by P. Kirby
“Maya?” Roland squeezed her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“System overload. I don’t know what to do.”
Roland rubbed his chin. “So why are they here now? If your drawings ten years ago made Benjamin and Adam, why didn’t they pop into your life sooner? And how do they know how they came into being?”
“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes, which were dry from staring at the computer screen. “Benjamin said that Adam had a book, written by some secret organization called the Holders of the True Light. This book had information about people like Benjamin and Adam.” She opened her eyes and sighed. “He must be insane.”
“Benjamin?”
“Yes. He thinks he’s immortal and that’s why he wants to go to this EverVerse place.”
“Immortal, like a Lost Boy, never grow old, never die?”
“Exactly. He says that being immortal is a terrible way to live when everyone else is doomed to die.”
“When did he say all this?” Roland gave Maya a sly smile.
“Last night.” She relayed Roland the story of Benjamin coming over for pizza. When she was done, Roland’s grin had grown to annoying proportions. “What?”
“You like him.”
“I most certainly do not!” Heat rushed to Maya’s face as she remembering the almost-kiss.
“Pizza and beer, Maya? That’s the way to any man’s heart.”
“He brought the beer.”
“That still leaves the pizza and the invitation.”
“He replaced my ruined pajamas. I was just paying him back.”
The smile on Roland’s face brimmed with mischief. “Paying him back? But the pajamas were ruined because of him.”
“You’re right. I don’t know why I called him.” She fumbled on her desk, grabbing the sticky note pad and ripping off another sheet. “I don’t even know him. Benjamin Black probably isn’t his real name. He’s a criminal and he’s mentally unbalanced.”
Roland didn’t lose the irritating grin. “But you invited this criminal into your house for dinner.”
“He’s harmless. I think.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not helping.”
“My superhero power is to bring order to chaos.” He swooped a pile of paper off Maya’s desk. “I can turn this fire hazard into a lean, mean, graphics-making workspace.”
“Hey!” Maya snatched her paperwork back.
“But I don’t have the power to read these men’s minds. I wish I did, sweetie, I wish I did.”
The dismay on Roland’s angular brown face, the implied loyalty and friendship, made her smile. She squeezed his hand. “I know. I just don’t know what to do next.”
“Tell you what. I’m going to the library this afternoon. Eric wanted me to pick up some tax forms. While I’m there, I can do some old-fashioned research.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Maya said, knowing her protest was pointless. Roland loved books and would like nothing better than to spend the evening poking around the library.
“I don’t. But I will.” He winked. “I better get back to my work.”
“Ow.” Benjamin cursed when his shin hit the edge of the coffee table. Oblivious to his pain, the phone rang again. He hopped through his small living room and into the kitchen.
“It usually takes you at least six rings to answer the phone. Expecting someone?” Breas said.
“No.” Benjamin bent to gently rub the impending bruise on his leg. “Just bored.”
“‘Boredom in the face of daytime television programming? Married men who sleep with their mothers is today’s topic on Jerry Springer. Oedipus Redneck.”
Benjamin hobbled over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door. Damn. No ice. “I opted for Dr. Phil and Women Who Love Too Much.”
“Ah. Therein lies your ennui. Never choose codependent women when incest is on the menu.” Benjamin heard the soft sigh of a cap coming off a beer. “I have another job for you.”
“Good, because if I don’t find something to do soon, I might gnaw off my leg.”
“That’s what I like. Enthusiastic employees. Drop by my place tonight and I’ll give you the details.”
After he hung up, Benjamin rolled up his gray sweatpants and examined the new bruise. Isabel had once noted that men never outgrew the boyish fascination with their wounds. Grinning ruefully at the angry welt on his shin, he had to agree.
Isabel. The name brought the usual stab of pain to his heart, though, it seemed that as time progressed, the hurt wasn’t quite so sharp. He pressed his fingers against the new bruise, feeling the fresh pain and conflict over his reaction to Isabel’s name. In the months immediately after Isabel’s death, he wondered how it was possible to feel so much pain. He missed her so bad it hurt to breathe.
Now, four years later, he didn’t miss her any less, but he didn’t constantly worry that spot where her memory dwelled. Sometimes days passed when he didn’t think of her at all. The possibility that he could move on, that he might forget her, filled him with guilt.
He pushed the fabric back down over his leg and straightened. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he breathed deeply and tried to put aside his emotions. Adam was so much better at mastering his emotions, but then Adam claimed he wasn’t plagued by weaker emotions such as affection and guilt. While Benjamin waited for some semblance of internal calm, he surveyed the room. The kitchen was small, a counter and sink on one side and the refrigerator and range on the other. A window and a lightbulb covered with a cheap yellow plastic shade provided most of the illumination. The only other light came from the clock on the microwave. Benjamin glanced at the phone book, which lay on the counter, open to the Fs, and then at the clock. 4:30. The idea, when it first came to him, seemed harmless enough. He didn’t trust Adam. Staying in contact with Maya would make it easier for him to keep an eye on her. He’d call her and ask her to dinner.
Then he started to question his motives, especially in light of last night. He’d almost kissed her. Even now he could remember the light citrus smell of her hair and the shape of her full lips. The only thing that stopped him from taking that mouth to his was the very real possibility that she’d have decked him. The woman could pack a wallop.
“It’s not a date. It’s just payback for the pizza.” He picked up the phone and punched in Famtek’s number before he could overthink the matter. A cheerful receptionist transferred him to Maya’s number.
“Afternoon. Maya Stephenson.”
“Hi. This is Benjamin. Benjamin Black,” he said and immediately felt foolish, his brain chasing a silly argument whether he should have said “Black” and whether she knew other Benjamins. Low static hissed on the line as neither spoke for a few seconds.
Maya broke the silence. “Benjamin Black, eh? Steal anything interesting today?”
“No, but the day’s not over.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Could I see you tonight?”
“Why? You need an accomplice?”
“Er…” He took a second to process her comment. “You’re feeling feisty today. Did I call at a bad time?”
“Yes, it is.” Maya sighed into the phone. “It’s been a crazy day.”
This didn’t seem to be going well, although he didn’t have much basis for comparison. He didn’t have Adam’s ability to magically charm women. Most of the women he’d dated, including Isabel, had taken the initiative and asked him out. Of course, he wasn’t actually asking Maya for a date. “It’s just dinner,” he blurted. “You got the pizza last night, so I thought I’d reciprocate. Just dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He could hear the weariness in her voice.
“No. But I want to.”
He heard a tapping sound, probably a pen against the desktop. The sound stopped, then she said, “Okay,” without much enthusiasm.
Benjamin saw himself as a quick learner and though his experience with people in the Real world only spanned a decade, he usually thought he had a good handle on social i
nteractions. Of course, part of his success was a function of his usual approach to dealing with women. He kept his mouth shut. Around Maya, however, his shut-up switch seemed to malfunction.
Does she sound like she wants to spend any time around you? Idiot. “Hey, listen. I’m sorry. Forget about dinner tonight. I didn’t mean to bother you.” In the uncomfortable space of her silence, he gathered a breath. “I hope your day gets better. Bye, Maya.”
“Benjamin, wait.” She pummeled him with another long pause and then spoke in a stream of rapid fire. “No, I’m sorry. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. I’ve got four clients demanding work that’ll only get done if I can alter space and time. Meanwhile, the company president schedules a technical staff meeting that drags on for two and a half hours. Two and a half hours, when the company is swamped and in crisis mode.” Another pause followed. “You don’t want to hear me bitch about my day.”
“Yeah, I do.” I like hearing your voice. “I’ve never had a real job, except at the pet shop, so it’s interesting.”
“I love my job, but some days…” The tapping sound came again. “I’ve got to get back to work, but dinner tonight would be nice. Do you want to meet somewhere?”
“I can pick you up,” he said, before realizing that that might make it seem more like a date.
Maya didn’t seem put off by the suggestion. “I should be home by six. Six-thirty?”
“See you then.”
Chapter Thirteen
Maya hurried to the front door, a paper towel in hand. After a quick check out the peephole, she opened the door.
Benjamin gave her a wan smile, gaze on the towel. “I might take the silverware, but I’m housebroken.”
She laughed and glanced at the paper towel. “Oh, this.” She motioned him in the house. “Delilah likes to slap her tail on the water’s surface. When she does it toward the back of the aquarium, she splashes water everywhere—on the tiles, the cabinet.”
The offending fish scooted toward the front of the tank as Benjamin approached. He amused the fish with the silly finger game while Maya mopped up the water. The spill seemed bigger than usual. “She really put some muscle into it this time,” Maya said.
He leaned over the aquarium, studying the back edge of the setup. “It would help if the gap between the filter and this edge wasn’t so wide. I could probably rig something.” He slid a finger over the edge of the aquarium cover, the gap between it and the aquarium rim, the place where Delilah would fling out water.
“Really? That would be great. All the water is starting ruin the top of the cabinet.” She lifted the sopping paper towel and met his gaze. He nodded and looked away.
Clutching the wet towel in both hands to keep it from dripping on the floor, she straightened. “We better get going. I don’t think anyone eats in anymore. Even on a Tuesday night, most restaurants are busy.” She started for the kitchen. “Even if your idea of dinner is fast food, the line through the drive-through is brutal.”
He followed her into the kitchen. “No fast food. My idea of dinner isn’t a desiccated burger served by a surly sixteen-year-old.”
Maya dumped the wet towels in the trash and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “So, where we going?”
“The Mako Café. Have you ever been there?”
Remembering her lunch with Adam and his kiss, she could only nod.
“It’s run by a friend of mine,” he explained. “I probably eat there too often. Guess I’m in a rut.”
Maya opened her mouth but found she had nothing to say. She perused him, noting he wore nothing black. If it were possible to forget that he was handsome, he was almost nondescript, dressed in blue jeans, a New Mexico Lobos sweatshirt and no-name running shoes. The Lobos’ team color, red, clashed horribly with his hair. The fashion faux pas was rather endearing. It made her want to take him home and dress him properly. Except she was home and a sudden surge of lust made her want to haul him into her bedroom and dispense with clothes entirely.
She nibbled her lower lip and wondered if it were possible for her taste in men to get any worse. “You’re staring again,” he said.
“Of course I am. Red’s not your color, Benjamin.” She headed past him, giving his shirtsleeve a tug. “Yikes.”
“Huh. Really?” she heard him say.
About a dozen people waited in the Mako’s lobby when Maya and Benjamin arrived, but the maître d’, a leggy brunette, scooped a couple of menus from the podium as they approached.
The brunette had a broad smile for Benjamin. “Hi, Ben. Two?” She looked at Maya, curiosity in her dark eyes.
“Evening, Joni. Yeah, two.”
“Follow me,” Joni said. Benjamin stopped to let Maya go first, his hand brushing her back. Joni led them to a table by a window, near the table that Maya and Adam had shared. Once seated, Maya turned toward the restaurant’s entrance, back at Joni. She estimated Joni’s age somewhere in her late teens or early twenties. The dim lighting of the lobby picked up bright highlights in her dark chestnut hair, and her simple outfit of a white blouse, black skirt and black high heels gave her an air of understated sophistication.
She turned back, finding Benjamin absorbed with the menu. Keeping with the oceanic atmosphere, a gas lamp shaped like a ship’s lantern sat on the table. The lighting in the dining area was subdued but not as dim as the lobby. “Joni’s pretty,” Maya said.
Benjamin looked up from the menu. In the lamp’s light, his fair skin was even fairer, and his dark eyes were accentuated by points of yellow light. He glanced at Joni. “She’s gorgeous.”
“You’ve dated?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Not exactly.”
“She took you home.”
His eyes met hers, the expression like the proverbial deer in headlights. “Yeah. How’d you know? Is it that obvious?” He darted a look at Joni.
“I’m a woman. We know these things.” She grinned, enjoying his discomfort, reveling in her amusement because it distracted from her strange jealousy. “You have a gift with waitstaff, don’t you?”
His big hand passed over his face, pushing aside his red hair. “It was a mistake.” He shook his head. “That’s a stupid way to put it, isn’t it? It’s not like you can accidentally fall into somebody’s bed.”
“You might, if alcohol is involved,” Maya said, thinking of her “mistakes.”
“True, but we were both sober. I stopped by for takeout, and her shift was ending.”
Maya gave Joni another once-over. “So she’s gorgeous. What happened?” Normally, she wouldn’t dream of drilling a guy she hardly knew about his love life. But this particular guy had broken into her house and disrupted her life.
“Her boyfriend happened. I think she slept with me to get back at him.” He met her eyes. “And I’m not looking for a relationship.”
That comment gave Maya a sad little pang, although she wasn’t sure just why. Was it because he seemed to be leveling the comment directly at her?
What difference did it make? In under two weeks, he’d be somewhere far away. Yeah, she acknowledged. I believe him. He is Benjamin Black. The waiter interrupted her thoughts. As soon as he left, Maya said, “I want to learn how to use magic.”
Benjamin blinked, his dark eyes filled with exaggerated innocence. “But you already know how to do magic.”
“The only magic I’ve done was accidental,” Maya said. “I want to do magic on purpose.” Conversation was interrupted again by the waiter, who brought them their drinks, tea for Maya and a beer for Benjamin.
As she added sugar to her tea, Maya continued, “You said you could do some magic. Teach me what you can do.”
Foam bubbled toward the top of the thick beer glass as Benjamin poured from the bottle. “I can run lock and unlock spells.” He grinned at Maya. “A nice girl like you doesn’t need spells like that.”
“So that’s how you broke into my house.” He started to speak but Maya shook her head. “What if I lose my keys? Unlocking th
ings with magic would be handy.”
“I picked the lock on your front door.” He leaned back in his chair, the flames still dancing in his eyes. His chest rose with a sigh. “Okay.” An easy smile spread across his face and he stared at a point behind her. Seconds later, the reason behind his smile became clear. The sun-baked man she remembered from her last visit to the Mako hurried up to their table. “I’ve got a check with your name on it, Ben. Just hand me the title to the Volvo.”
Benjamin let out a quiet laugh and shook the older man’s hand. “Sorry, no.” Releasing the man’s hand, he gestured at Maya. “Maya, this is Lane Murchison, the owner of this dive. Lane, this is Maya Stephenson, my, uh, friend.”
“Hi, Maya.” Lane extended his hand and Maya took it. “A handsome young guy like Ben shouldn’t drive a Volvo. Am I right?”
Caught up by Lane’s infectious good humor, Maya laughed. “Young men are usually reckless drivers. Maybe they all should drive Volvos.”
Benjamin laughed. “She’s got you there, Lane.” He winked at Maya and her heart lurched.
Lane gave his shaggy head a shake. “You look familiar,” he said to Maya.
“I was in here yesterday,” she said and then froze. All of a sudden, she didn’t want Benjamin to know about her lunch with Adam.
The lines around Lane’s eyes grew more pronounced as he searched his memory. Just then, from the direction of the kitchen, someone called his name. “Oh, boy,” he said. “Hey, it was great meeting you, Maya. Any friend of Ben’s is a friend of mine.” With that he hurried toward the kitchen.
“How do you guys know each other?” Maya asked.
“San Diego. He used to own a kite shop. His kites were so well designed they could fly themselves.” A boyish grin took over his face. “On a nice day, when the ocean breezes were perfect, he’d get a few kites up in the sky and tie them down and they’d soar all day.” Coming back from the reminiscence, he met Maya’s eyes. “I still have one of those kites. Tried flying it here, but the winds in Santa Fe aren’t good for kite flying.”