Julie tapped the binoculars as they started out. “Still spying?”
Lila’s wide, top-heavy mouth moved into a pout. “It’s not spying. It’s observing. If people don’t want you looking in, they should close the curtains, pull down the shades.”
“Uh-huh. Wow.” Julie set her hands on her hips as she scanned the terrace. “You’re right about the green thumb.”
Everything lush and colorful and thriving in simple terra-cotta pots made the urban space a creative oasis. “She’s growing tomatoes?”
“They’re wonderful, and the herbs? She started them from seeds.”
“Can you do that?”
“Macey can. I—as they told me I could and should—harvested some. I had a big, beautiful salad for dinner last night. Ate it out here, with a glass of wine, and watched the window show.”
“You have the oddest life. Tell me about the window people.”
Lila poured wine, then reached inside for the binoculars—just in case.
“We have the family on the tenth floor—they just got the little boy a puppy. The kid and the pup are both incredibly pretty and adorable. It’s true love, and fun to watch. There’s a sexy blonde on fourteen who lives with a very hot guy—both could be models. He comes and goes, and they have very intense conversations, bitter arguments with flying crockery, followed by major sex.”
“You watch them have sex? Lila, give me those binoculars.”
“No!” Laughing, Lila shook her head. “I don’t watch them have sex. But I can tell that’s what’s going on. They talk, fight, pace around with lots of arm waving from her, then grab each other and start pulling off clothes. In the bedroom, in the living room. They don’t have a terrace like this, but that little balcony deal off the bedroom. They barely made it back in once before they were both naked.
“And speaking of naked, there’s a guy on twelve. Wait, maybe he’s around.”
Now she did get the glasses, checked. “Oh yeah, baby. Check this out. Twelfth floor, three windows from the left.”
Curious enough, Julie took the binoculars, finally found the window. “Oh my. Mmmm, mmmm. He does have some moves. We should call him, invite him over.”
“I don’t think we’re his type.”
“Between us we’re every man’s type.”
“Gay, Julie.”
“You can’t tell from here.” Julie lowered the glasses, frowned, then lifted them again for another look. “Your gaydar can’t leap over buildings in a single bound like Superman.”
“He’s wearing a thong. Enough said.”
“It’s for ease of movement.”
“Thong,” Lila repeated.
“Does he dance nightly?”
“Pretty much. I figure he’s a struggling actor, working part-time in a strip club until he gets his break.”
“He’s got a great body. David had a great body.”
“Had?”
Julie set down the glasses, mimed breaking a twig in half.
“When?”
“Right after the Hamptons Wedding Week From Hell. It had to be done, but I didn’t want to do it at the wedding, which was bad enough.”
“Sorry, honey.”