Dennis poured two glasses of red wine and took a deep inhale over his glass as though he had a clue what he was doing.
“Is that red wine?”
“It’s a pinot,” Dennis said.
“Oooh, Daddy, I love pinot,” Jennifer said.
Dennis had spent the rest of the day going over the statements the uniform cops had taken at the scene. Nothing had any real value. No one seemed to know Julie, and no one had heard anything the night of the murder. Julie’s neighbour to the left was out late at the gym, and the neighbour on the other side had the stereo turned up. Mrs. Chang’s statement contributed less than nothing and everything she had said matched what Lisa had told Dennis in her apartment. The statements were done well. Dennis thought the small blond cop he had put in charge had real potential. The only person who knew Julie at all, it seemed, was Lisa O’Brien, and now she was dead. There were a lot of pedestrian deaths in the city this year. It was getting to be an epidemic. Dennis circled her name in his notepad. He would talk to someone in traffic about what happened as soon as the case gave him a chance to come up for air. Losing someone so close to the vic was bad, but Dennis could console himself with the fact that he, and not some halfwit, had been the one to interview Lisa. He thought about the interview and felt he wouldn’t have done anything different if he had the chance—which he didn’t.
Dennis entered all of his notes into the case file and hoped the system would flag one of the names mentioned or a detail of the murder. Every case went into the computer and the program cross-referenced the names, crimes, and details with every other file in the system. Nothing Dennis entered raised any alarms; there were no recently paroled knife-wielding maniacs living in Julie’s building. The other half of the day was spent avoiding Jerry. The tubby detective sergeant was by his desk every ten minutes for an update he could take upstairs. It was like he didn’t hear Dennis when he told him the case had about as much momentum as a turd on the sidewalk in January. Dennis managed to sneak out at seven when Jerry went upstairs for his last brief.
Dennis stopped by Subway and ate a foot-long meatball sub. He washed it down with a Coke and had some of the freshly baked cookies for dessert. After his fourth cookie, he saw that it was almost nine. He got in the car and went looking for something sweet.
Jennifer, the diamond in the rough from the night before, was in the same spot she had been in the other day. She was wearing a blue dress made of a clingy material that left almost nothing to the imagination. Well, almost nothing—Dennis still couldn’t see her package. He pulled up to the curb and yelled, “Benjamin,” out the window.
Jennifer sauntered over. “It’s Jennifer, baby.”
“The fuck it is. Meet me in the parking lot across the street.”
“Sure, Daddy.”
Dennis waited for a break in traffic and then crossed four lanes to get into the parking lot. He pulled into a space in front of the 7/11 doors and waited for Jennifer to make her way across the street.
When she got close, Dennis got out and said, “I’m going inside to get some gum. Wait in the car.”
“Get me something to eat. I’m starving.”
“What do you want?” Dennis asked.
“Something hard.”
Dennis blushed a little at the comment. He hadn’t done that in a long while. “Just get in the car.”
Dennis got some gum and a popsicle and got back in the car. Jennifer greedily took the popsicle out of the plastic and began sucking it. Dennis watched for a minute, until the silence in the car became awkward.
“I had a bad day,” Dennis said.
“It was probably nothing compared to my day, Daddy. I ripped my dress on the way out and I had to put on this old thing ’cause it was the only clean thing I had. Then, I got to my corner and I find Angela standing there. Bitch doesn’t even look like a bitch. I said to her, ‘Mangela, you better get your fat ass off my corner.’ Bitch put up a fight until it was time to put up, then she just left.”
Dennis shook his head. “Someone died.”
Jennifer looked genuinely sad. “I’m sorry. Was it family?”
Dennis shook his head.
“A friend?”
Dennis shook his head again.
“I didn’t know her, but she knew me. Weird as that sounds, she knew me better than anyone. I can’t explain it, but it felt so good to have a person like that in my life—even if she wasn’t really in my life.”
“I know how that is,” Jennifer said.
Dennis looked away from the lot and into Jennifer’s eyes. He thought maybe she did know what he meant.
“I know what people think of me, and that’s the me that I let them see. That isn’t even—” he turned over his palms and let them hover over his lap before moving them over Jennifer’s crossed legs, “this.” He let his hands fall. “She knew. She knew all of it and she didn’t judge me.” Dennis absentmindedly rubbed against the stubble on Jennifer’s thigh. “I never had that before. I don’t think I’ll ever have it again.” Jennifer put her hand over his and tried to ease it closer to her lap, but Dennis resisted and kept it where it was. “You ever been happy?”
“I can make you happy.” The words were a practised purr.
“Me neither,” Dennis said. “I know it’s not in the cards, not for men like me. The best I can hope for is moments like this. Sitting in my car, paying more attention to who might be watching me than who is sitting beside me. She made me feel like maybe that wasn’t the way it had to be.” Dennis sighed. “I can’t tell you how much I liked the idea of someone like her out there. Someone who knew me and didn’t care. That was something rare. She was something rare, and someone carved her up like she was a piece of meat.” Dennis ran a finger down the condensation on the driver side window hard enough to make a squeak. “She looked out for me when no one else would have; she deserves the same. I owe her that much. But if I’m being honest right now,” Dennis didn’t bother to look at Jennifer to see if she was listening, “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I am good enough.”
He looked out the window until Jennifer said, “Daddy.”
Dennis turned his head and he saw Jennifer slowly take the popsicle out of her mouth. Some of it had melted and it was on her fingers. She sucked each one clean while Dennis watched. “So, you going to take me home or are you just going to buy me treats all night?”
Dennis saw that he could be honest with Jennifer, not because she didn’t judge him, but because she didn’t care. In that moment, Dennis remembered Julie’s eyes all over again and forgot about the doubts he had just given voice to for the first time. He would see this through to the end. The killer had taken Julie’s life and any chance of Dennis seeing someone look at him like that again; he would be damned if he didn’t get something back. Dennis caught sight of the dashboard clock and realized his hand was still on Jennifer’s thigh. He felt his anger dull as his body responded to the feeling of Jennifer’s skin. There was work to be done, but it could wait for a few hours. Dennis took one last look around the lot for anyone giving his car too much attention, then drove in the direction of his apartment.
Inside the apartment, Dennis put on some soft music and opened a bottle of wine. He had changed into an old sweater and a pair of khakis that he bought a decade ago. The sweater was scratchy, but it was big enough to conceal all of his imperfections. Dennis liked it because it didn’t make him look like a cop. When he wore it, he felt like himself. Jennifer liked the sweater. It was the very last thing she took off Dennis’s body.
Forty-five minutes later, Dennis was filling two glasses with the last of the bottle. He saw what a mess the bed was when he walked back through the bedroom on his way to the bathroom. He put a glass on the small part of the counter not taken up by the sink and sat on the toilet lid and watched Jennifer shower.
“You looking at me, you pervert?”
“Just getting my money’s worth.”
“Oh, I think you already got that. Now c’mon, don’t stare. I’ll be out in a second. I promise I won’t steal nothing.”
Dennis sipped the wine. “I know you won’t. I just like to look at you.”
“Ugh, I’m getting old.”
“What are you, twenty-two?”
“Twenty-five.”
Dennis laughed.
“Don’t laugh. I’ve had twenty-five years in the wrong body. It’s no picnic. I work too hard to pay the bills and save for the surgery.”
“Don’t do that,” Dennis said. “The surgery, I mean. You look good the way you are.”
“You’re sweet, baby, but nine grand more and I’m off to Thailand for an extreme makeover. Believe me, honey, you’ll like me a whole lot better when I’m done.”
Dennis sipped the wine and said nothing. He wouldn’t like her better then. The surgery would change everything. It would unbalance moments like this. Moments when neither of them could hide what they really were.
When Jennifer came into the living room, Dennis was watching the television. Jennifer was wearing only a towel. “I need my dress,” she said.
Dennis followed Jennifer back into the bedroom and sat on the bed while she put on her clothes.
“I have to go, Daddy.”
“I know, Benjamin.”
“Everyone calls me Jennifer, Daddy. Why don’t you?”
Dennis sipped more of the wine. “Times like this, a lie would cheapen the moment. I like being real—it feels good.”
Jennifer snorted as though Dennis had just told a joke. “Real?” She gulped down the wine Dennis had left for her and stepped into her dress. When she looked at Dennis again, there was no sign of the humour. “Funny how being real feels good, but not as good as me calling you Daddy.”
Dennis didn’t look away; he watched Jennifer pull on her clothes. For a few seconds, Jennifer wasn’t concerned with a façade. Dennis saw everything as it was. Jennifer’s nudity disappeared in pieces after that, until everything was concealed again by the tight blue dress. She took the cash from Dennis’s hand and kissed his cheek before walking out the door. Dennis went back to the couch and turned on the television. The news was just starting. Julie’s death was the lead story. All of a sudden, the sweater was too itchy. Dennis pulled it off and threw it on the floor.