Kate Hoffmann - A Fare To Remember

“God, Iris. This is delicious. I swear, you need to teach me how to make them.”

“Then you won’t come down every morning and buy one.”

“If I promise to buy a dozen every Friday, will you teach me?”

The banter lasted until a few other customers showed up, leaving Mario and Rachel to shuffle over to a nearby mailbox, where they perched their coffees and enjoyed their familiar early-morning conversation as the city that never slept fully embraced being awake. Honking horns, blaring sirens and the rumble of a million commuters provided the background music Rachel dearly loved. Mario worked the night shift, but on his way home, he nearly always stopped by to see Iris as she was opening and would oftentimes pick up one last fare from in front of Rachel’s building on his way back to Brooklyn. More often than not lately, that fare was Roman. And chatty as Mario was, Rachel realized that he might have some elusive information about her mysterious lover.

Question was, would he share?

“So, Mario. Where did Roman go this morning?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Some meeting Uptown.”

She knew that already. “Where Uptown?”

“You want the specific address?”

She shrugged indecisively.

“He had me drop him off just north of Central Park.”

Mario’s voice dipped a bit. They weren’t best buddies or anything, but Rachel knew a dodge when she heard one. “Dropped him off? Not at a specific building?”

Mario pursed his lips. His eyes narrowed and he scrunched his bushy, salt-and-pepper eyebrows over his kind, but shrewd, brown eyes. “Why you asking so many questions all of a sudden?”

She expelled a breath, not realizing she was holding the air so tight in her chest. “Roman and I have been seeing each other for almost four months, Mario, but I don’t know a thing about him. He’s so secretive. Guarded.”

“This didn’t bother you before,” he said, grabbing his coffee cup again and downing the last of the potent brew.

Rachel took another ravenous bite of her breakfast. “It bothers me now,” she replied, her mouth overstuffed.

Mario grinned. “Things getting serious?”

Rachel nearly choked. “No!”

Liar. Liar, liar, liar! Truth was, Roman had been around too much lately. Before, he’d come and go with such irregularity, Rachel hadn’t invested much in him or their interactions. Naturally free-spirited, she hadn’t craved commitment and consistency from the men in her life. Not, at least, until Roman started showing up more often. Now she couldn’t seem to take her mind off him.

Mario’s doubtful gaze forced her to amend her denial. “How can things get serious if I don’t know anything about him?”

“Did you ask him?”

She rolled her eyes. Of course she’d asked. Roman simply had very persuasive means of turning her attention to other matters. Like sex.

“He’s elusive,” she replied.

“Elusive? The last thing you need is a guy with something to hide. Dump him,” Mario offered.

“Just like that?” Rachel couldn’t believe she was objecting. She’d kicked other guys out of her life for lesser crimes than keeping their personal information close to the vest. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing. I just think you should cut your losses before you get hurt if this Roman ain’t being straight. There are a lot of great guys out there, Rachel. Maybe you need a little help finding one.”

Rachel frowned. Mario had a reputation for matchmaking, but so far, he hadn’t attempted to work his magic on her.

“I’ve never had trouble finding men, Mario, but thanks for the offer.” She finished up her pastry, her mood dampened. “I can’t believe you think I should dump a perfectly amazing guy just because he won’t tell me details about where he grew up or where his parents live now or what company he’s currently working for as a media consultant.”

Mario shook his head. “Guys who are so secretive usually have something big to hide. Maybe he’s married.”

Rachel swallowed and the light and flaky meat pastelito thunked to the pit of her stomach. “He’s not.”

“You know that for sure?”

“It’s one of the few questions he’s given me a straight answer to. I don’t think Roman lies. I think he avoids telling me more than he thinks I need to know.”

“And that’s not good enough anymore?”

Rachel’s gaze drifted over her shoulder, back to her building, back to the stoop at the top of the stairs where she and Roman often groped and grabbed each other while she searched desperately for her keys so they could make love halfway up the stairwell inside or perhaps, if they were lucky, just after falling through her front door onto the living room carpet. Their lust had been a constant, insatiable part of her life for the past four months, but suddenly, this morning, she realized sexual desire simply wasn’t enough.

Or, more likely, the suspicion had been brewing for weeks.

“Tell me where you took him, Mario. Please.”

Mario’s gaze darted to Iris, who was now tending to a line four or five deep. The morning rush had started and both he and Rachel knew he wouldn’t be able to exchange a private word with his favorite coffee-stand owner for at least another two hours, maybe three. He flipped off his hat, ran his hand through his graying dark, curly hair, and then rubbed a bit at the rather thick stubble on his leathery cheeks.

“I’ll do you one better,” he said with a grin. “I’ll show you.”

“HE DIDN’T GO INSIDE?”

Rachel leaned forward on the dash, straining her neck to look up at the tall residential building where Mario had dropped Roman off. The place was swank. Two doormen. And a security guard. Did he live there?

“Nope. Got into a dark sedan parked at the curb,” Mario replied.

Rachel sat back, bouncing against the worn leather seat. “Did he talk to anyone? Wave at the doorman?”

Mario shook his head. “Paid his fare, left me a generous tip and got straight into the other car.”

“Does he always do that?”

Mario scrunched his nose as he thought deeply. “Nah, but sometimes. I kinda noticed this morning that I usually don’t see him go inside. So out of curiosity, mind you, I waited.”

Rachel turned and eyed Mario with new suspicion. “Did he know you were watching him?”

Mario glanced aside, and then pretended to adjust his side mirror through his open car window. “I wouldn’t know.”

Rachel eyed her friend suspiciously. Mario had a reputation for being a bit of a busybody. And he wasn’t telling her the whole truth.

“After you dropped him off, did he wait for you to leave before heading toward the other car?”

Mario’s expression displayed exaggerated thought. “Guys like him don’t like to be watched, that much I can tell.”

“So you…”

Mario sighed and gave up trying to be cool about what he’d done. “I made a U-turn and double-parked at the corner while he crossed. There were cabs all over. He probably didn’t know it was me.”

Rachel swallowed a chuckle. She’d known Mario for nearly three years and she’d pegged him long ago as the curious sort. He’d caught more than one guy casing Iris’s corner with the intention of robbing her, and he’d averted several muggings of fares he’d dropped off in questionable parts of town.

“What made you stop and watch?”

Mario adjusted his cap. “Can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

He eyed her boldly. “Can’t. It’s just gut instinct.”

Rachel grabbed the seat belt and strapped it across her body, which keyed Mario to put the car in gear and start the return ride back to her apartment. “We didn’t learn much.”

“No, but we could learn more,” Mario suggested. “I mean, if you want to.”

Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. “How?”

He arched a brow.

She knew how. Next time Roman left her apartment, she and Mario would follow him.

Did she really want to go behind Roman’s back? Spy on him? Part of her abhorred the inherent childishness of the prospect, but the other part-the part that didn’t like to be taken for a fool-was interested.

“What would I have to do?” she asked.

“A little detective work,” Mario said, as if the idea were as natural as breathing. “Nothing complicated or illegal.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Stalking someone isn’t illegal?”

“Hey, can you help it if he leaves and you just happen to be going in the same direction?”

“You’ll need more than one cab,” Rachel pointed out. “Our job would be easier if he gets into a car that knows we’re tailing him.”

Mario smiled broadly. Clearly, he liked the way she thought, which surprised her. Rachel really wasn’t one for cloak-and-dagger stuff. But she had been around the block, and well, if a good thriller was on television, she usually tuned in.

“I can call in a favor,” Mario said.

Rachel remained silent for the rest of the trip. After Mario pulled up in front of her building, he handed her a business card with his cell phone number inked at the bottom. “You call me next time he’s at your place.”

After an instant of hesitation, Rachel snatched the card. She offered Mario money for taking her Uptown, which he refused, then promised to call him unless her common sense got the better of her, which she didn’t figure had much chance of happening.

Determined not to waste the entire day thinking about Roman or what she might discover if she followed him on one of those mysterious mornings when he left her at the summons of his pager, she headed toward the gym. On the short walk over, she couldn’t help thinking about her mother, her sisters-the poster women for trust issues.

She supposed the fact that their father had left them high and dry when Rachel was only ten should have explained the plethora of neuroses shared by the Marlowe women, but Rachel hated to think that she was such a textbook case of deep-seated issues. Wasn’t like every relationship she’d ever had imploded because she didn’t trust her man. Okay, maybe a few. But not…oh, what was his name? Sean? Yeah, Sean. She’d dumped him because she didn’t like football. And the man had been entirely obsessed with the game. Of course, he had played right guard for the Hurricanes at the time they’d been dating-hence the shirt she was wearing today-but that was no excuse for him to spend from ESPN’s College Game Day on Saturday morning until the last whistle on Monday Night Football in front of the tube.