Roses Are Red - James Patterson [59]
I laughed. “I have two kids at home now, and they’re both terrific, but there is a certain amount of flux and change to our lives.”
“I’m one of six girls,” she said. “The oldest and most spoiled one. I know all about flux and change in families.”
She smiled, and I liked seeing her loosen up. I liked seeing myself loosen up.
“You have a favorite?” she asked. “Of course you do, but don’t tell me. I know you won’t, anyway. I was my father and mother’s favorite. Therein lies the recurring problem in my terribly self-involved life story.”
I continued to smile. “What’s the problem? I don’t see any problem. I thought you were perfect.”
Betsey nibbled salted nuts out of her hand. She looked me in the eye. “Overachiever syndrome. Nothing I did was ever good enough — for me. Everything had to be perfect. No mistakes, no slipups,” she said, and laughed at herself. I liked that about her: She had no airs, and her perspective on things actually seemed pretty healthy.
“You still live up to your own high ideals?” I asked.
She finger-combed her dark hair away from her eyes. “I do, and I don’t. I’m pretty much where I want to be on the work front. I’m sooo good for the Bureau. What’s that quote? ‘Ambition makes more trusty slaves than need.’ However, I must admit that I’m missing a certain balance in my life. Here’s a nice image for a life in balance,” she said. “You’re juggling these four balls that you’ve named work, family, friends, spirit. Now, work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it bounces back. The other balls — they’re made of glass.”
“I’ve dropped a few of those glass balls in my day. They chip, sometimes they shatter to pieces.”
“Exactly.”
Our drinks came, and we took the obligatory nervous sips. Pretty funny. We both knew what was going on here, though not where it was going or if it was a good or a really terrible idea. She was warmer and much more nurturing than I had expected. Betsey was a good listener, too.
“I bet you’re actually pretty good at balancing work, family, friends. Your spirit seems okay, too,” she said.
“I’m not balancing work too well lately. You have good spirit yourself. You’re enthusiastic, positive. People like you. But you’ve heard all that before.”
“Not so much that I mind hearing it again.” She raised her glass of wine. “Here’s to positive spirit, and spirits. And here’s to prison for life plus life for our friend the Masterprick.”
“To prison for life plus life for the Masterprick,” I said, and raised my beer.
“So here we are in greater Hartford,” she said, staring out at the blurred scrim of city lights. I watched her for a moment, and I was pretty sure that she wanted me to watch her.
“What?” I said.
She started to laugh again and it was infectious. She had a great smile, which featured her dark, sparkling eyes. “What do you mean, what?”
“What? Just a simple what,” I teased. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She was still laughing. “I have to ask you this question, Alex. I have no choice in the matter. I have no free will. Here it comes. This could be embarrassing, but I don’t care. Okay. Now, do you want to go back to my room? I’d like you to. No strings attached. Trust me. I won’t ever cling.”
I didn’t know what to say to Betsey, but I didn’t say no.
Chapter 80
WE WERE BOTH QUIET as we walked out of the hotel bar. I was feeling a little uncomfortable, maybe a lot uncomfortable.
“I kind of like strings,” I finally said to her. “Sometimes I even like a little clinging.”
“I know you do. Just go with the flow this one time. It’ll be good for both of us. This will be nice. It’s been building and it has a very fine edge.”
A very fine edge.
Once we were inside the hotel elevator, Betsey and I kissed for the first time, and it was gentle and sweet. It was memorable, like first kisses ought to be. She had to stretch way up on her tiptoes to reach my mouth. I knew I wouldn’t forget that.
She started to laugh as soon as we pulled apart — her usual burst of humor. “I’m not that small. I’m five-three and a lot, almost five-four.