“It’s okay,” Archie said. “It’s complicated.” He didn’t offer any further explanation. He didn’t talk to Rachel about Susan, or Henry, or his work. They didn’t really talk about anything. She had come into his life suddenly, moving into the apartment a floor below his in the middle of the night. What little he knew about her was fraught with inconsistencies. It intrigued him. But it wasn’t until that moment that he realized this was the very thing that attracted him to her. He could have sex with her because he couldn’t trust her.

“I have to go to class,” Rachel said. “But I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay,” Archie said. He was glad she had to leave but he tried not to show it. He was already thinking about how he could track down Leo.

Rachel seemed to sense that he was distracted and she leaned forward and put her hand on his chest, and kissed him on the mouth. As the heat of their mouths met, her hand slid inside his robe to the sensitive scar tissue over his heart. She dug her fingernails into the delicate skin, and Archie’s breath caught in his throat.

By the time she stood up, they were both breathing heavily.

Rachel wiped the shine of saliva from the corner of her lip. “Do you want anything special for your birthday?” she asked.

The scar on Archie’s chest stung and he felt a buzz of anticipation in his groin. He smiled. “Do you know how to do a lap dance?” he asked.

Chapter 6

CHAPTER

6

As far as your average incognito rendezvous went, the Eastbank Esplanade was as good a place as any. Archie stood facing the river, looking across to the west side, where the downtown Portland skyline rose prettily behind the green band of Tom McCall Waterfront Park. The pavement at his feet was new. The only signs of the flood that had wreaked havoc downtown last winter were some spindly saplings and a plaque the city had installed explaining it all to tourists.

On the other side of the river, the verdant west side esplanade was bustling with active Portlanders exercising in every manner imaginable, from roller skates to unicycles. It was the lunch hour and the benches facing the river were hosting the usual array of people eating food-cart quinoa veggie bowls, loitering teenage transients, and schizophrenics feeding seagulls. Kids played in the fountains. Canada geese sunned themselves in the park. October was all Portland saw of fall—a month of clear, high skies, leaves just starting to turn, a fresh coolness to the air. By November all the fountains would be turned off, the leaves would be gone from the trees, and the sky would be low and gray until mid-July.