Whatever happened to good old-fashioned coffee shops?" Charley said mournfully.
It was early Friday evening and Seattle Bean on Second Avenue— one of some eight dozen coffee bars which had mushroomed, seemingly overnight, all over Manhattan—was filled with a young, outdoorsy- looking crowd.
"The coffee happened," Kenzie said. "They served shit."
"Yeah, but this? Seattle's revenge, that's what this is."
Kenzie, sitting on a stool opposite him, was slowly working on a slice of dense chocolate cake and sipping cappuccino.
"What this city needs," he growled, "is a proliferation law. For coffee bars."
"And here I always thought you Italians liked good coffee."
"Good coffee," he said, "doesn't have to cost three bucks a cup."
Kenzie used her fork to cut a minute sliver of cake, speared it on the tines, raised it to her mouth, and chewed in slow motion.
"Heaven," she sighed, shutting her eyes in ecstasy.
"For what it cost, it had better be."
"Charley, I'm trying to enjoy my calories. So get off this thrift kick and let's change the subject."
"Okay." He folded his hands on the tiny table. "Why'd you drag me in here? You said you wanted to discuss somethin'."
She put down her fork and dabbed her lips delicately with the paper napkin and took a sip of cappuccino.
"That's right," she said.
"You also said you didn't want to discuss it over the phone. Or over dinner. Or at home."
She nodded. "That is correct also."
"So discuss."
She took a deep breath. "There are women," she said slowly, "who would undoubtedly feel flattered by displays of Cro-Magnon behavior among males. I, as you should know, do not number among them."
He gave her a funny look. "This Swahili you're speakin', or what?"
Kenzie sat forward. "I am speaking about fisticuffs," she said quietly. "Fights in the schoolyard. 'Wanna step outside, buddy?' That sort of thing."
He rubbed his forehead. "Kenzie," he said wearily. "Fuck are you talkin' about?"
"I am talking about your temper. I am talking about insane jealousy. I am talking about your use of violent physical force."
"Run that by me again?"
"You heard me."
"Yeah, I heard you. But I might understand you if you'd stop speaking in goddamn tongues!"
"All right." Kenzie took a moment to collect her thoughts. "I am referring," she said primly, "to Hannes."
"Oh, yeah. Way I understand it, you've been burning the candle at both ends."
"Charley, who I see, and choose not to see, is my business. It does not give you the right to go beating up on that person."
"Excuse me?" He looked genuinely bumfuzzled.
"And you can wipe that look of innocence off your face," she said severely. "We both know what you did."
"Hell I do!" he said heatedly.
"Keep your voice down!" she hissed. "It's bad enough you slugged Hannes—"
"I did what?" He stared at her. "Christ, Kenz! What put that idea in your head?"
"Let's just say I have it on good authority," she said stiffly.
"As God is my judge, Kenz, I swear I didn't lay a hand on that son of a bitch!"
She sighed heavily. "And I," she said quietly, "am supposed to believe you?"
"Hell, yeah!" He stared at her. "You do, don't you?"
She did not reply.
"Aw, shit!" He raked a hand through his hair and brooded. "Guess I have Blondie to thank for this."
"Charley, there's really no need to get into name-calling."
"Hell there ain't! Guy I'm on the street with pretends he an' I're buddy-buddy. Meanwhile, he cuckolds me an', to top it all off, runs to you an' starts spreadin' lies. Makes me wish I had slugged the shit outta him!"
"He says you did," she said quietly.
Charley couldn't believe his ears. "An' you fell for it?"
Kenzie said, "Put it this way. I don't disbelieve him."
Charley was incredulous. "Oh, that's just beautiful! You've known me for years and along comes Blondie an' snap!—you take his word over mine."
Kenzie let out another exasperated sigh. She picked up her cup and sipped a little and put it back down. "Then why is it," she inquired, "that your knuckles are all bruised and scraped?"
"This?" Charley held up his hands. "That's from when I fell."
"You fell?"
"Goddamned right I fell! After I found out he was shtuppin' you, I tied one on. Or is that a crime suddenly?"
"Be that as it may," she said, "Hannes is the one with the black eye."
"Well, if I were you, I'd stop seein' the bastard." Charley stared at her. "It ever occur to you he might be dangerous?"
Kenzie was amused. "Come on, Charley. From the physical evidence, it strikes me that you're the one I should be worried about."
"Christ, you don't quit," he said, "do you?"
She was silent.
"That why you dragged me in here? To drink cap-pu-cci-no and give me shit?"
"Charley," she said, "I am not giving you shit. I wanted to discuss this like civilized human beings."
"Oh."
"Also, I thought it time I started ... well, laying down the law."
"Law?" he said suspiciously. "What law?"
"Kenzie's Law."
"Now you've lost me completely."
"Well, the truth is this. I like you, Charley."
She looked at him directly, her tawny eyes reaching down deep.
"In fact," she added softly, "I like you a damn lot."
"Gee, thanks," he said sarcastically. "Makes all the difference."
"But I like Hannes, too."
"No doubt a whole lot also," he observed wryly.
Her expression did not change. "That's right," she nodded.
"Well," Charley sighed, "I won't pretend the truth doesn't hurt."
"At any rate," Kenzie continued, "to uncomplicate matters, I thought it best to keep the two of you separate."
Charley simply stared at her.
"I also thought it fair to give each of you equal time."
"Did you now?" he said bitterly. "Just like opposing opinions on TV?"
"Just until we all know where we stand emotionally," she emphasized. "I have, therefore, decided that Hannes can see me Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays."
"Yeah?"
"Which means," she said, "that Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays are yours."
"Gee. An' Sundays? What about Sundays?"
"On Sundays," she said succinctly, "I rest."
"Sounds like you're gonna need it."
She shrugged.
"Also sounds like you wanna have your cake and eat it, too."
"I will not," she said, "dignify that with a response."
"Sure you're not playin' one of us against the other?"
"Charley," she said patiently. "I'm trying to keep the two of you from each other's throats." She sat erect, her hands folded. "So. Are you in agreement?"
He eyed her narrowly. "You float this by Blondie yet?"
"I discussed it with Hannes," she said. "Yes."
"An'?"
"He didn't voice any complaints."
"I bet he didn't!" Charley was silent for a moment. "And if I do?"
"I'm hoping it doesn't come to that," Kenzie said softly.
"That like me hopin' Blondie drops dead?"
"Charley, look," she said. "I'm trying to make this as painless as possible for all three of us." She took a deep breath. "You can either take it or leave it."
He stared at her.
She stared back at him.
"Oh, great!" He rubbed a hand over his face. "I get to choose between the devil and the fuckin' deep blue sea!"
"I'm sorry if that's the way you perceive it, Charley."
"Shit." He shook his head. "You really know how to kick a guy where it hurts, don't you?"
"Hurting you is the furthest thing from my mind. I'm only trying to be fair."
"Yeah." He gave a negating snort. "Right."
She waited, her mouth pressed in a thin tight line.
"Well, I don't do my best thinking on an empty stomach," he said. "An' last I heard, ca-pu-cci-no doesn't qualify as a meal. Am I correct in surmising that we're not leavin' here and goin' someplace for real food?"
"You surmise correctly."
"Then how come you got all doozied up? You ask me, basic black with spaghetti straps ain't exactly a coffee bar getup."
"No," Kenzie said softly, "it's not."
"So. What gives?"
"It's Friday night," she said gently.
"Fri—" He slapped his forehead. "Oh, yeah. How stupid of me. This is Blondie's night!"
Kenzie flinched as though she'd been struck.
"So you and him," Charley said, "are gonna go do dinner. And whatever."
She raised her chin. "That's right."
"Well, fuck you!" he shouted angrily. "Fuck you both!"
And jumping up, he knocked over his stool and stormed out.
"I broke the news to Charley," Kenzie told Hannes over dinner at Prive, on East Eightieth Street.
"How did he take it?"
She sighed and sipped her white wine spritzer. "Not well, I'm afraid."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Kenzie."
She nodded. "So am I," she said. Then she smiled. "Do you know, he believes you might be dangerous?"
"Me!" Hannes laughed. "What a marvelous absurdity. Look at me, Kenzie! I am still walking around with a bruised face."
"I know." Kenzie smiled.
She ate a bite of grilled vegetable and goat cheese tart.
"It gives you that dashing, heroic air," she added.
He laughed and then abruptly fell silent.
"Kenzie, has it occurred to you," he asked slowly, "that Charley might have a point?"
She gave a start. "What do you mean?" She stared at him.
"Well, he may have every reason for feeling paranoid. What he did to me, for example."
"Yes?"
"He could quite honestly be unaware of having done it."
"Hannes—"
"Please, Kenzie. Listen to me. Charley drinks quite heavily."
"True."
"Perhaps he suffers blackouts. That would explain why he doesn't remember what he did."
"Oh, God. Now you're frightening me!"
"He would never wish you harm, Kenzie. At least, not intentionally."
She tried to draw comfort from what he said, but she felt a chill instead.
Charley may not want to hurt me, she thought. But who can predict what he might do in a blackout?
Hannes was watching her. "I'm so sorry, Kenzie. I didn't mean to alarm you."
She pasted on a smile. "You didn't," she lied.
Charley's always been gentle with me, she told herself. He's never shown violent tendencies. Being scared of him is ridiculous—
—or isn't it?
Suddenly she really didn't know.