Crazy For You (27 page)

“Who are they?” Thea asked.

“Mrs. Ziegler’s husband and brother-in-law.” Quinn put her eyes back on the backdrop cartoon where they belonged.

“The cute one’s the husband and the hot one’s the brother-in-law, right?” Thea said.

“Good guess.”

“So who’s the brother-in-law to you?” Thea said.

“Absolutely nobody. Okay, if we thin the dye as we go toward the top—”

“And I thought I was obvious about Jason,” Thea said. “That is not nobody. Even if you didn’t know who he was, he wouldn’t be nobody.”

“Trust me,” Quinn said. “He doesn’t even exist.”

“What did he do?”

“Thea,” Quinn said sternly.

“Just asking.” Thea looked past Quinn’s shoulder. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Nick said, and Quinn shivered a little, he was so close.

“I told you on Saturday, I’m fine,” she said without turning around. “You don’t need to be here.”

“I was asked,” he said, still close behind her. “Edie sent for me.”

She swung around on that, trying not to enjoy having him near her again. “She did not.”

“Your light booth,” Nick said, looking down at her with those dark, dark eyes. “She wanted an electrician.”

“You are not an electrician.”

“Sure I am.” He smiled at her and scrambled her thoughts. “Joe taught me.”

She turned her back on him. “Edie’s down in the front. With Darla. Walk to the edge of the stage, you’ll see her.”

“Okay,” Nick said.

When he was gone, Thea said, “He must have done something really lousy.”

“Worse than that,” Quinn said.

“So bad he doesn’t deserve another shot?”

Quinn looked up to see Thea watching Nick with sympathy. Probably relating to her own problems with Jason. “I gave him three shots. He blew all three.”

“Oh.” Thea’s sympathy returned to Quinn. “One of those.” She looked back at Nick. “He’s really hot, though. Is he the one you were talking about? The one who made you want to throw up? Did he send the roses? How’d you get him?”

“I don’t have him,” Quinn said. “And I don’t want him.”

“You have him,” Thea said. “I got a contact high from standing next to you when he looked at you.”

“Beautifully put,” Quinn said. “Now, about the dyes—”

After Thea had gone to work on the backdrop, Quinn sat on the edge of the table and tried to be practical about her life again. Clearly, being exciting had just screwed things up for everybody, including her, especially her love life. Nick was great as a friend, a disaster as a lover. She needed somebody dependable, somebody who would stick around and wake up with her, somebody she could count on—

Oh, hell, that wasn’t what she needed, that was Bill. At least, it was Bill before the storeroom and the sabotage.

Across the stage, she heard Nick laugh, and her eyes stole to the edge of the stage, to where he was grinning down at Edie, who looked up at him gratefully. Nick, broad-shouldered and slim-hipped—
Nick who did you to Fleetwood Mac,
her practical side pointed out—Nick who’d moved hard between her thighs and bruised her mouth—
Nick who dumped you for a pizza,
practicality reminded her—Nick who’d made her come so hard she was blind and breathless—
Oh, hell, take him back,
practicality said.
Orgasms like that don’t grow on trees.

And then she’d end up alone again. She felt her throat tighten and knew that orgasms weren’t enough, she needed the stuff Zoe had with Ben, the attention and the security and the outright demonstrations of love, the stuff she’d been doing without all these years. And Nick couldn’t give it to her. She’d looked at him too many times the way she was looking at him now, aching to have him hold her while he turned his back on her.

So he was just a friend. A distant friend.

She turned her back on him and concentrated on her work.

“Okay,” he told her when he met her at the prop table. “The light booth is now safe once more, or as safe as it’s going to get. This place is old.”

“Thank you very much for your help,” she said. “You can go now.”

“So we’re doing the spots now,” he went on, staring up at the light strips. “I need to know where you want them and what color gels you need.”

She blinked at him. “We have crew guys who can—”

“They can.” Nick transferred his attention back to her and made her breath come faster. “But only if somebody shows them how. The lighting is a full-time deal and you’ve been putting it off and your dress rehearsal’s in three weeks. Edie gave me a stage lighting book, and I read it last night. I know how to do this. So I’m going to help.”

Quinn swallowed. “This is nice of you.”

“Not really,” Nick said. “I like it.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve got some good kids here, and Edie is working her butt off. It’s a good project. You deserve the support.”

She watched him to see if he was snowing her, but he was looking up above at the spots again, frowning at the rigging.

“That catwalk does not look safe,” he said. “Don’t send kids up there.”

“Well, then you’re not going up there, either.”

“I’ll be careful. I have a lot to live for.” He dropped his eyes to hers. “I have to have you again before I die.”

Her knees gave way and she sat down hard on the stool.

“Your ankle okay?” Nick said, instantly concerned, and she said, “Fine. Everything’s fine here.”

“Listen, I screwed up.” He came closer as he talked, making his voice low. “I’ll probably do it again, and I know you’re hurt, and this isn’t the time. But I want you back.”

She stuck out her chin so it wouldn’t quiver. “You never had me.”

“The hell I didn’t,” he said, and the heat in his voice made her dizzy. “I had you to talk to and laugh with, and I had you naked and coming, and you remember all of it.”

“Oh, sort of,” Quinn said faintly. “I remember the pizza, definitely.”

“You remember the good times and you remember the sex,” Nick said. “You remember coming your brains out even while you fought it, which for the life of me, I still don’t get. The next time we do it, you cooperate.”

Quinn got her voice back. “Fleetwood Mac was playing, right?”

“Damn good music,” Nick said. “Be as bitchy as you want, I don’t care. But when you’re tired of making me pay, we’re going to laugh again, and then we’re going to be naked.”

Quinn tried to think of something snappy to say besides
Thank God,
but his eyes were on the lights again.

“This place was built with chewing gum and string,” he said, disgusted, and started for the catwalk. “Find your lighting plan, will you?” he called back. “I’m not a mind reader.”

“Thank God,” Quinn said.

He was considering ways to get rid of Darla when the passenger door opened and Bobby got in.

“You know, Hilliard,” he said, in the snide tone he’d taken to using since that day in Quinn’s bedroom, “stalking is against the law.”

“I’m not stalking,” Bill said. “Get out of my car.”

“You’ve been here every night,” Bobby said. “Not good. Somebody sees this, they could get the wrong idea.” He snickered. “Or the right one.”

“Get out,” Bill said.

“I don’t want to see you in this parking lot again,” Bobby said, as if what he said mattered. “I want you at home fixing your coaching.”

“There’s nothing wrong—”

“You lost twice this week already,” Bobby said. “One more, we don’t even go to regionals.”

“There’s nothing—”

“I’ll tell Quinn.”

Bill thought about hitting him, thought about shoving that snide grin down his throat, thought about grabbing Quinn when she came out—what could Darla do, after all?— thought about—

Bobby opened the door. “Go home. Now.” He slammed the door shut and stepped back and then just stood there, waiting.

Across the parking lot, Quinn came out with Darla, laughing at something she’d said, swinging on her crutches toward the car. They got in Darla’s car, and Bill heard the engine start and saw the taillights come on, cherry red in the dark.

When they left, so did he. There was nothing else there, nothing to stay for, only Bobby, sneering after him in the dark.

Since the headline was about the new sewers in Tibbett, Quinn looked at her calmly and said, “Excuse me?”

“This,” Marjorie snapped, and flipped to the sports page. The headline read tournament woes for toothless tigers, and Marjorie’s finger shook as she stabbed at it. “You’ve ruined everything.”

“Fuck off, Marjorie,” Quinn said. “You want the tournament that bad, you sleep with Bill.”

Marjorie sucked her breath in so hard she choked.

“I enjoyed that,” Edie said mildly, and Marjorie stomped out again, probably to report her to the BP.

“Pervert,” Petra said to no one in particular.

“Petra, the baseball team plans to kill you after the last game,” Quinn said. “I’d leave now if you want to live to June.” When Petra had scurried out, Quinn had said, “Well, I think we’ve pretty much hit bottom here,” and Edie had said, “Don’t count on it.”

Looking across the stage now, Quinn crossed her fingers. Maybe—

“Can I talk to you a minute?” Max said.

Quinn jumped and then said, “Sure. How’s the sound?”

“The sound I can fix on my own,” Max said. “Darla I need help with.”

Quinn looked at him warily. “I don’t think—”

“How’s the sound?” Nick said, from behind her.

“Fine,” Max said. “Go away.”

“I can’t tell you what to do about Darla,” Quinn said. “You’re the one she wants, so you’re going to have to figure out what she needs.”

“That’s not what we heard.” Nick came around the table and sat down close beside her, and she tried hard not to be glad. “Max and I would be pissed about the two of you, but we’re kind of hoping you’ll let us watch.”

Max glared at him. “Would you go away?”

You really should move,
Quinn told herself, but that would be petty. And not nearly as much fun as staying where she was. Quinn turned to Max. “She just wants it to feel new again.”

Max looked exasperated. “We’ve been married seventeen years. You want to tell me how to make that new?”

“No,” Quinn said. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“You could give him some hints.” Nick’s voice was low next to her, close, almost in her ear. “Max isn’t being bone-headed about this for a change, he just doesn’t get it. And neither do I.”

Quinn thought,
No kidding,
but she said, “Okay, she wants. to feel special, like she’s not just your wife.”

“Okay,” Max said. “I send her flowers.”

“Not if you ever want to see her again.”

Max looked at Nick who said, “That makes no sense to me, either.”

“Women,” Quinn explained, as if she were talking to kindergarten kids, “like to feel the man they’re with actually sees them as different and special. Every guy on the planet sends flowers; it’s generic. If you’re going to send flowers, they have to be really special, something that shows you know her.” She glared at Nick. “Red roses are not special. Neither is playing the same music for every woman you ... date.” Nick rolled his eyes, and she ignored him to turn back to Max. “Darla doesn’t feel as if you see her anymore. It’s more than being taken for granted, she feels like she’s disappearing. And she tried to get you to notice, but you wouldn’t.”

“I told you so on that one,” Nick said to Max.

“So she moved out so you’d have to look at her,” Quinn finished. “And now you have to prove to her that you really see her and hear her, that she’s not just wallpaper in your life.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Max said.

“What’s she wearing?” Quinn said.

Max looked around. “She’s not here.”

“She’s doing final fittings in the hall, but you saw her earlier. What’s she wearing?”

“I never in my life noticed what she was wearing,” Max said. “I’m a guy. Cut me a break.”

“I came home on leave once,” Nick said, “and all I heard the whole damn night was ‘Darla’s red sweater.’ You couldn’t get over it.”

“That’s because I wanted to get into it,” Max said, but he looked thoughtful. “I wonder if she’s still got that.”

“If it was nineteen eighty-one,” Quinn said, “my guess would be no. Forget the red sweater. Where did you have the best times when you were courting, and please don’t feel you have to share the details.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Nick said.

“There was one night in her bedroom with her mom next door,” Max said. “For some reason that drove me crazy.”

“You’re kidding,” Quinn and Nick said together.

“Her mom?” Nick added, looking ill.

“No, you know, the thought of us getting caught,” Max said. “I really felt like I was getting away with something.”

“Knowing her mother, you were,” Nick said, but he still looked revolted.

“Well, her mom still lives in the same house,” Quinn said doubtfully. “I suppose you could try it there again. If you could convince Darla to go see her mom again on a day that wasn’t a major holiday.”

“I don’t want to see her mother,” Max said. “This isn’t helping.”

Nick snapped his fingers. “The drive-in. You came back from the drive-in one time when I was home and you acted like you’d seen God.”

“Oh, yeah.” Max grinned to himself. “That was the first time—”

“What?” Nick said.

“Never mind.” Max stopped grinning. “You really think if I take her to the drive-in—”

“It’s been closed for years,” Nick reminded him.

“—that would do it?”

“No,” Quinn said. “But that’s the kind of thing she’s thinking about. The way you used to see God in her at night, and now all you’re seeing is the evening news. She wants to know you’ve changed, that you’re ready to take chances with her again, that you see her.”

“Oh, great,” Max said.

“Told you so,” Nick said. “You should have sent us all out for pizza that night she was naked.”

“I don’t know why you’re being so damn cocky,” Max said to him. “You’re not doing any better than I am.” He looked at them both with disgust and went back to the sound system.

“Good point.” Nick smiled at Quinn, and her pulse kicked up. “You want to give me a few hints, too?”

She looked away from him. “No.”

“Sorry about the roses,” Nick said. “Let me start again. I want you back. You want to go to the drive-in?”

Yes
. “No.”

“Well, what do you want?”

Honesty, Quinn decided, would end this conversation faster than anything. She looked him in the eye. “Commitment.”

Nick winced. “You want commitment after doing it once?”

“No,” Quinn said. “I want commitment after a lifetime of loving each other. But”—she held up her hand as he started to protest—“I’ll settle for you staying the night. The whole night.”

“I’m hell to sleep with,” Nick said. “I kick the covers off. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I’ll adapt. Just promise me you’ll stay.”

He looked at her skeptically. “That’s it?”

“That’s a start.”

“Okay.” His eyes shifted away from hers. “I’ll stay.”

“You lie,” Quinn said.

“Of course I lie.” Nick sounded exasperated. “You’re living with Darla and your dad. You really think I’m going to wake up with them? Go downstairs and say hi over orange juice?”

Across the stage, the BP climbed the stage steps and began to talk to Edie, whose face twisted as he leaned toward her. “Oh, hell,” Quinn said and stood up, and Nick looked past her and said, “I’m with you. Let’s go.”

Nice,
Quinn thought as she headed off to save Edie. Not good enough, but nice.