Rachel Alexander 02 - The Dog who knew too much

Lisa.
    When I’d told him about the note, he’d thought it had been written to him.
    But why would Lisa have been the one apologizing?
    Of course, if it had been the other way around, if he had done the asking and Lisa had been the one to refuse, then her note might have been an apology to Paul for turning him down.
    Why had she?
    She hadn’t brought him home. Had she been worried about Daddy’s disapproval? She was still dependent on him, still taking lots of his money so that she could live the way she wanted to.
    The Village, the Village, David had said, so he’d bought her a condo. But at what price?
    None of the ubiquitous concierges was at the desk, so I used my key to get into the lobby. I picked up Lisa’s mail. There were still bills coming in, postcards and letters from real estate brokers asking her to call them should she want to sell, coupons for a free car wash or half-priced lunch, and the usual pile of mail-order catalogs. Upstairs, I unlocked Lisa’s door and dumped the new pile of mail on the little blue table to the right of the door, right next to the old pile, which looked tall enough to topple over.
    Paul took off his shoes and put them against the wall, under the coat hooks on the wall to the left, then went to give Dashiell some dog biscuits and make us tea. I hung my jacket and backpack on one of the hooks.
    I could hear Dashiell crunching loudly, the hiss of the boiling water as it was poured into the teapot, water being poured into the sink. The first potful was to warm the pot. The second potful brewed the tea.
    “Honey?”
    “What?”
    He poked his head into the living room, smiling.
    “Honey in your tea?”
    “Oh. Sure,” I told him.
    I heard the spoon against one cup, then the other.
    We sat on the black couch in the dark living room, neither of us touching the tea he had made us.
    “Do you have a life of your own, Dog Paddle?”
    “Not lately,” I said.
    I heard Dashiell on the steps, then I heard the bed sigh as he climbed on, circled, and lay down to sleep.
    “You look tired,” he said. “I should go.”
    I turned and looked at him, his eyes shining in the light that came in from the window. One thing about New York City , it never really gets dark.
    “I had fun tonight,” I told him.
    “Me, too. You’re”—he stopped and laughed—“you’re not like anyone I know.”
    “Not even ... my cousin?”
    “Especially not your cousin.”
    “Well, we were—”
    “ Distant cousins,” he said, finishing my sentence.
    He leaned in and kissed me, gently, on my lips.
    Okay, he was completely adorable, but no way was I going to bed with this man. I hardly knew him.
    “How are we different, me and Lisa?”
    “You have a sense of humor,” he said, removing the lavender string from the little braid and undoing the braid with his long fingers. “Warped, but clearly evident.”
    If I were truly walking in Lisa’s shoes, shouldn’t I reconsider?
    The trouble with sex was where it might lead.
    First I’d go to bed with him, next thing I knew, I’d be letting him touch the parts of my body that never got suntanned, then I might start necking with him in the car until all hours, I’d let him hold my hand in the movies, and who knows, one fine day after that, I might give him my phone number.
    What kind of a girl did he think I was?
    “Come on,” he said, pulling me up from the couch. He held my hand and walked me to the stairs. He led the way up and gently guided me to a spot near Dash. When he leaned down, my steely resolve took a powder. Even sitting, my knees felt weak. I closed my eyes. That funny brush fire had started up again and was spreading fast.
    He picked up the pillow and fluffed it and then stood straight again.
    “ Shuijiao hao , Dog Paddle,” he whispered. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Stay put, xiao yue . I’ll see myself out.”
    “What did you say?” I asked him.
    “How would I know?”
    He grinned, letting me see those cute dimples again.
    “I better go,” he said.
    “See,” I said in the dark, “it ain’t so hard to be a good boy.”
    “That’s what you think,” he answered.
    You had to love this man. Or was the delicious rush I was feeling just the feng shui of Lisa’s apartment?
    “Before you go...”
    “You need?”
    “Tea. That nice cup of tea you made me.”
    “It’ll be cold by now. I’ll make you a fresh cup.”
    I waited until I heard the water running before opening the night-stand drawer and feeling around in