Chapter 12

Shortly after Ed Coyle’s wife Anna died, he made a promise to himself that, when Anna’s son Nick reached eighteen and inherited Colin Grayson-Stone’s enormous fortune, Ed wouldn’t accept a dime from it - at least not directly. That promise was the only thing that let him clear his head enough to make good decisions about how Nick should be raised and not worry about whether the lessons he was imparting were for his son’s sake or for his own.

He’d done all right so far. Nick had offered to buy Ed a house. Ed declined. He’d offered to buy Ed a new car. Ed liked his car just fine. He offered Ed enough money to retire. Ed politely thanked his son and said he enjoyed his work.

He’d been feeling pretty smug in his credentials as an old socialist until tonight. One of the things Ed Coyle hadn’t considered was how his proximity to wealth would make people react to him. He’d thought he would spend the party tonight staying out of the way, see the fireworks and his son’s weird little movie, then go home.

Instead, people sought him out. Women half his age flirted with him which, at forty-four, was just starting to be an appealing prospect. Ed had been single since the veterinarian he was dating two years earlier abruptly moved to Paraguay. Two years went by faster than it used to, but it was still a long time to be a single father with a teenage son.

When he went to sit and watch the movie, an usher pointed him to a row of seats right behind Nick and his gaggle of underwear models and in front of the crew. As he was settling in, a woman asked “Is this seat taken?”

Ed looked up to tell her the whole row was reserved and stopped. He’d been surprised to see a video of his son and this woman cuddled up on a couch greeting him by name a week ago. He was slightly less surprised to see her now. “Connie Carlyle.”

“Eddie Coyle. It’s been a long time.” She sat to his left. The seats were close enough that her thigh touched his. “I hear you’re a big fan of mine.”

“Anna was,” said Ed. “And she was right to be. You probably saved her life.”

Connie nodded. “I was so sorry to hear that she had passed ... and surprised that she was the mother of Colin’s son. I didn’t even know they were together.”

“It was a one-time thing,” said Ed quietly.

Connie might have heard something in his voice. “We should catch up after the movie. It’s been a long time, Eddie.”

Nick turned around and gave Ed an amused look. Ed shook his head, but smiled. He’d only met Connie Carlyle once for a couple of hours. Both had been more concerned with Anna’s well-being than getting to know each other. Connie had shown such compassion and grace in the face of her own towering grief over the death of her lover, even seeing her on TV could still make Ed feel like Anna was in the room even ten years after his wife’s death. Weeks of insinuating himself with the dealers, grifters, and assorted rent-seekers who made up Colin’s broad circle of associates had left Ed with an even worse opinion of humanity than he’d had going into the whole venture. Connie had restored some small measure of his faith.

Still, catching up with Connie could bring up a lot of old, difficult memories. Certainly, those memories had already been stirred up by Nick’s recent ascension and by his choosing to live here of all places. But, Eddie still wasn’t looking forward to facing them head on.

The screen came to life with the Outside Joke logo. The first person to appear on camera was Connie herself.

“You get a lot of strange requests in this business,” said on-screen Connie. “People will want to hire models to appear with them in public or cruise on their yacht. I had one potential client - a big name in publishing - want to hire a girl to barbecue meat in a string bikini for a fourth of July party. Pretty much any weird thing somebody wants a woman to do, if it’s not sex, they call a modeling agency. Sometimes, when it is sex, they call a modeling agency, but that’s easier to say ‘no’ to.”

“Did you book the gig - the one for the bikini barbecue?” asked an off-screen interviewer.

On-screen Connie looked a little pained. “We did, actually. It was a public event. She had a chaperone. The client was well-known. And we got her an apron. The models’ safety is always the most important thing.”

That line got the first laugh - an uncertain, nervous laugh from around the room like people weren’t sure who the joke was on.

The next scene was Connie on the phone with a man’s voice on the other end. The man was explaining that he worked for Nick Coyle and Nick wanted to play Dungeons & Dragons with a group of lingerie models. On the screen, Connie jotted down a few notes in pencil as she listened. To Ed’s left, Connie leaned in, “That scene is staged. I didn’t actually know about the contract to shoot this video until was all signed and things were in motion.”

The next scenes were Connie interviewing the four models, asking them questions to determine their fitness for the project. The laughs came more easily now. The comedy was broader.

Nick twisted around to look at Connie. “That’s one of my offices. When did you have time to shoot that?”

Connie leaned forward to speak quietly. “Saturday morning. Stephen asked if I could come in and shoot a few scenes to flesh out the narrative.” She laid a hand softly on Nick’s shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind. I haven’t had a chance to act in a while.”

Ed didn’t notice the tension in Nick’s shoulders until Connie’s words eased it. His son nodded. “There was just a lot going on that day that I should have known about and didn’t.”

“Nick takes his responsibilities very seriously,” Connie whispered in Ed’s ear, close enough to feel her breath on his skin.

Ed gave a small, satisfied grunt. “He’s a good kid.”

As Ed watched the video, he laughed along with the other viewers in all the right places, but mentally he was dissecting it as a narrative work. In his previous life, before he was really a grown up, Ed had been a journalist. While the story was played for laughs, it was structured like a long-form investigative report. Whoever put it together had a light touch, shaping the story without beating you over the head with it.

Once the video had established that Connie and Hall in the role of “adult supervision” found the premise weird and did their responsible due diligence, there was a montage of the models coming into the conference room cut with “confessional” scenes of them establishing character. Kiki was manic pixie dream girl. Pilar was no-nonsense professional who didn’t like games. Casey was introduced with a speaking part three times as long as the other girls, waxing nerdtastic about her character. Emily was warm, friendly Australian sex goddess, shot lounging on a couch when the others were shot sitting up. Nick wasn’t introduced with the models. When he first appeared on screen, the chyron read “Nick Coyle, billionaire.” He wasn’t really a character. He was the MacGuffin.

The video set up a rhythm - a quick shot of gameplay, an interjection from one of the models. It established a story. Kiki and Emily developed some natural competition between them for Nick’s attention, representing two comfortable male fantasies. Pilar was aloof, but warmed to the idea of the game every time she appeared on screen. Casey was more excited to be playing with Hall than Nick. Every time she spoke, it established her credibility as quirky cryptogeek goddess.

The video they screened was just over eleven minutes long. By the end, Ed was scanning the credits for the name of the film editor, which turned out to be Paige Stuyvesant. He wouldn’t mind meeting this Paige guy. He’d shown some real flashes of brilliance - a close up of Pilar looking genuinely worried that her character might die, subtext in body language that passed between the models, knowing how to time those shots just right, waiting to let Nick speak for himself until his lawyer showed up, then portraying him as a big, out-of-his-depth mensch, puzzled both by the beautiful women around him and his own newfound wealth. The last shot of the video was Nick saying “I planned to make a fish-out-of-water video and I turned out to be the biggest fish.”

After the video was finished and the applause died down, Stephen the director gave a brief speech saying he’d been told to keep his speech brief, that the video was now up on their web site, and that there were also a forty-two minute “overly indulgent” director’s cut and a ninety-one minute gameplay video available. As the crowd got up to mingle, Connie leaned in, “Would you like to go somewhere quiet to catch up, Eddie?”

Ed looked around the roof. It seemed like there were people everywhere. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“I think Nick still has one or two unoccupied apartments,” said Connie. “Why don’t I get us something to drink, you get us a key, and I’ll meet you down in the residence wing?”

Ed probably agreed because Connie rose and went off to the bar. He felt like he sat staring like an idiot way too long. Certainly the view of Connie’s retreating form was worth staring at. Since seeing the little video Nick had sent him the day of the shoot, Ed had entertained the possibility he might at some point get to spend some time alone with her. He hadn’t expected it to happen with so little effort on his own part.

He also hadn’t imagined that, when his son became a billionaire, he’d end up having this particular conversation. He called Nick, who came over from chatting with Ainsley and Penny. “Did you like the video?”

“The old socialist in me wants to deconstruct it and talk about how it reinforces economic and gender stereotypes. As a former journalist, I’d really like to meet this Paige Stuyvesant who edited it. He’s got a deft touch.”

Nick smirked. “Speaking of gender stereotypes, Paige is an NYU student who kind of looks like the Mother of Dragons. She’s was sitting two rows behind you.” He craned his neck to look around. “She’s over by the barbecue with Max.”

Ed looked over. Before Nick could extend the conversation, he said, “Connie wants to go somewhere quiet and catch up. She says you might have an empty apartment.”

Nick laughed, looked Ed up and down and laughed again. “You work fast.”

“She might just want to talk,” said Ed.

Nick dug his keyring out of his pocket and pulled off a key with the letter “I” printed on it. “When I commissioned these apartments, I didn’t realize quite how well sound would carry in that long, straight hallway. You might want to keep that in mind if you end up talking really loudly. This is the apartment farthest from mine.”

Ed took the key and smirked. “I really should have taught you more respect for authority figures.”

“Kids learn best by example,” said Nick. “I like Connie - not enough to watch Starfall every year, but she’s been good to have around.”

“Starfall is a great movie,” Ed reminded him.

“I’d lead with that once you get downstairs,” said Nick. “Actors love fans who can recite their movies word for word.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ed tore himself away. It felt good to stand bantering with Nick, but they both had places to be. Downstairs, Connie was waiting and holding a six-pack. When Ed got closer, he looked down at the box in her hand and laughed. “Did you remember that you served me a Heineken when I came to get Anna or is that a coincidence?”

“Let’s say I remember.” Connie fell into step with him. “Where are we going?”

“Apartment I,” said Ed. “Here it is.”

In the apartment, Connie put the six pack on the living room table. “What did you think of the video?”

Ed sat on the couch closest to the beer. “I would say it was probably a capitalist agitprop piece meant to cast a billionaire as relatable if I hadn’t actually raised the relatable billionaire in question.” He took a beer. “You were good in it.”

Connie went into a cabinet and found a bottle opener. “Are you really as big of a fan as your son says?”

Ed twisted the cap off his beer with the palm of his hand. “He probably makes me out to be some weird stalkery type who can recite every line of Starfall.”

Connie came back and opened herself a beer. “He says you watch it every time it’s on TV. I’m probably getting some small residual from it, but I didn’t even realize they ever broadcast it.”

“It’s a good movie,” said Ed. “And yes. I’m a big fan. You’re a talented actress and a beautiful woman. I can’t be the only one.”

Connie took a drink. “You might be. Nick’s video is my first acting credit in fifteen years.”

They drank in silence, each considering the other. Connie said, “I thought you might just be a fan because I let Anna stay with me after Colin died.”

“You also kept her from drowning and you were maybe the only good person I met in that whole group,” said Ed. “You know, when Nick said he wanted to live here, I almost tried to forbid it. I don’t think I forbid the kid more than three things the whole time I was raising him. I sure as hell couldn’t start after he turned eighteen.”

Connie sighed. “There was a darkness about this place at the end. Colin attracted a lot of bad types once he lost control of his drug habit. It wasn’t always like that.”

Ed nodded. “I know a lot of it. I was working on a piece about that whole scene when it ended.”

“You were?” Connie raised her head from the back of the couch. “I didn’t know that. It probably wouldn’t have been very flattering to me, I imagine.”

That got a frown. “Why?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you,” said Connie.

“I haven’t had a byline since about the last time you had an acting credit,” said Ed. “And New York has a short memory. If I wrote about Colin in 1996 now, it would be a period piece.”

“It’s not that,” said Connie. “When Nick told me what a big fan you were, he used the word ‘classy’ a lot.”

“You did take care of Anna and give her a place to stay when she wouldn’t go to a hospital,” said Ed. “I’m not exaggerating when I say you saved her life - Nick’s too even if nobody knew it at the time.”

“She saved mine, too,” said Connie. “I was probably out on that boat with Colin a hundred times. I might well have been there when he capsized it if I hadn’t been at home with Anna. That girl they pulled out of the river looked a lot like me.”

“Not so much that they reported she was you,” Ed reminded her. For a week after the accident, he hadn’t been able to find Anna. For the six hours between when the NYPD and the AP had misidentified the body pulled out of the Hudson and when Connie had managed to get a hold of him, he’d believed she was dead.

“I can’t imagine how terrible that must have been for you,” said Connie. “I would have called you sooner, but Anna didn’t even mention your name until her name started showing up in the papers.”

“She thought I was going to break up with her.” Eddie sipped his beer, remembering back. “I probably would have been furious if she’d called me the next day and told me she came back here that night. I was so relieved to find her alive, I forgot to be angry.”

“Do you remember the girl’s name - the one who they thought was Anna?” Connie asked. “I feel terrible that I can’t remember it.”

“Alicia Perello. She came from Ohio to try out for the Metropolitan Opera - didn’t get the job, but told her parents she did and stayed in the city with friends.” Ed shook his head. “I had her parents’ names and phone number in my notes, but I never called them. I never had much of a stomach for that part of being a reporter.”

Connie raised her bottle in Ed’s direction. “To the people we lost.”

Ed clinked glasses with her and drank. Sitting here with Connie drinking Heineken, it was easy to imagine that Anna was in the next room sleeping and that any second, Connie would ask him some probing question meant to make sure she wasn’t letting her new friend leave with a creep.

She didn’t ask him anything. Instead, she kissed him. To the question in his eyes, she said, “Do you ever want to do something not because it’s the right thing to do now, but because you should have done it a long time ago?”

Ed touched his lips with the back of his hand. They were tingling from the kiss. Because his mind was a little too focused on the moment to answer Connie’s question properly, he asked, “Are you saying you’ve wanted to kiss me for a long time?”

She looked him in the eyes. “Would you believe me if I told you I was very attracted to you the first time I met you?”

“No,” said Ed. “I’d spent the whole day walking around thinking my girlfriend was dead. When my roommates finally found me to say you’d been calling, I jumped right on the C train to go to your apartment, then realized I was on the wrong side of the city and ran across Central Park to get to the east side. I was disheveled and out of breath and...”

Connie kissed him again. “You were terrified and hopeful and so concerned. And when you saw her, you wept, but you did it quietly so you wouldn’t wake her. You cried for the time it took you to drink half a beer and then you immediately started grilling me to make sure I hadn’t mistreated her.”

In spite of himself, Ed laughed. “As I recall, you grilled me too.”

“I wanted to know what sort of man you were,” said Connie. “By that point, I’d been taking care of Anna for a week and I was very fond of her. I wasn’t going to send her home with just anyone. But, you were amazing - so concerned, so clearly overwhelmed, but able to put it all aside and do what needed to be done. I can’t begin to tell you how attractive that was at that particular moment in my life. I envied Anna so much, I just wanted...”

Eddie wanted to ask what Connie had wanted, but he let her find her voice again. When she did, she shook her head. “I didn’t want to steal you from Anna. She obviously needed something from you that I couldn’t give her. But...” She stopped again and looked towards the bedroom door. “What I wanted was complicated, but what I want tonight is simpler. Can we leave the past in the past a little longer?”

Ed was so torn that he didn’t answer right away. He’d become a journalist because he had what one editor called “an unhealthy obsession with the truth” and he felt like he was close to some previously hidden truth about his own life.

Connie leaned in to look in his eyes. “Ed?”

“Sorry,” Ed rose, took Connie’s hand and helped her to her feet. Even unhealthy obsessions had their limits. When she kissed him, he kissed her back until her knees buckled and he was holding her upright with his arms around her shoulders.

When she was again on her own two feet, she held his hand and took a few steps towards the bedroom, then stopped and looked back. “Bring the beer.”

In the bedroom, she turned to face him. Her dress was a sequined black number that left her back and shoulders bare and wouldn’t have looked out of place if she’d worn it to the Oscars. When she lifted the collar over her head and lowered it, she stood before him bare to the waist. There might be a few fine lines on Connie’s face, but she still had the body of a runway model.

“You are so beautiful.” Ed put the beer down and drew her into his arms. As they kissed, she unbuttoned his shirt, stripped it off and the t-shirt under it. There was an urgency to her actions that Ed hadn’t expected. He caught her wrists and guided her arms around his neck, savoring the moment.

She met and held his gaze. “We should be old friends by now, Eddie.”

“We probably wouldn’t be,” said Ed. “I’m terrible at holding onto friends.”

“I’m terrible at letting go of them,” said Connie. “I might have held on for all three of us.”

She let him set the pace after that, but Ed found the little tells of her eagerness was contagious. There was something going on behind her eyes greater than two people making a simple, physical connection. Undoubtedly, he’d built Connie up in his own mind as well. She was beautiful. She’d been kind when no one else seemed to have any kindness left. And she’d saved Anna, a feat Ed failed at time and time again.

Once they were naked and joined together, she rode him while he lay on his back and ran his hands slowly up and down her hips and ribs. For a time, their breathing echoed in the quiet room. A solemnity fell over them as they came together as closely as two people could, but each partly alone with their own thoughts.

Gradually, their motions together sped up. Connie’s breathing go more ragged and Ed’s soon followed. The solemnity of their joining yielded to a more agreeable carnality.

Still, when she leaned back and cried out his name, it sounded improbably loud to Ed’s ears, attuned as they were to the soft sounds that had come before. He cleared his throat. “I probably should have mentioned ... They say sound carries really well in these apartments.”

Connie shifted so that she was leaning forward and laid a hand in the center of his chest to look him in the eyes. “Does that mean you want me to be quieter or louder?”

Ed laughed. “Your call. I just thought you’d want to know.”

When Emily made her first appearance in the video, Simon leaned over to whisper in Alexis’s ear. “That’s who was in Dennis’s room when we swung by.”

“Oh.” Alexis had been kind of bitchy since Simon’s brother declined to be her date to this party. It was like she’d come out here specifically to hang out with Dennis and one of the hottest parties in New York was a poor consolation prize. “She’s really pretty.”

That had been Simon’s point. Alexis was one of the five or six most attractive girls from their shared senior class back home. But, Emily was probably on some “Hottest 100 Women in the World” lists somewhere or would be if more people knew who she was. There was no shame in being turned down for Emily.

On Simon’s other side, Shelby - one of Brownfield Mills High Class of 2015’s other five or six most attractive girls, arguably the most attractive - said, “Did Max really sleep with Taylor Swift?”

He almost corrected her, but it didn’t cost him anything to burnish his friend’s reputation. “You shouldn’t say anything about that until her next album comes out. She’ll probably have a song called ‘Max broke my heart’ or something.”

Shelby looked at him long enough that Simon thought she’d believed him completely. “I would say bullshit, but I’m pretty sure I saw Tiffany Glass downstairs when I first came in. I have no idea who you guys have been hanging out with.”

Something on-screen got a big laugh and a “whoop.” Simon looked up. Hall was talking and the chyron read “Hall Dunston, Second-Rate English Wil Wheaton.” Simon didn’t get the joke. He played D&D with his friends, but he only ever understood about half of the references they made. He’d known Arwen for a couple of years before he found out her name came from a book.

“I always thought Max was cool,” said Shelby. Simon stared at her so intently, she said, “What? I did.”

“I’m just trying to think if I’ve ever heard a more patently untrue statement in my life,” said Simon sardonically. “Max and I have been friends since Kindergarten and even I wouldn’t describe him as ‘cool.’ Did you seriously even know who he was before like a month ago?”

“Of course. Max is a funny guy,” protested Shelby.

“Can you two keep it down?” Alexis hissed from Simon’s other side. “I can’t hear.”

Shelby rolled her eyes and turned back to the screen. Simon watched as well. The video was cute and funny in places, but he was pretty sure it must be completely staged. The models stayed way too cool after they found out Nick was filthy rich, but somehow they’d all managed to find an excuse to hang around this week.

“You know you and your friends made Max’s life hell. Right?” Sinon said, not waiting for the applause to die down.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” Alexis was out of her seat even as she said it.

“I’d love one, thanks,” said Simon after she was out of earshot. “What’s her problem?”

“Other than you getting her out here on false pretenses so that your brother could shoot her down? I don’t know.” said Shelby. “Maybe she’s on her period. You should ask.”

“She got shot down for Emily King,” said Simon. “If I lost a foot race to Usain Bolt, I wouldn’t walk around all night with sand in my vag.”

“She’ll feel better once she’s drunk,” said Shelby. “Let’s give her some space. I don’t suppose you dance.”

Simon said unenthusiastically, “Not well.”

“Never mind then,” Shelby followed him out from under the party tent. “Max used to call me titstick.”

Simon laughed. “I remember that. We were watching this video about turkeys and...”

“He explained the origin to me,” said Shelby. “About how male turkeys are so dumb, they don’t know the difference between a female turkey and a turkey head on a stick and they’ll hump either one with equal enthusiasm. I understand why it was funny when he said it. I just found it less funny the thousand or so times my friends repeated it.”

“Should I cry for you, Shel? How many times did you call Max fat?” Simon rolled his eyes.

“I’m not as clever as Max. I had to go with the classics,” said Shelby. She shook her head. “But, that’s all high school shit. It’s over now. Right?”

“Like a week ago,” Simon reminded her.

“Still, you’re out. Some of us are still stuck in Brownfield Mills,” said Shelby. She gestured with her head towards Alexis at the bar. “She’s pissed because she’s now got like zero chance of being invited back here. That means one good party and then two months of keggers at Chad’s before she leaves for college. She was really excited to be coming out here and she really likes Dennis.”

She walked over to the railing to look out over Lafayette Street, arms crossed. “I lied, by the way. She won’t feel better when she’s drunk. She’s a weepy drinker and I’m her only friend here. Why did you invite me to this party, Simon? I can’t imagine you like me any better now that you got out.”

“I wanted to have sex with you,” said Simon.

She turned, took his hand and pulled him towards the roof access door. “Come on.”

Simon stopped, forcing her to stop as well. “What?”

“You want to have sex with me. You have an apartment downstairs. Right? Let’s go. Otherwise, in about twenty minutes, I’m going to be consoling Alexis and trying to blot her mascara off her cheeks.” She tugged his hand.

Simon looked at her. “If you’re expecting me to be all noble and say you don’t have to do that, then become your dick-in-a-jar bestie, you really picked the wrong guy.”

Shelby stepped in so that they were chest to chest. To an observer, they would look like a couple of lovers who’d snuck off into the shadows. “I know you invited me here because you want to have sex with me. That’s why guys invite me places. I bet I can make you keep inviting me back, but not if I’m spending the night consoling my best friend who got ditched by her date tonight.”

Dimly, Simon wondered where in the hell this had come from. Shelby’s always been a typical high school basic bitch, albeit the best in show. He’d fantasized about fucking her hundreds of times. This was so much hotter than any of those fantasies. But, he wasn’t about to let her keep the upper hand. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Ask her to join us, then.”

Shelby looked over to where Alexis was drinking. “I don’t do girls.”

“Pretend for my sake,” said Simon. “You want me to be your ticket out of Chad’s parents’ den and warm, flat Meister Brau? That would be a show worth a long return engagement.”

She shrugged, turned and went over to her friend. Simon watched as she talked, pointed, gestured, reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Alexis’s ear. In the end, Alexis shook her head, turned and walked away. Shelby returned. “She said no.” Before Simon could answer. “Give her time to talk herself into it. I told her she could text me if she changed her mind.”

Simon nodded, took her hand, and led her downstairs. As soon as they were in his apartment, she spun him around and pulled him to her so that she was pressed between his body and the wall. When he moved in to kiss her, she gripped the back of his head and kissed him back, her leg going up around his waist. He reached up under her dress for her panties and found only bare, hot skin. She pressed her hand over his, guiding his finger where she wanted it to go. Her hips rocked against him and soon she was wet and moaning softly in his ear.

He got himself free from his pants and took her, thrusting hard. Shelby gave a grunt that turned into a moan and clung to him.

“Fuck me,” she growled in his ear. To Simon, that seemed like unnecessary direction, but still impossibly hot. After a minute, she added, “I can’t stand on one leg forever, stud.”

He pulled out, took her by the hand and would have dragged her to the bedroom if she hadn’t been moving as fast as he was. She was undressed sooner than he was and, once his clothes were off, she pushed him back on the bed, straddling him.

There was a short struggle which ended with Simon on top of her. Shelby wrapped her legs around him and guided him so that he was inside of her again. He looked down, but didn’t move for a second. “Are you going to tell me to fuck you again?”