The Wild Zone (10 page)

“That’s very good, Caroline,” Jeff said now, careful to keep his voice steady and low. “You’re very strong.”

“Well, they do say women are the stronger sex.”

“You think it’s true?” He handed her a skipping rope. “Do one minute.”

“I think in some ways we are,” Caroline said.

“What ways?”

“Emotionally.” She began to skip in place. “You men are a lot more fragile than you realize.”

“Didn’t you just finish saying it was so easy for us?”

“Having things easy doesn’t make you any less fragile,” Caroline said cryptically.

What the hell is she talking about? Jeff wondered, growing irritated with the conversation. He didn’t like it when women made him feel stupid. “Why don’t you grab some water?” he suggested when she was through skipping.

“Stupid bitches,” he heard his father repeat.

“You’re going to go live with your father for a while,” his mother was saying in the next breath.

The child Jeff stood ramrod straight, trying desperately to contain the tears he felt forming behind his eyes as he watched his mother throwing his clothes into a small brown suitcase on the bed. “But I don’t want to live with him.” He was all of seven years old. Ten-year-old Ellie stood in the bedroom doorway, eyes wide as saucers, watching.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. Your father doesn’t give me enough money to take care of both of you, and I’m tired of fighting with him over every last dime. So, let him look after you for a while. That should take some of the bloom off the rose with Miss Clarabelle.”

Miss Clarabelle was the name his mother had christened his father’s new wife, although her name was actually just Claire. Jeff had never really liked her. She was thin and bony and always upset about something. And now that she had a new baby, whenever he visited, he always seemed to be in the way.

“I just need some time to myself,” his mother continued, snapping his suitcase shut. “To figure out what’s best for me. For all of us,” she added, an afterthought at best, Jeff realized even then.

“What about Ellie? Is she going to Daddy’s?”

“No. Ellie stays with me.”

“Why can’t I stay, too?” Jeff cried. “I promise I won’t be any trouble. I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

“It’s just that he reminds me so much of his father,” he heard his mother say on the phone later, making no effort to soften her voice, as he sat sniffling on the stairs, waiting for his dad to pick him up. “I swear they have the same damn face. And I can’t help it, but every time I look at him, I just want to strangle him. I know it’s irrational. I know it’s not his fault. But I just can’t stand looking at him.”

“This is just temporary,” his father said later, leading Jeff into his stepmother’s quilt-filled sewing room and depositing his suitcase on the narrow cot that had been hastily pushed against the far wall. “Soon as your mother gets her act together, she’ll be back for you.”

She never did come back. Except for the occasional strained visit, during which she always seemed to focus on a spot just past his head. Eventually, even those visits stopped, although Ellie had been vigilant about maintaining contact with both her father and her brother over the ensuing years.

“Ellie says she’s been asking for you,” Jeff heard Will say.

“Jeff? Jeff?” Caroline was saying now. “Earth to Jeff. Are you there?”

Jeff returned abruptly to the present, the image of his younger self disappearing in a streak of reflected sunlight. “Sorry.”

“I think there’s somebody here to see you.” Caroline pointed toward the reception desk. Jeff’s head snapped toward it, for one crazy second expecting to see his sister, or maybe even his mother, standing in the doorway. Instead he saw a frail-looking young woman with dark hair and large sunglasses.

“Excuse me a minute,” Jeff said, walking quickly toward her. What the hell was she doing here?

Suzy removed her sunglasses as he approached, revealing a cheek that was bruised and swollen. “I need to talk to you,” she said.

TEN

T
HIRTY
MINUTES LATER, JEFF
slipped into an uncomfortable wooden chair at the back of the bakery located directly beneath Elite Fitness. The bakery boasted a long, exotic coffee bar, and half a dozen tiny round tables for two were crowded into the rear of the small, sweet-smelling space. “Glad you could wait,” he said, wondering exactly what he was doing here, what
she
was doing here.

“Thanks for squeezing me in,” Suzy said, stirring the cinnamon-laced cappuccino she’d ordered while waiting for Jeff to finish up with his client.

“My eleven o’clock canceled.”

“Lucky for me,” Suzy said.

“You don’t look very lucky.” Jeff glanced out the long side window, watching his boss accompany Caroline Hogan across the street to the chocolate-brown Mercedes parked in front of a hydrant. She’d commented more than once during their session that his mind seemed to be elsewhere—especially after Suzy’s unexpected appearance—and he hoped she wasn’t complaining to Larry about it.

Suzy adjusted the sunglasses she was wearing despite the dimness of the room’s interior and took a sip of her coffee. When she looked back up, foam was clinging to her upper lip. She pressed her lips together, swiped delicately at the foam with the back of her fingers, as if even the slightest pressure would be too painful.

“Your husband do that?” Jeff asked, motioning toward her face.

“What? No. Of course not.”

“You gonna tell me you walked into a door?”

Suzy laughed self-consciously. “Actually, I was walking a neighbor’s dog.” The familiar lie escaped her mouth with surprising ease. “Fluffy. She’s this really cute little Pomeranian. All white and . . . fluffy. Anyway, she has one of those leashes, the kind you can click when you want the dog to stop. You know the kind I mean?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Well, anyway, Fluffy started running, and I tried clicking, but I obviously wasn’t doing it right, and I guess I wasn’t paying attention either, and my feet got caught up in the leash, and I went flying, ass over teakettle, as they say.”

“Who says that?” Jeff rubbed his forehead. He was getting tired of people lying to him.

“Well . . . my husband’s mother, for one,” Suzy replied. “Or at least she used to. She’s been pretty sick lately. Cancer.”

“My mother has cancer,” Jeff said, then shook his head. Why had he told her that?

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” Jeff fidgeted in the too-small chair, inhaling the smell of freshly baked bread. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Suzy said. “About Saturday,” she clarified.

Jeff shrugged. Two could play this game, he was thinking, although truthfully, he wasn’t sure exactly what game they were playing. “What can I say? We were just three guys out for an afternoon drive.”

“Who just happened to find themselves in front of my house?”

“You trip over dog leashes,” Jeff said pointedly. “We go for afternoon drives.”

Suzy nodded, looked down at her cappuccino. “Your friend followed me the other night. I recognized his car.”

Jeff laughed. “Tom was never very good at reconnaissance work.”

“Why did he follow me?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I’d rather ask you.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe because you have a kind face,” she said, then paused. “And your friend doesn’t.”

“And my brother? What kind of face does he have?”

Another pause, another glance at her coffee. “What is it you want me to say?”

“Why did you choose Will?” Jeff asked, unable to stop himself. Why had she come to see him? What was she really doing here?

Suzy smiled, although the corners of her mouth turned down instead of up. “I thought he looked nice.”

“Nice?”

“Harmless.”

“Nice and harmless,” Jeff observed. “Clearly a winning combination.”

Suzy fidgeted in her chair, looked toward the counter on her left. “They have such wonderful-looking pastries here.”

“Thinking of taking some bagels home for hubby?”

“Do you think we could dispense with the sarcasm?”

“Do you think we could dispense with the lies?” Jeff countered.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that my life’s a little complicated at the moment.”

“Lives tend to get that way when married women go to places like the Wild Zone, trolling for men.”

“I didn’t go there to pick up men.”

“You just couldn’t resist nice and harmless.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I really don’t. The bartender brought me my drink, told me about the bet you guys had going. Suddenly, the whole thing took on a life of its own. I acted on impulse, and, obviously, I made a mistake.”

“Your mistake was that you picked the wrong guy.”

“Did I?”

“I think you know that.”

Suzy shook her head, revealing a panoply of bruises. “I don’t know what I know anymore.”

“I think you do. I think that’s why you’re here.” What am I doing? Jeff wondered. Was he really coming on to this woman? Why? Because he was genuinely interested in her? Or because his brother was?

Suzy slowly removed her glasses, revealing a yellowing half moon beneath her right eye. “You think I’m here because of you?”

“Aren’t you?” Back off, Jeff was thinking. Don’t do this. Not only was her husband a lunatic, the man was a wife beater as well. Who knew what else he might be capable of? Although men who beat up women were generally cowards, he thought, afraid to pick on somebody their own size. Jeff was definitely his size.

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” Suzy said, sidestepping his question. “Kristin. Right?”

“Right,” Jeff agreed. “Kristin.”

“She’s very beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.” Not only was she beautiful, she was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman—adventurous, understanding, nonjudgmental, great in bed. In truth, Jeff had never felt any real desire to cheat on her and did so far less often than he let on. Still, appearances had to be maintained, and it was never a good idea to let a woman get too comfortable. Besides, in this case, there were several hundred dollars at stake. And, even more important than money, bragging rights.

“So, what’s this all about?” Suzy was asking.

“You tell me. This was your idea, remember?” Jeff sank back in his chair, throwing one arm over its high back, exaggerating the already exaggerated swell of his bicep.

“Contrary to what you think,” she began slowly, “I came here today because I didn’t know how else to get in touch with Will, and I remembered your telling my husband where you worked.”

Jeff felt his entire body tense. “We’re in the phone book. You could have called.” Had she really come all this way to talk about Will?

“I have a message I’d like you to give him,” she said, ignoring his remark.

“I’m not a messenger boy,” Jeff said, bristling.

“He’s your brother.”

“Which doesn’t make me his keeper.”

“Please. I just want to apologize. I know I’ve hurt him. I could see it in his face.”

“I think you’re giving yourself way too much credit.”

“Maybe. I’d just really appreciate it if you’d tell him I’m sorry.”

“Tell him yourself.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can.”

“Clearly I won’t be going back to the Wild Zone any time soon.”

Jeff stood up. “You won’t have to. Come on. You have your car? I’ll take you to him.”

“Now? You really think that’s wise?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been very good with ‘wise.’”

“Me neither.”

“You coming?”

Suzy pushed herself to her feet, pausing for an instant to draw the pleasing aroma of newly melted chocolate into her lungs, then reluctantly following Jeff out of the bakery into the blistering heat of the fast-approaching noontime sun.

“
YOU WANT TO
talk about it?” Kristin was asking. She was standing at the open fridge door, wearing a low-cut, lime-green T-shirt and short, tight Daisy Dukes. Her long blond hair was pulled into a loose bun at the top of her head. A series of wispy tendrils spiraled down toward her ears. Bare toes, their toenails painted a bright coral, tapped against the cheap linoleum floor.

Will stared over at her from his seat at the kitchen table. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. His feet were also bare. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been staring at that bowl of soggy cereal for the past hour. That tells me you have something on your mind.”

“So she’s not only gorgeous, she’s perceptive as well.”

Kristin pulled a quart of fresh orange juice from the fridge and poured herself a glass. “I love it when you talk dirty,” she said, holding out the carton. “You want some?”

“Sure.”

Kristin poured him a glass and deposited it on the table, pulling up the chair beside him. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“She’s married,” Will said simply.

Kristin didn’t have to ask whom he was referring to. “Yeah, I know. Jeff told me about your little trip to Coral Gables.”

“Why am I such an idiot?”

“How can you be an idiot? You have a PhD from Princeton.”

“I haven’t finished my dissertation,” he reminded her. “And trust me, when it comes to women, I’m an idiot.”

“Well, don’t sweat it. It’s part of your charm.”

“You think I’m charming?”

Kristen laughed. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.” She lifted her glass into the air, clicked it against his. “To better days.”

“I’ll drink to that.” They downed the contents of their glasses. “What time do you start work?” he asked.

“Not till five. What about you? You have any plans?”

“Haven’t decided.”

“We could hang out, maybe go to a movie,” she offered.

“I think I’ve seen enough movies for a while.”

“Oh, that’s right. I guess that means the beach is out, too, huh?”

Will laughed. “God, I’m pathetic.”

“Just a little. You liked her; what can you do?”

“How can you like somebody you don’t even know?” Will asked.

“I think sometimes it’s actually easier that way,” Kristin said. “Sometimes the more you know about someone, the harder it gets to like them. The less you know, the better.”

“I think you’re the one who should be going for her doctorate.”

“There you go, talking dirty again.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault, isn’t it?”

“How could anything be your fault?”

“I’m the one who told Suzy about the bet you guys had going, asked her to pick you.”

“You didn’t know she was married.”

Kristin shrugged. “I understand her husband was pretty creepy.”

“Creepy’s an understatement. Guy’s a psychopath.”

“Worse than Tom?”

“Smarter than Tom,” Will said. “I’m not sure which is worse. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“It’s kind of personal.”

“What kind?”

Will smiled. “What would you have done if she’d picked Jeff?”

Kristin shrugged again, said nothing.

“Would you really have been okay with it?”

A third shrug. “It’s no big deal.”

“It isn’t?”

“Look. Before I started bartending, I was working every seedy strip club in Miami Beach. Occasionally, I got a job modeling swimsuits or lingerie. More often, I supplemented my income by appearing at stag parties. Which is where I met Jeff. It was a pretty rough group of guys, they’d all been drinking, and for a few minutes, it looked as if things might get a little out of hand. But your brother stepped in, calmed everybody down, got me out of there. Even made sure I got paid. He asked for my phone number. We ended up at his place. Of course, I found out later the whole thing was a setup, that he’d bet the guys a hundred bucks he could get into my pants. But by then, it didn’t matter. We were already living together. I quit stripping, took a course in bartending, the Wild Zone opened, and I got a job. And that’s the story. It’s easy with Jeff. There’s no drama, no fuss, no mess, no unrealistic expectations. He lets me do my thing; I let him do his.”

“Which includes other women,” Will stated.

“If that’s what he wants . . .”

“What about what you want?”

“Sometimes he asks me to join in.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“What are you really asking me?”

“Do the same rules apply?” Will asked after a pause. “Do you ever . . . ?”

“Ever what?” she said, goading him, a sly little half smile tugging on her lips.

“Well, they say what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

“Really? Do they say that at Princeton?”

“I believe it was Nietzsche who said it first.”

Kristin laughed, a sweet, surprisingly delicate sound that Will found very appealing.

He cleared his throat in an effort to clear his head. “What’s it like—making love to another woman?”

“It’s all right.”

“Just all right?”

“It’s different,” Kristin said, remembering the first time she’d been with a woman. A
girl,
really. They’d both been so young.

It was just after her mother had kicked her out of the house. She’d dropped out of school, been picked up a few weeks later as a truant, and was put in the care of Child Services, then sent to a group home, where she’d stayed the better part of three years. It was there, in those drab, indifferent surroundings, eight girls to a room, that she’d met someone as damaged, in her way, as Kristin was. For months, they’d circled each other warily, rarely speaking, carefully sizing each other up. Eventually, Kristin had broken the silence: “I can’t find my wallet. You have something to do with that?”

Despite that provocative beginning, or perhaps
because
of it, the two girls soon became inseparable, their friendship only gradually developing into something more, something neither one had expected. It happened naturally, effortlessly. One night, the girl had simply climbed down from her top bunk and slipped into Kristin’s narrow bed below. Kristin had slid over to make room, holding the young woman in the dark, marveling at her softness and the exquisite tenderness of her touch. For the next eighteen months, they’d spent every minute they could together. The love of her life, Kristin understood, even then.