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Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 54 из 138Telling Dakota I was there planning a surprise party for Penley at “Nana and Papa’s” country club was a masterstroke of quick thinking. His voice was totally calm, not a hint of panic. “It’s really, really important that you don’t say anything to Mommy so we don’t ruin the surprise. Okay, sweetheart?”
Wow. Never has so much faith been put in the nodding head of a little girl.
And it’s making me incredibly uneasy. Mostly because I hate lying to Dakota and getting her into the middle of this mess. She’s just a little kid.
With Connecticut at my back, I approach the city and somehow navigate the ever-narrow FDR Drive on the East Side without causing a fifty-car pileup. Once I return Bob to the lot on First Avenue, it’s almost as if I can’t remember being behind the wheel.
Now what?
It may be a beautiful day, but I don’t feel like being outside anymore. Nor do I want to go back to my apartment. So I hop a cab downtown to the Angelika Film Center, where there’s a director’s cut playing of Flirting with Disaster. How appropriate.
All I want is light and funny, and thanks to Ben Stiller, I get it. In fact, as advertised in the lobby poster, I get an additional “six never-before-seen minutes” of it. I’m curious, though. Has a “director’s cut” ever been shorter than the original?
After the movie I try to do some clothes shopping in SoHo, where most of my favorite stores are. But as I flip through the racks at Jenne Maag, Kirna Zabête, and French Corner – where I once saw Gwen Stefani trying on a pair of jeans – I’m just not in the mood. I keep regretting my very stupid trip out to Westport.
Even if Dakota hadn’t spotted us, I really goofed. Michael had every right to be angry. Well, maybe notthat angry?
What was I thinking?
For about the tenth time, I reach for my cell phone to call him. I want to apologize again.
And for about the tenth time, I put the phone away without dialing. Don’t push it, I warn myself. I know how he is. If I let him be for a day or two, he’ll be fine.
We’ll be fine.
Chapter 42
WITH THE AFTERNOON sun waning, I stop on the corner of Prince Street and Greene, waiting for the “Walk” sign. I gaze around. A little paranoid. Not too bad, though. It’s all relative.
If there’s a better place to people watch than the heart of SoHo, I’d sure like to know about it. Maybe Paris? Maybe not. Society types, punkers, artists, a few cross-dressers, you name it, they’re all out here sharing the sidewalk.
Wow. Never has so much faith been put in the nodding head of a little girl.
And it’s making me incredibly uneasy. Mostly because I hate lying to Dakota and getting her into the middle of this mess. She’s just a little kid.
With Connecticut at my back, I approach the city and somehow navigate the ever-narrow FDR Drive on the East Side without causing a fifty-car pileup. Once I return Bob to the lot on First Avenue, it’s almost as if I can’t remember being behind the wheel.
Now what?
It may be a beautiful day, but I don’t feel like being outside anymore. Nor do I want to go back to my apartment. So I hop a cab downtown to the Angelika Film Center, where there’s a director’s cut playing of Flirting with Disaster. How appropriate.
All I want is light and funny, and thanks to Ben Stiller, I get it. In fact, as advertised in the lobby poster, I get an additional “six never-before-seen minutes” of it. I’m curious, though. Has a “director’s cut” ever been shorter than the original?
After the movie I try to do some clothes shopping in SoHo, where most of my favorite stores are. But as I flip through the racks at Jenne Maag, Kirna Zabête, and French Corner – where I once saw Gwen Stefani trying on a pair of jeans – I’m just not in the mood. I keep regretting my very stupid trip out to Westport.
Even if Dakota hadn’t spotted us, I really goofed. Michael had every right to be angry. Well, maybe notthat angry?
What was I thinking?
For about the tenth time, I reach for my cell phone to call him. I want to apologize again.
And for about the tenth time, I put the phone away without dialing. Don’t push it, I warn myself. I know how he is. If I let him be for a day or two, he’ll be fine.
We’ll be fine.
Chapter 42
WITH THE AFTERNOON sun waning, I stop on the corner of Prince Street and Greene, waiting for the “Walk” sign. I gaze around. A little paranoid. Not too bad, though. It’s all relative.
If there’s a better place to people watch than the heart of SoHo, I’d sure like to know about it. Maybe Paris? Maybe not. Society types, punkers, artists, a few cross-dressers, you name it, they’re all out here sharing the sidewalk.