman slid the glass of water
closer to me. “Drink. Now remember, I’ll do most of the talking. If
you want to say something, whisper it to me, and I’ll articulate it
for you. If I want you to answer, I’ll say, ‘Allie, you can answer
the question.’ If you need to take a break, we’ll take a break.
Remember, they’re coming to us. They want to squash this thing
fast, but that will be your decision, not theirs. If you’re feeling
pressured, let me know, and I’ll just end it.”

“Sounds like we’re in charge.”

“Oh, we are definitely in charge. This guy
could be looking at real jail time. There’s not a court in New York
State that would let this slide and they damn well know it. Shall
we go in?”

“Okay.” Allie smiled boldly, her broad cheeks
almost pulled her skin tight enough to hide her nervous, quivering
chin.

I could only see Keith’s attorney from the
back as he was facing away from us when we entered the conference
room. I got a better look at him as we walked around the conference
table to take our seats. I tried not to look too interested, but
Keith’s attorney . . . well, he was pretty. His overall appearance
spoke confidence and his eyes, his eyes burned like the fire of the
sun. They were a rich turquoise color and the juxtaposition of
turquoise against the black of his pupil . . . well, you already
know that I find the eyes intriguing. His eyes may have been the
most unusual I had ever seen. It was difficult for me not to
stare.

He was on his feet instantly, extending a
warm hand and a broad smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to
this meeting. My name is Emilio Bolan. I am here representing Keith
Cooper.” Gelfman exchanged greetings with Bolan.

“For the record,” Gelfman began, “this is an
informal proceeding. Even so, please direct your questions to me
and not to my client. Are we agreed?”

“Of course,” Bolan said. He was beyond
cordial, accommodating to the fullest extent.

“Great,” Gelfman continued, “Shall we get
right to it?”

“Let’s,” Bolan said. He turned to face me. He
looked at me as if I alone existed in the room. “Mr. Cooper would
like to express his most sincere apology for his conduct the other
evening and would like to offer you a monetary settlement in
exchange for dropping all charges against him, civil and criminal.
He now realizes the error of his ways and promises that he will
never display such insensitivity with any woman ever again.” Bolan
reached into his portfolio and withdrew a check. I made no attempt
to look at the amount inscribed on it. “I have a check which my
client has instructed me to deliver to you, if it meets with your
approval. We only ask that you drop all charges against him and
sign a simple release, preventing you from discussing the matter in
public.”

“A gag clause?” Gelfman asked.

“That is the generically accepted term. Gag
order has a harsh sound to it. My client simply wishes to settle
this matter and not have it haunt him any further. He knows he has
made a terrible mistake and hopes this cash offer will be viewed
acceptably.”

How much? How much?
I hoped they could
not hear my heart banging against my rib cage. I wanted to punish
the guy for what his friend Vincent almost did to me. Cooper had
already been taught an acceptable lesson.

“May I present the offer?” Bolan continued,
still cordial and still damn charming.

Gelfman nodded, and Bolan slid the check
toward him. I could see Gelfman’s eyes widen. He tugged at his
necktie to loosen it and then exhaled heavily through his nostrils.
He handed me the check.

Fifty thousand dollars? OH-MY-GOD.
I
couldn’t believe it. I only wanted to scare the guy. He had been
stupid, very stupid, and very irresponsible. He dropped a pill into
my drink through the instructions of his friend, Vincent. He was an
accomplice and he was a jerk, but he had never attempted to rape
me. I felt a little guilty.

I did an amazing job of controlling my
emotions. I maintained a poker face that Lady Gaga would have been
proud of. I placed the check on the conference table and slid it
back to Gelfman without lifting my eyes, giving Bolan—and yes, even
Gelfman—a moment to wonder which way I would go. The first thing
that came to mind was the Allie-like BMW I had always wanted and a
new air conditioner to replace the unit in the condo that was
perpetually on the fritz. Ax’s car was no better than mine. He was
constantly at the junkyards looking for parts to swap out. Fifty
grand would take us a long way. Neither Ax nor I ever imagined
anything like this happening. We figured Cooper would spend a
couple of nights in jail and then we would drop the charges. That
was all we had hoped for, to scare him straight. Vincent, the true
criminal, had already paid the tab with his life.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Gelfman said. “We
would like to confer privately.” Gelfman stood. I followed him to
the door.

“Take your time,” Bolan said. We made eye
contact. He was very impressive. For a moment, the silly idea of
kissing him popped into my head, and then we were in Gelfman’s
office again and the idea was gone.

“Do you know if Cooper comes from a wealthy
family?” Gelfman asked.

“Wealthy?” I was sure Gelfman could read the
question mark on my face. “I—” Was he wealthy? His bullshit story
raced across my mind. Was his father really the inventor of the
cell phone? No, I knew better. We had checked him out thoroughly.
The story about being a cell phone heir was all BS. He came from a
broken home and made his money by tending bar.
Fifty grand,
really?
“No. I mean, I don’t know . . . I don’t think so.”

“So who’s putting up 50K in an initial offer
to squash an attempted rape case? Believe me if they’re showing
their cards this early on, they’re prepared to go higher.”

“It’s really not about the money.”

“That’s true. Sorry. I have no problem trying
this case. If you want to see Cooper go to prison, then that’s what
we’ll do. They obviously know how strong the case against him
is.”

“How strong?”

“
Strong.”

I thought for a full minute. It was
fifty-nine seconds more than I needed. “I’ll take the money.”

Eight: Living Large

How
good does fifty grand feel? It
feels so good it’s ridiculous, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
Especially when your existence consists of an incredibly modest
lifestyle with only the bare necessities ever making it into the
shopping cart.

Gelfman was true to his word. He contacted
the Suffolk County District Attorney’s office and stayed on the
phone until they agreed to drop the criminal charges against
Cooper. I actually waited in his office while the paperwork was
prepared and signed. I left his office with the check in my
purse.

Yeah, it was that quick.

Too quick?

Yeah, maybe too quick.

My head was still spinning over my newly
found serendipity. I had driven to Gelfman’s office in a
rent-a-wreck and was considering paint colors for a new BMW on the
ride back. Cherry red? Banana yellow? No, nothing that screamed
“look at me”; I needed a color that would not turn heads, perhaps a
metallic sky blue or a gunmetal gray. My life was not exactly the
kind of thing I could shout about. For me, it was low-key all the
way. Okay, a new BMW is not exactly low-key, but there were so many
Bimmers on Long Island that they didn’t really stand out all that
much. Does it sound like I’m rationalizing?

I had gone into the ladies room down the
corridor from the Legal Aid office and changed back into me. I had
come with “Lexa duds” in my oversized bag and left the office in
shorts and flip-flops. Allie disappeared right after signing the
paperwork and would likely never be seen or heard from again. She
had gotten enough attention and definitely needed to live among the
missing—at least for a while.

So where had Keith Cooper’s 50K come from?
The mystery of my newfound fortune was eating away at me
relentlessly. If Cooper didn’t have that kind of money, who did?
Who wanted to protect him from a criminal charge so badly they
would pony up fifty large? I found it troubling, and it caused me
to hesitate as I scanned the check into the ATM machine, bringing
my savings balance to $50,321.62. Who parts with that kind of
money?

I stopped before I got back into the car to
give the old bucket of bolts a final disapproving once-over. It had
served me well from a utilitarian perspective, but aesthetically .
. . it was tough to look at, a mosaic of rust and body filler. The
car sat so low on its springs it bottomed out every time I hit a
driveway. Yeah, definitely, the old clunker had to go.

I wanted to put my concerns behind me and
enjoy the newly found wealth, so I decided to do something nice for
myself.

I had been window shopping for a pair of
Bollé sunglasses for the better part of two weeks, and I would be
darned if I wasn’t going to give my debit card a workout. There was
a store in the Smith Haven Mall that carried all of the latest
shades. I had been there before and found a salesgirl there that
was very friendly despite knowing that I was not a serious shopper.
I figured that she deserved the sale.

The shades were still on display in the
store’s window, and the same salesgirl was waiting for me behind
the counter. It was her lucky day.

“They look awesome on you,” she said. “I knew
you’d be back for them.”

The shades were also featured on a counter
stand, and the model wearing them looked quite a bit like me. I
could have made myself look exactly like the model, but the
similarities were striking without any efforts on my part.

Lexa, you look fabulous in these
, I
was thinking. I would sport them home and wear them into the house
to see if Ax would pick up on my new accessory. He would no doubt
lecture me about the dangers of deviating from our original plan,
and how I should have conferred with him first before taking the
money. Ax was the deep thinker in our relationship. I was hoping he
wasn’t going to torture me with worries and brooding—I mean the
money was already in our bank account. I certainly didn’t want to
send him into a funk. Ax had no materialistic aspirations and would
be content driving his bucket of bolts forever. Me on the other
hand . . .

I was reaching for my debit card when the
lovely salesgirl said, “We’re giving free eye exams this week.
Would you like us to check your vision?”

“No thanks, I see fine.”

“Really, you’re going to pass up a free exam?
You can’t believe how many people think they see fine and we find
something.” She turned her head to the side and struck a congenial
smile. “No waiting. It only takes five minutes.”

All right, so I’m an easy sell. Salesgirl
extraordinaire was right; as promised, the optometrist was quick
and courteous. He switched off the lights and started flipping
those lens thingies back and forth in front of my eyes with amazing
speed. I don’t think I was in the chair more than five minutes.

“You’re fine,” he said.

“I have X-ray vision. I can spot a fly on an
elephant’s butt at a thousand yards.”

He laughed. “Most young people can. Still it
never hurts to check. You know what they say about an ounce of
prevention.” He leaned over to the wall switch and turned the
lights back on.

“All done?”

“All done,” he repeated. I was half out of
the chair when he said, “Oh wow.” He was looking at my eyes. He
leaned in for a closer look. “That’s so cool.”

“What’s so cool?” The way he looked at me
made me nervous. He didn’t say “cool” as in I had just been
nominated for an MTV award; he said “cool” as in that’s freaky and
strange. He was still staring at my eyes. “What the matter?”

“Heterochromia.”

“What?”

“Two different eye colors. You’ve got one
blue eye and one hazel eye; that’s very rare.”

There was a mirror on his workbench. I
grabbed it and took a look for myself. “What the hell?”

“You’re surprised?”

“I sure the hell am. When did this
happen?”

“You’ve haven’t noticed one of them
changing?”