Punk and Zen

by JD Glass

  “I’m not worried about points,” I told Jen, because I meant it. I’d done enough of that, had enough of that. It was probably up there on the list of stupidest things I’ve done. Jen’s eyebrows fused—dammit—as she focused on me. “I’m not worried about being alone either.” I smiled at her, picked up my drink, and stood.

  “There’s someone for me, or there’s not. Either way,” I saluted her with my glass, “I like my own company.” I finished my drink with a little flourish and put the glass back down on the bar. Jen got up too, and we walked over to the locked door where a woman knocked. Probably here to meet someone, I thought, or a very last-minute drink.

  “Besides, between work and the band, I’ve got a lot on my plate,” I added. “I don’t have time to get involved in that romantic crap.”

  “Kid, you’re wrong,” Jen stated flatly as she put her hand on the lock. “All that one-person shit is just that—shit. You’re gonna waste your looks, you’re gonna waste your energy, and you’re gonna waste time—time that could be spent having fun—and then, you’ll get screwed over. Ya gotta make hay while the sun shines and all that,” she warned.

  “C’mon, Jen,” I smiled as her hand twisted on the key, “you’ve gotta have a little faith.”

  I stepped in front of her before she opened the door. That was our custom. I’d greet and speak, and if I needed backup, Jen was a breath behind me. The door swung open, and I began to say the usual.

  “Sorry, we’re closed,” I recited, not really looking at the woman who stood before me.

  “Nina? Nina Boyd?” she asked, and now I looked—closely.

  “Fran? Francesca DiTomassa?” I asked as I recognized an old friend from ABC high school. The honey blond curls spilling over her coat past her shoulders and almond-shaped brown eyes were enough to tell me, but if they weren’t, there was her picture-perfect smile, just as I remembered it. “Oh my God!” And ignoring the glare I was sure was aimed at my back, I let her in.

  “God, Fran, it’s been ages!” I exclaimed as we embraced.

  “Nina, I knew it! I just knew it!”

  She leaned back to scrutinize me and cupped my face in her hands, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I’m really looking at you.” Fran’s warm brown eyes twinkled. “I knew in my heart it wasn’t true!” She gave my cheek a solid smooch for good measure, and I heartily hugged her back.

  “What wasn’t true?” I asked, puzzled. That was a pretty strange way to say hello, wasn’t it?

  She shook her head, unable to answer while she played with my hair and patted my shoulder as if checking to make sure I was solid.

  “Friend of yours?” Jen asked dryly as she locked the door behind us.

  “Oh yeah,” I enthused. “Hey, Jen, this is Francesca…Fran,” I introduced, then corrected at the raised eyebrow she gave me. “Fran? Jen.”

  They shook hands as they repeated the polite social formulas.

  “Like a drink?” I asked, walking behind the bar. I ignored the glare coming from Jen. I was allowed buy-backs and hadn’t used a single one since I’d started working there. The one whatever it was Fran wanted certainly wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

  “Sure,” she agreed, settling into a stool in front of me, “that’s what I was stopping in for. Guinness, if you’ve got it.”

  Jen checked the door again and came over to the bar, grabbing a seat close to Fran.

  “Guinness from the gun,” I agreed, and got a mug. “Want one?” I asked Jen as she settled in.

  “Yeah, why not?” she answered with a tired smile. Huh. She could smile. Well and good, then. I grabbed two frosted mugs from the stainless-steel freezer, then opened the tap. As the beer flowed, I watched to make sure it came out right, because there’s nothing better than a good head—if you’re into that sort of thing.

  “Here,” I presented the beer with a napkin to each of them, “enjoy.” Fran smiled at me and hefted the frosted glass, and Jen wrapped her hands around hers. Satisfied that they were well served, I drew myself one, too. What the hell. It was only one beer, and it was Guinness, after all.

  “To your health,” Fran toasted and smiled, then took a hearty swig.

  “Yeah, your health,” Jen agreed with a twist to her lips that I assumed was a grin.

  “Thanks,” I returned, with a sip of my own. Grace came ambling out of the back room as I put my mug down. She had three nicely thick envelopes—seemed like we’d had a good night. The tips bulging in my back pocket agreed.

  Mutely, I held up a mug and offered her a beer, and she grinned and nodded. She sat on the other side of Jen, and as she passed us our envelopes, I handed her the beer. I didn’t even look in mine, just tucked it into my waistband.

  Now that everyone was settled and watered, so to speak, I figured I could have a conversation with my old friend.

  “I just can’t believe it, this is totally fucking unreal,” Fran said, leaning her head against her hand to stare at me.

  For whatever reason, I was starting to get a little anxious.

  To avoid more of that uncertain feeling, I lifted my glass and took a hearty swallow. Eesh. I’d forgotten how bitter it was.

  Fran took a sip and put her mug down, then reached across the bar for my hand. I would have moved it away, but her expression, a combination of wonder and sorrow, stopped me as she traced her fingertips over my knuckles and veins with a touch so light, I would hardly have known she was there if I hadn’t been looking. I definitely felt the tear that hit my skin, though.

  “Fran…what’s the matter?”

  It’s funny, isn’t it, how sometimes between people the years and the distance don’t matter; once you reconnect, it’s as if you’d never parted? That’s how I felt seeing her, well, after the initial shock had worn off. I was back to swimming pools and driving lessons, pre-meet pasta dinners and post-race bullshit, shared lockers, shared clothes, shared friends. Samantha. That made me stop cold—maybe something had happened to her, maybe something terrible.

  I rubbed Fran’s hand.

  “Kitt, what’s wrong?” I asked gently, using her old nickname. “Can I do something?”

  Fran exhaled and squeezed my hand, lifting her filled eyes to mine.

  “You’re not going to believe this.” She tried to smile and gave a little laugh through her tears.

  I needed to get around to the other side of the bar; I had to sit next to her. I glanced over at Grace and Jen.

  Grace gave Fran a sympathetic glance, then reached over the bar and grabbed a tissue, placing it next to our conjoined hands before she excused herself.

  Fran took the tissue, and although she remained silent, she buried her face in her hand, and her shoulders shook as she began to cry in earnest.

  I stole a glance at Jen, who looked back at me with alarm in her eyes, and I mutely asked her with a lift of my chin if I could have a private moment.

  Jen instantly understood and nodded in agreement as she hastily got up. I guess she’d felt awkward about just leaving someone to sit at the bar and cry.

  I bent my head closer to Fran’s. “Hey, give me a sec, okay?” I said softly. “I’m just coming around.”

  She squeezed my hand, then let go. “’S all right, I’m okay,” she sniffed, and grinned at me.

  “Okay,” I agreed with a small smile of my own to make her feel better, but I moved quickly so she wouldn’t feel alone.

  Once there, I took one of her hands, and as she swiveled to face me, I gently cupped her shoulder.

  “What’s the matter, Fran?” I repeated, searching her overfull, shiny eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  She increased the pressure on my hand and tentatively reached for my face. I let her fingers touch me, and she lightly rubbed her thumb along my cheek.

  “You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered, an awestruck look on her face.

  Did she just say what I thought she’d said? I sat up straight and gave her shoulder another reassuring rub. I could feel my eyebrows doing a great im
itation of Jen’s. “Did you say…?” I trailed off as she nodded.

  I leaned back in my seat, shocked. “What…how?”

  Fran took my hand back in both of hers and leaned in so closely that I could count the tears in her lashes.

  “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.