Naughty Or Nice Part 6

We stood there, smiling awkwardly at each other. It was very bizarre, this moment that made him more than words and a name on a computer screen. He'd gone from being virtual to real. I was trying to be cool, but I was tense, nervous as h.e.l.l.

I said, "You heard of the Gaslamp District?"

"Don't think I've been down there."

"It's a hot spot. Restaurants, jazz joints, night clubs, whatever."

"Which way?"

"Not far."

"You want to ride with me or-?"

"Follow me."

"No problem."

"Let's eat and . . . take it from there."

He nodded.

I caught the 8 down at Hotel Circle. Carpe followed me to the Historic District and we parked in Horton Plaza, the outdoor mall facing the Gaslamp. I thought I'd get lost, but I didn't. I'd looked this up online and printed out the directions before I went to meet Carpe. The area was a miniaturized version of Bourbon Street mixed with a little of New York's Soho, landscaped by evergreen and palm trees to give it that bona fide West Coast flavor.

He said, "Nice Victorian architecture down here."

I agreed with a nod, then asked, "What do you want to eat?"

The moment I said that, my question felt s.e.xual. It didn't sound that way, but it felt that way. That wasn't a question to ask a man. Too open ended.

I rushed my words, "There are over eighty restaurants over sixteen blocks."

He said, "I'm open."

"Well, there's j.a.panese, Italian, Mexican . . ."

"Let's just walk and be adventurous."

"Okee doke."

"See something you like, we'll check it out."

We crossed the street, two restless people in search of something better, blended with the crowd, pa.s.sed by clubs playing cool jazz, rhythm and blues, and folk music, stopped in the Hard Rock Cafe for a moment, moved on by cigar shops and billiard rooms, saw some salsa dancing, even pa.s.sed by a disco complete with strobe lights and mirrored b.a.l.l.s.

He said, "You look nice."

"Thanks. You too."

"I didn't expect . . . You're beautiful, if you don't mind my saying so."

I smiled. He said that in a soft and soothing, rea.s.suring way. "Thanks."

I was wearing an angora sweater and velvet jeans, the kind of clothes that felt good to the touch. Clothes that were s.e.xy without being hoochie.

He said, "Your husband cheated?"

I put my hands in the pocket of my leather jacket, then one hand came up to my hair, rubbing it back when it needed no rubbing. My humiliation was easier to talk about online. When Carpe had no face, no voice, no aroma, I had found comfort in his anonymity.

I said, "He had an affair."

"How'd you find out?"

"What do you mean?"

"She call you? Did you hire a service to follow him? . . ."

"We were having a dinner party, celebrating my husband's promotion with friends, family, a few neighbors. The doorbell rang. There was this beautiful woman asking for him."

"She came to the door?"

"No, it was the process server. And of course when a beautiful woman comes to your door looking for your husband, you don't leave. I waited. He came to the door, and she slapped the papers in his hand, told us to have a good night, and walked away."

"Wow. At a dinner party?"

"My sisters, our friends, lots of people were there. It f.u.c.ked me up. I went nuclear, started yelling, made everybody leave. It just . . . d.a.m.n. Really made an a.s.s of myself."

"Can only imagine. How old is the kid?"

The image of those baby pictures were engraved in my mind. I took my hands out of my pocket, then put them right back in.

I answered, "Six months."

"How long have you been married?"

"Five years."

"Kids?"

"We'd been trying . . . then this . . . Can we talk about something else?"

At one time I was so clear about what I wanted to do with my life. Now I wasn't so clear anymore.

He put his hand on my shoulder for a moment. "How about them Raiders?"

I laughed. "Raider fan?"

"Yup."

"Cool."

We walked and talked sports. Both of us were down with the Lakers, straight ride-or-die. And I lived for March Madness. I told him I played basketball in college.

He asked, "What position?"

"Mostly small forward and running guard."

"No wonder your body is so nice."

"Not even. Back then they had me down to twelve percent body fat."

He asked, "Were you any good?"

"I can take you to the hoop."

"Don't talk it if you can't back it up."

"Oh, I can back it up."

"We're gonna have to find a court so I can take you to school."

I said, "Scored twenty-eight points in one game."

"Who were you playing, the Clippers?"

We laughed.

He asked, "You like sus.h.i.+?"

"Love it."

He pointed across the street at Sus.h.i.+ Bar Nippon.

I nodded. "Cool."

We ordered spicy tuna rolls, shrimp tempura rolls, California rolls, eel, sake, and plum wine. The food was great, the conversation was easy, and the wine was making the world seem lighter. The sun was deep inside the ocean, blue skies as dark as my growing desires.

It was a struggle not to, but I fought the urge to take out my card and see how many points this meal would be, added it all up in my head. If I went over my limit . . . I wouldn't go over my limit. Well, not too far. I wouldn't dress in mourning the rest of my life.

I asked, "Your wife cheated on you?"

"Thought we were keeping away from those topics."

"Okay, I'm nosy."

"Why?"

"Because . . . you're . . . you're very handsome."

He smiled.

I asked, "Where did you meet her?"

"In the Caribbean. She had just finished her studies at Baruch."

"An island girl."

"Yeah."

I ate another California roll.

He asked, "You're going to tell me what you do for a living?"

"Nope."

"Your real name?"

"Nope. Just call me Bird. And I'll call you Carpe."

We laughed.

"With an ex," he told me. "Guy she was with right before me, actually."

"Sorry to hear that."

"He was in law enforcement."

"An officer of the law committing crimes of the heart. The plot thickens."

"He was the one who moved her out here. She was pregnant. Quit her job. Had her furniture s.h.i.+pped. Drove out here by herself. Guy didn't help her at all. Relocated her whole life for the guy. When she got here, she found out he had another woman."

"Sounds like she was put on the bench."

We shouldn't have, at least I shouldn't have, but we laughed again.

I asked, "She had the baby?"

"She sent it down the toilet."

"You caught her when she fell." I tisked, shook my head. "And she got back with him?"

"Oh, yeah. As soon as he called, she was running back to him."

"How did you find out?"

"Got the code to her cellular. Heard the messages. They were meeting at a hotel."

"What did you do?"

"Went there. Found her car. Blocked her in and waited until she came out."