Debby Gold, NYPD

She was late, but even as she hurried down the relatively uncrowded Prince Street, she didn't worry about it. After all, they probably wanted to be alone together, resented anyone else intruding, what the hell was she rushing for?

She turned into the entrance of Elephant & Castle and was surprised to find them sitting outside, huddled together for warmth, collars turned up against the somewhat damp wind coming from the river.

"Debby!,” cried her friend, with a brilliant smile.

"Hi." Debby ground to a stop. "You sitting outside? In this weather?"

"Oh, it's great. Is it too cold for you?"

"No, no, it's fine,” said Debby with a shiver.

She sat in the chair next to the young man wearing a khaki windbreaker over a turtle?neck sweater. Not really handsome, nose a little too big, lips uneven, crooked grin. But he was clean, good teeth, nice skin.

"So you're Alan!"

"So you're the famous Debby. We finally meet."

They shook hands. Quickly. He withdrew his hand almost immediately and she was glad he did. She didn't like the touch. Why? Go ask.

Gail was beaming. "Okay, that's over, let's eat."

She looked beautiful. The sex must be great, Debby surmised. When they caught each other's eye, there was an electric current, sparked, sizzled, crackled. It was real, this thing between them.

"Are you from New York?"

"No."

"But you live here now."

"Oh, sure. This is my home."

"He sounds like a New Yorker, doesn't he?” said Gail, putting her hand on his thigh. So unlike cool, distant, undemonstrative Gail.

He was uncomfortable. Chatted, laughed here and there. But not an easy guy. Good manners, ate slowly, passed the fabulous rolls, folded his napkin. Debby's back was stiff and she couldn't get it to relax.

"Where are you from originally?" asked Debby.

"Colorado,” said Alan. "A little town outside Boulder." He grinned. "Not that Boulder isn't a little town."

"I thought you were from Utah,” said Gail.

A flicker. "I was born in Utah. But I grew up in Colorado. Let's order."

He wanted cheese blintzes, of all things and Gail had Huevos Rancheros, which Debby lusted after, but confined herself to a spinach salad, dressing on the side, please. She felt pretty good about her extraordinary will power, until she realized she had consumed one and half seven?grain rolls and two jalapeño muffins.

He was deliberately non?committal, which made her all the more curious. She wanted to ask him more questions, where did you go to school, what kind of jobs did you have, what about your family, what do they do, any siblings, previous marriages? Of course she had no right to grill him and by the time they'd finished their decaf expressos, she was chilled to the bone and couldn't wait to get the hell out of there and into her warm apartment. He paid the check, refusing to take the money she offered for her part of the check.

"Guess you'll be going to a nice heated movie theatre,” Debby said, when they were standing on the sidewalk.

"No, we're going to go back to Alan's place and get into bed and curl up with the Sunday papers."

Debby curled her lip in a sneer. "Gail, I am beginning to hate you."

Gail laughed happily. "That's the nicest thing you ever said to me, Deb."

They hugged goodbye. Debby turned to Alan, who held out his gloved hand.

"Well, now that we've met, we'd got to do it again,” he said, ultra?politely, she thought.

"Oh, you bet. Maybe brunch one Sunday at my place. I make very high?cholesterol Eggs Benedict."

"Sounds real good."

"I'll call you, Gail."

"'Bye, Deb."

She turned back to Alan. Couldn't resist one more shot. "Do your parents live in New York?"

"Well,” he answered, softly, "they're both dead."

It was starting to drizzle as she walked away swiftly, taking deep breaths, immensely relieved to be all by herself, on her way uptown to her own apartment. And wondering why the hell she was feeling such relief.

Afterwards, they were walking down Sixth Avenue towards Balducci's, avoiding the panhandlers and stopping every so often at the sidewalk hawkers who had magazines and old records on the ground. Alan was quiet, answering her chatter with monosyllables. The brunch with Debby Gold had disturbed him. He was edgy and he didn't quite know why. They stopped at Baskin Robbins and he ordered two cherry vanilla yogurts for them.

"What does your friend Debby do?,” he asked as they waited for the yogurts.

"She's a cop,” said Gail.

He turned to look at her. "A cop? You mean with the police?"

Gail nodded. "Actually, she's very close to being a detective. She should have had her promotion already but her boss is a chauvinist pig."

The woman behind the counter was impatient. "So what do you say?" She held two large cones in her hands.

Alan took them from her and gave one to Gail. "Why didn't you tell me she was a cop?"

Gail shrugged as she licked the yogurt. "I don't know. It wasn't a secret."

They walked out. She went for his hand again, but he had it in his pocket. He was tense.

"What's the matter, Alan?"

"I wish you'd told me, that's all."

"I did tell you. What's the difference?"

"It makes a difference." He was pissed. Just what he needed. A cop hanging around, watching, listening, taking notes. No wonder she was asking all those fucking questions.

"Alan, what in the world is wrong? Debby is my best friend!"

"Then why didn't you tell me what she did?"

"I don't know. Maybe I was protecting her. Everybody rags her about being a cop. She loves it. It's her job, just like you have a job and I have..."

"Listen, quit talking to me like I'm a child. You know I don't like it."

"Okay, I'm sorry. But you're so upset, Alan, and I just don't know why!"

"Because I don't like cops."

"Oh."

This stopped her. She didn't ask him why he didn't like cops. Lots of people didn't like cops, her father included. She was abou