by Crowe, Stan
She blushed a little. “Thanks, Nick.”
I smiled. “Well, I’m sure you’ve got other homework and such to attend to. I’m just reviewing a couple films tonight. Why don’t you just call it a day and we’ll meet again tomorrow.”
“Remind me,” she said, “hadn’t you intended to have a second set of eyes on those movies?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well, I had scheduled research time for this evening. Homework is already done. Why don’t we just watch them together and compare notes per your earlier suggestion?”
I bit my lip. How to explain this? “I’m not sure how appropriate that would be.”
“What? You don’t…,” she cut herself off and glanced around quickly. When it was obvious no one was paying us any attention, she continued in a low voice, “What? You don’t date research assistants?”
I wished she hadn’t completed that sentiment. I’d already seen where it was going.
“No, I don’t, thanks. Let’s not forget that little thing called the Researcher’s Code, okay?”
She nodded, but there was still a twinkle in her eye. “It’s alright, Doctor Cairn. Research and dating are completely different things. I’m just here to help you get your data and keep it organized.”
“And don’t you forget it,” I said with half-serious sternness. She nodded and her smile told me she hadn’t taken it personally. “Consider yourself a free woman for the evening. Go enjoy some summer air.”
Moiré yawned and stretched. “Maybe I should catch a cat nap too, then,” she said. I agreed and we parted company.
I watched her go, without making it obvious, only to find that I was dazed for several moments after she disappeared into the hall. I shook my head clear and resumed my work.
Grabbing the box of movies, I turned back to my list and then picked out those last few flicks I hadn’t gotten to yet. All nine movies were in VHS format and I chuckled to think that some of the freshman at this school might not have a clue about what a VHS tape was. Maybe that was overstating the facts, but still, when I looked at the faded cardstock covers of the movies and saw production dates starting with “198,” I was a bit stunned to think of how fast my brief life had gone. I was still a couple of years off thirty, but it felt as though life had kicked into fast-forward once I’d passed sixteen. How does a decade disappear without someone knowing it? I pulled out of my nostalgia and stacked the movies in alphabetical order. I finished a few notes and logged off my computer.
“See ya’s, Nick.”
I glanced up to see the campus runner, “Courier John,” shaking what looked like an awkward blend of a gang sign and a Hawaiian Chaka.
“Oh, hey, C.J. I didn’t see you come in.”
“It’s my ’leet ninja skills, dude. That’s how I get the packages into places that no one else can get them.”
“Right.” I decided not to ask for elaboration. “Well, goodnight, John. Don’t scare any freshman girls on your way home, this time.”
John looked shocked. “Scare? Dude, they flock to me and it doesn’t matter the age.”
“You do realize just how creepy that statement sounded, right?”
John started to speak, then stopped and thought about it for a moment. “You knew what I meant. Anyway, peace out, brotha!”
“Yeah, man. Peace.” With that he was gone. One other grad student was left and he looked fully absorbed in whatever he was doing on his computer; I doubted he’d care if I watched a chick flick or two. I picked up the stack of videotapes and went to the VCR. The scuttlebutt was that this VCR was one of the last ones on campus and quite possibly on the planet.
I pulled the top movie from the stack—some little independent film titled “A time for Kris Kissy”—and popped it into the ancient machine. I put the other tapes away and wheeled up my favorite rolling chair. I flipped the TV on and pushed “play” on the VCR. After a few moments of static, the tape quit. I ejected it and found that it hadn’t been rewound. Muttering something about the joys of DVDs, I re-inserted the tape and settled in for the slow journey back to the beginning of the film. Unfortunately, I never made it. The VCR made a sound not unlike a cat gargling fish tank gravel and then turned itself off. I turned it back on. It vetoed me. I pushed the eject button. The VCR gave it some thought and vetoed me again.
“Great.” I wasn’t exactly dying to find out what happened to Kris Kissy, but I did have a quota to meet. If nothing else, I still needed to get through the other movies. I negotiated with the machine for several more minutes, earning only groans, grinding noises and flat refusal for my trouble. Eventually, I went looking for a screwdriver, determined to defeat the VCR. I got the top panel off without a hitch. Not surprisingly, the tape inside had wound its way around all of the innards of the VCR.
“Dang. Mechanical constipation. No wonder it won’t work.”
I carefully unthreaded the tape and began gingerly winding it back into the VHS casing. Four minutes later, I finished. I gave the VCR a quick once over, immediately remembering why I hadn’t gone into electrical engineering. I fiddled with a few things, just to make myself feel better and then tried making it work without a tape in there. It didn’t.
I dropped back into my chair and frowned. I could probably hold off until tomorrow, but the rest of the week was already on a pretty tight schedule, especially with the hoops I still had to get through to see if I could get enough funding to finish what I had started. If I pushed this off even a day, that’d mean nights would be even later and that wasn’t something I looked forward to. Ella would probably feel put out that I was spending the night with stupid romance films instead of talking with her, and given the little scene at lunch, well… that was its own mess to sort out. I filed thoughts about that problem away for later and focused on the “now.”
“Oh, good! There it is.”
I looked up at the sweet voice. Sure enough, it was Moiré.
“Welcome back, Miss De Lanthe,” I said.
She stuck her tongue out. “I told you not to call me that.”
“Welcome back, my minion.”
“Much better. Silly me forgot my phone. I use the alarm for quick snoozes. I must have spaced out. I’m glad it’s still here.” She held it up and waved it a bit. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your movies. How’re those going anyway?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, I figured out the life expectancy of a campus VCR.”
Moiré frowned in sympathy. “It doesn’t work, huh?”
“It passed a few minutes ago. I didn’t have time to call the toaster and the telephone to come say their goodbyes. The viewing is tomorrow. The funeral will be on Thursday when the garbage men drop by.”
I loved the smile she gave in response. She sobered immediately and added, “I’ll be sure to wear black to the lab tomorrow. But anyway, condolences aside, do you have a backup VCR?”
I shook my head.
“Hey, no problem. A friend of mine has a VCR/DVD combo player at her place. Her roommates spend more time watching movies than they do studying, so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having a tall, blond hunk over to watch love films with them.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Er… I’m… not so sure….”
Her laugh tinkled in my ears. “You’re good fun, Doctor Cairn.”
“Hey, didn’t you just warn me about name-calling?”
“Oh, right. You’re good fun, Supreme Research Master.”
I didn’t let my smile out. “That’s more like it.”
“But think about it,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “you certainly won’t be alone with a girl in the dark, right? You know nothing scary will happen if it’s a whole harem of girls. Besides, I’ve seen your schedule. Do you really want to mess that up just because you’ll have to spend a couple of hours with four or five delectable babes who would love to assist you in your research?”
This wasn’t helping. “I don’t think I should impose on your friend like that.”
Before I could r
eact, Moiré snatched the video from my hand and peered at the faded cover. “‘A Time for Kris Kissy,’ huh? Betcha anything Miss Kissy hasn’t told her story in a while. You need more sleep than you’ve been getting, so unless you think you can replace the recently deceased, or unless you’re just going to scratch all these movies off your research list, I think I have you in checkmate.”
I blinked. “Apologies, Moiré, but if you think that’s checkmate, you’re worse at chess than I would have guessed. I think I’ll just have to watch these movies some other time.”
She stopped and her smile faded to a flat line across her face. She looked up at me and her eyes had this strange, tender pleading to them I had never seen from her before. I could tell that, for reasons I couldn’t begin to fathom, she really wanted me to do this. There was every reason not to; and yet, it wasn’t actually wrong. Moiré, despite her teasing about me “hanging out with cute babes” was sincerely trying to help me meet my research goals. She was providing me a situation that, while not ideal, was still something that I could justify to myself, if not to Ella. But honestly, what were the odds Ella would even know? I shuddered when the thought “Just once won’t hurt” crossed my mind—I’d seen where that kind of thinking could go. In the deep recesses of my mind, though, I really wanted to take her up on the offer. It was still just a little too dangerous.
“How many of these girls have boyfriends?” I asked.
Moiré’s forehead creased briefly. “Um… two of them. In fact, one of the guys is over there pretty much all the time. He and Bridgette are practically engaged.”
“He hangs out with his girlfriend’s roommates?” I asked, somewhat incredulously.
Moiré nodded with vigor. “All the time. I mean, they spend plenty of alone time, but there’s this unspoken rule with girls that if you really want to win them, you win their friends first.”
“Seriously?”
She looked at me in disbelief. “You never had any sisters, did you?”
“I have three.”
Moiré grinned wickedly. “See what I mean about it being ‘unspoken’?”
So that annoying “gotta get with my friends” song from the mid-’90s wasn’t just a catchy tune. I scratched my forehead for a moment. “Right.”
“So is it a deal? I still have ‘research with Nick’ written on my calendar. You need a VCR and I can provide. As long as you don’t mind my friend’s roommate making out with her guy, I think we’ll be okay. Besides, I’m sure the girls won’t mind. I promise—you won’t be imposing on them at all. Heck, I even raid their fridge whenever I’m over there.”
So much for not imposing. “Tight group.”
“Tighter than a size zero on a pregnant woman.”
I’m not sure what kind of face I made, but it earned a healthy laugh from her.
“And you’re sure the guy will be there?”
She confirmed.
“And it’s really no trouble to them? Even unannounced?”
Another confirmation.
I sighed, hoping I wasn’t about to make a mistake. “Alright. I guess you have to do some research tonight after all.”
Moiré smiled and gave a little happy clap. She quickly regained her composure and in a professional tone said, “Well, then, Doctor, I suppose we shouldn’t keep the data waiting.”
I grinned, collected my VHS tapes and my notebook and we were on our way.
From the outside, Moiré’s friend’s flat could have been pretty much any college kid’s hovel. To the credit of the resident, the girls had transformed the inside into something livable, despite the worn, faux-wood paneling over cinderblock walls. Brightly-colored rugs put a pretty face on thin, industrial-style carpeting the hue of ejected body fluids. Peppy art and some of those amusing “de-motivational posters” dotted the walls. Various plants filled in what had been unsightly gaps between the old furniture and helped round things out. It wasn’t exactly the “Garden of Eden,” but it was nicer than what most of the guys I knew had; if nothing else, it didn’t smell of foot fungus. It was nice to actually be able to breathe.
Moiré walked in without knocking and three girls waved or said hi. The fourth girl was in the kitchen, having an… active discussion… with a guy that looked remarkably like Kevin Bacon. Then one of the residents noticed me.
“Oooh, Moiré done got herself a MAN!” The drawl sounded Texan. Or maybe it was from Alabama? I never was much of a linguist. The blond girl looked like a rodeo queen without her sash. She sat up instantly, her eyes wide and her smile wider. “Or is this one still single?” The cowgirl was on me in an instant, running a hand along my arm and ensuring there was no longer any air-space between us.
“Hey, stranger,” she said warmly. “My friends call me Daisy, but I’m fine with ‘Sugar Cube.’”
I took an immediate and instinctive step back, but Daisy wasn’t having it.
Holy…. Okay. It was officially time to leave. “Ah, Moiré? Hey, I forgot something at the lab. It was really nice of you to invite me over, but—”
“But you’re going to have a seat and finish your research before going back to the lab because lame excuses can always wait for a woman or four.”
Whoa. What do you even say to that? Moiré held her gaze on me, a bright grin underscoring the no-nonsense look in her eyes and it was just like being back at home, when Mom or one of my sisters had me cornered. Curse those old manners. I gritted my teeth and forced a smile.
Moiré then seized me by the front of my shirt and for a moment I thought she was going to kiss me. Instead, she pulled me away from her friend.
“Daisy,” Moiré said with aggressive playfulness, mimicking the other girl’s accent, “this here is Nick Cairn, soon to be the most famous shrink in this here town. But you’re going to have find yourself some other stud to hogtie. We’re here to do research and I promised him he’d leave with his virgin lips. Strictly business tonight, ladies. Touch him and it’ll be you and me and six guns at high noon.”
Daisy deflated into a pout and stepped away enough for me to see the other tenants.
A petite brunette was curled in on herself in the far corner of the couch. She was looking at me in quick glimpses, her eyes showing an unexpected mix of interest and guilt. I’d seen that before in my studies.
Opposite the brunette, a slender black girl smiled at the flirtations of her backwoods roommate.
Moiré piped up. “Okay, girls, Nick is studying what gets people to fall in love, which means we get to watch some movies from many moons ago, when Michael Jackson reigned supreme.”
The girl who’d been enjoying Daisy’s failure said, “I love ’80’s movies!”
“Moiré?” I asked. “Were you planning on introducing me at all?”
Moiré slapped her forehead. “Yeah. Duh. Okay, so you already know Daisy. She’s ‘single as the Ace of Spades,’ but only because her last man was dumber than a doorknob and joined the ‘World’s Biggest Deadbeats’ club about three years ago. Always be careful of cowgirls on the rebound.”
Daisy smiled wolfishly at me and winked. I returned a short nod and looked away.
Moiré pointed at the girl with an unnatural love for ’80’s flicks. “That’s my friend Tisha.”
“Hi,” Tisha said. I crossed the room to shake hands with her.
“In the kitchen are Bridgette and her boyfriend, Dean.” They pretended to wave. I got the hint.
“And this is Angie.” I moved to greet her. Angie tensed, measuring things for a moment before letting a trembling hand take mine. I shook the limp limb and gave her a reassuring smile. She blushed unexpectedly.
I grabbed a chair and placed it in the corner of the room opposite where Daisy had been sitting. Daisy hopped up to join me, so instead of sitting I pointed to another kitchen chair and asked Moiré, “You too?”
“Naw. I get the beanbag.” With that, Moiré went to the side of the couch and hauled out something resembling a half-ton toasted marshmallow. She held it in front of
her and literally dove between Daisy and me. It looked fun and I enjoyed seeing her casual side. I smiled and sat. Daisy looked like a kid who’d just lost a favorite toy to her parents.
Tisha inserted the movie and it rewound without incident. Two minutes later, the standard FBI message was on the screen, warning us against the evils of copying Kris Kissy’s fictional tale or using the tape for commercial purposes. I pulled out my notebook and the movie began.
“Wait!” Tisha said, jumping up and hitting the stop button. “We can’t do this.”
We all looked at her.
“Can’t do what, Tee?” Moiré asked.
“Watch a movie. Not without popcorn.”
“You’re right,” Daisy said in all seriousness. “I think this big chunk’a man straight took my mind off the most important part of movie watchin’.”
With that, I was dragged into the kitchen. Bridgette and Dean quietly moved out onto the patio as the kitchen came alive with activity. Moiré, Tisha and Daisy bustled about grabbing popcorn kernels, bowls, an old air popper and some butter.
Something in one of the cupboards caught my eye. “Hey, Moiré?” I asked, the next time she brushed past. “Is that sweetened condensed milk?
Moiré eyed me suspiciously. “Yeah. Why?”
“You said you raid the fridge here, right?”
“Sometimes, yeah?”
“Ever raid the cupboards?” I looked back at the small, white can and grinned.
She followed my gaze and quirked an eyebrow.
“Just trust me,” I told her.
Before the girls knew what was happening, I was strapped into a hot pink apron (too tight!) decked in five yards of lace and more bows than Courier John had brain cells. I did my best Swedish Chef impression as I tossed ingredients into a saucepan. I’d helped Mom make this stuff every year since I was eight and I had it down to a science. The girls caught on quick and were soon enjoying my caramel quest more than they’d enjoyed making popcorn. Moiré’s laughter did weird things to my insides. It took me at least ten minutes to realize I’d been smiling exclusively at her the whole time. She hadn’t taken her eyes off me once. Somehow, I still managed not to burn the caramel. When the gooey goodness was done, we made caramel popcorn balls good enough to bring about world peace. I surrendered the apron and we retreated to the living room.