Chapter 2 – Casual Conversation
The soft light that fell across their booth at Harvey's Bar & Grill was just right for letting her eyes wander without being obvious. Alex Eames, seated next to Bobby, had turned to just the right angle – facing one of the TV screens over the bar, pretending to watch the last few minutes of the Notre Dame-Southern Cal football game but actually sneaking quick glimpses of her partner.
He looked breathtakingly handsome in his snug-fitting black jeans and powder blue polo shirt, his face and arms glowing with a tan built through a summer of Saturday afternoon basketball. But she especially appreciated the unfurrowed brow and easy smile, the relaxed laugh as the foursome settled in for a few hours of pleasant company and conversation.
She didn't notice Carolyn Barek watching her, but Carolyn wasn't missing much. Sometimes Carolyn felt a strong temptation to kick Bobby Goren in the shin and tell him to get busy doing what she knew both Bobby and Alex wanted to do, but this evening she simply sighed and accepted that with Goren, nothing was ever that easy.
Carolyn and Mike must have had the conversation hundreds of times, with Mike warning her not to push ("Bobby will figure things out in his own time, and Alex wants him to set the pace.") and her expressing exasperation ("He's supposed to be such a genius, and he still doesn't get it after all they've been through?") before agreeing to keep her mouth shut.
The waitress who had brought their drinks was back for their order.
"I'd like the cheeseburger, medium, with fries," Alex told her. Carolyn asked for a salad, and Mike ordered a hamburger and onion rings.
"And you, sir?" the waitress asked, leaning closer and giving Bobby the same long look and bright smile she did every time he came in.
"The grilled chicken sandwich and a side salad with Italian dressing," he said, flashing her a polite but not too encouraging smile.
"After two hours of heart-pounding hoops, you're going to pick at a plate of diet food?" Mike asked in mock astonishment.
"It's not diet food, Mike. It's healthy food. Besides, I am going to enjoy some beers," Bobby retorted, raising the frosty mug and taking a big gulp.
"Thank goodness you are, Bobby, or I'd sure feel guilty about the junk I'm eating," Alex said with a smile.
"Are you kidding? With all the running you do, you need all the calories you can get. You're just carbo-loading," he said, his eyes bright with admiration as he gazed into hers.
"Well, I am running a 10K in the morning, but I hardly need to carbo-load for something as short as that," Alex said bashfully.
"Short?" Mike said with a snort. "Nothing short about a 10K."
"Unless you're a marathon runner like Eames," Bobby pointed out.
"Well, I'd hardly call myself a marathon runner. I've only run three of them."
"That's three more than I'll ever run," Bobby said with a laugh. "I couldn't even keep you in sight if I tried the 10K. I'd probably embarrass myself."
"I'm not so sure of that, Bobby," Alex said, a bit of a challenge in her eyes. "Maybe you should run with me sometime. All the basketball you've been playing this summer has gotten you into good shape."
"I don't know about that," Bobby said with a shrug. "I've just been having fun."
Alex smiled at that. It was true, and it was good to hear him say it. She remembered how he'd looked in May and June, exhausted from caring for his mom in her final days, overweight from a diet of junk food and soft drinks that he had forced down to keep going, and then haunted by the revelation, confirmed by a confidential DNA test, that his father was not the alcoholic, gambling womanizer who deserted his family when Bobby was 11, but rather was a serial rapist and killer who was executed within hours of his mother's death.
It had been so much, all piling up on top of him, that Alex had feared it would finally break Bobby. And for a while, his depression had dug in so deep that even she could barely reach him. But the seeds of healing had been sown almost from the moment his mother had slipped away. Alex had gone to him, sitting alone in the dark at Carmel Ridge, and stayed by his side throughout the ordeal of arrangements and services. Though he couldn't respond to her, he had accepted her calming presence.
And at the funeral, he had been startled (and Alex thrilled) to see so many people, most of whom had never even met his mother – Mike and Carolyn and Jimmy Deakins, of course, but also Ross, Carver, several other detectives from Major Case, Fin and several co-workers from Special Victims, the chief of detectives, the deputy commissioner whose daughter's murder he and Eames had solved. The realization that they were there for him had found its way to his spirit, and the healing had begun to take root.
His closest friends had closed ranks around him throughout the summer. Eames had managed to get him to talk to Olivia Benson from SVU to help him cope with the horror of his paternal background. She had reinforced what his mind knew but his heart had difficulty accepting: that he was no more likely to follow in his father's footsteps than he was to become a schizophrenic like his mother. A tendency to rape and murder could not be inherited, and he was beyond the age when schizophrenia usually began to manifest itself.
Remarkably, despite his parents' abnormal psychology and the physical and emotional abuse he had suffered in his childhood, he was a responsible, caring adult. With all his scars and fears, he had never damaged anyone – except himself, and Alex knew he was trying hard to stop doing that.
"Penny for your thoughts," Bobby said, and Alex shook her head, clearing away the memories that she didn't want to shadow the present.
"I was just thinking how nice it is to be here tonight with three great friends like you guys," she said. Then she added, with a playful punch to his biceps, "And how much I'm going to enjoy watching you pick up the tab after USC wins this game."