TWENTY

He was quiet in the elevator, quiet once they were in the suite and Foley had called room service and learned it would take about fifteen minutes. When he told her she said, "Oh," and looked around the room as if wondering where they would sit. He watched her turn on lamps and go to the window to tell him it was still snowing. He watched her cross to the bedroom saying she'd be right back, but knew room service would arrive before she came out.

The waiter delivered a fifth of Wild Turkey, a bucket of ice, a pitcher of water, two glasses and a dish of peanuts, placing the tray on the coffee table. Foley paid him. He was sitting on the sofa pouring drinks when Karen came out of the bedroom with a cigarette, still wearing the black suit. She said, "Oh, it's here. I hope you signed for it." He didn't say if he did or not. He was eating peanuts. He got up with a drink in each hand, walked over to her and she said, "Oh, thanks," taking the drink. He watched her sip from the glass and then raise her eyebrows to say, "Mmmm," as if she'd never tasted bourbon before.

"You're having second thoughts," Foley said.

She raised her cigarette and looked at it.

"I know what's bothering you and I can understand how you feel."

He waited while she took a deep drag on the cigarette and turned her head to blow the smoke away from them. When she was looking at him again he said, "You think I'm too old for you."

He waited again.

This time while she seemed a little surprised.

He waited with no expression.

She began to smile. Good. Not giving it much, but looking right at him and it was the right kind of smile, conspiring with him again, knowing something no one else did. She put on a serious look and nodded. She said, "Or I'm too young for you.

Do you think we can work it out?"

They were on the sofa now with whiskey and peanuts, no plan, letting it happen, gradually feeling a glow. Karen's shoes were off, her legs tucked under her. Foley took off his jacket but not his tie; he felt good in the tie. He remembered the clipping, Karen's picture with the shotgun, and laid it on the coffee table.

She said, "So it wasn't by chance. You found out I was here." He told her he'd called her room from downstairs. She said, "If I had answered, what were you gonna say?" He told her, well, he'd say who he was and did she remember him and ask if she'd like to meet for a drink.

"If I remembered you," Karen said, "I came looking for you. I would've said sure, let's do it. But for all you knew I could show up with a SWAT team. Why would you trust me?" He said because it would be worth the risk. She said, "You like taking risks," touching his face with her hand, then kissed him, very gently, and said, "So do I, peanut breath."

He felt her fingers brush through his hair as she kissed him again, still gently, and it was hard-aware of her scent, remembering it-it was hard to keep from eating her up. He put his arms around her, feeling her slim body in his hands, and she brushed his mouth with hers, saying, "What's the hurry, Jack?

You have to be somewhere?"

She knew his voice from the trunk of the Chevy and the look in his eyes from before that, in a glare of headlights, the quiet look in his eyes as he said, "Why, you're just a girl." As he said, "I bet I smell, don't I?" Conversational, covered with muck from a prison escape. If there was a moment, the kind of moment they'd talked about, that would've been it, in the headlights. Now he was clean, his face smooth and hard, her fingers touching his cheekbone, the line of his jaw, a tiny scar across the bridge of his nose. She said, "Sooner or later..

." She stopped and he looked at her over the rim of his glass, about to take a drink. She loved his eyes. She said, "You have a land look, trusting."

"That's not what you were about to say."

She shrugged, letting it go. But sooner or later she would ask him..

. Sooner or later she would begin saying things to him and not be able to stop. She said, "Remember how talkative you were?"

He said, "I was nervous," lighting her cigarette and then his own.

"Yeah, but you didn't show it. You were a pretty cool guy.

But then when you got in the trunk…"

"What?"

"I thought you'd try to tear my clothes off."

"It never entered my mind. Well, not until-remember we were talking about Faye Dunaway?"

"I know what you're gonna say."

"I told you I liked that movie, Three Days of the Condor, and you said yeah, you loved the lines? Like the next morning, after they'd slept together, he says he'll need her help and she says"

"

"Have I ever denied you anything?"

" "I thought for a couple of seconds there, the way you said it, you were coming on to me."

"Maybe I was and didn't know it. Redford tells her she doesn't have to help him and she says… You remember?"

"No, tell me."

"She said, "You can always depend on the old spy-fucker."

" "Why'd she say 'old'?"

"She was putting herself down."

"Would you call yourself that, a spy-fucker?"

"I think she was still scared to death, trying to keep it light but hip. Before they ever go to bed she accused him of getting rough. He says, "What? Have I raped you?" And she says, The night is young." I thought, Come on-what is she doing, giving him ideas? No, I wouldn't say that, definitely, or call myself a spy-fucker. Or any other kind."

She said, "You know you kept touching me, feeling my thigh."

"Yeah, but in a nice way."

"You called me your zoo-zoo."

"That's candy, inside, something sweet. You don't hear it much anymore." He smiled and touched her hand.

"You were my treat."

His sheet said no visible scars, but there was a white gash across three of the knuckles on his right hand and half the third finger was missing.

"You asked me if I was afraid. I said of course, but I wasn't really; it surprised me."

"I might've smelled like a sewer, but you could tell I was a gentleman.

They say John Dillinger was a pretty nice guy."

"He killed a police officer."

"I hear he didn't mean to. The cop fell as Dillinger was aiming at his leg and got him through the heart."

"You believe that?"

"Why not."

"You said you wondered what would happen if we'd met a different way."

"And you lied to me, didn't you? You said nothing would've happened."

"Maybe that's when I started thinking about it. What if we did?"

"Then how come you tried to kill me?"

"What did you expect? You could've been dumping the car for all I know, hiding it somewhere, and I'm locked in the fucking trunk. I warned you first, didn't I? I told you to put your hands up."

"Yeah, after I said come on out. You knew I wasn't gonna leave you in there. You start shooting at us."

She thought of the gun and said, "That Sig.38 was my favorite." She watched him fixing up their drinks, the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. In that moment he seemed from another time.

"I've wondered about that," Karen said, "what you were gonna do with me."

"I don't know, I hadn't worked that part out yet. All I knew was I liked you, and I didn't want to leave you there, never see you again."

"You waved to me in the elevator."

"I wasn't sure if you caught that."

"I couldn't believe it. I was thinking of you by then, a lot, wondering what it would be like if we did meet. Like if we could take a time-out…"

He said, "Really?" He said, "I was thinking the same thing. If we could call time and get together for a while."

She wanted to ask, yeah, but for how long? Then what? But she said,

"That day we met on the street, did you know it was me?"

"You kidding? I almost stopped."

"You didn't."

"I wanted to, but I was embarrassed wearing that tourist outfit. I didn't want you to think I dressed like that."