CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

NOAH

I sit back and watch Amber eat. It’s nice to see a girl enjoy her meal instead of picking through it like a bird. And Amber could use the calories. She’s a tad on the skinny side.

The need to take care of her startles me. Never felt this way about anybody other than family.

“You work at Macy’s full time?” I ask.

She swallows the forkful of spaghetti she’s been chewing. “Weekends. Work for a temp agency during the week. I’ve been trying for a marketing job, though. I hold a degree in that.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

She waves the fork at her plate. “This is excellent.”

“Best spaghetti in the country.”

She takes another bite. “Uh-huh.”

I let her enjoy the rest of her meal in peace.

When she finishes, she leans back in her chair. “That was amazing.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” I sip my wine. “Care for dessert?”

She rubs her tummy. “I don’t know.”

“Come on.”

“Share?”

“All right.” I wave the waiter over and order dessert. “A slice of Tiramisu cake, please.”

“Just one?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

He leaves, and I start with the questions. Want to learn more about her. “Where are you from?”

“Chicago. North side.”

“Still have family there?”

“Mom and Dad. Older sister, Julie. Younger brother, Charlie.”

“Get along?”

“I’d say so.”

The waiter returns with the cake and stands, unsure of where to place it. I take it, tell him thanks, and set it in the middle of the table. “Go ahead,” I say to Amber.

She takes a bite and lets out a long, drawn-out, “Ohhhh, my.”

“Good, isn’t it?”

She rolls her eyes back. “Very.”

I revert to the third degree. “So, why did you come to New York?”

She swallows. “Needed a change. Needed to get away from my parents. I love them, but… You know.”

“I do.” And I really do. I’ve thought about getting away and starting fresh many times, but I can’t.

Two bites of the cake remain, and I push the plate her way. She inches it back.

“I could probably hook you up with a marketing job if you like.” I’m curious to see how she responds. She doesn’t seem the type who likes asking for favors, but she isn’t asking. I’m offering.

She reaches across the table and stabs the second-to-last bite of cake. Waves it back and forth. “You know someone who is hiring?”

“I do.”

She puts the cake in her mouth, closes her eyes and slowly drags the fork out. I’m aroused.

“My friend Tom’s company has an opening in the marketing department.” She has a crumb at the corner of her mouth that I wouldn’t mind licking off. “You want me to set up an interview?”

Tom will hire Amber sight unseen if I ask. Don’t think she would like that, though.

“That would be great.” She smiles and eyes the last of the cake.

I inch it back in her direction.

She grins.

I nod.

She takes it.

I reach under my jacket and pull a pen and tiny Moleskine notebook from the inside pocket. Tear off the back page and scribble down a number. Hand it to her. “This is Tom’s secretary’s number. Call her tomorrow, and she’ll set up an interview.”

Amber takes the paper and studies it like a rare coin. Her eyes mist over. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I put the pen and notebook away. “The rest is up to you, though.” I add the last part to make her feel better. Even if the interview doesn’t go well, the job is hers. She just needs to show up.

Amber puts the number in her purse.

I ask her, “I was wondering if you’d consider coming to my mother’s birthday party on Tuesday?”

She fidgets with her silverware and avoids eye contact. Then her mouth forms a firm line. “I don’t believe that’s a good idea. I’d probably embarrass you. We run in different circles.”

“Hey, listen. You could never embarrass me. In fact, you’d be doing me a favor. If you came posing as my girlfriend, my mother would stop trying to fix me up and start going after my brothers.” I widen my eyes. “You’d be helping me out.”

“Girlfriend?”

I don’t want her to pose as my girlfriend. I want her to be my girlfriend in real life. She’d probably run for the hills if I told her that.

“Yes, girlfriend. Just pretend, though, okay?”

She looks at me like I’m a clown at a carnival. A proud moment for me.

“You don’t have to let me know right away,” I add. “Go home and sleep on it. Tell me tomorrow.”

She blows out some air and scans the area. She’s eyeing an exit.

“I’m sorry. I put you on the spot, didn’t I? Let’s just forget it.”

“No, no,” she rushes. “That’s all right. Let me think about it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Amber yawns. I don’t think it’s fake, either.

“Tired?”

“Not bad.”

“You want anything else?”

“No, thanks.”

“Shall we go?”

She nods.

I rise from my chair, flag down Mamma and shower her with well-deserved praise. She hugs me and then Amber and tells her to come back. I pay the tab, and we head for the door. Henry is still sitting at the table with the curvy young brunette. I wave at him, and he offers me a thumbs-up. Henry’s getting lucky tonight.

The car is waiting for us when we step outside. Frank, the driver—Ted has the night off—opens the door when he sees us coming. Amber slips in first, and I follow. Frank closes the door and gets in. Looks in the rearview mirror. “Where to, sir?”

“Where do you live?” I ask Amber.

She clatters off the address. Frank’s eyes shift. If memory serves, it’s not the better part of town.

“Take us there,” I say to Frank.

“Yes, sir.” He puts the vehicle in Drive, and we roll away.

* * *

The car pulls to a stop at the curb in front of a pizza joint with bars on the windows. Yes, bars. The lights are off, so I assume they’re closed. Could be out of business.

“You live here?” I ask.

“Yes.”

My upper lip curls back.

“Up there.” She points at the floor above the pizza joint. “There’re two tiny apartments, and I live in one of them with my cousin.”

The apartments would have to be small because the pizza place is microscopic.

I say, “Huh,” because nothing else comes to mind. This part of town makes me uneasy. Probably wouldn’t be so bad if I carried a baseball bat.

Amber taps my leg. “Could you please let me out?”

Frank hears her, and he’s out of the car like a shot and opening the back door. I spill from the back seat, take Amber’s hand, and help her. I state the obvious, “This isn’t the best part of town. You feel safe here?”

“It’s fine.” She digs in her purse for a set of keys. “Thanks for supper.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Good night.”

“Let me walk you to the door.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I know, but I’d like to. Humor me, would you?”

She breathes in, breathes out. “Come on.”

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Frank. We walk away, and he gets in the car. The locks snap into place. Well played, Frank.

There’s a door at the side of the building that Amber unlocks. “I can take it from here.”

“Let me walk you all the way. Please.”

A brief spurt of air escapes from her pursed lips. “I suppose.”

She leads me into a cramped entryway, where we’re greeted by another door—which I’m guessing leads directly into the pizza place—and a set of stairs that will take us to the apartment. We trudge up the creaky steps. Not a bad alarm system.

A narrow hallway is at the top with a door on either side. Amber moves to the one on the right. “Here we are.”

The door opposite hers swings open.

“Hello, Mrs. Haggar.”

Mrs. Haggar is seventy. She’s wearing curlers, a night coat, and some sort of gunk on her face. In her grasp is a teacup Yorkshire Terrier who isn’t afraid to bark. “This your date?”

Amber juts her chin at me. “This is Noah.”

“Mrs. Haggar.” I hold out my hand.

The Yorkie goes off like someone hit a switch, and Mrs. Haggar shields him with her body. “He doesn’t like to be touched.”

“I wasn’t going to touch him.”

She’s had enough of me. “He won’t be staying long, will he?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good, because it’s getting late.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good night, dear.”

“Night.”

Mrs. Haggar gives me one last look before she returns to her apartment.

“She’s a pleasant woman,” I comment.

“She’s nice, really,” Amber says. “And she means well.”

Amber unlocks her door, and we stand there. Wonder if she’s going to invite me in?

“Thank you for the lovely evening,” she says.

I brush my hand along her cheek. “You’re welcome.”

A trash can reverberates in the alley, which makes me curious how Frank is faring.

“I should go,” she says. “Big day tomorrow.”

Guess there is no invite.

“Of course. Can I have your phone number so I can call you tomorrow?”

“It’s––”

“Hold on.” I snatch my pen and my trusty Moleskine notebook from my jacket pocket. “Okay.”

She gives me the number.

“Don’t forget to call about the job.”

“I won’t. I’ll do it first thing.”

“Super. Well…”

I lean in to kiss her, and she opens the door and jettisons inside. “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing.”

The door nearly takes my nose off, and I slink from the building. Frank goes to get out of the car, but I wave him off. I can open the door myself.

I slide into the back seat. “Home?” Frank asks.

“Yes.”

He puts the car in gear, and we cruise away from the curb. I pull out my phone. Should I?

I shouldn’t, but I do. I text Amber, Had a good time. Talk to you tomorrow. Good night. And then, like a smitten teenager, stare at my phone for five more minutes, hoping for a reply. There isn’t one.

This’ll take some work.