by Kim Harrison
“What…” he complained, gesturing at Meg. “It’s full of bad memories. Look at her face.”
“She’s not getting rid of it,” Haley intoned, giving him a dark look before settling herself before her ball. “I swear, Rorry, you are as sensitive as a slug. I think it’s a beautiful expression, even if they are set in silver.”
Embarrassed, Meg slipped the necklace behind her shirt, wondering what else the jewels would be set in. Gold? Her mother had been well off, but that would have moved it from extravagant to ridiculous. Meg never would wear it if it was gold, afraid of losing it.
The tap of Haley’s shot was clear in the silence, and the ball sped cleanly around the banked curve and over the bridge, coming to rest two feet from the hole. Beside Meg, Rorry sighed. Meg was next, managing the bank and bridge, but her speed was too great and it bounced back almost into the tiny river.
“This might take a while,” Haley said as Rorry hit his first shot badly, to make the ball bounce like a pinball before it stopped against the wall.
“That’s okay. It’s a nice night.” Meg smiled up at the unseen stars. The moths were thick at the lights. She’d never seen so many. “Austin and I used to come out here almost every weekend.”
“Used to?” Haley questioned as they waited. “Are you two having trouble?”
Alarm flickered through Meg, but it was based in embarrassment, not fear, and she shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it. I mean, I just met you. I’m not going to unload on our first date.”
Smiling, Haley touched her arm in sympathy. Oblivious, Rorry swore as he finally made it over the bridge. “He’ll come around,” Haley said, shifting Meg’s ball so Rorry’s wouldn’t hit it. “And if he doesn’t, we’ll find you a new boyfriend,” she added as she rolled Meg’s ball back.
“My shot?” Haley casually tapped hers in. “That’s two for me. Meg, I think you’re next.”
“Hey! Don’t think I didn’t see you move Meg’s ball,” Rorry accused.
“Rorr, you are so far behind right now, you may as well be in Perfection,” Haley said, unrepentant as she wrote down her score.
“That doesn’t mean you can move her ball!” Rorry insisted. “Why keep track if you’re going to cheat?”
“This coming from someone who keeps shaving strokes off his score?” she asked tartly. “And don’t blame this on Meg. I’m making up for you double tapping your ball in on number three.”
“I did no such thing,” he protested, and smiling, Meg knocked her ball in, enjoying their banter.
It had become obvious that they weren’t a couple. There was a loyal fondness, the feeling that they’d defend the other to the death, but the comfortable rivalry between them was too high to allow for romance. They teased each other more like siblings or long-time work associates.
“Two for me,” Meg said softly, and Haley wrote it down.
“I could take the strokes from your worst hole and still beat you,” Haley said calmly. “Actually, I will do just that if it will shut you up. Why don’t you go first on the last one,” Haley said, pointing to number eighteen.
Rorry lifted his chin, apparently satisfied. “I think I will. Thanks,” he said, walking over to it in a huff. He set the ball on the tee, and it rolled off. Swearing, Rorry chased it down before it landed into the stream.
“You’re not boyfriend, girlfriend, are you,” Meg said when Haley dutifully changed her two to a twelve for her last hole, snorting at Rorry’s ongoing frustration.
Haley looked up, her eyes wide in alarm. Behind her, Rorry’s ball went up the hill and over the ravine, smoothly rolling to a halt inches from the cup.
“I’m sorry,” Meg rushed, wondering if she had gone too far. “I mean, you just don’t act like a couple.”
“Ah, no. We aren’t, actually.” Haley winced. Behind her, Rorry was making an elaborate war dance around his almost-in ball. “We’re just good friends. I would’ve told you, but two friends traveling around together sounds weird, so I tell everyone we’re a couple. We never stay anywhere long enough for anyone to figure it out.” Haley set her ball on the tee, brow still furrowed when she came back up. “You’re not mad, are you?”
Meg shook her head, and Haley hit her ball, sending it easily over the ravine and down to roll within inches of Rorry’s. “I’m not surprised you figured it out,” Haley said as Meg took her place at the tee. “You’re very perceptive.”
“It’s my artist’s eye,” Meg said. Breath held, she hunched over her ball and smoothly tapped it, sending it over the ravine to bounce around the confines of the green.
“My turn,” Rorry said, rushing to sink his putt with a little tap. “Two for me!” he exclaimed, and both Meg and Haley cheered him.
But then he frowned, peering into the hole as he realized it was actually a tube that led back to the club house. His ball was gone, and, sighing dramatically, he stepped off the green, twirling his club like a saber.
“Sink this, and you’ll win, Meg,” Haley said as Meg lined up her shot. “Even if I hadn’t taken ten strokes for Prince Loser over there. I want my dog with mustard and relish.”
Smiling, Meg tapped her ball in. She looked up to see Rorry’s reaction, but he was fencing with shadows. He was fun to be around, and if Austin was going to continue to act like a jerk, she might take the chance to get to know him better—seeing as Rorry and Haley weren’t a couple.
Meg’s ball went clunking and rolling back to the club house. Haley’s was quick after hers, and Rorry came back, poking the butt of his club at Haley as she totaled their scores.
“Looks like you won, Meg,” Rorry said without looking at the card.
Meg met his smile with her own, sorry to see the game over. “Then I’m buying. That’s the rules. What do you want on your dog, Rorry?” Meg looked at the food cart parked forever in the parking lot. There were even a few wooden tables under the bright lights, moths beating around the lamps.
“Ketchup,” he said, handing his club over when Meg gestured for it. “And a lemonade.”
“Haley?” Meg prompted, taking her club as well to return to the club house. “What do you want to drink?”
“I’ll just have some of his,” she said, beaming as she handed Meg the score card. “Don’t forget to get your free game for the hole in one.”
“You got it. Meet you at the table.”
The world seemed to be spinning right for once, and Meg felt good as she took the clubs back to the little hut. She tucked the score card in her purse instead of turning it in for a free game, not wanting to ever forget the few hours spent in the warm night under electric lights. Mood bright, she went to get their food.
It was only when she was standing in line that she realized she hadn’t had one twinge of anxiety all night, and a curious sense of peace seeped up through her soul, reminding her what it felt like to be normal. The only difference was Dr. Jillium’s meds, and hope that this might last settled deeper into the bedrock of her soul.
She knew her happiness was still there on her face as she turned to see Haley and Rorry waiting for her at the table, needing to reassure herself that they were still there. Haley was carefully wiping the table free of spider webs and dust, Rorry cheerfully getting in the way. Maybe next time she could try to go clubbing. She wouldn’t have to dance, just sit at the table and watch.
“Ma’am?” the vendor asked, bringing her attention back.
Meg smiled as she recognized the overweight and cheerful man wiping his hands off on his apron. He was as much a fixture as the fiberglass bear and kiddy slide. “Three dogs, two with mustard and relish, one with ketchup,” she said, adding, “And a large lemonade and peppermint milkshake.” The milkshake was tradition, and her mood tarnished at the thought of Austin. He loved peppermint, and sharing the large milkshake was the highlight of their evenings.
Clearly pleased with himself, the man set a tall, frosty paper cup on the counter. “I’ve already got your shake ready. I saw you on the last hole and
figured you’d want one.”
Meg’s smile widened. He remembered me? “Thank you,” she said as she took it, grabbing two extra red spoons in case Haley or Rorry wanted any. “Mmmm, perfect,” she said as she tried a bite. “As usual.”
Grinning, the man bobbed his head. “Give me a sec for the dogs.”
He dropped back into his cart, and Meg turned to look out over the parking lot to the dark night beyond as she scooped out a spoonful of cold peppermint. The vendor guy was being really nice to her. The woman in the club house had talked to her differently as well. It had to be Rorry and Haley. Haley was so bright and outgoing, filling a room and making everyone with her seem better than they were. As the peppermint milkshake settled cold into Meg, she wondered for the first time if maybe Austin not being here was a good thing.
With an almost desperate gratitude, Meg watched Haley dramatically wave away the moths, but Meg’s smile faded as her focus shifted to follow a furtive movement at the shadows. It was that scruffy dog, and her back stiffened as he trotted to that homeless man and begged for something from a paper bag.
Lips parting, Meg took a breath to call out, hesitating at the last moment. Haley might think she was a nutcase.
But still, the idea that Christopher might be following her trickled down Meg’s spine, triggering a flash of anxiety. “Not this time,” she whispered as she hurriedly popped one of her new pills, chasing it down with a spoon of milkshake.
Pulse fast, she stared at him from across the parking lot as he searched the trash barrels for cans, willing him to go away. She wasn’t going to ruin the chance of a friendship by being afraid of a homeless man, even if he was wanted by the FBI. Maybe I should call Daniel, she thought. But if Daniel showed up, she’d have to explain to Haley why he was here.
The beep of the register shocked through her, and Meg spun, eyes wide. Their food was ready, and she dug her card out from her purse. “Thanks,” she said when she noticed the man had put everything in a paper tray for her, smiling as he pushed it across the counter. Her breath came easier when she turned back to the parking lot and both the dog and man were gone.
Maybe he was just looking for cans, she thought as she made her way to the table, pausing to grab napkins and straws.
Rorry was sitting with his back to her, his dejection clear as he probably moped about losing. “It’s not too late to hit the dance club,” he said, and Meg’s smile faded, the harsh paper rough on her fingertips as she pulled a napkin from the dispenser. “Come on, Haley, this is lame.”
“Excuse me?” Haley said caustically, and Meg jerked to a stop, feeling as if she’d been hit in the gut. But then Haley added, “Meg is my friend, not yours, you selfish twat. I’m having a great time. Not everyone wants to watch boobs and asses bounce up and down in time with the music.”
“Awww, come on, Haley,” Rorry coaxed. “That’s not what I meant.” He touched her arm, and Haley looked up, her gaze jerking over Rorry’s shoulder to Meg. “I want to be here. Really.”
“Meg!” Haley exclaimed brightly, and Rorry turned, not a shadow of his disappointment on him. “Wow, that was fast.”
Meg came forward and silently slid the tray onto the table between them. Haley had stood up for her, but she didn’t like the idea that Rorry had only been tolerating the evening. That she’d read him wrong bothered her. “Yeah, they’re pretty quick around here,” she said as she sat down, a new distance between them.
“They look great.” Rorry took his ketchup-smothered dog in hand and quickly lost himself in it. “Thanks, Meg,” he managed around his full mouth, then grunted in appreciation as the bug-zapper popped. “Dude, that had to have been a June bug.”
Haley was a little more delicate, taking her hot dog and sliding from Rorry to sit right across from Meg. “I am so glad I ran into you this morning,” she said, eyes closing in appreciation as she took a bite of her hot dog. “I wouldn’t know where to get bodacious dogs, or a good game of putt-putt if I hadn’t.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Meg said, but it was hesitant, a new uncertainty coloring her thoughts.
“I had a great time.” Stifling a yawn, she arched her eyebrows and drew her hot dog close when Rorry asked if she was going to finish it. “It’s getting late for me, though. I’m usually in bed by eleven.”
“Me too,” Meg said, though she seldom called it a day before one in the morning. The thought that Haley was trying to slip away so she and Rorry could go dancing took a stronger grip. That two such beautiful people actually liked spending Friday night playing putt-putt was unrealistic. They were both too perfect.
“I’ve had a lot of fun,” Rorry said, and Meg winced, hearing the beginnings of a graceful get-away. “We’ll have to do it again. Maybe not on a Friday, though,” he said, then jumped when Haley nudged him under the table.
“Hey, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow, I could use some help finding an apartment.” Haley dabbed a stray bit of mustard off her lips. “I usually take a month to look around and find the best spot, but anyone who knows where the best hot dogs are probably knows where I could find a place with lots of sun.” Haley’s gaze jerked to Rorry when he cheered a big moth hitting the bug zapper. “Two bedrooms, on campus if possible,” she added dryly.
Meg nodded, a whisper of relief easing her mood. Haley, at least, had enjoyed herself. Otherwise she’d never ask for her help. “Sure. I don’t have anything planned.” Tomorrow was Saturday, and all Meg had on her list was to call Austin and apologize for blowing up at him. Yes, he had talked to Dr. Jillium about her behind her back and moved out without telling her the truth about why, but he’d only been concerned about her.
“Great!” Haley waved a moth away, her annoyance at it obvious. “Is seven too early?”
For a Saturday, it was, but Meg nodded as she finished her hot dog. If they were getting together early, then Haley and Rorry were not going to spend the rest of the night clubbing, and the feeling of belonging began to grow again. Grow up, Meg. No one is lying to escape your presence. “Seven is fine.”
Haley beamed. “Super. You are the best, Meg. I’ll never be able to pay you back.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Meg sipped her milkshake, easy now that it had melted somewhat. Again her thoughts turned to Austin as the minty frost slipped into her. Maybe Dr. Jillium was right. He was a crutch, and she wasn’t going to sit here drinking a milkshake that had always been more his thing than hers. “Either of you want the rest of my milkshake?” she asked as she set it down and pushed it away.
“I do.” Rorry enthusiastically reached for it, his straw squeaking as he pulled it from the lemonade and dropped it into the shake.
“Garbage gut,” Haley said as she wadded up her paper wrappings.
Thin eyebrows waggling at her, Rorry took a long pull at the straw. Gagging, he shoved the cup away, turning to hack and cough.
“Ice cream headache?” Meg asked, but he’d hardly gotten any into him, and Haley bent close, a hand on his back.
“Rorry? Rorry!” Haley demanded, and Rorry looked up, grasping for his napkin to wipe his mouth out.
“Peppermint,” he managed, face red and eyes tearing. “Who puts peppermint in ice cream?”
Haley’s eyes widened. A look of horror came over her as she stared at the almost empty cup. With an eerie quickness, she rose, and, using two hands, carried the cup to the trash and threw it away.
Shocked, Meg sat and blinked until it dawned on her. “Oh, crap. You’re allergic to peppermint? I’m so sorry,” she gushed. “I should have asked, but I’ve never heard of anyone being allergic to peppermint. Are you okay? Should I call 911?”
“No!” Haley rushed, then softer, “No, he’ll be fine. He just doesn’t like it is all.”
Rorry gave Haley an ugly look as he slammed what was left of their shared lemonade, making faces as he swished it around before spitting it out onto the grass.
“Are you sure?” Meg asked. Great. I make a new friend, then poison
him.
“He’s fine. He’s being a drama dude.” Still standing beside him, Haley gave Rorry an annoyed smack on his shoulder. “Suck it up, big man!”
“I did,” Rorry warbled. “And look at me.”
“Serves you right for not asking what’s in it.” Haley’s hand slid from Rorry. “You’re not going to die.” Turning, she laughed at Meg’s crestfallen face. “Seriously, he’s okay. Soon as Mr. Snowflake is done, we’ll walk you home.”
“I’ll be fine,” Meg said, not wanting to make anything worse. Honestly, Rorry looked as if he’d swallowed pureed brussel sprouts. “It’s just across campus.”
But Haley shook her head, her focus on the dark beyond the electric lights. There’d been no new people starting a round of putt-putt, and it was emptying out fast. “No,” she said as her gaze came back. “I saw a vagrant wandering around earlier, and I’ll sleep better knowing you got home okay. Besides, I need to know where you live if I’m going to pick you up tomorrow to go apartment hunting,” she said brightly. “We can have breakfast first, my treat.”
Still wiping his mouth out, Rorry added, “She won’t take no for an answer. Trust me on this. Just say yes.”
“Then I’ll say yes,” Meg said as she stood to take her and Rorry’s trash to the can, but the memory of Haley’s horrified expression when she threw away the shake hung with her, making her feel as if she’d done something drastically, almost irredeemably wrong.
Seven
A thin, unexpected slice of light made it into the kitchen at six thirty in the morning. Meg felt like a starving child hidden under a banquet table as she sat in it, still not fully awake but functioning as she waited for the coffee to kick in—black, no sugar, no milk. The mug was warm in her hand, the nutty scent of it doing as much to wake her up as the shocking bitter taste of it slipping down.
Smiling at the simple pleasure, she looked out the tiny window over the sink that opened onto the brick wall of the adjoining apartment building. It felt empty and quiet at this hour, the street deserted and the apartment seeming to belong to someone else. She was merely taking up space, like one of Austin’s SF figurines or his gaming console.