Part 27 (1/2)
”Talk to your lawyers, gentlemen,” says Henry.
How many admirers can one unavailable young woman juggle? Henry asks no one but himself as he waits for a 7 train to take him to any stop where he can hail a taxi. Has Thalia's overactive love life made him a bad judge of simple brotherly solicitude? Tommy, he reasons, was just the nicer stepbrother, closer in age to Thalia. He's seeing social outreach where there is none. Aren't both Krouch boys married to women who left the funeral by their sides, in protest? He'd quiz Thalia or Denise on that point-except for now he wants to keep his Long Island City mission off the record.
He calls Thalia from the back seat of a taxi, safely across the Queensborough Bridge. ”Lunch anytime soon?” he asks. ”I have a sudden craving for chicken tikka masala.”
”Like, right now?”
”Earthen Oven? One hour?”
”I could almost do that.”
”Where are you now?” he asks.
”Not home,” she answers.
She slips into a seat opposite Henry and blows a kiss across the pappadams.
He asks, ”Remember when we first met? This was our plan: weekly lunches. And now look at us.” He opens his menu and smiles down at it. ”You, me, and Williebelle.”
”Ran home to change just for you,” she says. ”I believe this is what your mother would have called a housedress. The belt is mine.”
Pleasantly, unaccusingly, Henry asks, ”Still seeing Philip?”
Thalia hums, scanning the menu.
”Philip?” he prompts.
”He's okay. Why?”
”Just making conversation.”
She looks up. ”It's not a huge deal.”
”But?”
”We had a little-what shall I call it?-misunderstanding. Now fixed.”
Henry is never sure where his conversation ends and cross-examinations begin. He takes several casual and dilatory sips of water before asking, ”About?”
”A photo he took of me. That I didn't appreciate.”
She is speaking with remarkable equanimity, Henry thinks, considering that an incendiary device has just exploded in my head. He looks around, judging waiter proximity. ”A compromising photo?” he whispers.
”Here's the thing: I was in fact naked but I had a sheet over me.” She runs a finger across her clavicle. ”All the way up to my armpits.”
”Awake or asleep?”
”Asleep!”
”Did he ask your permission?”
”No, but really-I don't want you to worry. He snapped it with his phone so there aren't enough pixels to do much with.”
Henry says, his voice barely restrained, ”You are to tell him in no uncertain terms-or I will-that he is to erase that photo of you.”
”I already did.”
”And?”
”He said he'd never e-mail it, sell it, put it out there, whatever, so it came down to a matter of trust.”
”Oh, please.”
”He said it never would have occurred to him in a million years that taking my picture would be seen as morally reprehensible.”
”Because he was born yesterday? Every time you turn on the news you hear about some contestant whose wet T-s.h.i.+rt came back to haunt her.”
She motions to the bartender, who sends over a waiter. ”Two chicken tikka masalas,” Henry says. ”And do we want beer?”
”At the very least,” says Thalia. As soon as the menus are collected she says, ”Shall we change the subject to something equally annoying?”
”Sure.”
New patrons are being shown to the next table, two women with enough shopping bags to identify them as out-of-towners. Thalia lowers her voice. ”Estime told Leif on Friday that no one's interested in Thalia Archer. He needs to find someone the public cares about.”
”Just like that? 'No one's interested in Thalia Archer'? Whose fault is that? What are you supposed to do? Get arrested? What nerve. What arrogance!”
”They're giving it one more try. With cash.”
”For whom?”
”Paparazzi-the ones you can buy off.”
The waiter returns with two beers and two pilsner gla.s.ses. ”We're fine,” says Henry, nearly shooing him away.
Thalia says, ”I figured you'd be happy about this.”
Henry the parent is happy. Henry the lawyer asks, ”Were they expecting instant results? Overnight limelight for a guy who's been under the radar his whole career?”
Thalia shrugs. ”He says he stuck up for me. Might even have said 'fought' for me. Hard.”
”Because he wants to do the right thing? Or because it would be excruciating for him to start over with a new faux girlfriend?”
”The latter, I suspect.”
”Such a web of lies,” says Henry. ”I don't know how I ever let you say yes to this scheme.”