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Nick chooses a bench that’s mostly private and we sit together.
“It’s a beautiful park,” I say, looking around. “I’m surprised by how many there are here.”
Nick nods. “New York has the reputation of a concrete jungle, but it’s gotten a lot more green since I was a kid.”
“So you did grow up here,” I say and instantly wince. God, what happened to not asking?! I apparently can’t keep my mouth in check.
Fortunately, Nick doesn’t get mad. He’s still riding the high of our escape too, though his eyes do darken a bit. He sighs and then says, “Not exactly. I’m from across the river, Hoboken.”
“I knew I recognized an accent earlier,” I say, recalling suddenly my thought from the arcade.
Nick cringes but laughs. “It’s been a lifelong mission to shed it,” he says. “But it still comes out when I’m threatening people. Force of habit.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’m sorry but I have to ask. What’s the story here? You’ve been pretty adamant that you weren’t a spoiled rich kid, and now I’m hearing your part-time job as a teenager was hustling pool. Will you tell me about it? I would never share it around the office.”
His mouth deepens into a frown. He looks at his hands instead of at me, untangling his fingers from mine. At first I think I’ve gone too far, but then he relents.
“It’s only fair, I guess,” he says. “Since you told me about your breakup.”
He runs a finger over the knuckles on his right hand which must be stinging from the punch.
“My dad raised me,” he finally says. “He owned a bar and dabbled in sports betting and backroom card games his whole life. We were only ever halfway legit, and maybe not even that much. He was in trouble with the law a lot.”
I’m silent, letting him talk. Afraid that if I do, I’ll break the spell Nick seems to be under.
“Yeah, it wasn’t the worst childhood. Coulda been better, coulda been a lot worse. But I knew since I was six that things were weird. That a bar like that wasn’t the place to grow up right. All the scumbags my pops had hanging out around there… Half of ‘em are dead or in jail now. Fuck, my old man’s in jail now. They finally caught up to his ass last year. Now he’s doing ten years for tax shit and I’ve got a little brother to take care of who’s way too much like our dad for my taste.”
Nick chews on his lip. “I’m probably too hard on him, but I can’t relate to that kid at all. I was a piece of shit at his age too but at least I used it to better myself. He doesn’t seem to have any desires other than fucking around. I spent my whole childhood wanting to be better than my loser dad, and he wears it like a badge of honor.” He shakes his head. “Kids. I don’t get ‘em. Never wanted ‘em. And now I’m stuck with one that I have only the barest semblance of control over.”
The silence stretches. He worries at a piece of loose skin on his knuckle. He sounded tired, like the weight of all these worries had finally come crashing down after a long time.
“And this cruise ship. God, what a stupid idea. But you know what? Last year I looked out my window and realized I could see my old neighborhood from my office. It just hammered home that I never really got that far from it all. I’m still just over the river. Everything I own might as well be in my old backyard. So I drew up the plans and made something that I could send out into the world, far away from this city.”
He chuckles ruefully. “That’s what I get for being sentimental. Another headache. And god knows if she’ll ever even leave the wharf.”
Now this is something I feel qualified to lend my opinion on. “Are you kidding?” I say. “With me on the case?” I nudge him with my shoulder. “Trust me. If this cruise ship isn’t the most successful thing you’ve ever launched, then I’ll… I’ll… I’ll give up Skee-Ball for good!”
“We can’t have that,” Nick says with a rumbling laugh. Then he suddenly smacks his forehead. “Oh shit! Your octopus!”
“Noooo, Cornelius!” I say, groaning. “I left him behind!”
“We could go back,” he says, turning to me for the first time since he started talking.
My eyes trace the contours of his handsome face, the strong determined chin, the eyes so deep that I feel adrift at sea every time I look into them. Sometimes they’re stormy and wild, dangerous, other times, like now, they rock me softly and peacefully, an ebb and flow of continuous waves on a warm sunny day. But no matter what they always give me a thrill, excitement and anticipation tensing my body.
“I think we need to let him take one for the team,” I say softly. “Normally I’d leave no man behind, but those guys looked about ready to kill you.”
“I could have taken them,” Nick says. “But I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
On most men that would sound like an empty boast, but with Nick I absolutely believe him. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. The way Nick carries himself, the way he walks through life, now reads so plainly that he’d spent a scrappy childhood in a seedy dive.
The connection suddenly occurs to me. “Is that why you took me to that bar?” I ask. “It was a test.”
But Nick is already shaking his head. “It wasn’t a test. I promise. Or, I suppose it wasn’t any more of one than I’ve already said. No, I really just feel more comfortable in places like that. Don’t get me wrong, I like the finer things as much as the next guy, but at heart I don’t have much patience for snobby places and the jerks they cater to.”
“You sure looked comfortable in that first class train bar,” I say with a sly smile. “You should have come back to the coach snack car. It was probably way more your speed.”
“Okay, okay,” he says. “I do have my limits.” Those eyes turn on me again. “And what about you, Ms. Davis? What did a night out for you look like in Boston?”
