The Follower (9 page)

He thought the conversation was getting better, and her mood was improving, but he’d noticed, a few times, her checking her watch, which kind of irritated him, and then she said, “I’m gonna have to get back in, like, a half hour,” which really pissed him off.

Staying totally relaxed, doing a really great job of hiding his emotions, he said, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “I mean, I have to just do this project for my boss, and it’s due tomorrow. It’s nothing, but I have to take care of it.”

Peter knew she was telling the truth, that she wasn’t making up an excuse. Even though something was obviously troubling her, he knew she was very attracted to him, that they’d made a big-time connection yesterday when they’d met, and if she didn’t really have work to do, there was no way she’d want to go home and miss out on a chance to spend more time with him.

“That’s cool,” Peter said. He was going to tell her how disappointed he was, but he didn’t feel he had to. She already knew how much he liked her and how badly he wanted to hang out with her, and some things were better left unsaid.

Then, a couple of minutes later, while he was telling her a story about his time in Mexico, she interrupted and said, “Sorry if I seem kind of out of it today. I’ve just had a really bad night.”

Peter was thrilled. She was confiding in him, showing trust in him already. He’d thought it would take at least a few dates to have this kind of breakthrough, and he took this as a surefire sign that she was well on her way to falling in love with him if she wasn’t in love with him already.

“Really?” Peter said, relaxed. “Why’s that?”

“Nothing,” Katie said. “It’s just this guy I’ve been dating.”

This was even better. Subliminally, she was telling him that she was through with that frat boy Peter had seen her with a few times, that she was ready to move on. Peter had known she would come to this realization soon anyway, but he didn’t expect it to happen
so
soon.

“Yeah,” Peter said, leading her on, letting her do the talking the way a shrink would.

“Well, I know I shouldn’t be complaining to you about him, but he did this really jerky thing yesterday. We’ve been seeing each other for, I don’t know, like, three weeks? Anyway, we were just starting to get serious—I mean, I thought we were anyway—and then we had plans for last night and he text-messages me and tells me he’s sick. I mean, maybe he really is sick, but why couldn’t he call me and tell me?…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be venting to you about this.”

“No, it’s all right, really,” Peter said. “So have you spoken to him at all since then?”

“No. I mean, I’m not gonna call him, that’s for sure. I mean, I was going to call him last night just to see if he was really sick and if he was okay and everything, but I was too pissed off about the text-messaging thing.”

Knowing that women always wanted support, not solutions, in situations like these, Peter said, “I don’t blame you.”

“You really think so?” Katie said.

“Definitely,” Peter said. “Text-messaging you was a total assholish thing to do. The guy sounds like a real dick.”

“That’s exactly what my friend Amanda said.”

“Well, you know what they say—if you hear something from one person, forget about it. But if you hear it from two people, start to listen.”

“I guess you’re right. I was just feeling guilty last night, I mean, for not calling him.”

“You have no reason to feel guilty.”

“Really?”

“He’s
the one who screwed up.”

“You’re right. It
is
his fault, isn’t it?”

Peter was thrilled with how this was going. He was an ally to her now, someone she could trust, and it was a brilliant move on his part to not go overboard in bashing the guy she’d been dating. If he’d gone on about what an asshole that guy was, it could’ve turned her off; but he’d played it perfectly, badmouthing him just enough. Now Peter noticed how Katie’s attitude toward him had taken a total one-eighty. She was making more eye contact with him, paying more attention to what he was saying. At one point, when they were talking about the Bryants, an eccentric family in Lenox whom they both knew from their childhood, she laughed, and it was such an irresistible, spontaneous, childlike laugh that he wanted to lean over the table and kiss her. He actually started to lean forward, but then managed to stop himself. He knew she probably wouldn’t have minded if he kissed her because it was obvious in the way she was acting that she wanted to kiss him, too. But a spontaneous first kiss was way too big a risk at this stage in the game, especially when things were going so well.

He was imagining kissing her, thinking about how amazing it would be to feel her lips against his, when she said, “You know, I think you’d really love my friend, Amanda. You want to meet her sometime?”

He was so surprised by the question he had to ask her to repeat it.

“My friend Amanda,” she said. “You wanna meet her?”

He was still pretty sure she was trying to set him up with her friend, but he decided not to rush to judgment. Maybe this wasn’t her intention at all. Maybe she just wanted him to meet one of her friends, to hang out with her and get to know her.
Maybe it was another sign that Katie was starting to feel closer to him.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” he said. “Maybe the three of us could get together sometime?”

“Wow, that’d be cool,” she said. “Yeah, I think you’ll really like her. I mean, she’s really cute and smart and fun to be around. She might be a little young for you, though.”

Trying his hardest to not let his irritation show, Peter said, “I’m sorry. Were you talking about setting me up on a
date
with your friend?”

“Yeah,” Katie said. “I mean, only if you—”

“Not interested.” He realized that might’ve sounded a little curt, even nasty, so he added, “I mean, the truth is I’m involved with someone else right now.”

“Oh, sorry,” Katie said. “I had no idea. You didn’t mention a girlfriend, or at least I didn’t think you did.”

“No, it’s my fault for not saying anything.” Peter realized he was grinding his back teeth so hard his jaw hurt, and he had to force himself to stop doing it.

“Well, I’d love to meet your girlfriend sometime,” Katie said. “What’s her name?”

“Cleara.”

“Wow, that’s great. Where’d you guys meet?”

“Mexico.”

Before she could ask another question, Peter changed the subject, asking her about her job. As the conversation continued, he noticed that, surprisingly, there was no difference in her body language. She still seemed to be into him, leaning toward him slightly as he spoke, making plenty of eye contact. Women sometimes became even more attracted to men when they found out they were unavailable, and the Cleara story seemed to be working big-time. It still disturbed Peter, though, that Katie had tried to set him up, and he wondered if Katie had only done that as a roundabout way of finding out if he was single. Or maybe it was his fault for not giving off a strong enough vibe that he was interested in her.

They drank their coffee and continued chatting for longer than the half hour Katie had allotted—forty-nine minutes to
be exact—and then Katie said, “I guess I really should be getting back.”

She seemed disappointed, which Peter took as another positive sign. He considered asking her if she wanted to take a walk in the park, but quickly decided against it. The romance would have to wait till their next date.

They left Starbucks and Peter said, “Can I walk you home?”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“It’s okay. I’d love to see where you live.”

She said, “Okay, great,” and Peter realized that she wouldn’t be nearly so comfortable, so natural around him right now if she thought he was single.

As they approached her building, a modest tenement, Peter, who had to act as if he were seeing it for the first time, said, “Hey, this is pretty cool. Nice location.”

“It’s okay,” Katie said. “I mean, it’s kind of small and not-so-nice inside, and the walk to the subway’s a pain. I have to go to the subway on Eighty-sixth.”

Peter, of course, had already followed her along that route several times. He knew exactly which side streets she took to get there, and had even ridden the subway with her to work a few times. He was dying to tell her about the apartment he was renovating for them, about how great her new life with him would be.

“Yeah, that is a long walk,” he said. “But I guess you have to start somewhere, right?”

“Right…So are you looking for a place?”

“I already found one.”

“Really? Where?”

“It’s downtown. I’ll have to show it to you sometime.”

“That would be great…Hey, you want to come up and see my place?”

God, he wanted to say yes. He would’ve loved to spend the whole day with her.

“I should probably be getting back, too,” he said. “But, hey, how about we have lunch sometime?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“How about tomorrow? I could meet you for lunch near
your office.” He had to be careful, he realized, because she hadn’t mentioned where her office was located.

“Um, I’m not sure if I can tomorrow. But lemme give you my cell number. Later in the week might be better for me.”

She told Peter the number and he punched the digits directly into his phone. Then she looked at him expectantly and lovingly. He knew she wanted to be kissed on the lips, but he left her wanting more and gave her a peck on the cheek instead.

Walking away, Peter decided that, all in all, he was pleased with the way his first date with his future wife had gone. Although it would’ve been nice to spend the day with her in the park and have dinner and the carriage ride, it was probably better to hold off, to let their love simmer. And he was glad he’d told her he had a girlfriend. People always want most what they think they can’t have, and now he had Katie right where he wanted her.

Andy didn’t want to have to
wait for the party to end to get laid, but it seemed like there was no way around it. It was a two-bedroom apartment, but there were people hanging out everywhere, so there was no place to go with Janet where they could be alone. At one point, at around eleven o’clock, Andy thought,
Fuck it; it’s not happening
, and he was about to bail, but just then Janet came over to talk to him, even held his hand for a few seconds, and told him how glad she was that he’d shown up. He had to admit, she looked a lot better than she had at the bar in the afternoon. She was wearing more makeup and some perfume that reminded him of a girl he once hooked up with junior year at Michigan, and her body looked hot in tight jeans and a low-cut black V-neck top. He’d already spent an hour at the party, and he figured it was worth hanging around an hour or two longer if it meant that he would score. The problem was it was so freakin’ painful. When he arrived, he knew he was in trouble when he heard the jazz playing and saw the dim lighting and saw all the people sitting down on couches and chairs instead of standing around. It was like a party his parents would have; there were even hors d’oeuvres, for chrissake. He was definitely the youngest one there. Most people looked like they were Janet’s age or older, and they all seemed like uptight, artsy, downtown types. They were dressed in black, and a few of the guys were wearing geeky, rectangular black-rimmed glasses, like the ones the film students at Michigan used to wear. Andy was surprised
because he figured that since Janet worked in finance, her friends would be more normal-type people. But Janet had explained that most of the geeks were friends of her roommate Elizabeth, who worked at the goddamn
New Yorker
.

Although Andy had spent most of the time at the party by himself or talking to Janet, he’d managed to get into a few conversations. One weird-looking bearded guy with glasses came over to him while he was pouring himself a glass of wine and introduced himself. His name was Jerry, and he was a freelance writer. To Andy, “freelance” sounded like another name for “unemployed,” and when Andy told the guy he was working as a junior analyst at a Park Avenue bank, the guy seemed equally unimpressed. The conversations with the others went just as badly. Everyone was a writer or an editor or reviewer of some kind. Andy felt out of place around all these artsy-fartsy wannabes, and they seemed to think something was wrong with him because he actually had a real job and was on track to be rich and successful someday. Fucking losers.

One girl—Sharon or Shannon—seemed cooler than the others. Although she was really old, at least thirty-five, she didn’t have that annoying, pretentious, I’m-so-much-better-than-you-because-I-live-in-Alphafuck-City attitude the others had. She said she had a cousin who worked at Smith Barney and seemed impressed with Andy’s lie that he was currently going for his MBA at NYU. Her cousin had gone to Wharton and they talked about different business schools for a while, then Andy asked what she did. She said she was a film critic for some newspaper or magazine Andy had never heard of, but he figured, films, he could bullshit about that. He told her how much he loved the
Lord of the Rings
movies and knew most of the lines by heart, and he knew he was in for a buzz kill when she didn’t seem at all impressed or interested. He asked her what kind of stuff she liked and she went off, talking about all these obscure movies with weird foreign titles. She went on and on, wouldn’t shut up, and Andy just had to stand there, totally trapped, nodding his head, saying things like “Wow” and “Cool” and “I definitely gotta check that one
out,” as his eyes darted back and forth, trying to get someone to come over to save him from this boring-as-hell conversation.

When she started talking about how there was going to be this great Goddard festival next month at Lincoln Center, Andy had had enough. He interrupted whatever she was saying and said, “Excuse me,” and went to the bathroom. When he came out, he went right into the bedroom and stayed there for a while so he wouldn’t have to keep talking to her. There were two large built-in bookshelves in the bedroom—it looked like a freaking library. Andy browsed the titles, just to have something to do because there was nothing that bored him more than books.