CHAPTER 9

Jane was just starting the last song in her Elton John book when there was a knock on the rec room door. She raked a hurried hand through her hair. She considered rushing to turn on the lights and open the door, but she had cried a little as she’d been playing and she thought maybe the darkness would be better, so she wouldn’t have to explain. Besides, she thought maybe the dark would be romantic. They could sit and eat dinner while looking out on the city.

“Come in,” she called.

The door swung open. He stood as a silhouette in the doorway. His shoulder to hip ratio formed a primordial triangle of perfection, with muscles straining against his T-shirt in all the right places, board shorts hanging from a lithe waist as securely as a towel after a shower. Steve appeared every bit the heroic god-figure Daniel described once upon a time in that other life when he and Jane had said goodbye in Battery Park and never seen each other again. In the dark, anyone could mistake one Fletcher for the other. She hurried to flip on the lights before her mind started playing tricks and conjuring the wrong brother.

Even illuminated, the resemblance unnerved her. The posture and aura were completely different, but any fleeting sidelong glance could easily draw confusion. Jane mapped her memories of Daniel from that morning and set them against Steve’s features—the face shape, the strong jaw, eyes set back beneath dominant eyebrows—all eerily familiar and all the more potent because she wanted him to be Daniel. “You’re Steve Fletcher.”

He grinned. “Why yes I am.”

“You look so much like your brother.”

This stopped him short of delivering his next line, a moment of surprise, then redirection, adjustment, finally a renewed grin. “You’re Jane. You saved my mother’s life.” He closed the space between them, took her hand as though to shake it but instead closed his other hand around the top of hers. “She really likes you. I can see why.” His eyes traveled over Jane’s conspicuous body parts, skipping what she considered the better ones—her graceful neck and flat belly—in favor of her disproportionate curves.

“You’re not supposed to visit after hours.”

“That’s one of my little secrets. I’ll tell you more if you have dinner with me.”

For a moment, Jane wondered how many women he had taken in this way, the double-handed handshake, a mechanism for moving closer, the warm smile still hinting at playfulness, drawing her into a secret joke, the facade of ready-made intimacy.

“I’m eating with Daniel.”

“Yeah, about that, something came up and he couldn’t make it. He sent me instead.”

“I find that unlikely.” Jane gathered her phone and her music book and walked towards the door, backing Steve into the hallway.

“Okay, he didn’t exactly send me. But I was with him and he was having some issues, and I knew you guys had these plans, and I hate to see a pretty girl stood up, so I thought I’d fill in.”

Jane edged past Steve and walked down the hallway, past the stares of the West 7 nurses who had heard that distinct baritone of Poseidon, god of the sea, and were waiting to confirm the impossible presence of a movie star on their floor. Jane turned the corner to the East side of the floor. At the East 7 desk Alma struggled to open a bottle of Advil while watching post-trial news coverage. As Jane approached, she looked up from her screen and saw Steve. “Oh frack.”

Jane took refuge behind the desk. She texted Daniel. Your brother is here. Where are you?

Steve leaned on the desk. He tilted his head so his hair fell extravagantly forward bringing with it a waft of potent aftershave. “This is a great opportunity for us to get to know each other. Dan and I share everything.”

“Mr. Fletcher, you can’t be here right now.”

Jane dialed Daniel’s number. It rang through to voicemail.

“I could tell you all his secrets.”

“I’d rather hear from him.”

“He’s missing half his leg. Did he tell you that?”

Jane trained her gaze on her phone. She knew Steve was trying to get a reaction. No matter how surprised she was she wouldn’t satisfy him by showing it.

“Alma, call security.”

“Security?” Steve laughed. “You mean Gary downstairs? He knows I’m here.” His eyes dared her to play her next card and watch him beat it.

Alma leaned over and whispered in Jane’s ear. “Just do whatever he wants. Daniel will forgive you.”

“I’m only asking for your dinner break.” Steve held his hands up, feigning innocence.

“I have twenty minutes.”

“Then we should get going.”

Jane shook her head. This was a bad idea, but acquiescence seemed the best way to get rid of him.

They walked down the hall side by side. Steve kept moving closer, Jane kept stepping away until she was nearly rubbing against the hand-railing on the wall. She ignored the giddy waves of the West 7 nurses as she and Steve waited for the elevator. “Why isn’t Daniel answering his phone?”

“He’s asleep.”

“Is that your fault?”

“Whatever he’s said about me it’s only half true.” Steve looked down at her and grinned.

They boarded the elevator. Jane retreated to the far corner. This didn’t feel far enough. Steve seemed to take up the space of three men, with every inch of the great big mass of him homed in on her, trying reveal what she was. Jane didn’t know where to put her hands. Every posture she chose seemed to convey unease, which seemed to feed his ego.

Steve gave Gary the security guard a salute as they walked across the lobby. A wine-red Maserati was parked illegally in the circular drive. It was the nicest car Jane had ever been in. Even in the dark, she sensed its luxury. The way the seat gently hugged her body. The wood varnished dashboard, the electronic displays that looked like something out of science fiction. The Maserati had no center console. There was nothing between her and Steve except a slim middle seat. Jane took her keys with their mace cannister out of her purse and discreetly tucked them between her legs.

The engine roared when Steve turned the ignition, sending vibrations of life through the body of the car. The stereo also roared to life in the middle of a pop song that seemed to be stuck on a loop, the male voice, with augmentation making it sound like many voices, singing about being knocked down and getting up again over and over.

“You don’t like Chumbawamba?” asked Steve with disbelief.

Chumbawamba is something you say to a child when trying to feed them, thought Jane.

“Dan said you were particular.” Steve flicked the forward button on the CD player. “There’s a lot of good stuff on here. This is my 90’s throwback list. What do you like?” Another pop song started, which seemed to Jane just as repetitive and inane as the first. Next came the opening strings of the Beauty and the Beast love song, which reminded Jane of college.

“I know this one,” she said, not quite sure why she felt the need to prove cultural acumen to Steve. “One of my college roommates was in this play for drama club.”

“Don’t think anyone would call it a play, but sure, I guess I could see that.” Steve turned the stereo off. He seemed confused, like he was debating something. He gave her several sidelong glances before he said, “So, you’re the Battery Park girl.” He offered this knowledge with a sly grin that looked like it belonged to a more salacious statement opening a different kind of conversation. “I remember him talking about meeting you.” Steve’s grin became a conspiracy between them. “Honestly, I thought he was exaggerating, but now, I can totally see it. You’re pretty hot for a nurse—in a natural way, I mean. You’d definitely get my vote for most beautiful woman without makeup.”

He paused, probably waiting for Jane to appreciate his compliment. He frowned when he didn’t get it. “How was the surfing in Montauk?” she asked.

“That’s your question? Any other girl hears their boyfriend is missing half his leg, she jumps on that.”

“He already told me.”

“Bullshit.”

“We were very open with each other this morning.”

“How open?”

“You can’t even imagine.”

Steve swallowed. “Good, because I wouldn’t want him to get hurt. There’ve been a lot of girls who’ve tried to get to me through him. We have a very strict screening process.”

“And have I passed?”

Steve frowned. “For now.”

“I’m so glad I meet with your approval.”

He glanced at her like he couldn’t tell if she was flirting, which was exactly the point. Jane would’ve enjoyed toying with him more if their meeting hadn’t been as a result of Daniel’s absence. Steve’s arrival implied Daniel’s interest was genuine. She drew confidence from this. But that still didn’t explain why he hadn’t contacted her, warned her at least. He didn’t seem like the type to spring his brother on her as some kind of test. She could explain the hinting of a prosthetic—most likely a surfing accident, maybe a shark attack, which also explained why he now avoided surf competitions—but his complete lack of communication made her the worst kind of insecure.