Nightingale (12 page)

After an hour, I got out, dried off, and put on my warmest, softest Bella Bulluci fleece pajamas. But the material didn’t feel as smooth against my skin as it usually did. I doubted anything would besides Talon’s hands. I wasn’t likely to forget his touch anytime soon. That was another curse of having supersenses—everything got imprinted on my memory that much more. The good, the bad, the heartbreaking.

I shut the drapes, climbed into bed, and snuggled into my microfleece sheets. They too were the softest on the market, part of Bella’s homewear collection. Normally I could go to sleep in a matter of minutes, drifting away into the blackness that waited. But tonight I couldn’t—because my pillows and sheets were full of his clean, minty scent.

I buried my nose in one of the pillows and thought about Talon. I wondered if he’d left the convention center by now. If he had his sight back. If he was angry with me. Or just relieved I was gone. I felt panicked, confused, and sad about the whole thing.

Come on, Abby!
I chided myself. There was no need to panic. Talon would never find out I was Wren. Even if the thought somehow crossed his mind, he’d dismiss it outright. Because I was good ole Abby Appleby. Not Wren, and certainly not someone like Nightingale.

There was certainly no need to feel confused, weepy, and sentimental about things. I’d slept with a superhero after an intense twenty-four hours of bonding. It happened to people practically every day in this city. All it meant was I could join the
Slaves for Superhero Sex
club now. Nothing else. Hell, the
SSS
freaks would applaud me for my
love-him, slip-him-a-sleeping-pill,
and
dump-his-ass-in-a-public-place
philosophy.

A one-night stand.
 

That was all it would ever be.

No matter how perfect it had been.

#

After a night of almost zero sleep, I got up early the next morning and peered out a crack in the drapes. The plows had worked through the night, clearing the streets. They’d cut what looked like a tunnel through the snow, pushing the heavy, wet stuff into five-foot-high banks and further burying most of the cars parked on either side of the road. Smaller plows had carved out paths on the sidewalks, which meant I could go to work. Good. I needed the distractions and crises today.

I opened the drapes a little more, letting cracks of sunlight into the loft. Then I padded over to the closet and slid back the door. Thirteen vests hung on the metal rack inside, along with the other clothes I’d unpacked. I flipped through the vests until I came to my Winter Wear one. The silver down vest was equipped with the usual pockets and supplies, including a few extras, like hand warmers, a small can of de-icer, and tear-and-sip packets of hot chocolate.
 

I put on my usual black undies, along with some silk long underwear and a pair of heavy-duty waterproof cargo pants on top. A matching camisole covered my torso, along with a thermal turtleneck, a heavy gray cable knit sweater, and a loose flannel shirt. I put on three pairs of wool socks, then stuffed my feet into my boots. A fleece hat went on my head, held down by a pair of earmuffs. I started to shrug into my black coat, when the rank odor of blood hit me. Talon’s blood. Ugh. I wasn’t wearing that until it had been cleaned. I grabbed a hanger and wrapped some plastic around the coat so I could drop it off at the dry cleaners.
 

I fished another coat out of the closet, a gray one that matched the vest, and finished off my weatherproof ensemble. I felt like a marshmallow, puffed up from the extra clothes, but I wanted to be warm. I also slid a pair of thick, black sunglasses on so the glare from the snow wouldn’t bother me too much.

Once I’d properly equipped myself for the great outdoors, I grabbed my keys and the bloody coat, and headed out. A guy wearing a gray trench coat and snowshoes trudged past me. The dark goggles wrapped around his face made me think of Talon. The superhero should be fine. The pill I’d given him should have worn off last night, and his eyes should have been fully recovered from Bandit’s blinding gas by now.
 

I shrugged those thoughts away and started walking. Unlike my mad dash last night, I took my time this morning. Thinking. By the time I reached my office building, I’d convinced myself I was fine with being Talon’s one-night-stand, mystery woman. That I didn’t really care if I ever saw the superhero again. That everything was going to go on just as it had before. With no looking back and no regrets.

I rode the elevator to the thirteenth floor. The doors opened, but no loud, annoying
ping!
sounded. I’d disabled the sound in this elevator, too, and in every other building I frequented on a regular basis, including the convention center.
 

I stepped out into a typical office chamber. Chloe Cavanaugh’s station, a round desk with a computer and several phones, stood in the middle of the open area. Three-foot-high silver letters on the wall spelled out the name of my business and motto.
A+ Events—When you want perfection, you want A+
.

Chloe wasn’t at her desk, though. I checked my watch. Just after nine. She was probably having trouble with her car, given the massive amounts of snow that had been dumped on it in the past few days.
 

I swept past Chloe’s desk and unlocked the door to my office. It was very much like my loft in that it contained a lot of open space—with little furniture. My desk took up most of the back wall, with its phone banks, two computers, two printers, and two monitors, and mounds of legal pads. Three leather chairs crouched in front of the desk, with a matching sofa shoved over in the corner. The sofa contained a fold-out bed I used for nights when I worked into the wee hours and was too tired to trudge home. A bank of windows behind my desk offered a view of the building across the street. At least, they would have if the black drapes hadn’t been closed.

I put my keys down on the desk and shrugged out of my coat, earmuffs, scarf, and gloves. The red light on my phone blinked, and I checked my voice mail.

“Hi, Abby, this is Chloe. My car won’t start, so I’m going to have to take the subway. I’ll be there as soon as I can …”

I listened to the rest of her message, then hit the delete button, and moved on. A couple more missives from some of my favorite florists, caterers, and bands told me not to worry about various events. Right. I wouldn’t stop worrying until they were over and done with.

I returned a couple of calls, but most folks were still digging out from the blizzard and weren’t in the office yet. Around ten thirty, I’d finished calling everyone I could, so I took a break.
 

I drew the drapes back from the windows a little bit at a time until my eyes adjusted to the glare from the sun on the melting snow. Then, I pulled back one of the sliding glass doors and stepped onto the balcony attached to my office. The balcony was tiny and nothing like the sweeping observation decks over at the skyscrapers that housed
The Chronicle
and
The Exposé
, the city’s two newspapers. But I liked it nonetheless, because I could sneak out here for a little peace and quiet when my clients and their insane demands got to be too much. I had a nice view of the street and some of the downtown landmarks, like the Ferris wheel over at Paradise Park and the giant F that marked Fiona Fine’s fashion store. Plus, the balcony was high enough that I could breathe in air that wasn’t completely smoggy. The height also muted the harsh cacophony of the streaming traffic below.

Faint scratches and twitters caught my attention. Being the kind person she was, Chloe had installed a bird feeder in the corner of the balcony. Given the cold, snowy weather, the feeder was quite popular this morning. Birds cheeped, chirped, and hovered around it, some perched on the lip of the balcony, all waiting their turn to get a beak full of precious birdseed.
 

I didn’t know much about birds, but I spotted a couple of flashy red cardinals, as well some bossy, noisy blue jays. Another bird huddled among the bunch—a wren, its simple brown feathers and small frame overshadowed by the other bright colors around it.

A wren, not a nightingale.

Disgusted, I stomped back inside, slammed the door shut, and closed the drapes.

Chapter Nine

I’d just plopped down into my chair, determined to get back to work and forget about wrens, nightingales, and birds in general, when the phone rang. Normally, Chloe answered the incoming calls, but since she hadn’t logged into the phone system today, they got routed to me.

“
A+ Events
. We make things perfect every single time.”

“Hey, Abby,” Piper Perez’s warm, cheery voice flooded my ear. “What’s going on?”

“Not much,” I replied. “Just getting ready to call and nag at some more people.”

“Is Kyle on your hit list?”

“Always.”

“Well, how would you like to yell at him in person? I need to pick up some stuff for Fiona.”

That was Piper’s way of asking if I’d like to have lunch at Quicke’s. The Fiona in question was Fiona Fine, Piper’s boss and the main reason Quicke’s stayed in business. The fashion designer’s appetite boggled the mind, especially when you considered how svelte she was.

“Sure,” I replied, even though I really wanted to be alone right now. In the dark. Listening to music. Angsty stuff, punctuated with some angry rock here and there.
 

“Great!” Piper said, not picking up on my less-than-stellar mood. “I’ll meet you there around one.”

“See you then.”

I hung up and swiveled my chair around to the window. Because the black drapes were shut, I couldn’t tell if the brown wren had gotten its due at the feeder. Or if it still waited its turn, hidden among the other birds’ colorful plumage. I pushed those thoughts away. Metaphors. Who needed them? Talon was out of my life. I’d never see him again and that was for the best.

So, I turned back to the desk and reached for the phone, ready to make Flora of Flora’s Fauna & Flowers a very unhappy woman.

#

Chloe showed up a little after eleven. She unwound her fuzzy striped scarf from her neck and griped about having to walk a mile in the snow to catch the subway when her car wouldn’t start.
 

“You should just get rid of that old clunker.” I put some invoices that needed to be faxed on her desk.

“Well, I might be able to if somebody gave me a raise. Hint, hint. I’m ready to step up in more of a partner capacity.” Chloe stared at me, her hazel eyes earnest and sincere. “You know I am, Abby.”

I did know. Chloe had proven herself to be punctual, dependable, and capable of quick thinking during the months she’d worked for me. But I was a control freak. I always had been. In middle school, I was the annoying girl who planned the spring formal dance and tried to get everyone to color-coordinate their outfits to my balloons—or else.
 

People grumbled, but when they realized how well the dance turned out, I got a bit of grudging respect—and somehow got roped into planning all of the dances and school functions after that. The trend continued into my college years at Bigtime University. Event planning seemed a natural, lucrative fit for my perfectionist, anal-retentive skills, so I’d gotten my business degree and started
A+ Events
, building it up one event, one client at a time. Now, almost ten years later, I was
the
premiere party planner in Bigtime.

I didn’t like to turn the reins over to anyone. Didn’t trust anyone to oversee the details, put out the fires, and make sure every single thing was perfect. The only reason I’d hired Chloe was because I had to sleep
some
time.

That hadn’t stopped Chloe from bucking for a promotion, though. She was one of the few people who weren’t afraid of me and my propensity to yell. She just let the noise slide off her, tuning me out until my voice fell back to its regular volume. Normally, when Chloe asked about a promotion, I told her
no
flat-out.
 

Maybe it was Talon and the longing he stirred in me to be noticed—or at least to have more of a life outside of work. Either way, I hesitated.

“I’ll consider it.”

You would have thought I’d handed her a winning lottery ticket. Chloe gasped. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. “Really?”

I nodded.

“Oh, Abby!” Chloe threw her arms around my neck, hugged me, and let out another shriek of happiness.
 

I winced as the sharp, girly-girl sound pounded into my skull. I’d give her the promotion right now just to stop her squealing in my ear.

Sensing this was as much as she was going to get today, Chloe let me go. But she kept beaming, her smile stretching from ear to ear. The phone rang, and she leapt to answer it.

“G-o-o-o-d morning!
A+ Events
. We make things perfect every single time! This is Chloe speaking! How may I help you?”

Grumbling, I turned and went back into my office.

#

By the time I finished calling people and making sure the upcoming Berkley Brighton memorial dedication would go off without any weather-related problems, it was almost one and time to meet Piper at Quicke’s. I told Chloe where I was going and promised to bring her a Monte Cristo sandwich and piece of apple pie. I pulled on my layers, grabbed my bloody coat, and headed out.