41

Lisa

Lisa was a few blocks away from the Starlite. With a backup on the avenue, she waited. It was nine-thirty at night. The traffic was heavy, and her car stood at a complete standstill.

An ambulance squealed around the corner. It was natural to hear the wail of an ambulance in Brooklyn. Cars drove between squeals; there was always a person in an ambulance, or a person about to be in an ambulance.

As her car inched forward, Lisa moved to make a right down one of the street blocks. She might be waiting for another half hour; instead, she would turn around and go back home.

She had come all the way up to Brooklyn Heights, and she hadn’t even asked Madeline if an event was scheduled for tonight. She had been too hasty.

She made the right turn, then another right, and another right, and soon she was cruising in the opposite direction, with traffic backed up the other way.

There was a car up ahead of her, ahead of other cars, in the dark. From the distance, it almost looked like Billy’s convertible with its roof rolled up, but the shadows under the elevated train obscured a full sweep of the street.

Billy would assume she was tailing him as he went out with his friends. Engaged not even four days and already stalking him like a possessive woman. Mack would roll his eyes and snort with tobacco in his cheek. Desperate woman you got there, Billy.

She beeped at the car anyway, but the vehicle moved into the next lane, made a quick turn, and was gone.

Lisa seized up, trying to sit straight, her cramps squeezing; she cringed.