by SP Durnin
"As I was saying… if I were you?" Kat said, considering it for a few seconds. "I'd have screwed his brains out right there on the pharmacy counter."
Laurel just stood there jaw hanging open.
"I'm serious," Kat said.
"You're making me nervous."
"You should be." Kat's eyes glinted mischievously.
"Why?"
Kat shrugged. "I've been with a lot of guys... hey! No comments from the peanut gallery."
Laurel hid a smile.
Kat tossed her jacket through the window. "I don't really have problems when it comes to dating, but if I had a choice? I'd want a good guy." She nodded. "That's Jake, guaranteed."
Laurel felt butterflies in her stomach. "You don't even know him."
"Don't ask me how I know, I just do," Kat said. "Hope I end up with a guy like that."
They both stood next to the truck for a few seconds, and then Laurel hefted her guitar into the bed, hopped in the cab. Her roommate got in and sat quietly while Laurel started the truck and pulled into traffic.
"Now," Kat began, "that's down the line, you understand. After I've been with more guys, screwed their brains out and acted like a total slut."
Laurel broke out into helpless laughter.
* * *
Jake was resigned to the fact that the gods were sitting up there in the heavens flicking cosmic boogers in his direction.
About twenty minutes after they'd walked into Bueno Dave's, it became clear that Kat, as she insisted they call her, had designs on Allen. With his sense of humor, easy—if somewhat silly—grin, and open nature, he was bringing smile after ready smile to her face. That was not to say Jake felt ignored. They'd spoken on a few topics over a short time. When he had the chance to look back on it, the first twenty minutes felt like an interview. After which, Kat turned her full attention to Allen.
Ah, well, Jake thought, at least the food's good. And Kat is really cool. Even if she has the hots for Al and her friend didn't bother to show up.
"So, how was the rest of your day?" Kat asked, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of what looked to be a Hemorrhaging Brain. Allen, always the smooth one, looked at her drink so he wouldn't stare at the way her abs moved.
"Not bad," Jake admitted. "After I got Gertrude settled, I picked Al up at Bolton, went back to my place, and finished up work on that cookbook, while he gamed."
"I wasn't gaming. I was shooting Nazis in the brain."
"Oh, yeah!" Kat exclaimed. "Call of Duty! Cool. I always thought the first mission was the most fun. The beachhead at Normandy?"
Allen looked at her calmly. "It is so hot you know that."
Kat shot him a smile. "So, what do you do at Bolton?"
"Nothing," he admitted, taking a swig of his Guinness. He and Jake had opted for life-giving liquid bread, over the carbonated camel piss flavor of most domestic beer. He wiped the foam mustache off his upper lip. "I just feel the need to fling myself out of something really high off the ground every so often."
"He means two or three times a month," Jake said helpfully. "Four if the month has an 'A' anywhere in it."
Kat's eyes sparkled. "Ever done the Motley Crue thing?"
"Not yet," Allen admitted.
"We'll talk."
"I look forward to it," he said with a wink. "But! Let's hear about your day. Jake told me about the oh-so-personable Mizz Bessendorfer, but that couldn't be the highlight."
Kat rolled her eyes. "No. Most definitely not. I went to the dojo, worked the heavy bag until I had a good sweat going…"
"Sounds fun," Allen said, "the sweating part I mean."
"Be good." Kat grinned mischievously over her Brain.
"Aawww. That's no fun."
The comical expression on Allen's face made it necessary for Jake to hide a smile behind a sip of Guinness.
"As I was saying," she continued, "after I abused my poor body for an hour or so, I went by my roommate's store, met up with her, went home, got ready, and headed up here."
"At least you got to vent," Jake said.
"Oh, yeah. Every one of the spinning back kicks was aimed at Mizz Bessendorfer's mouth." She gave Jake an apologetic look. "I'm sorry about the roomie. She's kinda flaky and repressed, so..."
The writer held up his hand in a halting motion. "Don't worry about it. If being the fifth wheel for the night is the worst thing that happens I'm in good shape."
She shook her head and held her glass up. "To interesting times."
"To friends," Allen added, holding up his own.
Jake smiled and clinked glasses. "The girl at the door said we missed the first set," he said, looking over at the small, three foot, table-top sized stage. "When's the next one?"
Kat checked her watch. "Should be any minute now."
"I'm going to grab another," Jake said, wagging his empty pint, "Anyone need?"
"Please, sir, can I have some more?" Allen said in a high voice, hunching his shoulders and sticking out his lower lip. Kat laughed, drained her Brain, and reached for her jacket. Allen stopped her with a light touch on her knee.
"You can get the next round," Allen said, giving his friend a hopeful look.
Jake shot him a thumbs up and headed for the bar, noticing that Kat had turned her seat towards Al while leaning against the table. Classic body language that translated to, I'm interested.
Sighing at his luck, Jake motioned for the bartender and ordered their drinks. He reached in his pocket for his smokes because—wonder of wonders!—Bueno Dave's pretty much ignored the statewide smoking ban Ohio had imposed a few years back and continued to stick their tongues out at the establishment.
He looked around, watching the tables of gamers. They were mostly male, college age or older, with a scattering of the fairer sex here and there. Nearly everyone was playing elaborate card games or games with large maps and little painted figurines. Overall, the mood of the place suited him. It wasn't a noisy, bass-thumping meat market. He could hear some of the patrons talking about the cultural relevancy of Tolkien compared to Lucas, and no one seemed to be out for anything but a good time.
Why don't I hang out in places like this? he thought, stubbing out his smoke in one of the ready ash trays and tipping generously, as he paid for their drinks—you always tip the bartender. They can spit in your beer.
Because, fortunately along with all your stupid, noble sensibilities, you still possess a sex drive, his back-brain replied, and sitting in a roomful of guys really isn't conducive to getting laid.
Jake told his back-brain to shut the hell up, then concentrated on getting Kat's Brain along with their Guinness to the table, sans spillage.
She and Allen were still at it when he finally wound his way back, seemingly at ease in each other's company. Jake felt a moment of jealousy at the way his friend was able to charm women so effortlessly. If he lived for a thousand years, he'd never be that smooth.
"He did what?" Kat asked wide-eyed, leaning on the table to accentuate the curve of her neck just so. The effect of which wasn't lost on either man.
"Yup. You are looking at one of the sure-and-be-God, last White Knights. I've been trying to curb his self-sacrificing tendencies, but it's a struggle," Allen said. "Hang around him a while. You'll see."
Jake gave him a hard look. "Whatever he's been telling you, it's all lies."
Kat pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and fanned herself with her drink napkin.
"You mean you don't help out old ladies, rescue damsels in distress, and slay dragons with the strength of ten men because your heart is pure?" She batted her eyes at him in mock distress. "I do declare, that kind of news could give me the vapors."
"You're mixing your literary references," he said, then pointed at Allen, "and you're ruining my reputation."
His friend gave him a quizzical look.
"Journalists are supposed to be scum-bags. It's in our contracts. You start spreading it around I'm not and I'll never work in this town again," he
said and took a swig of his Guinness. "Hell, they could take away my secret decoder ring."
They were all laughing so hard Jake didn't see the red-haired woman walk out of the back, guitar in hand. He didn't see the speculative look she gave him, and he missed the wink Kat shot over his shoulder at her. He even missed the smattering of applause the gamers gave her as she took the tiny stage, limbered up her fingers and began her set.
But he didn't miss it when she started singing.
Kat saw his eyes light up as Laurel moved into "Suil a Ruin." He glanced around to see who was singing and just like that, for Jake the world went away for a while. Time seemed to slow down. He was sure that he'd be able to remember every detail about that moment for the rest of his life. The set of her shoulders as she performed, the lilt of her voice as she sang, the way she strove to push that stray lock of hair out of her face time and again. His attempts to look away, briefly focusing on his beer, didn't work at all. Her voice was like a smoky feather-wrapped magnet that forced his eyes back to the stage.
What's the word? he thought. Beautiful? Doesn't cut it. Not even close. Divine? No, she doesn't make me feel pious at all. Sexy? Oh, yeah. But not enough. Inspiring? Not quite. Shit! What's the word for her?
* * *
As Jake scoured his vocabulary, Laurel was lost in the music. To her it was expression in the purest form possible, at least for those still locked in the mortal coil. She could bring pain, nurture joy, quell rage, and insight memories with tone and chord. She did, however, make it a point to keep her eyes closed, so she wouldn't become distracted by Jake.
Kat had been right. She hated to admit, even though her roommate hadn't really given her a detailed description, he looked just as Laurel thought he would. If she didn't keep her eyes shut she was sure she'd flub a changeover. There's really no way to hide things like that when you're playing solo, and she didn't think giving a crap performance would be a good way to pique his interest.
The next hour passed quickly. Laurel ended her set to a much larger round of applause—in which Kat, Allen, and Jake joined enthusiastically—hopped off the stage, and took her guitar to the back.
* * *
Kat was playing touchy-feely with one hand on Allen's while leaning her chin in the palm of her other. Her eyes sparked with mischief. "Liked the music, did we?"
Jake tried to answer, but his mouth was so dry that his words didn't' resemble speech. He drained his Guinness and tried again. "Absolutely," he finally croaked. "Her rendition of Lorena McKinnet's "Bonny Portmore" was wonderful."
"She's impressive. Definitely has amazing control over her voice." Allen shot a sidelong look at Jake. "Healthy set of lungs too, right?"
"Yeah..." Jake was still trying to focus. "She was... wow."
Kat gave him a knowing look and rose to her feet. "I'm going to hit the little girl's room and get another round. What did you guys want?"
"Do they have Jameson's here?" Jake tried to shake off the numbness between his ears. "I think I need something harder after that."
Kat nodded sympathetically and grinned. "I'd be surprised if you didn't already have something hard, but Jameson's it is. What about you, Allen?"
"Guinness, but I've got these." He moved for his wallet.
She calmly reached out with one hand, grabbed the front of his shirt, and brought his nose within about an inch of hers. As she pulled him nearly off his seat, Kat insinuated herself between Allen's legs so their lower bodies were pressed firmly together
"It's my turn to get the round. I said, 'what about you,' Allen?"
She artfully lowered her eyelashes.
Allen grinned and took his hand off his back pocket. He kept his gaze on her eyes and his voice steady through an exhausting act of will. "I'm good. For now. Though I might need some stimulation later in the evening. You'll be the first to know."
Kat smiled back and pressed herself more firmly against him. "I better be."
She released her grip on his shirt and strode for the bar, knowing full well their eyes followed her. Jake's displayed surprise mixed with apprehension, and Allen's were full of almost naked lust.
"That is a dangerous woman," Jake admitted to his friend, watching Kat sway her way through the tables. Not a small number of heads turned to follow her hips. "I don't know whether to be jealous or relieved."
Allen's face went to full-on smile mode. "She's awesome. Might even be able to keep up with me. She wants to go skydiving."
"So, she's crazy. Good to know," he said wryly and sipped his Guinness. "The fact that she looks like an indigo-haired, chestier Grace Park would almost make up for it though."
"Yeah, that does add quite a bit to the 'I want to screw her senseless' rating," Allen said brightly.
He gave Jake a raised eyebrow. "What about that singer though? She was hot. And I don't mean in the causal, see her on the street and think she's cute, way. I mean in a kick some ass 'in black leather' Tara Perry way."
"Yeah," Jake replied, frowning into his empty glass. Allen took it, poured about a third of his pint in before Jake could object, then slid it back.
"Thanks," he said and shook his head. "I gotta tell you that's depressing."
That earned him a confused look. "Why?"
"Well, a variety of reasons," Jake began, ticking them off on his fingers. "Beautiful? That doesn't begin to describe her. Smart? Seeing that she didn't have any lyrics or sheet music with her, she performed all of that from memory. Well read? Her selections weren't easy or commonplace by any means, which means she actually took the time to research the music."
He gave Allen a resigned look. "Now. All that said, what would a woman with all that going for her want with a hack like me?"
Al was suddenly and visibly pissed off. "You need to stop that shit. Seriously, man. You've got a pretty cool job you enjoy, a nice place, the Beast," he pointed at himself, "and not least of all, me! The Casanova of Freefall to advise you."
"I dunno... I mean, you saw her right? Besides I'm a writer, not a motivational speaker. I get kind of... tongue tied."
Allen folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.
"That doesn't mean shit and you know it. Look at me. I look like a geek. Hell, I am one. But I'm honest and I have a good line of patter." Allen leaned forward conspiratorially. "If I can do it, sans the benefit of a literary education, you, who actually possess one, sure as hell can!"
Jake searched for a reply but was, for once, at a complete loss.
* * *
The ladies were pow-wowing in the bathroom.
Even though Laurel thought she still looked great, Kat insisted on touching up her friend's makeup. Since she had been sitting with Jake and his admittedly geeky-looking friend for the last hour as Laurel performed, it had been the only way she'd be able to give her friend any info on the mystery man. So Laurel submitted to the primping and grilled Kat mercilessly.
"So?"
"Oh, this guy is so fine!" Kat confirmed, as she reapplied eye shadow to her roommate. "That lady he was with today? His next-door neighbor. He takes out her trash! He really does ghostwrite novels and edit cookbooks! He knew over half of the songs you sang by name for God's sake! I swear if you screw this up I'll heckle you for the next forty years."
"He knew the songs?" Laurel was stunned.
"Uh-huh," she said, making an X over her breast. "And you should have seen his face when he turned around and saw you singing. It was like someone had hit him between the eyes with a sledgehammer! I'm telling you. All you have to do is be yourself and reel him in."
"I couldn't look at him. I thought I'd forget what song I was playing," Laurel admitted, as she brushed that damn stray lock of hair out of her face again. "He's... well, he's really cute."
Kat smiled and applied some lipstick of her own. "Glad to hear it. Hate to build him up too much then have you think he looks like Quasimodo. His friend, Al, is great by the way. Adventurous, funny, a little bit of a geek. I like him. His dad owns Ryker's Auto Body o
n 12th and he's been tight with Jake for years. I think some serious nocturnal gymnastics may be on the menu tonight."
"Oh gods," Laurel said. "You'll go to his place right? It would just be too weird if my best friend was in the other room, doing the best friend of—"
Laurel stopped talking at that point, actually shocked as she realized that she'd been considering taking Jake to bed before they'd even met. Had it really been that long? Or was Kat just rubbing off on her?
"Hey, can we focus for a minute? You need to concentrate on your own nighttime amusements, here." Kat took her by the arm and herded her towards the door. "There's an educated, honest man, with a great ass out there, and he doesn't have a clue what's coming to get him."
Laurel stared at her with a horrible suspicion rising in the back of her mind, only because she knew her roommate had a weakness for the dramatic. "What did you tell him about me?"
"Zip. He thinks you bailed on the evening."
Laurel's jaw dropped. "Are you out of your mind?"
Kat smirked, "I wanted to be sure the whole nice guy thing was for real. You know, see if he'd try to beat out his friend for a girl, or act like an ass, or leave when he realized I wasn't interested? It was a chance to grill him and get honest answers while you performed, too. I'm sure he noticed Al and I were connecting, so he had nothing to gain by not being completely truthful. Hell, I probably could've asked when the last time he'd had some me time was and he would've told me without even realizing it."
That one hit a little too close to home for Laurel.
Shit, she thought, I am repressed.
"How much did you get?"
"You won't believe what Allen told me while Jake… Oh, no!" Kat said, crossing her arms and shaking her head emphatically. "You want to know you just get your tush out there and ask! I learned enough after an hour to trust him with my best friend. That's all you're gonna get."