Puppet Read online

  He turned and ordered a second Grey Goose and enjoyed it slowly while scanning the bar for a back-up plan. Halfway down, a gaggle of girls caught his eye. They were dressed like thousand-dollar-a-night hookers but were more likely recent graduates from Florida State or UCLA or Bucknell, living back at Mom and Dad’s while being taken advantage of in the city’s advertising or PR firms. He stared long enough to get their attention before looking back across the room.

  A guy in jeans and cowboy hat now stood by the innocent girl’s table. She said little while the cowboy conversed with her friend. From across the room, Justin stared for several minutes, assessing the trio’s connection. When the innocent girl’s friend got up and left abruptly with the cowboy hat, Justin could hardly believe the serendipity of his good fortune.

  He downed the balance of his drink and threw two crisp twenties on the bar. The room was even more crowded now but he knifed through it purposefully. As he approached her table, he tweaked his necktie and adjusted his cuff links. By the time he arrived, she had retrieved a handbag from under her chair and had it perched on her lap. When she looked up, he found himself staring into the biggest, bluest, shyest set of eyes he’d ever seen.

  “I apologize for being brazen,” he said. “I became powerless after watching you from across the room for so long.”

  It was a well-practiced line but she didn’t pick up on that.

  “Thank you, but I…”

  He introduced himself and the meek hello she offered in return was the invitation he needed to sit in the vacated chair. He stared blatantly after casually settling into his seat.

  She had a model’s face…angular and distinctive…but unlike the implacable gaze practiced on the runway, she stared at him as a lone fawn would, when lost in the woods. She had a cute, wide mouth and an aquiline nose that sported a tiny bump three quarters up the bridge. She needed little makeup to accentuate her plump lips and high cheekbones. Her hair was the color of ground espresso and lay in silky half-loops about her shoulders.

  “One usually doesn’t see sweet women like you in meat markets like this,” he said.

  “I’ve never been here before,” she confirmed. “A friend was meeting somebody and asked me along. I’m actually on my way out.” She held up her handbag as if to offer proof.

  He didn’t let her disclaimers deter him, launching into a story about his recent move from Manhattan to a beach house in Darien and another tale about the commodities trading company he owned in the city.

  As time passed, Carin felt atypically stunned by this stranger. She had always been shy but had no problem saying good night to boys who didn’t know the night was over. But tonight she stayed, partially due to his confident air and comforting manner, but also because of his outrageously good looks. He was the all-American type, tall, athletic and well-mannered. His chin was as square as a child’s building block and his cheekbones could cut paper. His eyes, while cool and unreadable, twinkled as he took her in. Their royal-blue luminosity was made that much more pronounced by the heavy brows framing them. She recognized a fearless quality in his countenance, like that of an ancient emperor whose visage had long ago been chiseled in a block of stone that now resides in some fancy museum. The proper thing to do may have been to leave; instead, her handbag found its way back under her chair.

  When they arrived at a topic near to her heart, her career, she gushed joyfully about the intellectually disabled kids she taught. He showed interest, and she rewarded him with personal stories of family and childhood. She acknowledged her love of animals, her fondness for walks on the beach, her cravings for spicy seafood, anything to fill the platform he provided.

  When the room lights flickered, she wondered aloud where the time had gone. They walked out of the club together and into a cool, mid-October evening. She felt his hand at the small of her back, guiding her to a bench by the parking lot. There they sat chatting while she rubbed her fingers along her calves to generate some warmth. He asked if she’d prefer to sit in his car but she demurred; so he stood up, took off his suit coat and moved to wrap it around her. The gesture was more intimate than she'd normally accept from a man she hardly knew, but she couldn’t help but bow her head as he draped the jacket over her shoulders. Silk-lined, heavily weighted and hypnotically scented, it warmed her instantly, and she whispered her thanks as he sat back down beside her.

  It was quite late before she felt a need to say good night. He offered her a ride home but her Camry was only a row ahead of his shiny black Mercedes in the now almost empty lot. He walked her to her car and she shed his coat and hung it on a finger.

  “Thank you for this, kind sir,” she said.

  Taking the coat, he replied, “Do you believe in love at first sight, Carin?”

  She ducked her head and searched her bag for her keys. Without looking up, she said, “I don’t know. Should I?”

  “I believe you should.”

  She found her keys, unlocked her door and positioned herself in the driver’s seat. For the first time that night she felt guilty for being out so late with a man she hardly knew. She felt guilty, even, for being without a coat. But she left the door cracked and through it looked up to him.

  “How ’bout soul mates?” he continued, peering down.

  “It’s getting late, Justin,” she stammered, placing a hand against the puckered collar of her blouse.

  “Maybe we can talk another time?”

  She nibbled her bottom lip.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I could meet you some place, maybe.”

  “Or you could just give me your number and I could call you.”

  He raised his heavy brows and continued staring down at her, but she said nothing.

  “We’ve talked for hours, Carin,” he continued, his expression relaxing. “You can’t reward me with your number?”

  “You deserve a reward for talking with me?” She said it playfully but the giggle that followed was more from nervousness.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I know. But I don’t give my number to strangers.” She dropped her hand from her collar and rested it in her lap. She felt his stare and sat perfectly still.

  “We haven’t been strangers for quite a while,” he said quietly. “At least not since I learned of your childhood fondness for dressing your family’s cat in doll clothes and strolling it around in a pram.”

  This line was better than the ones he’d begun the evening with, and it brought on a more relaxed string of giggles from Carin. After mild negotiation, she agreed to give her number.

  “But only if you can remember it in your head!” she said with a teasing smile.

  After rattling off her number, she poked her arm up between the crack in the door and briefly offered her hand. Pulling it back, she closed the door, started the engine, flashed one last smile and drove away.

  Justin stood in the empty parking lot, watching the Camry’s taillights fade. Inwardly he flashed his own smile. He’d made a fortune rolling numbers over in his mind. Remembering this girl’s digits wouldn’t be a problem.

  Chapter Two

  With its rough-hewed beams, wide plank floors and three small dining rooms, the Water Wheel Restaurant was different in every way from the bustling, thumping dance club in which Justin and Carin had met. She had received his call the morning after leaving him in the parking lot, and this was the type of setting she had envisioned since then. She and Justin sat at a tiny table overlooking a darkening river weaving through the back of the property. The light from a lone candle positioned between them twinkled in Justin’s eyes. They were blue like hers, yet a lovely dark shade, while she considered hers almost too pastel.

  Throughout the evening, Carin noticed that Justin was solicitous to her every move. He had pushed in her chair as she sat at the table; he’d asked if she wanted her dressing on the side; he waved a busboy over twice to refill her water goblet. It was as if he could read her simplest needs and desires. She had trad
ed the billowy blouse she’d worn the night they’d met for a tighter knit top, and Justin seemed mesmerized by the line of buttons running down its front. Carin was uncharacteristically at ease with how little he tried to hide his fascination.

  All night, he gawked as they talked and she continued to let him. Their mutual attraction was obvious to each other, and no doubt also to their waitress, their busboys and the few diners around them. Carin did her best to keep her emotions in check but Justin’s personality was as magnetic now as it had been on the night they’d met. She learned he was thirty-nine, ten years her senior, and she felt almost childlike in his presence. He seemed far more put together than she ever thought herself to be, especially lately. He was serious and knowledgeable and opinionated, yet his conversation was full of casual mischief. He seemed open and private at the same time. His heavy brows made him look in deep concentration when simply choosing a bottle of wine.

  Over coffee, they let their words rest and gazed into each other’s eyes for a spell. Justin took hold of Carin’s hand from across the table and the unexpected intimacy of that first touch thrilled her. They basked in each other’s glow for a half-minute without speaking a word.

  “Have you thought about my questions from the other night?” he finally whispered.

  “When we said goodbye?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’ve kept me up at night.”

  “That’s nice to hear.”

  Carin smiled.

  “What do you think about love at first sight?” he asked.

  Her fingers wiggled beneath his hand.

  “I think it happens all the time,” she answered. “But I doubt it’s usually a good thing.”

  “People fall in love with ideals?”

  “Or they don’t know what love is.”

  “What about soul mates? Are there such things?”

  “That’s what I’ve been thinking about the most, Justin. I believe in them, but I bet most people aren’t with theirs.”

  Carin leaned forward after offering her introspective reply. She was happy to be adding so much to the conversation.

  “You weren’t with yours?” he asked, squeezing her hand.

  His perceptiveness caught her off guard. She broke their gaze and with her free hand straightened her spoon on the starched, white tablecloth. She lifted her goblet and took a gulp of cold water while looking out at the blackened river.

  “What is it?” he asked, stroking her hand.

  She put down her water glass. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

  “Okay.”

  “I almost told you the other night but it seemed presumptuous.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Carin turned away and studied a waitress station across the room. Rows of dup pads were stacked to the left of a computer screen. Pairs of silver salt-and-peppershakers were lined to the right, like soldiers at attention. A waitress arrived at the station and typed frantically onto the computer screen. Carin turned back to Justin.

  “I was married before,” she blurted. “I mean I’ve been married.”

  “You mean you’re not a virgin!” he joked but she didn’t crack a smile.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he continued, matching her bleak expression.

  She didn’t want to talk about it or even think about it, but to not discuss it would have been dishonest.

  The story of her marriage came out nervously but it was well rehearsed, and she became more comfortable as Justin continued stroking her hand. She’d been unhappy in her marriage for several years before catching her husband cheating, but she wasn’t altogether unhappy to have caught him. The revelation proved she hadn’t been crazy all those years and it bolstered her confidence to end her marriage.

  Justin caught himself staring as Carin’s soliloquy continued. Her eyes were uncommonly blue and shiny bright in the candlelight. Her face was angelic and her demeanor full of timid sincerity. She was fantastically thin and wispy yet incongruously busty, giving the impression she’d topple over in the slightest breeze. Had it been any other woman, Justin would have assumed she had implants. But this girl didn’t seem the type. With her big boobs and big eyes and fragile nature, she conveyed a coy yet unmistakable sensuality. She was so demure she seemed like a Hentai character.

  “When did the divorce happen?” he asked.

  Carin unearthed her hand from under his and picked up her coffee cup. She pressed her lips against the rim and took a slow sip, swallowing hard as she positioned the cup back onto its saucer.

  “I kicked Kyle out as soon as I caught him,” she said, moving her spoon another inch to the right. “That was like ten months ago.”

  “Ten months?”

  “He stuck around for a month after that, mostly drinking in a Bridgeport motel room. As if that would get me to change my mind! Then he left.”

  “What do you mean, left?”

  She looked away again and bit her bottom lip. A second waitress had arrived at the station and was typing on the screen as hurriedly as had the first. Justin watched Carin lift her hand and slide her fingertips across her delicate bangs, pushing strands of hair from her dark lashes. She rubbed the bump on her nose as she stared at the waitress and then turned back to Justin.

  “He just vanished,” she said, almost in a whisper. “He’s a drunk and a deadbeat and a cheat and I have no idea where he went. I was so upset. But happy too…cuz he wasn’t with me anymore.”

  “You mean you’re still married?” Justin said, feeling concern for the first time.

  “I did file for divorce, Justin,” she replied quickly. “Even with the stigma of it. The papers were prepared one day and he was gone the next. In my mind, I’m as good as divorced.”

  “Oh shit.” Justin shifted in his chair and took a turn looking at the station.

  From across the table, he heard Carin say, “I know it’s not perfect. I guess a part of me figured it was supposed to be this way.”

  He turned back. “What way?”

  “I don’t believe in annulments. Do you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment.

  “The irony is,” she continued, “I’ve turned down every date request since then, even knowing he might stay away forever. And now I’ve met this amazing guy, and I’m convinced my husband will come back any moment.”

  She rested her hand close to Justin’s on the table and stared at him, her expression showing her inner hopefulness. He picked up his coffee cup and gulped a third of its contents. The coffee had cooled and tasted bitter when taking a lot at once. His mouth tightened around the flavor as he put down the cup.

  Looking into her eyes, he lifted his hand and cupped it over hers. He could feel her thin fingers rubbing against his palm.

  “If he comes back,” he said quietly, “you’ll serve the papers?”

  Carin held his stare and didn’t let it go. “The next time I see him, Justin, I promise, I’ll serve them immediately.”

  Her outer beauty and sweet demeanor had been reasons enough for wanting to see her again. The obedient nature displayed in her last reply was only icing on the cake.

  Still, after driving Carin home that night, Justin strayed from his typical modus operandi and offered her only a peck on the cheek before turning from her door. Walking back to his car, he hoped the tactic would work on her as well as hers had worked on him two nights earlier, when she’d driven out of the parking lot after nothing more than a handshake and a smile.

  * * * * *

  On their second dinner date, Carin was relieved when Justin elected not to bring up her marriage. Instead, he asked over dessert what her bra size was.

  Carin wasn’t surprised by the question, as Justin had been bold from the start. And she wasn’t exactly embarrassed by it either, as her comfort level with him was higher than it had been with any guy from her past. All her life, boys were too excited when around her, to the point where she frequentl
y felt uneasy with them. But Justin was unlike any of those foolish boys. He was handsome and funny and full of confidence without being cocky or immature or disrespectful. She admired his ease of speech and was captivated by his ability to be audacious and courtly at the same time. He knew where the line was and deftly tiptoed on it. With his expensive-looking suits and beautiful car and talk of a house on the water, he was obviously wealthy but her attraction was based on an overall persona rather than money or good looks. He seemed to own every room into which he entered and he soothed her nervous nature when escorting her into it.

  As a jazz combo played softly in the corner, Carin made trails with her fork through the topcoat of her tiramisu. She remembered being asked about her measurements only one time in her life, at age fifteen, when her best high school friend, Allie Cousins, brought up the subject as the girls changed into their cheerleading uniforms in the school locker room. At the time, Carin’s chest was under constant construction, growing bigger almost daily, and Allie was just brash enough to ask about it.

  Other than that, Carin didn’t talk to even her mother about her figure. When mother and daughter went clothes shopping together, Carin would be left alone in the lingerie section and met up with later in a less awkward department.

  “I’m sorry if I’m too forward,” Justin said.

  “No. It’s okay,” Carin replied, coming out of her daydream.

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed by. That top looks perfect on you.”

  Carin felt her face flush and ducked her head to hide behind her bangs. It had taken an hour to work up the nerve to wear the baby doll top on such a cool autumn night, with only a pashmina to cover her bare shoulders. She’d bought the top many years earlier to wear to dinner in celebration of her first wedding anniversary but her husband had said it looked trampy and made her change before leaving for the restaurant. After that, it remained in the back of her closet, unworn until tonight.