Dopp frowned and turned from his computer back to the speakers.
“What’s wrong?” Trent asked.
“Hang on.”
Dopp waited impatiently, wishing he could see what was happening. About ten seconds of silence passed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to go lie down.”
“What just happened?”
“Shooting pain in my head. I’m—I’m getting dizzy. It’s been happening out of the blue.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.… Damn it.”
Dopp winced.
“Well, don’t feel bad.” Trent sounded disappointed. “It’s not your fault. You can show me another time, right?”
“Yeah, well, how about if I go lie down for a bit, and then see if I’m up to it?”
Dopp felt his spine stiffen.
“Sure. Can you get into this place whenever you want?”
“Yeah, I have the keys. I’m just going to go in my bedroom now, sorry. I need to take something.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, thanks. Come wake me in a half hour, okay? Sometimes the pills take a while to kick in.”
“All right.”
“I’m really sorry. You can watch TV out here or whatever you want.”
“Okay. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
Her voice sounded lower, as if she had moved away from him. “Just give me some time.”
Dopp heard a door close, probably to her bedroom, and then silence. With trembling hands, he turned back to his laptop and clicked the link that had come up first in his search. The link led him to a map of the East Village, with a tiny green arrow focused on a certain intersection. It was near Avenue C and Tenth Street. Above the square map, a precious line of text popped up: 150 Avenue C.
He closed his eyes for a second. Thank you, God.
Then he grabbed his cell phone and typed a text message to Trent as fast as he could: I have the address.
* * *
Trent smiled at the text message and nudged Arianna. She had wheeled down the hallway toward her bedroom and pretended to close the door. But actually she was lingering in the hallway with Trent at her side, trading uneasy glances with him: Did it work? What is he thinking?
Trent held the phone up for her to see the message. She raised her eyebrows and mouthed, Now what?
He held up a finger and typed a message back to Dopp: Hang on—I got this.
Then he went into the living room and turned on the television. A news channel came on first, and he flipped through the channels for something more boisterous, settling on a live broadcast of a concert at Madison Square Garden, featuring a punk band he had never heard of. The guitars screeched along with the singer’s growling voice, and in the background, the drummer crashed cymbals with glee. Trent turned the volume up.
Arianna remained in the hallway, expecting him to leave. But he mouthed, Wait, walked back to her side, and picked up her hand. She frowned in confusion. “Not yet,” he whispered, hoping she would understand that it could only help them to further aggravate Dopp’s temptation and curiosity. Sure enough, a second text message soon fired back: What’s going on??
Trent knew it was time. He typed back: Found her keys. Be right there. Then he nodded to Arianna. She pointed to a little table in the foyer, by the front door, and he saw she had left her keys there for him. As he leaned his face close to hers, a few strands of her hair tickled his lips. “Wait until you see our car leave before you leave,” he whispered.
“I will,” she whispered back.
“Are you sure you can you make it up to the window?”
She nodded.
“Okay. Good luck. I love you.”
He grit his teeth as his face hovered by her ear; the words could not help escaping him. He took her cheeks in both hands and gently turned her face to his. She looked away from him, hesitating.
“I understand,” he whispered. Then he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. The moment was fast, just a hurried peck, but in that split second, the world condensed the way it always did when they were together and alone. And then it was over, and he was hurrying to the door, snatching her keys from the table, and waving a final good-bye before running out to meet his boss.
* * *
When Trent reached the car, he could hear the faint rumble of the engine. A good sign. He yanked the passenger door open and jumped in, dangling Arianna’s keys like bait.
“Look what I found!”
Dopp stared at them as if mesmerized, his lips parted, cheeks flushed red. He snatched the keys away. “I think this could be it,” he said.
“I do, too,” Trent lied. The televised punk concert was leaking through the speakers. “Let’s go check it out, hurry, before she wakes up!”
Dopp balked, shaking his head. “You go back inside and keep an eye on her. I’ll go myself.”
Trent felt a cool shiver scale down his back. “But she’s sleeping,” he protested. “I want to see this place, too!”
“I don’t care. We shouldn’t leave her alone.”
Trent sulked, dangerously pushing the limit. But he was supposed to draw out their time away as long as possible—so what good would he be if Dopp went unescorted?
“Get out,” Dopp barked. “Let me go!”
Reluctantly, Trent got out. As soon as he slammed the door, the car screeched away from the curb. He stood still for a moment, watching the car turn out of sight at the first corner. Then he raced back into the building, took the stairs to the third floor, and burst into the apartment.
Arianna was perched atop the stool, clutching the edge of the sink. She stared at him in surprise. “What happened? I was about to leave.”
Trent threw his hands up. “He wouldn’t let me come! He wouldn’t let me leave you alone! But you were ‘sleeping,’ so he wasn’t supposed to care. Damn it!”
Arianna watched him calmly. “It doesn’t matter. He still left, and by the time he goes there, sees the place, comes back, and then realizes we’re gone, the whole
