Just a City Boy (Midnight Train Series) (2 page)

Chapter Two

About an hour ago, Zack Daniels had only a couple problems, not the least of which was where he was going to find a ski mask.

Now he stared at her reflection in the People Mover glass. God, but she was beautiful. Wild brown curls went every which way around her petite face. She had hazel eyes and the palest skin. He would have thought she’d be more tan, coming from the South. Judging by her accent, he placed her as Texan or Oklahoman. He couldn’t quite tell yet because she hadn’t spoken enough.

He wanted to hear her talk more. All night. Into the morning. He was a dumb ass. First time he ever tried to mug someone and he ended up ‘rescuing’ her instead. He’d be lucky if she didn’t call the cops on him.

He put his head against the glass and closed his eyes.

She was going to be okay. She’d calmed herself down in a few short minutes. The gangbangers had him tied up in knots too. They weren’t playing, and if they ever saw him again on their turf, he would get drawn and quartered, he didn’t doubt it.

Well, just put that neighborhood on the list of places he didn’t want to go to, including home. He didn’t want to go home. Couldn’t go home. He’d beaten the crap out of his roommate, stolen his gun and ran off, deciding to rob somebody and use their credit card to make a single purchase.

He’d chosen Grand Circus Park Station because he knew it was going to be deserted, even though it was brand spanking new. He’d chosen his mark easily enough. She was the only person around.

He’d not let himself admire her figure, especially her hair and her shapely legs. He saw the big purse, and hoped the credit card would get the job done. Then she’d gone off on that rant, and her accent and her smell had done him in.

Now he had more problems. He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t make his big purchase. Mickey Cobras were probably going to order a hit on him. And he felt responsible for getting this Scarlett O’Hara home safe.

He felt the headache coming on again, the adrenaline rush of the night easing and taking the analgesic effect with it. He put his head into his hands and began reciting the digits of pi. It had to work until he could find a drug store and get some Advils.

Chapter Three

I watched my reluctant hero put his head between his hands. He was messed up, there was no question. My mama always told me to stay away from strays and crazies, but I never listened.

Granted, this one found me, but still. I wondered what to do now. I was riding the midnight train through Detroit, away from work, toward home, but I didn’t want to go.

It wasn’t just the Moo Goo Gai Pan I was avoiding. But I didn’t want to think about it. I also found myself inexplicably drawn to the Mugger.

By all rights, I should have called 911 as soon as we got on the train. I could have pretended to be calling my mama in Texas, he’d never know she was long passed, and hopefully the operator would get the message that I was a girl in trouble. But was I? Mugger hadn’t made a single move toward me since he held me briefly so I could get it together.

Now he looked like he belonged on the train. Permanently. He rocked a little, and it sounded like he was mumbling.

Maybe he was the one that needed a hospital? I wondered just how crazy he was. Tried to mug me. Tried to save me. Now he was trying to ignore me…or possibly the voices in his head?

Mama always told me I talked too much. I expect she was right.

“You okay mister?” I finally asked him.

I saw his shoulders move, like he was taking a deep breath, then he sat up.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You want to go to the hospital?” I asked him.

He shot me a look.

“What?” I said. “You don’t look like you’re doing that well, to be honest. Makes no difference to me,” I said with a sniff, and opened my bag.

He no longer frightened me. I could get my phone out now and get this guy put in jail by the next stop. But I didn’t feel the need. I figured saving me from gang rape was redemption enough.

I still had a problem though. I’d made up my mind. I was not going home. I was going anywhere but home.

I wondered what was going on in this guy’s life that had him mugging an innocent woman one moment, hauling her butt out of trouble the next.

I took a deep breath. My mama was about to roll in her grave.

“Wanna go out for coffee?” I asked him. I was refreshing my red lipstick while I looked in my compact. I was a Southern girl, after all. We don’t leave the house without full hair, full makeup. That includes riding the late train to anywhere after a double shift at a greasy spoon. There was no help for the hair, but I could put a spot of blusher on while I was at it.

I angled my compact just so, so I could make sure I was hitting my cheekbones just right.

“Now who needs to go to the mental hospital?” My strange train buddy asked.

“What?” I echoed his earlier question.

“Who puts on makeup after getting mugged at a train station?” he asked me with folded eyebrows.

I made a kissy face at him.

“I do, Doll,” I said, snapping my compact shut and stowing my cosmetics away in my bag.

“What’s with all the ‘dolls’ and ‘sugars’?” he asked.

“You’re just full of questions, Mugger,” I told him.

I didn’t look at him, but rather dug through my big bag, reorganizing its copious contents. Put the mace in a side pocket. Makeup boxes in the cosmetic bag. Started crunching up receipts that would go in the trash receptacle once I got off the train. Found three pens and put them in their slots. Caressed my box of ammo. All was as it should be.

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes what?” I said back.

“Yes, I’ll get coffee with you,” he said.

I smiled at him, my first of the night.

“Great. I know a place,” I said.

We got off three stops from my home. It was said that the People Mover only used ten percent of its capacity. It showed. There was barely anyone else on the train or boarding the train.

We walked together, mindlessly matching steps.

“You cold?” the Mugger asked me.

“No sir,” I said, watching my words form a cloud in the darkness around me. “My jacket is fine,” I said. And it was.

“What about you? You cold?” I asked him, because it seemed like the polite thing to ask.

He snorted.

“I’m good,” he said.

“Now that we got those details out of the way, what’s your name?” I asked him. “I can’t call you Sugar all night,” I explained.

“Zack Daniels,” he answered.

I laughed.

“Before you make a joke, I’ve heard them all,” he said.

I covered my mouth with my hand and chuckled some more, careful not to get Fire Engine Red on my fingers.

“What’s your name, Doll?” he asked next, teasing me.

“Lauren,” I said. I didn’t think we were at a last name basis yet. Although I seriously doubted this guy was going to rush home to his Facebook account and look me up to send a friend request. I hadn’t seen him pull a phone out this entire time. Honestly, it was refreshing. So many guys at Lazy Eye’s would use their phones with a cute girl sitting across from them. Sometimes the girl would have her phone out too, but lots of times they sat staring at the guy, thirsting for eye contact.

I peeked over at his profile. My first impression of him had been that he was movie star gorgeous. I wasn’t wrong. His side view was equally mesmerizing. Perfectly shaped nose, proportioned jaw, long eyelashes. He was better looking than a winning touchdown in the last five seconds of the game.

“Why’d you try to mug me?” I decided to ask before we got all cozy at the place where we were going.

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He quirked his mouth and looked at me.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You wanted change for the arcade.”

He smiled a little and sighed but didn’t start walking. He looked everywhere but at me.

“Let’s just say it was simultaneously the stupidest and best thing I’ve ever done and leave it at that,” he said. He looked me in the eye then, and appeared to be waiting for something. Maybe he was waiting for me to walk off without him?

I put a hand on my jutted hip and stared back.

“I guess that explanation will have to do for now,” I said. “Because I really want that coffee and I’m starting to get cold.” We resumed our walk. The place I was headed was called Jack’s. They had coffee, but they also had all night karaoke, and that was exactly what I wanted to do to wind down before I finally headed home.

We got to the brown brick building with a metal door. The surrounding area had middle class retail shops mingled with a Starbucks, a Kinkos and a fire station. Nothing special.

But when I opened the metal door and walked in first, I got that thrill I always got when I stepped into the haze of cheap dry ice smoke and bad lighting. A Croatian lady was on stage right now, butchering an old Elvis favorite. Her name was Ana and she only sang Blue Suede Shoes. The crowd at this hour was not picky though. Jack’s served drinks too, not just coffee.

I walked to my favorite table with Zack right behind me. I stood at a chair and waited. He stood too, looking at me.

“The chair?” I asked him.

A blank look.

I was fine to wait until he figured it out.

Finally it dawned on him to pull my chair out for me, and I made a show of adjusting my waitress skirt just right. I hung my purse strap on my knee so my bag floated above the floor. I could barely handle putting my own shoe soles on it and I worked in a dive.

Zack and I watched Ana while we waited for a server.

Finally Jack came around…no, not
that
Jack, and asked what we’d be having.

I was curious what Zack would choose. Wondered if he could even pay? Whatever. There were worse uses for my collection of quarters, dimes, nickels and yes, pennies. Who left pennies for tips? Jackasses, that’s who.

Jack took my order first.

“Hey honey girl, it’s been a little while,” Jack said in his effeminate voice.

I smiled at him, feeling a little like I came home.

“It has. I had stuff going on,” I said.

“Well, you look fabulous as usual,” he said. “What brand of lipstick is that? That color would look great on my partner,” he said.

“It’s Gerard. I got it online,” I said and smiled at him holding my nails up to my face to show the matching polish.

He fanned himself.

“Girl, put out the fire!” he said laughing.

“I’ll have a coffee, black,” Zack butted in.

Jack and I turned to look at him. Jack spoke first,

“Little boy, you need to learn Lauren’s Southern manners,” he said. “Since she came to town, she has taught us all,” he gestured around the scattered people in the small joint. “How to slow down a little, and appreciate the finer things in life, like conversation and humanity.”

I smiled at my friend.

“Thank you, Jack. Zackory here practically saved my life tonight, so I can accept he needs his coffee right away. I’ll have the usual. Just put it on my tab?” I asked him.

Jack bowed to Zack.

“Apologies, noble knight,” he said with a flourish and left to get our coffees.

Zack looked at me with a raised brow.

“He’s a displaced actor in a rocky relationship,” I said with a shrug.

“Zackory?” he asked.

“It’s a Southern thing,” I said, then turned to see the next karaoke singer.

This was Geoffrey. He was very good, and I turned my chair so I could hear him croon a Seal song.

I found myself closing my eyes and swaying a little to the music.
Crazy
sounded even better coming from Geoffrey’s smooth pipes.

Jack came and left our coffees without disturbing me in my trance. I would be able to go home tonight. It might take an hour or so, but I could do it. I could.

Zack cleared his throat.

“Mmhm?” I asked him, my eyes still closed.

“You come here a lot then?” he asked.

I sighed and turned to face him.

“Okay, stupid question,” he admitted. He gestured to Geoffrey. “Do you sing too?”

I nodded and smiled.

He gave me his second smile of the night. “I would love to hear that,” he said.

“Oh you will, darlin’,” I told him. “You will.”

Chapter Four

Zack resisted the urge to tap his feet impatiently under the table. He wasn’t accustomed to sitting still. He didn’t like the hazy atmosphere, even though it wasn’t actually smoke, and he didn’t like his seat. He should just get up and switch chairs so that his back was to the wall so he could see everyone in the room. Lots of people changed their minds about where to sit. He was certain Lauren would think nothing of it. But something held him in place. He couldn’t put his finger on it though. Unless…he wanted to make a good first impression?

What a dolt he was. He’d already blown his first impression. In spades. He was such dumbass. He felt his headache coming back.

He wanted to hear her sing, but the atmosphere was getting to him.

His head jerked up at the thought. If it was coming back, that meant it was gone for a few minutes. In fact, it had dissipated as soon as they’d begun walking to this place. She seemed to keep it at bay. Interesting.

He massaged his temples while she seemed lost in the music.

Her voice broke through his clouded thoughts.

“Hey, you okay Zack? You were doing that back at Grand Circus too,” she said.

Damn Grand Circus. He would never get off at that stupid stop again.

“Listen, Lauren,” he said, dropping his hands from his head.

“This was real nice. But I gotta get going. You’re uh…” he licked his lips and looked at her hair, and her face and her red lips and her trim waist, and the label on her uniform: Lazy Eye’s. “A real special lady. I’m glad I got to meet you. Even if it was, uh, less than ideal circumstances,” he finished.

His headache was getting worse. He took a long swallow of his coffee, fished in his pocket for a five dollar bill and laid it on the table.

“Thanks for everything,” he said with a nod, and walked out of the joint, dodging chairs that blocked his path. The haze lessened near the door, the sounds of the music faded and then he was out in the September night.

He walked briskly toward the People Mover. He would get on again. But he still couldn’t go home.

Footsteps pattered behind him. Quiet heavy soles. Like a waitress’ supportive sneakers. He turned slowly to see Lauren running toward him with her heavy bag bouncing against her hip. Her and that monster purse. He waited.

She reached him, panting a little.

“You have PTSD, don’t you?” She asked him.

Unbelievable. She’d known him about one hour. Was it really that transparent? Did he have a freaking sign on his back? L-O-S-E-R. He should have business cards printed out.
Can’t hold his liquor. Can’t piss in a cup. Can’t hold down a job. Can’t even mug a princess in the middle of the night with no witnesses.
He cursed.

He swallowed his pride. He laughed without humor. He had no pride, apparently.

“How could you tell?” he asked her while staring at her server shoes.

I closed my eyes for just second. Should I say anything? I decided I could.

“Well, my daddy was ex-military. Granddaddy was military too. I noticed your posture back at the station. You were ready to fight. Except I weigh about 120 pounds soakin’ wet, so it’s not like you needed to fight me. Then when I started talking at you and trying to get you to stop pointing that baby gun at me, you acted all…disoriented. And the headaches…and I’m sorry, I really should have known better about that karaoke club. It just didn’t occur to me until you ran out. Your face was as pale as a Yankee’s neck after a haircut. Then it hit me,” she said. “You’re having panic attacks. Whatever drove you to the station to mug somebody must have been brought on by one too. They must be getting worse,” she said. Then she did something completely unexpected. She came right up to him and held her arms outstretched.

“Let me give you a hug. You need to feel safe,” she said in a soft Southern lilt.

He looked at her. Her eyes were all dolled up with mascara and eyeliner; her cheeks were flushed from her jog and the cold weather. Her lips were still red as a fire truck, and there was sheen to her eyes. Was she going to shed a tear for him? He couldn’t tell if he felt pathetic or grateful. And he could not move a single step toward her apple-pie hug, though a deep yearning screamed out from his heart muscle.
Go to her. Go to her!
He couldn’t do it, though he wanted to.

He felt her gaze. She must have determined her hug was crucial to his humanity. She stepped toward him and pulled him into her sphere.

Her sphere was a cloud of autumn. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of her scent. She smelled of apples and cinnamon, dry leaves and wet grass and the first snow on a Halloween night.

Broken and invisibly battered, Zack crumpled in her arms and received the hug she gave him, though his arms hung at his sides.

She squeezed him tight, and then he found his arms wrapping around her as well, enclosing her warmth in a capsule made by his arms and coat to be kept and cherished when he needed it again.

When they let go together and pulled away, they both had wet faces.

Embarrassed, Zack mopped his face with the bottom of his black shirt. He couldn’t look her in the eye. How could he when he’d debased himself by trying to mug her and failing, and by running out of Jack’s like a pantywaist? He felt her hand on his chin. She guided his face down toward hers, so he was forced to make eye contact.

“Never be ashamed to ask for help. It’s wonderful to be able to do things yourself, but there will always come a time when you need a hand up. It’s okay to ask. Then people know what to do to help you,” she said.

She stepped back though and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. Mama always told me I got into other people’s business too much,” she laughed a little and put her hand behind her neck and gave him a wry smile.

He nodded at her. She was so giving. He was deeply ashamed at what he’d almost done earlier tonight. While it was miraculous that it didn’t end up worse for either of them, he didn’t see how he could ever spend time in her presence now. She was like sunshine through the rain, the sheen on a plum, the sparkle off lake water on a warm summer day. He was like the storm cloud that ruined the church picnic.

He had to get out outta here.

“Thanks, Lauren,” he told her. He met her gaze briefly, just long enough to see her warm hazel eyes and a tuft of curly hair blow into her face before she tucked it behind an ear. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” he told her.

Was that hope he caught slipping across her expression? Of course not, he told himself. He was the one thinking he had the right to hope for something more.

He turned and headed for the train station again.

Maybe he wasn’t going home tonight, but he wasn’t going to do anything else stupid for at least twenty four hours. He’d catch the train and maybe go see a buddy.

But first he was going to stop in that drug store they’d passed and get some pain reliever. His headache was coming back with the force of a freight train.

This time when he stalked away, she didn’t come after him. It was just as well. For the both of them, but probably mostly for her. He would only bring darkness to her life.

He found his head pain lessened though, when he imagined her singing on stage at Jack’s, her red lips moving to some love song, and her hips gently swaying in her waitress uniform. He wondered what she sounded like.

He didn’t look back.