was going to let the wear and tear of downtown Boston diminish its shiny newness.
She tapped the alarm system, then headed out to the restaurant. She moved quickly, took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, and within a couple of minutes she was inside the Hammer and Anvil, stripping off her overcoat and striding toward where Ashley waited, two tall glasses of beer waiting on the table in front of her.
The two embraced.
“Hey, roomie,” Susan said. “It’s been too long.”
“I ordered you a beer, but thought maybe now that you’re a hotshot businesswoman and Wall Street denizen, maybe a Scotch on the rocks or a dry martini would be more appropriate.”
“This is a beer night. Ash, you look great.”
This, Susan thought, wasn’t exactly true. Her onetime friend had a pale, nervous look about her.
“Do I?” Ashley asked. “I don’t think so.”
“Something bugging you?”
Ashley hesitated, shrugged, and looked around the restaurant. Bright lights, mirrors. Toasts at a nearby table, intimacy between a couple at another. A happy buzz of voices. It all made her feel as if what had happened to her that morning were something that had taken place in some bizarre parallel universe. Nothing surrounded her in that moment except a carefree sense of anticipation.
She sighed. “Ah, Susie, I met a creep. That’s all. He kinda freaked me out a little. But no big deal.”
“Freaked out? What did he do?”
“Well, he hasn’t exactly done anything, it’s more what he implies. Says he loves me, I’m the girl for him. No one else will do. Can’t live without me. If he can’t have me, no one else can. All that sort of useless crap. Doesn’t make sense. We only hooked up once and that was a big mistake. I tried to let him down gently, told him thanks but no thanks. Kinda hoped that was that, but when I headed out today, he left me some flowers outside my door.”
“Well, flowers, that sounds almost gentlemanly.”
“Dead flowers.”
This made Susan pause. “That’s not cool. How’d you know it was him?”
“Didn’t figure it could be anyone else.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Do? Just ignore the creep. He’ll go away. They always do, sooner or later.”
“Great plan, free-girl. Sounds like you’ve really thought that one through and through.”
Ashley laughed, although it wasn’t funny. “I’ll figure something out. Sooner or later.”
Susan grinned. “Sounds like that calculus course you took freshman year. If I recall correctly, that was your approach for both the midterm and then, when that lesson hadn’t sunk in, the final.”
“I should never have done well in math in high school. My mother pretty much steered me into that mistake. I guess she learned her lesson. That was the last time she even asked me what courses I was taking.”
Both young women leaned their heads together and shared a laugh. Few things in the world are as reassuring, Ashley thought, as seeing an old friend, one who was now in a new and separate world, but who still remembered the same old jokes, no matter how different the two of them had become. “Ah, enough about the creep. I met another guy, who seemed pretty cool. I’m hoping he’ll call me back.”
Susan smiled. “Ash. Living with you the first thing I learned was that the boys always called you back.” She didn’t ask another question, nor did she hear Michael O’Connell’s name. But in a way, she thought, she had already heard enough, or close to enough. Dead flowers.
On the street outside the Hammer and Anvil after a good deal of food and drink and more than a few old and familiar jokes, Ashley gave her friend a long embrace. “It has been great to see you, Susie. We should get together more often.”
“When you get this grad school thing up and running, call me. Maybe a regular get-together, once a week, so that you can bring all your artistic sensibilities to my complaints about stupid bosses and dumb business models.”
“I’d like that.” Ashley stepped back, staring up into the New England night. The sky was clear, and beyond the diffuse streetlights and buildings, she could just make out the canopy of stars dotting the blue- black sky above.
“One thing, Ash,” Susan said as she began to hunt in her pocketbook for her keys. “I’m a little concerned about the guy who’s been bugging you.”
“Michael? Michael O’Creep,” Ashley said with a dismissive wave, and a voice that even she knew sounded like a lie. “I’ll be rid of him in a couple of days, Susie. Guys like that just need the big, strong no and then they whine and complain for a few days, until they go out to some sports bar with their beer buddies, and all agree that one hundred percent of all women are bitches, and that’s all there is to it.”
“I hope you’re right. But still, I’d be a lousy friend if I didn’t tell you that you can call me anytime. Day or night. If this guy doesn’t disappear.”
“Thanks, Susie. I appreciate that. But not to worry.”
“Ah, you remember, free-girl, worrying was always my strongest quality.”
They both laughed, embraced again, and with a grin Ashley turned and headed down the street, ambling through each streak of light reflected from the neon signs above storefronts and restaurants. Susan Fletcher watched her for a moment, before turning away. She was never sure precisely what to make of Ashley. She mingled naivete with sophistication in a mysterious fashion. It was no wonder that boys were attracted to her, yet, in truth, Susan thought, she remained isolated and elusive. Even the way she moved, slipping away into the shadows, seemed almost otherworldly. Susan took a deep breath of cool night air, tasting the frost on her lips. She felt a little uncomfortable that she hadn’t told her friend that Scott was behind their whole meeting, that her call earlier that evening hadn’t been by chance. She shifted her feet a bit, a little uncomfortable with not being completely honest either with her friend, nor having truly found out much for her friend’s father. Michael O’Creep, she thought to herself. And dead flowers.
It was either nothing or something terrifying, and Susan didn’t know which. Nor did she know which of those polar opposites she would report to Scott Freeman.
She snorted out loud, dissatisfied on both counts, and started walking fast toward the Park and Lock a block distant. She had her keys in her hand, and her finger on the Mace canister attached to the key chain. Susan didn’t fear much in life, but knew also that a little bit of prevention went a long way. She wished that she had worn more sensible shoes. As she marched forward, she could hear the sound of her feet against the pavement, mingling with nearby noises from the street. And yet, in that second, she was overcome with a sense of loneliness, as if she were the last person left on the street, downtown, perhaps in the city itself. She hesitated, peering around her. She could see no one on the sidewalk. She paused and tried to stare into a nearby restaurant, but the window was curtained. She stopped and took a deep breath and pivoted about.
No one. The street behind her was empty.
Susan shook her head. She told herself that talking and thinking about some creep guy had unsettled her. She inhaled slowly, letting her lungs fill with crisp air. Dead flowers. Something in that statement played some discordant chord within her, making every stride she took seem indecisive. Again she paused. She was startled, felt cold, pulled her overcoat closer to her, and leaned into her pace, moving more rapidly through the shadows.
She swiveled right and left, saw no one, but had the sensation that she were being followed. She told herself she was alone, but that wasn’t reassuring, so she simply hurried.
Within a few paces, she felt an odd electricity, more now as if she were being watched. Again she hesitated, letting her eyes drift up and around, inspecting windows in office buildings, looking for the pair of eyes she was convinced were assessing her every step, and again coming up with nothing that even suggested to her a reason for the cold, nervous, throat-tightening sense of fear that was surely taking her over.
Be reasonable, she insisted to herself. And again, she picked up her pace, so that now she
