Undetectable (Great Minds Thriller) (21 page)

The man grinned. “Need to get a
lady
first.” He bit his lip, then looked left and right as though scanning the area for eligible women. “Might have to clean myself up,” he said, with a sheepish glance in Kevin’s direction. “But I shine up nice. And no sleep’s better than sleep after a lady, right?”

Now h
e looked Kevin full in the face
with an expression that allowed no disagreement.

Kevin found himself nodding. Drunk or not, the man had a point.

Right,
Kevin
thought.
Right on.

Her Strange Eyes

He
went home and showered
and dressed
quickly
.
When he emerged into the living room, Andrew appeared and offered a snack; Kevin turned him down. He also ignored Andrew’s pointed reminder that tonight was
not
Friday. Or Saturday.

“Isn’t it a school night?” Andrew asked.

“Go to bed,” Kevin said. “I might be out late.”

Andrew pressed his lips together and said nothing. Kevin hurried out the door.
H
e
headed
to
T
hird
A
venue
and simply
started walking;
h
e found
a spot
just three blocks away, a little place on the corner of 63rd with a dark red marquee and metal tables and chairs outside. He
stepped
in
side
, parked himself on the first empty high-stool he could find at the bar, and ordered a beer.

He caught a few glances, but he ignored them.

Just taking a look at the new guy.

Like many Manhattan bars and restaurants, this one was in full swing, crowded and alive and noisy, despite the day and the late hour. There were dark wooden tables and good chairs and sparkling rows of glasses and liquor bottles. Televisions were hung every few feet along the top of the walls, and the patrons were the standard upper-east side mix of bankers, salesmen, and, in the darker corners, career alcoholics like the one Kevin had saved half an hour ago.

More glances now. From men and women alike. Was he dressed strangely? He looked behind him, wondering if people were staring at someone else. Or some
thing
else. Maybe a highlight reel, something on one of the televisions over his shoulder?

No, it’s me. Something’s wrong
.

He drank his beer, ordered another, and tried to focus on the baseball game in progress on the screen closest to him. He finished his second beer and ordered a third, hoping that now he had been sitting here long enough to blend in. Not the new guy anymore. Three beers. Just one of the gang. Come here all the time, love this place.

He glanced up and immediately caught another look from the woman sitting nearest him.

Shit. What’s going on?

The woman turned abruptly to face him. She was very pretty, with white-blond hair pulled tightly back on her head and smooth, pale skin that needed very little makeup. Her pinstriped shirt was an expensive kind Kevin recognized from his days working in hedge funds, a Thomas Pink with French cuffs and a tapered waist that showed off her narrow figure. The only problem was her eyes: they were jumpy and sleepy at the same time, shifting this way and that under heavy lids. Kevin supposed this expression was the result of a day’s worth of strong coffee competing with the half-dozen drinks she had probably consumed in the last two hours.

Either way, she was feeling brave enough to try talking to the new guy.

“You look
different
,” she said, thrusting her chin forward as though issuing a challenge.

Kevin glanced down at himself, checking for stains or skewed pieces of clothing. Finding nothing, he looked back at her questioningly.

She pointed at him with a perfectly manicured finger. “I mean you’re on a
mission
,” she said. “Big guy, all jazzed up and jumpy. Not like them,” she added, with a toss of her head to indicate the rest of the bar. “I work with those guys. Those
bozos
. They’re just here to take the edge off. Get loose, you know?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Kevin said. “Trying to wind down, relax.”

The woman frowned. “Not doing a very good job. Look at you. Sitting on the edge of that stool like you’re ready to make a getaway. And drinking your beer like it’s a contest. You want to relax, then you better start
relaxing
, don’t you think?”

Kevin smiled in spite of himself. She was right. He had never felt less relaxed in his life. He tried to change the subject. “You work at a bank?”

“Obviously,” she said, with a little toss of her head. Then she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I’m good at it, too. Better than most of those chumps behind me. And I’m making great big garbage bags of money.”

“Good for you.”

She smiled to herself, nodded, and then fixed Kevin again with her strange eyes. “But where do
you
work? Not at a bank, right?” She tilted her head at him and squinted critically. “But maybe you
used
to. You get fired or something? Caught skimming, maybe. Insider stuff? How come you’re so on-edge?”

“Just a lot on my mind. Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“It’s keeping me up, that’s what matters.” Now he leaned forward an inch and tried to change his tone slightly. “Do you sleep well at night?”

She raised an eyebrow and waited a beat. “Sometimes,” she said slowly. “It depends.”

“On what?”

She smiled sweetly, showing off a row of perfect white teeth. She put her drink down on the bar and made a show of smoothing out her already-smooth shirt. Then she took a little breath and looked up at him. She really
was
gorgeous, Kevin thought. Except for those weird eyes. “I’m sure I can show you,” she said.

Woman In Repose

He led her out of the bar and back to his apartment, her slim hand on his arm all the way. They walked without speaking, the only sound the click of her heels on the cement sidewalk. The doorman did not
grin or wink
or even seem to notice that Kevin had returned
and-guest
, but he was forced to step quickly out of the way as the girl stumbled over the threshold, the tip of her shoe catching the brass plate. If she had not been holding Kevin’s arm, she could have fallen flat on her face.

She’s had more to drink than I
thought
.

They came up to his apartment, and Kevin was momentarily worried about dealing with Andrew. He would have to contend with further disapproval from his assistant, not to mention ridicule from the girl at his
having
an assistant in the first place… but he was spared. Andrew did not appear. Because the man was psychic, Kevin reminded himself. Because he knew somehow that this was not the time to emerge.

“Go get us something salty,” the girl whispered, lowering herself gently onto one of the large white couches in the living room. “And something to drink. Then I’ll show you how to get to sleep,” she added, her voice a silken purr. “The
best
way.”

Kevin did as he was told, making his way back – finally – to his kitchen. It was as he had expected: huge, clean, and perfect. There was a stainless Subzero refrigerator at the far end, a large island in the middle, and a professional-grade range on one side. There were large, orange Spanish tiles covering the floor, and custom oak cabinets and drawers all along the walls and under the black granite countertops.

I could be here all night looking for salty nuts and drinks.

But it was the same as with the clothes in his drawer; he went to the cabinet where he would have put snacks himself, and they were there. Second shelf from the top, Planters Roasted Nuts. He grabbed them, made a stop at the refrigerator for two beers – of course they were there – and headed quickly back to the living room.

The light was soft, and the room was completely quiet. Suddenly he was afraid that he had been gone too long. She had seen her chance, and it was enough. She was going through his things, she was robbing him, she was –

She was fast asleep on the big white couch.

Kevin cursed himself. Rookie mistake.

Rule 4, sub-paragraph (b): a woman who has consumed two drinks or more must not be left alone on a soft couch for longer than thirty seconds. The couch is your rival, and she will give into it without a fight.

He walked over and sat down heavily next to her. The pillows bumped at her arms, but she did not stir. Kevin sighed and opened the can of roasted nuts. He put the beers on a side table and began eating. The nuts were delicious. He turned to the girl as though they were two friends watching a football game, and he gave her an experimental tap – gently – on the leg with one hand.

“Hello?”

She drew her legs up closer to her chest, the good thin wool of her skirt whispering on the soft material of the couch cushions. She yawned contentedly. Then she was still again.

Damn it.

Kevin tossed another handful of nuts into his mouth and watched her for a moment, studying her as if she were a new species he had discovered. With her strange, glassy-but-focused eyes closed, she was now much prettier, and Kevin found himself suddenly envious. She had fallen asleep so easily,
a
nd now here she was, like something from a post-modern gallery. An exhibit on sleep.

“
Woman
I
n
R
epose
.” Flesh and cotton and wool and lace (probably). Copyright 2011. On loan from the Guggenheim collection.

Kevin wondered what she had done that day – or that week – to make her this tired. Her breathing was impossibly slow and deep. He suspected he could have shouted at her with a bullhorn without her noticing. Not that this was a purely natural state, he reminded himself. Sleep this deep was surely the result of many, many drinks, and –

He sat up quickly on the couch.