“You must be Eric?”

“Correct,” he said with a sly smile.  “Shall we have that coffee,” he added, with a wave of his hand towards the coffee shop.

  “Of course.” 

Pam followed him the half a block and was surprised when he opened the door for her.  She had a cup of Earl Grey and he had a simple, black coffee.  They sat at a table near the back and were quiet for several moments.  He took a sip of the coffee before placing his hands palm down on the table and looked around the shop.  For Pam, the quiet was slowly becoming unbearable but he seemed nonplussed by it.

“So, how do you know Kelly?” she asked, the first thought she could form. 

“I was engaged to her sister some time back,” he said after a moment.  Something passed through his eyes as he said the words in a slow, calculated manner.

“Really?”  For a moment, Pam tried to touch the spot on her finger where her own engagement ring once sat.  When she realized what she was doing, she took her hands and put them around the warm cup.  Eric noticed.

“Yeah.  Guess Kelly didn’t tell you that?”

“Why didn’t you guys get married?” 

“Vera and I were in an accident.  She didn’t make it.”

“Oh, my God,” Pam whispered.  What a way to start a date.  “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.  It was a good five years ago.”  She could tell his calm exterior was just a front, so she did what she could to steer away from the topic.

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m a writer.”

“Really?  What do you write?”

“I’ve been a journalist for the last few years.”

“Written anything I’d have read?”

“Not under my own byline.”

“Why’s that?”

“The sort of stuff I’ve been covering, well, let’s just say there are a few folk out there who want me dead?”

“Why’s that?” Pam asked after a moment of shocked silence.

“After Vera died, I guess I had a bit of a death wish.  Survivor’s guilt, my boss called it.  I took the most dangerous assignments I could get.  Talking with coyotes down in Mexico, crossing the border with illegals, interviewing child prostitutes in Thailand, that sort of stuff.”

“And they’d want you dead?”

“Well, after I interviewed those child prostitutes, I sort of took them to the police.  After I did that, I had to leave the country rather fast to keep from getting shot.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.  I sort of did the same thing in Hungary.  Was talking to some women over there who were being kept against their will.  Had to pose as a john to get any time with them, of course, and once I found out, and had enough for a story, I got them out of the brothel and took them to the authorities.”

“That was very brave of you,” Pam mumbled.

“Yeah, but stupid, too.  Their pimps got to me before I could leave the country.”

“What happened?”

“They found me in my hotel and were about to kill me.  Had me on my knees and everything, and this guy, Bruno, was pointing a gun at me and just yelling in Hungarian.  Kind of funny, in a weird way.  He tried to shot me but his gun misfired.  Last thing I know, someone hits me on the back of the head and I wake up three days later in some hospital.  They roughed me up and stole everything I had, except my tape recorder.  I still did the story.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” he said, that sly smile that wasn’t Jim’s flashing over his lips again.  He held his thumb and index finger up with an inch between them.  “This close to getting that death wish fulfilled.”  He laughed a sad laugh and looks into the depths of his coffee.  “Good thing about my time overseas is, I can read people now.”

“You can read people?”

“Very well.”

“Can you read me?”

“Like an open book.”

“Really?”

“I believe so.  Let’s see: you’re just recently, within the last year, out of a long-term relationship.”

“How’d you know?”

“You can tell there used to be a ring on your finger.  The skin is lighter there than the rest.”  She looks down even though she doesn’t have to.  She smiles to cover the empty feeling in her chest because she knows where this is heading.  “I can also tell you don’t want to be here.”

“No, I-”

“Don’t worry about it.  Neither do I.  Has nothing to do with you, of course.  If I were in a right state of mind, I could see myself asking you out on another date.  Thing is, I’m not.  Kelly’s mighty persuasive, otherwise I’d be on the phone with my boss now trying to get another assignment.”

“Kelly does sort of wear you down.  I’d hate to know what she did to you.”

“Nothing bad, really.  And try not to be hard on the girl.”

“Why’s that?”

“The way Kelly is now, well, that’s not the real her.  She was a lot calmer when I was engaged to her sister.  Very sweet, very smart.  Loves art, so you know.  Thing is, when Vera died, Kelly was crushed.  Kelly had been looking up to her since she was a baby, and when Vera died, she just sort of buried herself in all that crap, the superficial, pop culture bullshit as a distraction.  Sometimes she comes up for air, but mostly, she’s trying to hide in that identity.”

            “I kind of know how that is,” Pam says with something like tears burning behind her eyes.

            “But, listen.  Let’s do each other a favor.”

            “What sort of favor?”

            “I’ll stop pretending this is a date if you tell me about the guy you wish was sitting across from you right now.”