off as some weird platitude.
He wanted to tell Susan that she was not the reason why Leo was âdistracted.â He wanted to tell her that he would make sure that Leo was safe, and that someone, somewhere, was looking out for him. Archie wanted to tell her, but again, he couldnât.
Susanâs eyes were green and hard. She handed him her mug. It had a red ring of lipstick on it. âThanks for the coffee,â she said.
She left, and Archie walked back into the living room and sat down in a chair. He set the lipstick-stained mug on top of the newspaper on the coffee table and looked at it.
Ginger had flopped in front of the door that Susan had just exited through, and was eyeing Archie accusingly. Archie called her, but she refused to come.
âSorry,â Rachel said.
âItâs okay,â Archie said. âItâs complicated.â He didnât offer any further explanation. He didnât talk to Rachel about Susan, or Henry, or his work. They didnât really talk about anything. She had come into his life suddenly, moving into the apartment a floor below his in the middle of the night. What little he knew about her was fraught with inconsistencies. It intrigued him. But it wasnât until that moment that he realized this was the very thing that attracted him to her. He could have sex with her because he couldnât trust her.
âI have to go to class,â Rachel said. âBut Iâll see you tonight.â
âOkay,â Archie said. He was glad she had to leave but he tried not to show it. He was already thinking about how he could track down Leo.
Rachel seemed to sense that he was distracted and she leaned forward and put her hand on his chest, and kissed him on the mouth. As the heat of their mouths met, her hand slid inside his robe to the sensitive scar tissue over his heart. She dug her fingernails into the delicate skin, and Archieâs breath caught in his throat.
By the time she stood up, they were both breathing heavily.
Rachel wiped the shine of saliva from the corner of her lip. âDo you want anything special for your birthday?â she asked.
The scar on Archieâs chest stung and he felt a buzz of anticipation in his groin. He smiled. âDo you know how to do a lap dance?â he asked.
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CHAPTER
6
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As far as your average incognito rendezvous went, the Eastbank Esplanade was as good a place as any. Archie stood facing the river, looking across to the west side, where the downtown Portland skyline rose prettily behind the green band of Tom McCall Waterfront Park. The pavement at his feet was new. The only signs of the flood that had wreaked havoc downtown last winter were some spindly saplings and a plaque the city had installed explaining it all to tourists.
On the other side of the river, the verdant west side esplanade was bustling with active Portlanders exercising in every manner imaginable, from roller skates to unicycles. It was the lunch hour and the benches facing the river were hosting the usual array of people eating food-cart quinoa veggie bowls, loitering teenage transients, and schizophrenics feeding seagulls. Kids played in the fountains. Canada geese sunned themselves in the park. October was all Portland saw of fallâa month of clear, high skies, leaves just starting to turn, a fresh coolness to the air. By November all the fountains would be turned off, the leaves would be gone from the trees, and the sky would be low and gray until mid-July.
The Eastbank Esplanade, where Archie stood, was skinnier and less colorful than the west side, and shoehorned between Interstate 5 and a riverbank choked with blackberries. The air tasted like exhaust, and the constant din of traffic blurred all other sound. Even the geese stayed away. But Archie liked it. There were fewer people, and more historical plaques.
Ginger tugged on her leash at a passing cyclist and Archie reeled her in closer to him. She plunked down