Piano in the Dark. Eric Pete

let me walk you out.”

      “You don’t have to,” she said, suddenly trying to distance herself from me as if I no longer interested her. She fetched her purse from beneath the table, then excused herself. I left a tip, hastily taking a final bite of my syrup-drenched biscuit, then followed in pursuit.

      “Charla Nuttier? Why does she know you by that name?” I asked, overtaking her in the parking lot. My stomach still yearned for my half-finished omelet and the other biscuit left abruptly at our table inside. The lawyerly part of me had many questions, but this was the most immediate one at the moment.

      “It’s the name I do my work under. Allows me freedom.”

      “And allows you to remain a mystery,” I said, my turn to play know-it-all. “Any more I’m supposed to know, Ava?”

      “Yes. Lots. Just not here,” she sang, her interest back.

      “Uh-huh. Do you need a ride wherever it is you’re in such a hurry to be?”

      She shifted gears, breaking from the pace she’d begun. She reached up, gripping my arm as she pulled herself up to my lips. Contact. The kiss was soft, sensual, but teased of more ravenous wants. “No. I’ll be fine, Chase,” she said, patting my chest as if subconsciously talking herself out of something reckless…for now. “Thank you for coming when I called. I needed to see you.”

      “Hey. Can’t promise I’ll drop everything in the future if you call,” I threw out there blindly with a shrug of my shoulders.

      “You don’t have to promise, Chase. You have my number now. Maybe I’ll be the one to come running. In fact, I can almost guarantee it.”

      Rather than going to my car or returning inside, I watched Ava as she walked away. Stood there, fixated, until I couldn’t see her anymore.

      Then I stored the number in my phone under the name of Charla Nuttier, creator of fine works. For as beautiful as her paintings were, she was the true work of art.

      11

      “Was that your mysterious stalker lady friend?” Jacobi asked, having returned extra late from his lunch with our client Iris. Satisfied, he sat down, then put his feet up on my desk. I turned my attention away from my computer monitor, knowing I’d get no work done while he was in here.

      “She’s not a stalker. But yeah…that was her.”

      “Niiiiice. Bet if she took them eyeglasses off…” he said, his voice fading as he squinted his eyes to focus on his dark thoughts. “Anyway. I can see why you’d bail on us. Did she refresh your memory yet?”

      “No, but Iris sure seems to know her.”

      “Yeah. I caught that. Figured I’d pry for you. She told me they used to see the same therapist. So I might be right about her being a stalker. When you do go by her place, be sure to check her closet for shrines to you and remove all knives from the kitchen. That is, unless you’ve already been to her place.”

      “No,” I said drily. “And I’m trying to avoid that.”

      “Bruh, you don’t have to bullshit me. I saw that busted look on your face back at Breakfast Klub. You want to hit it and she wants you to hit it. In the worst way, I might add.”

      “Man, what am I doing?” I said, putting my face in my hands and letting out a deep breath.

      “If it’s stressing you that much, allow me to take that load off your hands. I can say I remember her from band camp or something.”

      “It’s not just the physical shit with this woman. It’s a big city, man. If something like this was on my mind, I could’ve done it a long time ago. This…this is something else and I couldn’t explain it if I tried. I don’t know how, but it’s like she gets me.”

      “You sure your dick isn’t trying to rationalize this by making it deeper than what it really is? Face it. She’s hot, she’s mysterious, and she’s feeling you. On most days, for most men, that would do the trick.”

      “After my wreck, she rode with me in the ambulance, man. I was foolishly looking for her when it happened. Stayed by my side at Memorial Hermann until you and Dawn arrived. It’s like she cares. Feels genuine.”

      “Okay. Maybe it’s misplaced appreciation on your part. Ever thought about that?”

      “No. Just wish I could remember her from back in college. At the Breakfast Klub, she mentioned things I never did with her. Only Dawn. And she knows my favorite food over there too. Ordered it for me before I even told her anything.”

      “Uh-huh,” Jacobi muttered. “Maybe there’s a reason you don’t remember this girl. You never met her before.”

      “Ooookay. But I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

      “Dawn, bro,” he scolded. He took his feet down, then leaned forward so as to avoid anyone overhearing what he was about to say. “What I’m saying is that maybe, just maybe, Dawn is doing this. Either testing you or wants to get leverage on you…for a divorce.”

      “Dude, you’re crazy. Dawn wouldn’t do something like that. Besides, if she wanted a divorce, she’d just file. I don’t have shit in terms of assets anyway.”

      “But does she have assets? Hmm? Easier to make you the bad guy if she’s thinking about leaving and wants to protect what she feels is hers. C’mon, we’ve seen everything in our line of work. I hate to think like that, but I’m trying to be honest here.”

      “That doesn’t fly, man. I was the one who approached Ava.”

      “Ava?” Jacobi asked with a grimace. “I thought Iris said her name was Charla Nuttier or something to that effect.”

      “Whatever. Anyway, I approached her outside the pub. Not the other way around.”

      “But pretty convenient for her to show up all alone at the same place as you. Maybe Dawn knew exactly where you were. Just dangling the bait for the fish to bite. Chomp.”

      “And I was out drinking with you. Maybe Dawn is paying you to put me in these bad situations,” I said, joking as I turned the tables.

      “Not funny, man. I certainly hope I’m wrong with my theories, but don’t want you getting blindsided. Besides, if you tell Dawn I came up with this, I’ll deny it. One of us on her bad side is enough.”

      If Jacobi was aware of my wife’s less-than-stellar assessment of him, he didn’t acknowledge it to me. “Thanks for your concern,” I responded, knowing he’d put a lot on my plate for me to digest.