The Night, The Day by Andrew Kane Read Free Book Online Page A

psychologist,” he said.
    “As in, head shrink?”
    “Some people use that term.”
    “Have you been analyzing me?”
    “You want the truth?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “I never work unless I’m paid.”
    “Oh come now, that’s as much bull as I’ve ever heard,” she said playfully.
    “Distrustful, aren’t we?”
    “I thought you weren’t analyzing!”
    “Touché. Caught me.” He saw that her drink was low. “How about another?” he asked.
    “I’d love one.”
    At that moment, Steve just happened to appear with a fresh glass of Merlot.
    “He’s a regular mind reader,” Cheryl observed.
    They shared some laughter.
    “Now it’s your turn,” Martin said. “What do you do?”
    “Me? Oh, nothing so interesting as being a shrink, I assure you.”
    “And what, pray tell, might that be?”
    “Public relations. A firm in the city, you probably haven’t even heard of it.”
    “Try me.”
    “Okay, Lipton Associates.”
    “You mean Jacob Lipton Associates?”
    “So you have heard of us.”
    “Anyone who reads the financial section of the newspaper knows who Jacob Lipton is. Holocaust survivor. Came to this country with nothing. Built up his own company from scratch. Made most of his fortune in the past few years doing PR for mergers and acquisitions, placating the worried, so to speak.”
    “That’s my boss.”
    “How did you come to work for him?”
    “It’s a long story, but I’ll give you the short version. I studied at Oxford, came to the U.S. in search of fortune and fame, answered a few ads in the New York Times , one thing led to another, and here I am.” She held up her hands, indicating that was that.
    He noticed she didn’t reveal much.
    “You do seem to know an awful lot about the financial world for a psychologist,” she added.
    “I follow a bit here and there, mainly to keep up with my patients.”
    “That makes sense. Working in Great Neck, you must deal with a lot of wealthy people.”
    “I didn’t say I worked in Great Neck.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said, “I assumed you did, coming here often, knowing the barkeep and all.”
    They sipped their drinks and shared a glance or two. Martin looked at his watch. “It’s getting late,” he said. “Can I drop you someplace?”
    “That would be nice. My flat is just up the street. I moved out of the city two weeks ago.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “I couldn’t take it anymore. Needed some peace and quiet. Everyone said Great Neck’s the place to go. Long Island Railroad is close by, only a thirty-minute commute to work – quicker than the subway from the Upper West Side – and there are lots of young people, fancy places to spend money. No feelers, rapists or pickpockets.”
    “Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.”
    “I am now.”

    She held his arm as they walked. It was only three and a half blocks to her building, a ritzy three-story condo on Middle Neck Road, somewhere between the restaurant and the old village where Martin’s office was. He led her up the walkway of the circular driveway and noticed a doorman emerge.
    “Nice place,” Martin said.
    “You should see where I lived in the city. A real dive, and for the same money.”
    “Ah, the advantages of suburbia.”
    “Would you like to come in for a drink?”
    “Thank you, but it is late.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.
    “Okay, well maybe another time.”
    “Yes, another time sounds nice.”
    They exchanged phone numbers, said good night, and ended with a customary yet tender handshake. Martin watched as she greeted the doorman, entered the building, and waved goodbye one last time before disappearing from sight. He stood there for a moment, wondering. Chicago had been a disaster, and now this. He knew he wasn’t ready for anything, that the smartest thing would be to discard the number and pretend the evening hadn’t happened. But somehow, he couldn’t. There was something about her that wouldn’t allow for