Prowlers - 1 (5 page)

They had met a few times before, and Jack had thought she was attractive and nice enough, but he had been unprepared for such a startling girl. In the environment of the Dixie Kitchen—a spectacular Cajun restaurant tucked down a side street in the South End with a decor only slightly above "dive"—a girl like Kate seemed almost out of place. "Almost" because she had the kind of charisma that could make any place her own.

"What a jerk, huh?" Artie put in.

The spell was broken. Jack smiled at Kate, a bit bewildered by her, and she flashed him a sly grin as her eyes held on his a moment longer than necessary.

Jack blinked, turned to Artie and Molly with a shocked expression. "What?" he said, aghast.

"You mean when you guys tie the knot I can't hang out

and tailgate at the church before the wedding bells ring?"

Artie fumbled for a response, his head sort of bobbing. The easiest way to throw him offbalance, or to interrupt him when he was blasting off on another rocket of a tangent, was to bring up marriage.

Molly did not hesitate. She whacked Jack in the head eyes narrowed in mock fury. "You can feel free to tail gate all you want that day," she said, '"cause you'll be out there for the ceremony, too. You won't be invited inside."

Jack shot her a wounded look. "I'll crash the service, then, Moll. How could I live without seeing you radiant in white on the day you took your vows to Shaggy over here."

"Hey!" Artie protested. Then he grinned. "I resemble that remark."

Molly sighed. On her, impatience was a beautiful thing. She was so damned smart, and yet so completely at home with that intelligence and comfortable in her skin, that the simple fact that she had always put up with the two guys made Jack love her as much as he did Artie. Sometimes more. He admired Molly, too. Her parents were divorced and she and her mother got by on next to no money. They lived inDorchester , at the edge of a neighborhood that was all boarded-up windows and stolen cars. Just at the edge. Molly had known early on that all her smarts wouldn't get her everything she needed, so she had worked extra hard to find scholarship money.

In the fall, she'd be heading off to Yale.

Kate was going to Holy Cross.

Jack glanced around the table at his friends, and this sweet, fascinating girl they had introduced him to, and much as he knew they would argue the point, he felt excluded.

From somewhere in the back of his head, a distant memory was dredged up. "One of these things is not like the others..." The song flashed through his head, its lilting melody a powerful recollection. Then it was gone.

But the feeling remained.

Artie had been his best friend since the third grade, and he'd known Molly from the first day of junior high. They had dreams to follow, and the means to do it. Jack had the pub. Most of the time, that was okay with him; he loved the place and his sister and the memory of his mother, and he and Courtney had turned Bridget's into something to be proud of.

He knew that didn't matter to Artie and Molly. He would always be Jack to them, for they had known him at a time when he had been defined by age, not occupation. But he wondered about Kate and any other girls he might meet. How important would it be to them that he had not gone to college?

The others laughed suddenly and Jack blinked, smiling dumb foundedly. He glanced from Artie's face to Kate's, figured one of them had said something funny, and kept smiling, though he felt awkward that he had not heard the source of their amusement.

"Hey, Jack, you want any more popcorn shrimp?"

Artie asked, bouncing a bit in his chair with his present nervous energy.

Jack slid the plate across the table toward him. "Help yourself, bud." They had eaten way too much already Alligator tail, gumbo, corn bread, jambalaya . . . and that was just him. The popcorn shrimp had been for everyone, but Kate and Molly had eaten most of it Everyone seemed to be done, except Artie, who wolfed down the last dozen or so shrimp as the conversation turned to a movie the girls had recently seen. Artie, who had been admirably restrained when it came too political riffs during dinner, went off on a tangent about! the film being racist, though he had not bothered to see it to bolster his argument.

Molly challenged him on just those grounds, and the I two began to debate. It was the way a lot of evenings with the two of them ended. Jack tuned them out and gave his full attention to Kate.

She was also ignoring Molly and Artie. Her little grin was back, and Jack liked the fact that it was uneven, turned up a little farther on one side than the other. Though her features were very sharp, she had the smallest, softest dimple in her left cheek. It was a marvel, as far as he was concerned.

I’m really glad I came out tonight," he said to her, his voice low, keeping the talk just between the two of them.

"So am I. I'm not usually the type to ... you know, how I asked Molly to ask Artie to ask you?

That seemed really immature. But after the couple of times we met, I

thought I'd like to meet you again, and I didn't know how else to go about it."

Jack smiled, shook his head. Kate Nordling was unlike any high school girl he had ever met.

"You're something," he told her.

She blinked, glanced at the grease-spotted tablecloth. "In a good way or a bad way?"

"Definitely a good way."

Those ice-blue eyes turned up toward him again, met his straight on, all sincerity. "Thank you."

Jack just watched her for a few seconds. Then he gave a small shrug. "I guess it's no secret that I work a lot. Most of the time, in fact. But... maybe we could do this again soon."

"I could be coerced," Kate assured him.

"Good to know."

While the guys paid the bill, the girls went outside to get some fresh air. As the waiter went off with their cash to make change, Artie moved in for the kill.

"So? What'd you think? 'Cause you know Molly's going to ask me a million questions and if I don't have answers she'll crucify me." He began to ramble. 'All right, Kate's a little conservative, but she's nice, right? And pretty much a babe."

Jack leaned forward to stare into his eyes. "Artie!"

Artie blinked at him, mystified.

"If you want me to answer, you actually have to—"

"Leave a space between questions," Artie finished for him. "I know, I know. Sorry, bro. So go on. You were saying?"

"You were saying," Jack corrected. "But, yeah, she very cool. How do you mean conservative?"

"Conservative, bro. Politically. How many definitions are there?"

Td guess more than that one. And why do I care i she's politically conservative?"

"Maybe you don't," Artie allowed, though reluctantly. "I just figured you should be aware, right?

I mean, whenever I bring up the legalizing prostitution thing, she goes out of her mind. She's just a little too Catholic, Jack."

"I went to twelve years of Catholic school. I can handle it."

Artie grinned like a fool. "So you like her?"

"What was your first clue?"

The waiter came back with the change; Jack left most of it for a tip before they got up and started for the door.

"Cool," Artie said mostly to himself. "Very cool. That'll make Molly very happy."

"We all want a happy Molly," Jack replied.

'Amen."

They pushed out the front door on to the sidewalk in front of the Dixie Kitchen. The girls were maybe twenty feet off to the left, and their conversation died as soon as the guys stepped outside. Jack knew that Molly had been quizzing Kate the same way Artie had quizzed him, but that was okay. Kate glanced at him and smiled, and Jack smiled back. Artie and Molly had been the gobetweens tonight, but Jack and Kate wouldn't be needing them anymore.

Kate lifted her right hand, which had hung by her side out of Jack's view, and took a long drag off the cigarette she held there. Her smile was still in place as she blew out a lungful of smoke.

Damn.

Jack deflated. The last thing he had expected of Kate was that she smoked. He tried to keep the revulsion off his face and wasn't sure if he had succeeded. Never mind that his thoughts of kissing her—and he had had quite a few at dinner—were now tainted because he knew her mouth would taste like an ashtray. That wasn't the worst part. What bothered him the most was that this girl he had thought was so amazing and different and bright would be foolish enough to smoke, knowing that the cigarette companies purposely made a deadly product addictive.

Artie had gun control, prostitution, Republican conspiracies, the spectacle of the evening news, and a dozen other topics that drove him berserk. Jack had smoking.

"All set Molly asked.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Let's get going. I promised Courtney I'd be around for closing."

He didn't feel good about the lie but he knew if he spent too much more time with them his disappointment would show. Kate hung back beside him. As they walked to the car, she reached out and twined her fingers in his. Jack let her, smiled at her.

She took another drag on her cigarette.

As Kate slid behind the wheel, she tossed the butt of

her cigarette on the sidewalk Artie and Molly climbed into the car, and Jack was about to get in the back with Artie when he felt his skin prickle. The back of his neck felt warm. He frowned and hesitated, then glanced around. Cars passed by on the road. A lot of others were parked, their interiors black, on either side of the street. A handful of people were out, most of them going to one restaurant or another, though he spotted an older man walking a brutish-looking dog a block or so away

"Jack?" Kate ventured. "You all right?"

He surveyed the storefronts and the darkness between buildings. He took only a second, and then he shook off the feeling that had unnerved him and dropped into the backseat.

"Fine, sorry. My brain froze for a second."

They all chuckled as he put on his seat belt, but Jack didn't join in their laughter. For a moment, he had been positive that someone was watching him. The feeling was familiar, the one he would get while he was sweeping up late at night in the pub with no one around, or when he was little and woke up frightened in the middle of the night.

As Kate put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic, Jack peered into the darkness between two buildings across from the Dixie Kitchen, and blinked in surprise.

Something had moved, back there in the shadows. He was sure of it. The shudder that went through him as he thought of that figure in the dark made him feel like a moron.

It was only a dog, he told himself, or maybe a homeless person.

But it hadn't moved like a person.

He told himself to forget it, and he did. For a while.

The streets were nearly deserted and most of the storefronts were dark when they pulled up in front of Bridget's. The pub was still open, of course—last call wasn't until a quarter to one—but the kitchen was closed, so there were fewer patrons inside now. The wind had picked up, and the temperature had dropped ten or fifteen degrees. The car heater hummed.

Molly was worried.

Jack smiled and said all the right things, but there was something odd about him. Had been ever since they left the restaurant. It was driving her crazy that she couldn't put a finger on it. Artie was not just her guy, he was her best friend. Jack was like a brother to him and had always been a good friend to her and a confidant as well. He understood things about her that even Artie never had, mainly because Artie's parents were members of that freakish minority inAmerica —

happily married people.

Molly wanted Jack to be happy, and to have a social life. She knew that he rarely got out unless she and Artie dragged him to a movie or dinner, and when Kate had expressed interest in him, Molly had been thrilled. If they had hit it off, Jack would have had a chance to act only nineteen for once, and they would be a four-

some when they went out, so she wouldn't feel like the token girl.

Things had seemed to be going along really well and then poof! jack got all squirrelly.

"Hey, thanks for getting me out, you guys," Jack said, as the car idled at the corner.

"Bro, you are going to have a social life if we have I drag you kicking and screaming," Artie told him. Hi held out a hand, and Jack shook it once, then let go.

Jack climbed out of the car. Before he shut the door he glanced back in at Artie. "Be good."

"Only in public, man," Artie promised.

Jack laughed. He went around to the driver's side door and leaned down to look into the open window at Kate. "Thanks for a nice night," he told her. "It was cool getting to know you better."

Molly winced. She could hear it in Jack's voice; I something had happened to sour his date with Kate. I She only wished she knew what it was. Not that she could do anything about it. For her part, though, Kate did not seem to notice.

"I had fun too. We'll probably see each other again soon," she said.

"No doubt," Jack agreed with a small laugh. "Not with these two around." He glanced over at Molly and smiled. " 'Night, Moll. Take care of our boy."

'Always," she said, smiling at him. Jack was a charming s.o.b., without ever trying. Almost without realizing it, she slipped one arm between the front seats to hold Artie's hand.

Jack bent to give Kate a kiss, but it was just a polite gesture, the sort of thing you did at the end of a date. Molly knew it, and the expression on Kate's face when Jack turned to walk away told her that Kate knew it too. That did not mean there was no chance they would see each other again—after all, Jack had seemed fine all through dinner—but it sure didn't look good.

Ah, well, nothing can be done about it now, she thought. They would have to let the relationship take its own course. Or not, as the case might be.

"You next, Molly," Kate said as they pulled away from the curb.

Molly took one last look at Jack through the rear window as he jogged to the front door of Bridget's. Artie shot her an inquiring glance. She only smiled and squeezed his hand, still turned halfway around in her seat.

"So what'd you think of Jack?" Artie asked from the back.