Where you live on Mt. Helix dictates your economic worth. The folks at the base of the area were the middle class and the salaries escalated as you worked your way up the mazelike configuration of streets. When Mike had made partner at his firm, he’d moved from his downtown apartment to a ranch house about halfway up the hillside. It had a pool, a game room, and a barely visible view of the ocean if the air was clear enough. He’d worked hard, made a lot of money, and he didn’t mind showing it off.
I pulled up in the crescent-shaped drive and stepped out into the late afternoon air. The sun was starting to slide away into the haze.
He greeted me at the front door.
“That was quicker than I expected,” he said, extending his hand.
We shook. “The benefits of being my own boss. I don’t have to ask for permission to leave the office early.”
He laughed and stepped back. “Come on in.”
“I invited Carter up,” I said, stepping past him. “Hope that was alright.”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure. More the merrier.”
The cathedral ceilings made the house feel twice as large as its actual three thousand square feet. I followed him down the tiled hallway into an expansive circular living room that housed a pool table and a wet bar.
“Beer’s good?” he asked, walking down the couple of steps that led to the sunken bar area backed by a mirrored wall stacked with shelves of expensive liquor.
“Fine. Whatever you got.”
Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the pool and the view to the west. The haze was covering up the ocean and the light was being squeezed out of the day.
Mike pulled two Coronas and a lime out of a small fridge and yanked the tops off the bottles with an opener. He pulled a paring knife from a drawer, split the lime, and stuck a piece in the top of each bottle. He slid one across the bar top to me.
He held his up. “To friends.”
“Absolutely.”
We clinked the bottle necks and drank.
“Noah,” he said, a little uncomfortable. “I meant what I said on the phone. I’m sorry about the thing with Liz.”
“You didn’t know, man,” I said. “Don’t be sorry.”
“Hey,” he said, straightening and putting his hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t know there was something between you guys. If I had, I would never have asked her out.”
I took a drink from the beer. “It’s fine.”
“She called me later after I saw you at her office and politely declined any future offers from me,” he said, smiling. “After your reaction, figured it was too much of a coincidence.”
“Things have been weird between us,” I said, appreciating his willingness to overlook my having been a jerk. “But we’re trying to get it straightened out.”
“Good for you,” he said, raising his bottle.
We each took a drink.
“Why her?” Mike asked.
“Why her what?”
He waved the bottle in the air, a bemused look on his face. “You know. Why are you hooked on her?”
“Liz?” I said, surprised by the question. “Well, I don’t know. Why is it ever anyone? Just something there, I guess.”
He walked over to the windows. The evening was going black beyond the glass.
“Even with what she is?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s weird with her being a cop and me doing what I do,” I said, thinking it was a bit of an odd question. “Not sure it will ever be easy for us, and maybe that’ll get in the way. I don’t know. But there are always obstacles. Right?”
The room was silent for a moment and I watched his reflection in the window.
He turned around. “No. That’s not what I meant, Noah.”
“What did you mean?”
He stared at me for a moment, then tipped the bottle to his mouth. He emptied it, walked back to the edge of the bar, and set it down. The clink of the glass on marble echoed throughout the room.
Something clicked in my head and everything slowed down.
“Ankle better?” I asked.
He glanced down at his feet. “What?”
“You told me on the phone you were hobbling,” I said. “Seem to be moving pretty good, though.”
He looked up. “It’s feeling better.”
We stared at one another.
“What did you mean?” I asked again.
His mouth twisted into a heartless smile. “What I meant was, why would you choose Liz, when she’s a worthless spic whore?”