Chapter Twenty-Three

Tail winds cut thirty-five minutes off the flight. The taxi dropped Jarvis off on 57^th between Sixth and Seventh Avenues. The back entrance to the Parker Meridien on 57^th St. was subtle. A short awning protected an automatic sliding glass door. The cool autumn air on the street was immediately repelled by the blast of heat emerging as the doors slid open. The entry fed into a small vestibule with a second set of glass doors which didn’t open until the first had closed behind a visitor, like a bank trying to ensure a horde of robbers didn’t come bursting in at once. Instead, the second door opened into a narrow café lined on either side by dark, heavy furniture – benches and stuffed chairs – backed against walls. Even in the brightest of midday suns, it was dim and intimate. Tourists and locals came for sanctuary or temporary escape, sipping mixed drinks or hand-made hot chocolate. The path between the two sets of seating was narrow enough that two people walking abreast would barely miss brushing the knees of patrons. It was crowded, despite the late hour. Jarvis strode through and as he passed the bar to his left in the middle of the café, he nodded to the old man who’d worked there for a decade. As he reached the other end and was about to step through the open wrought iron doors leading into the cavernous hotel lobby, the waitress who’d been taking the order of a young couple at the last table stood. She turned just as he passed and they locked eyes. Neither stopped, but both smiled. He whispered as he passed.

 

“Penny.”

 

She stepped past him in the opposite direction. “Jarvis.”

 

He carried the smile along the marble floor and to the registration desk. The Dutch girl tapping on a computer looked up and smiled.

 

“I have a reservation for this evening. Maybe two nights. Jarvis.” He pulled out a credit card.

 

“Yes, Mr. Jarvis. I have you in a Delightful Park View room, but was able to upgrade you to a Junior Suite, if that is acceptable.”

 

“Yes, that is acceptable.” He waved off the bellman after slipping him a five. The girl swiped his credit card and handed it back with two room keys and another huge smile.

 

“I hope you have a wonderful stay. My name is Jasmine. Please don’t hesitate to call if there is anything I can do.”

 

She was at least five years too young for the offer to mean anything other than excellent customer service and Jarvis avoided leering. He returned the smile and headed to the elevators. The 19^th floor was for Platinum members of the hotel chain’s frequent-guest program. Membership had its rewards. A private salon just off the elevator served everything from light breakfast to late night drinks – self-serve after 9 p.m. It was close to 12:30 a.m. and Jarvis opened the club room door with his key and found the fridge with a very cold Rolling Rock waiting. He carried it back to his suite which, despite the Junior monicker, was as big as his living room at home. Tossing his bag on the bed he twisted open the beer and sat in a newly upholstered chair facing a television screen larger than the one at home. He quickly found ESPN and put his feet up on the ottoman. Only the light from Sports Center and a glimmer of lamps in the park across the street nineteen stories below shining through the drapes cut the darkness of the room. He finished the beer and relaxed as the hockey highlights played. Sleep was still at least a couple hours away. As the credits ran across the screen, he got up and put the room keys in his back pocket. The ride down to the lobby was unbroken, as if he were the only resident in the enormous hotel. The narrow café had cleared out a little and he found a table closer to the outside door. His waitress started to come over from the bar and Penny tapped her on the shoulder. A brief conversation ensued and when the horse-trading ended he was smiling up at her as she put a scotch, neat, on the low table in front of him.

 

“I missed your call last week.” There was no rancor in her voice, only playfulness. He hadn’t called. Not last week and not since he’d been in NYC three months ago. But they’d already been through all that after the first time they’d met and he hadn’t called the next day or when he’d returned to LA. Nor had she. Now it was a rhythm and neither one minded.

 

“Machine must have been broken.”

 

She laughed. Only a few years older than front-desk Jasmine, she teased him. “What kind of machine? Oh, you mean one of those olden thingies, before voice mail.”

 

He avoided making a crack and instead sipped the scotch. She bent down so her face was close to his and asked if she could get him anything else. Tiny, exquisite earrings caught the light from a chandelier above. The earrings he’d sent to her a few weeks earlier, making sure they arrived on her birthday. Casual didn’t equal meaningless, no matter how infrequently he saw her.

 

“No, I’m good. Got everything I need right now.”

 

Her laugh was a burst of warm, sweet air. She turned gracefully and put the leather folder containing the bill on the table. He watched her go and sipped again, two great pleasures. Signing his name and overtipping, he finished the scotch over the next few minutes and went back to his room.

 

He was ten minutes into a CNN broadcast at a little after 2 a.m. when he heard the soft rustle of a key card in the locking mechanism and the handle gently turn. He feigned sleep until he felt the weight of a knee on the bed next to him. With a sudden lunge, he sat upright and took her into his arms, startling Penny enough to elicit a squeal of surprise and then something more.

 

“Thank you for the earrings,” she murmured into his neck as she melted to him.

 

Without taking his hands off her back, pulling her closer to him, Jarvis flipped off the television. The heavy white comforter cushioned their weight as he spun their bodies and suddenly he was on top of her, looming and predatory. She laid back and he leaned in close, kissing her neck, her collarbone, the round of her shoulder.

 

“I miss New York some times.” He began to unbutton the starkly white shirt she wore in the café. She reached in with both hands and pulled the shirt apart, the sound of threads straining to hold buttons in place popping in succession. He laughed and ran a finger gently along the thin lace at the top of her bra. Jarvis made a guttural sound and he kissed the soft skin above one breast and she let out a breath.

 

The lights stayed on and an hour later Penny slept deeply curled in one corner of the bed, her back pressed against Jarvis’ torso. His hands were behind his head and he stared into the ceiling. Brin and the name of the man he was here to see consumed his thoughts. Deep relaxation embraced him and gave him focus. Every so often, there was no sleep at all, not even the single hour that sustained him. It gave him great clarity when it happened, but also an edgy emotional state the next day. He listened to Penny breath, shallow and regular, as he planned his visit in a few hours to the loft in Greenwich Village.