Punk and Zen (24 page)

“I called you, Nina, I swear I called you,” she said,
her eyes wide as they stared into mine, “and your father, he—”

“No, no, it’s okay.” I held a hand up. I knew exactly
what she was ABC going to say.

Shock and anger warred in me; I suddenly knew what it
was like to burn with cold fury. But none of this was her fault, so I forced
those feelings down and away and propelled myself back to the present. My chest
hurt seeing how much pain Fran carried in her eyes, and it was horrible to know
that she’d felt it because of me.

“I’m so sorry…” I apologized, and put my arms around
her. “I’m just so sorry.” I pressed my cheek against her head as her hands
wrapped around my ribs.

“Looks like a good time for a drink,” Jen said. I
jumped a bit, and Fran and I looked up to see her standing behind the bar. As
we let each other go, I quirked Jen a quick grin.

Jen flashed the tiniest of smiles back to me, such a
brief little thing I almost missed it—but I didn’t. She was okay, after all.

“’Nother Guinness for you?” Jen asked Fran, her hands
already pulling the mug out from the freezer.

“You know, I need a shot,” she said thoughtfully.
“Walker Black, straight up.”

Great idea. A shot sounded just about right to me.
Maybe even two.

“Righto,” Jen agreed as she pulled the bottle, “and
you?” she asked me, and I grinned as I watched her visibly refrain from adding
“kid.”

“Same,” I answered Jen, “with a blackberry brandy
chaser.”

Jen squinted at me as she poured my shots. “Oh, yeah,
I forgot you do that.”

“Want to try it?” I asked Jen.

“Hell, why not, right?” She surprised me by smiling as
she pulled another pair of shot glasses.

“You know, me too,” Fran chimed in.

Finally all the shots were on the bar, and I took mine
in hand.

Fran eyed hers a moment, then sighed. “Okay,” she
drawled, and picked hers up. “I’m as ready as I’m gonna be.” She smiled and I
brought my own glass up, ready to swallow.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, “we have to have a toast. We
can’t just discover you’re alive and not celebrate!”

I smiled. “I knew I was alive,” I told her, “but I’m
happy enough to celebrate seeing you again. What do you say we toast to that?”
I again held my ABC little shot to the ready.

“Or how about to absent friends reunited?” Her smile
practically gleamed, showing off her perfect white teeth.

Jen walked up behind me and clapped me—hard—on the
shoulder. “Howzabout…to faith?” she suggested, more than a touch of irony in
her voice, at least to my ears. “Nina knows all about that one, don’cha, kid?”

Fran didn’t catch the sarcasm. “Hey, yeah!” she
enthused. “All things in their own time, all things for their own reasons,
and,” her face grew serious and her eyes overbright, “we’ll stay in touch from
now on?” She grinned at me crookedly.

Touched, because the girl whose nickname was Kitt had
been kind but stoic and because the woman before me was willing to let me see
she had feelings, I gently clinked my glass against hers.

“Yes,” I told her and took a sip, “I absolutely
promise.”

“Me too,” Fran agreed, and drank some of her own.
“Oh,” she smacked her lips, “that’s really sweet—what a great contrast.”

“Yeah,” I began, “that’s why—”

“It’s time to go,” Jen informed us both, a hand
clapped on either of our shoulders. I looked around. Oh, yeah. The bar was
empty. She was right. I just had to—

“I’ll take care of those,” Jen said, taking the
now-empty shot glasses from our hands. “I’ll lock up.” She herded us forward
with her frame and a light wave of her arms.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Fran apologized as she walked. “I
didn’t realize—”

“No need to apologize,” Jen said breezily, “just have
a nice night. You can wait here in the vestibule. Nina’ll be with you shortly,”
she informed us both, then gazed at me for the last part with an intent that I
understood instantly.

“Yep, I’ll be done in a sec.” I smiled at Fran, but
inwardly, I sighed. I should have known that Jen would make sure that it was
time to pay the piper.

“What do I owe for the drinks?” I asked her as she
closed the door behind Fran. I walked over to the first window to pull the
internal gates, first one, then the other until the lock rings met.

“Naw, nothing kid,” she answered as she reached over
my head and popped in the first of four padlocks we had to take care of, “not a
thing.”

Surprised, I arched a brow at her. “Thanks,” I said
quietly as we worked our way to the next window.

“Don’t mention it,” she said as she stood back to
admire our handiwork. Two more to go. When they were done I went behind the bar
and made sure everything that needed to be off was, checked the dishwasher once
more, and made one last inspection of all the garbage pails to ensure that they
were not only empty, but ready to go for the next round. Finally, everything
was away, locked down, and we were just about good to go. I grabbed my bag (black,
messenger style—of course) and my coat out from behind the little cubby behind
the bar where I’d stashed them when I arrived.

“Ready for the outside gate?” Jen asked as we stood by
the door, the place now lit only by the low security lights that never went
out.

“Sure ’nuff,” I answered. I slid on my coat and pulled
my scarf out of the sleeve where I’d tucked it for safety, and as I wound it
around my neck, Jen unlocked the door for the last time this night. Fran had
waited in the vestibule and stepped over as we walked out.

“Hey!” She smiled. “You done?”

“Just about.” I grinned back at her, then faced the
vestibule again. While Jen reached into her coat pocket for the last of the
padlocks, I jumped and reached for the final gate that would seal and lock the
bar completely.

I grabbed an edge and let gravity and my body drag it
down to just above my head. From there I muscled it to the ground—Jen couldn’t
bend because of a back injury—then held it in place by sheer will as Jen
snapped the remaining locks in.

Once I heard the pop that meant we were really and
truly done, I straightened out and dusted my hands. “Another one down,” I
commented to Jen as she bent back from the waist to stretch her spine. “See you
in the afternoon?” I asked and, tired, smiled. It was almost five in the
morning, after all, and we’d both be back by four thirty that afternoon.

“Yeah, definitely,” Jen agreed with an equally tired
grin.

Hey, wait, were we having a friendly moment? Did
anyone have a camera to capture this for the permanent record? Wow, maybe we’d
even have friendly conversations and, who knew, maybe go crazy and maybe—gasp!
get along! I was pleasantly surprised.

“Hey, have a good one, ’kay?” I waved to her in
friendly parting, intending to get to Fran.

“Yeah, you too,” Jen agreed with a little wave of her
own. “Oh, by the way, Nina?” she called to my back. “You know, there’s a word
for people like you.”

Well, as pleasant as our earlier interchange had been,
I guess I couldn’t have expected it to continue, could I? Ahh….whatever,
dammit. I thought we’d made some headway. Frustration rose ABC through
my head to meet the ache that had started behind my eyes, but I let none of
that show. Instead, I merely arched an eyebrow at her in question.

“Yes?” I drawled out, letting the sound flow low,
rich, and syrupy. Not for nothing was I a singer, after all, and this was one
of those times I remembered it (the rest are subconscious). I pursed my lips as
I watched her, waiting for whatever was coming next.

For once, Jen seemed to lose all of her cocksureness
and even some of her constant anger as she mulled over her answer. She clapped
me on the shoulder. “I’ll tell ya when I think of it, kid,” she said, patting
my shoulder awkwardly. “See ya later.”

Um, okay, that was strange, but it was better than
what I’d been expecting—something along the line of “dumb” or another related
word. Relieved, I tucked this thought into the back of my head: whatever she’d
been going to say, she’d obviously changed her mind.

“Yeah, when the sun’s out,” I agreed, and waved
good-bye for the final time this night.

Fran had retired a few feet away under the lamp post
on the corner, and I hurried over, happy to be done and happier still to have
run into Fran. Okay, technically, she’d run into me, but the end result was the
same, right? Now that I’d seen her, I didn’t want to say good-bye just yet,
didn’t want to just say “nice seeing you” and exchange numbers and lose ’em in
the wash. I didn’t know what I wanted, I didn’t know what I needed. All I knew
was that I didn’t want to see her go.

“You up for a bite? My treat,” I offered as I reached
out to tuck her arm in mine, where I briskly rubbed her sleeve. Besides being
the polite thing, it was cold out here, and she’d been waiting for me outside,
even if part of that time had been in the vestibule. We started walking north
on Seventh Avenue. Not that we knew where just yet, but I did know several
places in that direction that would still be open and served decent food.

Fran shone her brilliant smile back at me. “Don’t you
have to catch a boat or something?” she asked, lightly tweaking my forearm as
we walked.

“Nah, there’s always another one. Besides,
carpe
noctem
, right?” I watched her profile as we walked. The sky had developed
that heavy hush of expectation, and the skyline had turned gray and red with
clouds.

I couldn’t believe that running into Fran like this
had me feeling as happy as a puppy who’d just been given a treat, and even with
the somewhat strange twist our conversation had taken earlier, it was somehow
still almost all I could do to keep from skipping. How weird was that? But
judging from the way her eyes shone and from the wattage in that grin, she felt
the same way.

“Seize the night—what, is that like your motto or
something? Are you going to melt in the sun?” she joked.

“Hey, it’s just because I work ABC nights.” I
laughed. “It’s the only time I’ve got.”

“Oh, so that’s it,” Fran said. She dropped her arm
from mine and stopped to look at me directly. “I thought maybe, you know, the
black clothes, pale face, disappearing for a couple of years and then
reappearing as this gorgeous—”

I stopped her right there. “Okay, okay, enough,” I
shushed, and placed two gentle fingers on her lips. My breath puffed out in the
chill air, and her eyes locked into mine.

That’s funny
, I thought. The last time we’d seen each other, she’d
been taller than me. Not by much though, true, but now, I was taller. Okay, so
it wasn’t a huge height difference, but still…

The caramel of her eyes seemed to warm, glowing under
the streetlight with a honey-clear intensity, and I enjoyed the fact that she
was examining me with the same emotion in her eyes.

I brought my hands down to rest by my sides as the air
seemed to mass and warm around us, and the tiny smile I could feel playing
around the edge of my lips was mirrored by the one that bordered the corner of
hers.

“You don’t know how good it is to see you,” Fran said
softly, “or how unbelievable.” She shook her head lightly as if to wave away
the disbelief.

The air thickened around us, and the night took on a
red glow, the one that always means…

“Snow,” I said quietly as I carefully wiped a few
flakes from her hair. Still she stared at me with that look of wonder.

“Huh?” she asked softly, breath misting in front of what
could only be described as perfectly kissable lips.

I sighed softly with a feeling I recognized as regret.
Of course, it figured that I had made that vow of celibacy, including the whole
I-love-youthing, before even kissing someone, because I’d always had a crush
on her anyway. We’d even kinda sorta quasi-dated in high school, although we’d
called it “wanna hang out” with a lot of unresolved tension. But still I’d made
that promise, because otherwise I would have already—

Well, if you ask her, Fran will plead the fifth—she
is
a lawyer, after all—(and she always smiles when she does). I don’t know exactly
who started it, but I can say for certain that her ever-perfect smile, matching
teeth, and gorgeous lips were just a hint of the promise that her kiss held—soft,
warm, and full of sweet affection. I have to admit there was something
infinitely soothing in the press of her lips on mine, and just as my hands
began to come up of their own accord to bring her even closer, I realized two
things: I wasn’t supposed to do that, and Fran and Samantha had actually,
officially, dated in high school.

The realization was like coming to ABC after
being doused with cold water, and perhaps she had thought along the same lines,
because we broke apart mutually.

I stared at her—dazed, shocked, a little embarrassed.
“I…um, I’m…” I tried, lamely. I settled for one of my crooked grins.

This time Fran placed shushing fingers against my
lips. “I always wanted to do that.” She smiled impishly at me.