Love and Death in Brooklyn by Glenville Lovell

Author:Glenville Lovell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

TWENTY-ONE

a nais had gone to bed early that night and didn’t hear me come in. After showering, I snuggled up to her in our canopy bed, listening to her even breathing, hoping she would wake up, but not wanting to be so obvious about my intentions. She must’ve been exhausted because ordinarily my presence this close would’ve stirred her. This time it didn’t and I was forced to resort to more aggressive tactics.

She was lying on her stomach. Under the down comforter her short chamois had ridden up past her hips exposing her smooth ass. Leaning on my elbow I surveyed the mountains and valleys of her body; the high rise of her butt leveling off in the plain of her muscled lower back. I slid my hand along the back of her leg, up along her thighs, coming to rest on the peak of her buttocks. Her legs were far enough apart for me to dip a finger between the gulf of her thighs. She was moist. I became enthused by this discovery. But my insistent finger did not have the effect I hoped. She neither stirred nor sighed in any somnambulist pleasure. I gave up trying to wake her and rolled over to dream.

BROOKLYN IS the home of the bargain shopper. Walk along Church or Nostrand Avenues and the number of stores advertising the lowest prices in New York would make your eyes sweat with fatigue. From shoddy 99-cent stores to real-estate offices advertising foreclosure specials.

Next morning Anais and I strolled along Church Avenue, charmed to smiles by the passion of the brilliant accents around us. Silver clouds drifted across the sky like wayward gulls. A dog slept at the foot of an Asian youth sipping from a Snapple bottle, wearing Number 23 as fluently as any black kid in Harlem. The sound of someone playing keyboards drifted across the street. Inside a car a woman sat peeling a yellow-skinned mango with a smile on her face so elegant it could only be explained by conjuring images of angels. Old women hunched over to keep warm at the bus stop. Young men with the fabulous elongated bodies of athletes or models sauntered enterprisingly down the sidewalk, appropriating all the space without regard for the elderly couple approaching. The beautiful people chased around Manhattan by paparazzi didn’t have anything on these folks.

We bought some vegetables and fruit from a Korean grocery and took a chance buying fish from a market next door before walking back to the car parked on a quiet side street a few blocks away.

I opened the trunk to put our purchases inside. Leaving Anais to pack and close the trunk, I went to open the passenger door. Having spent so much time as an undercover cop, I’d developed a great set of instincts. With my keys in my hand poised to open the door, I got one of those sixth sense flashes: Somebody’s watching you.

I spun around. Across the street, standing next to a black SUV, was Lizard-Face.

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