Stealing Heaven (6 page)

"Low profile now, baby," -Mom says. "We gotta start
getting ready." I want to ask if that applies to the bartender, but Mom is
happy and I don't want to spoil that.

The grocery store is packed. I can't find a space in the lot and
end up parking by some town office across the street, have to back up and then
pull into the spot again because the lines are so narrow. As I get out of the
car I realize someone's standing by my back bumper. Great. A lecture about
driving from a cranky old person, or better yet, it'll be someone who wants me
to sign a petition against a traffic light or... wait a minute. I'd recognize
that hair anywhere. It's the guy from the other day.

"What are you doing by my car?"

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"Hey there," he says. His smile really is nice, though
up close I can see his bottom teeth are just a little crooked. Somehow that
looks okay on him though, sort of like the hair. I never think guys are cute,
but he really kind of is. Which makes me feel strange.

"Yeah, whatever. Again, what are you doing by my car?"

He points at a sign above the parking space. It says

employees only.

"So? I'm pretty sure there aren't any employees here, what
with the parking lot being empty and all." I start to walk toward the
store.

"You shouldn't leave your car here."

"I don't think any fights are going to break out over the
parking space."

"I'm just saying that if you don't move your car, you might
get a ticket."

"Thanks for the tip."

"Seriously," he says, and he's caught up to me, is
standing next to me as I wait to cross the street. I look over at him. His hair
really is weird. Not just the cut, but the color too. I thought it was brown,
but now that he's right next to me I can see there's bits of dark blond and
even red in there. I think I

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could look at him all day and worse, I want to keep talking to
him. This has to stop.

"Okay," I say. "Seriously thank you very much for
letting me know. Bye."

"You're new to town, right?"

Finally, no traffic. I start to cross the street.

"I'll take that as a yes. Are you here for the summer?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe yes? Maybe no?"

"What are you, a cop?"

No reply, and when I look over he's grinning at me.

Oh shit. A cop.

"Don't look so freaked out," he says.

Okay, damage control and then I've got to get away from him.
"I don't look freaked out."

"Yeah, you do."

"No, I don't. And I'll go move my car, all right?"

"You don't have to do that. No one's at work in that office
past three anyway."

"So you're just giving me a hard time."

"No, I was just pointing out a sign."

"And now you're what, following me?"

He laughs. "Wow, paranoid too. I'm going to the

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grocery store and was cutting through the lot when I saw
you."

"And talked to me."

"True. If it makes you feel better though, I also talked to
Mr. Martin on my way here. He was waiting for his daughter to pick him
up."

"Great. Bye." Finally, I've reached the damn store. I
grab a basket and move toward the back, hoping he doesn't follow me. It just
figures that he's a cop. It really does.

The seafood counter is crowded, but the cop appears to be done
talking to me. Good. Really, it is. If only he wasn't so cute. I wait while
someone buys cod and someone else buys scallops and then someone complains
about crabmeat. I don't look around to see if a certain Mr. Strange Hair is
nearby. When it's finally my turn I order the lobsters and am told I have to
wait while they're steamed.

"Fine," I say, pasting a smile on my face, and wander
around the frozen fish section. At least this way by the time I'm done the cop
will be gone. I can't believe this. I wish we'd never come to Heaven.

The seafood counter lady calls me over and hands me the lobsters,
all wrapped up and ready to go. I

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wait in line to pay and pick up a couple of magazines for Mom--she
likes presents--and then head back to the car.

The cop is there, sitting on my car with three bags of groceries
around him.

"Get off my--"

"No. No. Wrong. I can't let him know I'm mad because he's
cute. And a cop. Be polite, get gone. Low profile.

"Is there a reason you're sitting on my car?" Better.
Nice. Polite.

"Got lobsters, huh?"

"Yes. And I really need to...uh...get them home." Even
though they're already dead. And cooked. Maybe he hasn't noticed.

"So, you live around here?" I think he's noticed.

"If I say yes, will you get off my car?"

"Is that a yes?"

"What do you think?"

He grins at me and gets off the car. That was easier than I
thought.

"I'm Greg. And you are?"

"Leaving." I unlock my door. "Can you move your
bags?"

"Sure." He picks one up. "Anyway, like I was
saying,

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I'm Greg. I work--" He points at the police station.

"Yeah, I think I figured, that one out already."

He grins at me again and picks up the other bags. "So where
did you go to high school?"

I ignore him.

"I went to North Stonington. Graduated two years ago and then
went to the academy."

"Right out of high school? Why?" I ask before I can help
myself. I mean, I know cops have to become cops, but I always figured they did
it after they failed at selling shoes or something.

"I don't know. I guess because my dad was a cop."

Oh goody, a law enforcement family. This just keeps getting better
and better. His father is probably the sheriff or something.

"So you're telling me you and your family are cops and I'd
better, what? Watch my step? Stay on the straight and narrow?"

"'Stay on the straight and narrow'? I've never heard anyone
say that before. Other than on television, I mean. Anyway, I suppose I could
put out a bulletin on you if you wanted. But then I don't have a name to
give."

"Gee, too bad."

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"You're not going to tell me your name?"

"That's right," I say, and open my car door. "But
if there's anything else you want to tell me, you just go ahead and keep
talking. When I drive away, I'll still be listening, I promise."

"What do you want to know?"

"Oh, where to start? Blood type? Birth sign?"

He holds the door open for me as I slide inside, causing my
insides to go all fluttery, and drops one of his bags. I hear the distinct
sound of glass breaking.

"Very smooth," I say, and my voice actually sounds a
little fluttery too.

"Hey, at least I'm trying here. Also, AB and Gemini."

"I was kidding. Now if you don't mind--"

"Okay," he says, and steps away from the car. "You
have got to be a Cancer. Please notice that I'm not making any crab
jokes."

"Except that you just sort of made one, didn't you?" I
shut the door, start the car. He knocks on the window. I ignore him.

He knocks again. I put the car in reverse.

"See you around, Hortense," he says.

I stop. I roll down the window. "Hortense?" My

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God, that's worse than Helen.

"Well, since you won't tell me your name, I have to call you
something."

"And that's the best you could come up with?"

"For now. Maybe when I see you again--"

I roll up the window, start to drive away. I can see him in the
rearview mirror. He's gathering up his groceries. I didn't realize so much
stuff fell out of that one bag. I sigh, stop the car, and get out. I gather up
two cans of green beans, a package of hamburger, and two boxes of macaroni and
cheese and take them over to him.

"Here."

He looks up at me. "Thanks." He sounds a little
surprised. His eyes are really very green.

"Whatever. I just didn't want to run over groceries. Even if
they are yours."

"I'll say one thing for you. You're a hell of a sweet
talker."

"Bye." I head back to the car.

"See you around, Hortense."

"Not likely."

I look in the rearview mirror again as I drive away. He's walking
across the parking lot. It looks like

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he's whistling. What a weird guy. Even for a cop, he's weird. So
weird, it totally overrides the fact that he's cute. And the fact that he's the
first guy I've wanted to talk to for years.

"Also," I say, squinting at my face in the mirror,
"there is no way I look like a Hortense."

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10

Mom goes out after we eat our lobsters and as soon as she gets in
the next morning, she tells me there's a party at the yacht club

tonight and that we're going. The bartender, Glenn, told her about
it. She tells me this in an offhand way, which means that not only is this
party important, she's done with Glenn. Which also means that now there's
someone else.

I wait, and sure enough the conversation switches to Harold. He's
the real estate agent she told me about before, the one the first agent,
Sharon, didn't like.

Harold specializes in beachfront property, and although I'm sure
he doesn't know this yet, he'll be totally in love with Mom in about a day. I
listen to her talk about what kind of houses she thinks Harold could get us,
what she's going to say when she meets him, and

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then we talk about what needs to happen tonight.

Mom is going to the party as "Miranda." Miranda is
staying with her friend Tom ("He's in banking, darling, you've heard of
him, right?") for a few days at Tom's friend's house. Tom can't come to
the party ("Big deal, couldn't be helped, you know how it is") but
he's told her to go and enjoy herself.

My story is even simpler. I don't have one. People my age are
dragged to these things, stand around drinking, and then head off to get high
and/or plot ways to escape. The only thing I'll be asked is if I have anything
or know someone who does. You'd think I'd end up coming away from these things
with more information than Mom but I never do. She just has a knack for working
people, one I'm not sure I'll ever have.

I take her to Heaven after eight and drop her off. Then I drive
around for an hour, killing time, and park by a restaurant next to the yacht
club. Five minutes later I'm at the party, sliding right past the
stressed-out-looking party planner, who is clearly up to her eyeballs in some
sort of catering crisis. There are always catering crises at these things.

I see Mom right away. She loves dressing up and

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she looks gorgeous tonight, wearing a white dress with her hair
down, a tumble of curls cascading over her shoulders. She's standing so a
nearby light shines on her just right, making her skin glow. She's talking to a
red-faced guy in a blue blazer who is clearly thrilled to have someone like Mom
talking to him. She looks like she's having fun. She probably is, though not in
the way the red-faced guy thinks.

I grab a drink at the bar, where the bartender is so busy he
doesn't even have time to pretend he wants to see proof I'm twenty-one, and
then walk around the room slowly, listening to conversations. They're all very
boring, but I find out that someone named Sandy has just bought a yacht and
that the Donaldsons should be sending out invitations to their party soon. Mom
will be happy to know that. I go back to the bar and get myself another drink
and walk around the room again. I'm asked if I know where someone named Red is
by a very stoned girl and her equally stoned date. I hear about Sandy and his
yacht another two times.

After I get asked if I want something to "help me relax"
by a guy who puts his hand on my ass, I hit

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the bar again and then head outside, feeling a little dizzy from
all the people walking around (and okay, the drinks). There's a wooden walkway
that looks out over the water with little paths that lead down to the yachts. I
can see their shadows on the water from where I'm standing.

"Peaceful, isn't it?"

I turn, see James has come up behind me.

"Relax," he says, holding up his hands. "I just
came out for some air. Didn't know you were here till just now, I swear."

I look away from him, stare back out into the dark.

"Okay," he says. "The truth is, I thought you
looked lonely. And I--these things always make me feel that way too."