by Amy E. Lilly
“Hold on! I’ll come down to you.”
“You guys okay?” The young guy manning the wall called up to them.
“She’s fine. I’m going to help her out,” Zach called to the staff. The guy responded with a thumbs up.
Quinn clung to her small handhold, but her fingers started to cramp. After what seemed hours, but was probably only a minute, Zach zipped down next to her. “I want you to look at me, Quinn. Open your eyes and look at me.”
Quinn opened her eyes and her gray eyes met his bright blue ones. “I don’t want to fall,” she squeaked.
“Listen to me, Quinn. You’re not going to fall. You and I are going to climb to the top of this wall together. I won’t ever leave your side,” Zach said with a reassuring smile. “Just do what I do, and you’ll be fine. I promise.”
“I’m scared.”
“There’s nothing to be scared of, Quinn. I’m right here. I’m going to start climbing and you’re going to put your hands and feet where I put mine. Okay?”
“Okay.” Quinn sniffled a little.
“Hey. The new Quinn is tough and can do anything she wants.”
“New Quinn. Tough. Gotcha.” Quinn screwed up her courage and as Zach climbed in front of her, she followed behind him. A few minutes later, he stopped. “What did you stop for?”
“We’ve reached the top,” Zach grinned.
“Really? I made it all the way to the top?” Quinn gasped. She was too scared to look down, but when she looked up, she realized that she was out of wall. “Alright! Now how do I get down?”
Zach laughed. “Getting down is a whole lot easier than getting up. You’ll rappel down. First you call down to the guy holding your safety line to let him know you’re heading down. Belay!”
Quinn watched as Zach pushed himself away from the wall and quickly let out some of his rope as he rappelled his way down the wall. Soon she spotted him on the ground.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and pushed off. Miraculously, she didn’t plummet to her death and after a few bad starts, learned how to push herself off the wall while slackening her rope. Eventually, her feet touched the ground.
“I did it! Oh my gosh! I really did it! I climbed all the way to the top and then I zipped myself all the way back down!” She jumped up and down excitedly, clapping her hands.
Zach hugged her and smiled. “Yes, you did. I’m proud of you. It’s a little intimidating climbing for the first time. Your arms and legs are going to hurt tomorrow. It takes muscles you don’t realize you have.”
“I can’t believe I went climbing. The old Quinn wouldn’t have done it. I’m shaking!” Quinn laughed and held her hand out and showed Zach.
“It’s your muscles. I tell you what. Instead of going to dinner, why don’t we stop by Salvatore’s Deli on the way home and pick up some food. We can eat dinner on the rooftop and I’ll show you my telescope.”
“Why, Zach, are you showing me your telescope on a second date? The neighbors might talk!”
“I’ll risk it,” Zach winked at her. “Come on, Mighty Quinn, let me feed you. You earned dinner and dessert.”
“I most certainly did,” Quinn agreed. She hopped on Maddie and led the way home.
Chapter Twenty-One
Zach and Quinn picked up sandwiches at the deli and rode the few remaining blocks home. When Quinn started to climb the stairs to her apartment, she gave a sharp gasp of pain. Holy cow her calves hurt!
“After we eat, you should soak in a warm bath with Epsom salt,” Zach advised her. “Here, I’ll help you up the stairs. I promise it will only hurt for a few days.”
“Great. How come you’re not praying for an early death from pain?” Quinn grumbled.
“I go climbing at least once a week. With my job, I have to be able to climb around in tight spaces and so I do rock climb for fun and for work.”
“Artists climb rocks? What are you? Some kind of New Age artist or something?” Quinn was confused. She tried to imagine Zach painting while climbing around on a large canvas.
“What made you think I was an artist? I do historic restoration of buildings,” Zach said.
“Oh.” Quinn felt her face grow hot with embarrassment and confusion. “Um…I saw drawings in your apartment when I fed your fish. I assumed you worked as an artist.”
Zach laughed. “I like food too much to starve for my art. No, I’m not an artist although I do draw and paint as a hobby. I actually own my own company, Taylor Historical Restorations. I work from home when I’m not on site.”
Quinn opened the door to her apartment and Zach helped her hobble to her couch. She plopped down and sighed as her calves went from screaming to a constant whimper. “Ah. Sweet relief. Historical restoration sounds interesting, but how come you rock climb for work?”
“Have you ever been on the outside of a two-hundred year old church steeple? You need to have no fear of heights and you better know how to get down from the outside if you need to. A lot of my work comes from historical associations and churches. I’m an architect with a background in art history. I even work on cemetery mausoleums sometimes.”
“I’m impressed. Here I thought you were a starving artist, and you’re an actual professional with a real career and everything,” Quinn said. She struggled to get up. “Let me grab some plates and we can eat those sandwiches. I’m starving.”
Zach motioned for her to stay put. “I’ll get the plates and sandwiches. Just point me in the right direction. Kitchens and I may not be on a first name basis, but I can plate a sandwich. I travel a lot so the need to cook rarely comes into play.”
Quinn told him where her plates were. A few minutes later, Zach presented her with a sandwich, chips and a large pickle spear. “One roast beef sandwich with horseradish. What would you like to drink?”
“There’s a bottle of white wine chilling in my refrigerator. Do you mind opening it and pouring me a glass? Maybe it will relax my muscles.”
“I live to serve beautiful women.” Zach bowed and went back into the kitchen. A moment later he returned with two glasses of wine and his sandwich on a plate balanced on his forearm.
“Uncle Patrick needs you to work at the restaurant,” Quinn observed. She took a big bite of her sandwich. It was delicious. It had just the right amount of horseradish and cheddar cheese to light up her taste buds without overwhelming the roast beef.
“I waited tables in college. I was lucky enough to get a scholarship to pay my tuition, but I needed spending money. I got a job at a local pizza place,” Zach explained. “Good sandwich. I’m glad you suggested I try the Muenster cheese. I’ve never had it. I’ve always been a Swiss or American cheese kind of guy. Simple tastes.”
“Stick with me and you won’t go wrong.”
“Deal. Quinn, you really impressed me out on the wall. You were scared and you could’ve gone back down, but you didn’t.”
“I’m actually impressed with myself. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have even tried to climb that wall. Thanks for taking me.”
“Here’s to Quinn 2.0.” Zach raised his glass of wine.
“To Quinn 2.0,” Quinn agreed, touching her wine glass to his.
They say in companionable silence for the next few minutes eating their sandwiches. Quinn felt comfortable sitting on her couch next to him. She ate the last bite of her sandwich and picked up her pickle. “No sandwich is complete without a dill pickle wrapped in paper to top it all off.”
“Agreed. I couldn’t date a girl who gave me her pickle. It shows a complete lack of character and taste,” Zach joked. “I’ll give you a raincheck on the telescope. Why don’t we save that until next weekend when you aren’t hobbling around like a ninety-year old.”
“Hey. I’m not in that bad of shape. Lifting big sacks of flour and sugar at the restaurant keep me in prime fighting condition.” Quinn held her fists up and circled them around like a boxer. “I don’t want to climb the ladder to the rooftop right now though. I doubt I could grasp the rungs.
”
“I warned you that climbing would find muscles you didn’t know you had.”
“I could have gone a lifetime without meeting those muscles.”
“Does that mean you won’t go climbing with me again?”
“Nope. It means next time, I’ll be better prepared.”
Zach’s face broke into a grin. “If you’re serious, I can take you climbing on some real cliffs down by the Chesapeake Bay. It’s about a two hour drive from here, but it is well worth it.”
“Whoa. Slow down. Let me work my way up to the real climbing. For right now, I’ll stick with the plastic wall and the safety mat,” Quinn said.
“I’d better get going and let you go soak your legs.” He stood up and gathered up their plates to take to the kitchen. “I’ll see you later, Quinn. Thanks for spending the afternoon with me. It was nice.”
Later, as Quinn sat soaking in the hottest water she could stand with some lavender-infused Epsom salt, she thought about Zach. Not an artist, she mused.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Quinn crawled her way out of bed the next morning. Although the hot bath had helped, she still hurt in her legs and upper arms. She knew the day was going to be a tough one at work. Downing two ibuprofen, she grabbed a protein bar and poured some juice into a to-go cup. If she was going to climb a cliff wall with Zach she needed to get into better shape. She grabbed her purse and keys and realized that she didn’t have her cell phone. Searching her apartment, she found it had dropped between her sofa cushions. The low battery warning blinked at her. She had two text messages. The first one was from Doug. She opened it.
“Hi. Had a great time on our date. I can’t wait to see you again this weekend.” Quinn did a little foot dance of happiness until her legs reminded her that they were still angry with her. The second message was from Sean asking her to come to his show on Friday night.
She tapped a quick affirmative to Sean’s request, then thought about what she should say in response to Doug. A moment later, she typed, “I had a great time, too. Call me this evening.” She debated whether she should include a smiley face, but decided that emoticons were not sexy or part of her new grownup persona.
Quinn spent the day moving at half her normal speed at work. When her uncle asked her if she was ill, she told him that she must be mentally ill for trying to fly before she could walk.
“I don’t know what that means,” Uncle Patrick gave her a quizzical look.
“It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, I’m out of shape,” Quinn replied. She had chosen a simple berry cobbler and salted caramel brownies with a whiskey sauce for the dessert choice that evening. She whisked the dry ingredients together for the cobbler.
“Yoohoo. Anyone back here?” Anne Daniels called out.
“Over here, Mom.” Quinn gave her uncle a questioning look. He shook his head and mouthed a negative.
“There you are, Patrick. I tried calling your cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail,” Anne complained. She smoothed hands down her black pants and looked around the kitchen. “Looks like you’ve been busy this morning, darling. Is that Ma’s berry cobbler recipe?”
“It is,” Quinn said. “I’m trying to use as many of Grandma Rose’s recipes here as possible. Comfort food.”
“It certainly is. Make sure you don’t taste your wares though. A minute on the lips and it’s forever on the hips,” Anne quoted. “Patrick, I’ve got the final guest list for Ma’s party. I wanted to talk to you about decorations.”
“Let’s go into my office and talk about it so we’re out of Quinn’s way,” Patrick steered his sister away from the bags of flour and towards his office on the other side of the kitchen.
“Sure. Quinn, you look a little tired. Are you getting enough sleep? Patrick’s not working you too hard is he?”
“I went climbing yesterday, Mom. I’m a little worn out, but I’m fine.”
“Why on earth would you do something like that? It’s incredibly dangerous. Stick with tennis if you want a sport,” Anne advised.
“Because a ball coming at your face is so much safer,” Patrick said dryly. “Come on, Anne. Let’s go look at your list.”
Anne gave one last hard look at Quinn then followed her brother. Quinn shook her head. She thought that she would drop dead from shock if her mother ever said anything supportive. Her cell phone buzzed in her pants pocket. Wiping her floured hands on her apron, she dug it out to answer.
“Hello?”
“Quinn? It’s Sean. How’s tricks making the treats?”
“Good. What’s up? You never call me this early on a weekday.”
“Can’t I just call to check on my friend? Sheesh, such a Doubting Dora.” Sean clucked his tongue.
“Sean, you don’t get out of bed before noon and we both know it. Spill.”
“I need a favor. It’s actually doing you a favor, too.”
“Men are just asking me for all sorts of favors this week. Is it my perfume?” Quinn said only half in jest.
“Well, my favor means you coming to the club tonight to be a friend of mine’s date.”
“Why?”
“I thought you were on board with this new search for romance. I’ve found a nice guy who isn’t a serial killer or newly released from Attica.”
“I am on board. I had a great date with Doug on Sunday night and he wants to go out again. I’m even going on a pretend date with Zach tomorrow. My social calendar is so full, I may have to pencil in my Sean time for weeks in advance.”
Sean sniffed. “I’m glad your school boy wasn’t a total disaster, but I already told Ricardo that you would meet him at the club at eight tonight. Please, Quinnie Bear, do me this favor. He really is a nice guy and it won’t be a wasted evening.”
“I’ll do it, but only if you tell me why it’s so important I go on this date with your friend.”
Sean was silent on the other end for a moment. “Okay. Here’s the deal. He’s actually my cousin and he knows I’m gay. He saw you and I together one day and asked me about you. He threatened to tell Abuela about me if I didn’t set him up on a date with you. Please, Quinn,” Sean begged, “say you’ll do this. It would break my grandmother’s heart to find out about me.”
Quinn could hear the fear in Sean’s voice. “Fine. I’ll go out with him, but I’m taking Indie. One date. That’s all,” Quinn said firmly. “I’m going to be such a bitch that he’ll get over his little crush on me and never want to see me again.”
“Fair enough,” Sean sighed in relief. “Quinn, don’t be too bitchy. My Aunt Lucia is hard as nails, and Ricardo’s a mama’s boy. You might actually turn him on. He probably visits Dark Dreams on a weekly basis and has someone call him Ricky Boy.”
“Wonderful. Thanks for the nightmare. I have to get back to work now. Call Indie and give her the rundown on the plans for tonight.”
“I will,” Sean said. “I really appreciate this Quinn.”
Quinn disconnected. She needed to think of a way to make sure Ricardo ended this evening’s date thoroughly turned off. She had to be careful though because he couldn’t disclose Sean’s secret. She walked to the large cooler and grabbed out a large tub of butter for her cobbler. As she measured out the scoops of butter into a large pan to melt, she had a sudden burst of inspiration. Now if she could only get Indie to agree.
That evening, Indie was sitting on a chair on Quinn’s deck. “Do you really think this will work?” Indie asked. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as Quinn slowly peeled the paper away from Indie’s forearm.
“It has to work. The last thing I need is Sean’s creepy cousin stalking me for the rest of my life.” She blew on Indie’s arm. “I think it’s done. Go check it out in the mirror. You look bad to the bone.”
“I look like an elf with identity issues,” Indie grumbled. She walked into the bathroom and flexed her bicep. The temporary tattoo Quinn had affixed to Indie’s arm read, “I brake for bitches” in a circle around two women riding a motorcycle. Quin
n had spent all afternoon searching bike shops and alternative stores to find the right props for the evening.
“Okay. Now you need to do mine,” Quinn said. She started to loosen the tie to her yoga pants.
“Whoa!” Indie held up her hands. “Stop right there. I think you’re pretty and we’re good friends, but I am not touching your butt.”
“I don’t want you to put a tattoo on my rear end, weirdo. How’s Ricardo going to see it? I want you to put it in the small of my back. A tramp stamp.”
“Oh,” Indie said. “Don’t I feel awkward now.”
Quinn finished loosening her pants and rolled the top down so Indie could apply the tattoo. Fifteen minutes later, Quinn stood on her tiptoes looking at her butt in the mirror. In the small of her back was a tattoo of a cat arching it’s back.
“How come you got the cool tattoo?” Indie complained.
“Because I’m the girl in this relationship,” Quinn explained.
“You do realize how insulting that is, right?”
“I’m sorry. I get the cat in honor of Fat Panther. It kind of looks like him before he got fat and lazy.”
“Fine, but you have to wear the leather fringe vest. I don’t wear dead animals.” Indie handed her the black fringe vest Quinn had found at Goodwill. The store had been a treasure trove of bad fashion from the eighties. Quinn felt it fit her biker chick alter ego for the evening.
She grabbed the vest and went into her room to change. “Remember that we’ve been seeing each other off and on since college. Right now, we’re on again. Make sure you call Ricardo’s manliness into question. We want to make sure he never wants contact with me again. If we’re lucky, he’ll be so embarrassed that he won’t want to see Sean in the foreseeable future either.”
“Is it okay if I call you Sugar Britches?” Indie called.
“Whatever floats your boat, Sugar Booger,” Quinn shot back. She walked out into the living room and twirled around. The fringes of the vest spun around her like brushes at an automatic car wash.