Third Time's the Charm

by K. J. Emrick

  Was a gun store.

  So now the Taffy Man was armed. A magical being who can stretch his body around like a snake and shed his skin and if that isn’t enough, now he’s carrying…I read through the report…a shotgun, and two fully automatic handguns.

  That did not bode well for Arnie Chen. No doubt about what Kato wants the weapons for. Although, I’m making sure all my doors and windows are locked tonight, for all the good it’s going to do me. I don’t think he’s after me, though.

  Chen terrifies me in ways I can hardly describe, but I don’t care how scary you are. A shotgun slug or two aimed at a man’s chest will take away the scary real fast.

  I need to find Kato. Soon. Chris, wonderful man that he is, just narrowed the search down to a three-block area for me. Kato hit all of these places in that one part of Detroit. He’s got to be right there, somewhere.

  I drop the pages back in the envelope, clutching it tight. This is just what I needed.

  “Thanks, Chris,” I tell him, throwing my arms around him and hugging him tight. “I knew you’d come through.”

  “Don’t I always?” he whispers in my ear.

  “Yeah, you do. Good to have friends.”

  I let go of him…but he doesn’t let go of me.

  “Chris?”

  His body shifts…

  His arms shift, his whole body shifts, and suddenly his lips aren’t near my ear.

  On my cheek…

  They’re on my cheek, and suddenly I’m intimately aware of the fact that I chose not to put my bra back on. His solid, perfectly shaped chest is crushed up against mine and I wonder why I didn’t notice that before. His mouth is soft, and warm, and…and…

  What comes next…

  With a push, I step back from him, looking up into his face and trying to read his intentions from his expression. I know what I saw in that future flash, but I need to see it for myself. Only, I just stopped it from happening. Just like I always do when a guy gets close. Always the same thing. Always me, messing it up by taking a peek at what comes next.

  Damn it.

  He doesn’t stop me, and now we’re standing so close to each other, but not touching. The light in his eyes has changed. The quirk to his smile is a riddle, inside of a mystery, wrapped up in the face of a man I’ve known for years.

  And maybe not at all.

  Every time I’ve ever gotten close to a man, this is the result. I know what he’s going to do before he’s going to do it. I know where his lips are going to go, and his hands, and every word he’s going to say. I’ve never been able to keep a boyfriend for very long, precisely for that reason. There’s no romance when everything a man can do to you has already been done in your mind. When you move your body in response to something he hasn’t even done yet, and he thinks he’s done something wrong, and you have to promise him it’s okay just do it already…

  Yeah. It really kills the mood.

  But Chris isn’t a boyfriend. He’s my friend.

  Friends don’t do what I just saw in that mental image.

  “Chris…what are you doing?”

  My voice was soft, meant for his ears only. I’m not sure why things suddenly feel so strange between us but there it is. What did I do, what did he do, what made me feel like everything around me was changing and even when I saw it coming I couldn’t really see it…

  Oh man, this is so screwed up.

  I’m sorry, he says.

  “I’m sorry, Sid. I just thought…I’ve wanted to tell you…” With one of his many different sighs he stops himself short, and I can hear it when he changes tracks. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

  “Him? Who are you talking about?”

  When he points a finger up at my apartment, I know the answer, even before he says it.

  “Harry. I’m trying to tell you I want…I’d like to tell you that I…” He swallows back the rest of that, a hundred different possible endings to that sentence jumbling up in my future-sense. “You’re with him, right? That’s the reason why you won’t let me get too close?”

  “No! Oh, dear God, Chris, no. I’m not with Harry. He’s my friend. Why would you think…?”

  “Well, what am I supposed to think, Sid? You’re living with the guy, and it’s obvious how close the two of you are.”

  “Friends,” I tell him levelly. “Me and him are friends. That’s all.”

  “And what are we?”

  “We’re…friends.”

  Even as I was saying the word it sounded so completely inadequate to describe Chris and me. He’s more than my friend. I depend on him like I depend on nobody else. I’ve let him in on almost all of my secrets and I know almost everything about him. We’re as close as I’ve ever been with anyone.

  So is that all there is…or is there more?

  “We’re…good friends,” I add, as if that makes it better.

  His hand reaches up, and I know he’s going to touch my cheek but I don’t lean into his palm before it’s there and I don’t tell him to stop and I don’t do anything except stand there, completely unsure of myself, and let it happen.

  Well. That’s new. For me, anyway. It felt good to just let things happen…

  Damn it, why am I making this so hard? I like Chris. He obviously likes me. I like where his hand is right now and there’s dozens of other places I know for a fact I’d like that hand to touch, so what in the hell is keeping me from grabbing him by the front of his shirt and putting my lips to his and just letting this thing happen?

  My past screw ups with old boyfriends? My fears that if I do let him in I’ll just muck it up later, somehow? The fact that my life is spiraling down a big old rabbit hole of crazy and I don’t know if Chris is ready to jump in with me, with both feet, without even knowing if there’s a bottom?

  Isn’t that what every normal person in the world worries about? Except for the werewolves, I mean. And the witches. Oh, and the Taffy Man. Arnie Chen. Flashes of the future. People of Magic. I think I heard someone mention vampires recently.

  And Harry.

  Deep breath, Sid. Stop overthinking it.

  I just can’t help it.

  “Chris, I…?”

  “It’s okay,” he tells me, cutting off the brilliant speech that I was putting together one word at a time in my head. His thumb rubs little circles against my skin. It tickles, in the best way possible. “That’s my bad, I guess. I misread the signals or whatever. If it isn’t Harry, then it’s got to be me. We’re friends, like you said, and I don’t want to ruin that with you. Sorry, Sid. I won’t bring it up again.”

  That hit me like a sack of bricks in the stomach. Whatever might have happened between us just got ruined, because of me. I hadn’t seen this one coming, for sure, but when I did, I completely screwed it up. There’s no way this could get worse.

  And then it does, because he takes his hand away.

  I’m just going to go…

  “I’m just going to go,” he says. “We can forget this happened, if you want. We’re still friends. That’s enough for me.”

  Make him stay, I tell myself.

  If anything else comes up…

  “If anything else comes up,” he’s telling me as he goes around to the driver’s side, “I’ll let you know.”

  Find some way to make him stay.

  Maybe we can get together…

  “Maybe we can get together tomorrow for lunch or something. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now but a girl’s got to eat, right?”

  Make him stay and make him see what you’re really feeling!

  Isn’t that what you’re always telling me…

  “Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? Whatever’s going on in your world, you still need to eat.”

  That’s not what I need. I’ve forgotten all about the dinner Harry made for us upstairs, and how badly I wanted a shower, and all of it. None of it matters.

  Making Chris stay right here with me. That’s all that matters.

&
nbsp; See you, Sid.

  “See you—”

  “Chris I can see the future but I never told you about it.”

  Oh…crap.

  The words come out of me in a rush. Chris stops, the door to the car halfway open, and stares at me. There’s a long moment of silence where my future-sense doesn’t hear a thing.

  Then he says the strangest words I’ve ever heard.

  “I was wondering when you were going to tell me.”

  ‘Uncomfortable’ doesn’t begin to describe that conversation.

  Chris had already known about my special gift and just hadn’t said anything. He figured it was my secret and I’d tell him when the time was right. He was being considerate of my feelings—the jerk. That’s what he told me when I laid everything out for him.

  Here I thought I’d been so careful, but he’d noticed all these little things over time and put them together. Like how I sometimes call out when I know it's him at the door even before he knocks. I do things like that sometimes even though I’m careful to act normal. And he never said a thing.

  We ended up talking for more than an hour in his car, even though it was me who did most of the talking. I told him things I’ve never told anyone before. Private things that I’ve kept to myself for so long that I’d almost forgotten about them. My life story, the cliff-note’s version. He listened when he was supposed to, and he asked questions like I knew he would, and somewhere in the middle of the conversation he held my hand in his and didn’t let go.

  And never once did he mention his feelings for me, or how stupid I was to turn him down, or ask me on a date. He let it be all about me—the jerk.

  I was surprised when I cried. The idea of opening up like this had always seemed so impossible but here I was, spilling my guts out to my best friend. Talking about it with Harry was always easy. He’s a Person of Magic, and he understood what I could do already, even if he was confused about it being some sort of magic. I didn’t have to explain it to Chen, because somehow he knew about it already, too. So did Molly. There wasn’t any need to explain it to them.

  But Chris had figured it out on his own, and it hadn’t changed who I was in his eyes. That had been my fear and it turns out I should have known better. I was still Sidney Stone in his eyes, and always would be.

  A woman could love a guy like him.

  So why couldn’t I just tell him that, damn it?

  When he drove away, I felt like everything had been said except the most important thing. I could see the same thing written all over his expression, too. We both got something out of that conversation. Just not the something we’d been hoping for.

  Which left us still friends. Was that what I wanted from Chris? Well, yeah, of course. But that’s not the real question, is it?

  Did I want more from Chris. That’s the question I’m choosing not to answer. Not yet.

  Even a girl who can see into her future can’t face her own reflection sometimes, I guess.

  Which is probably why I’m driving Roxy ten miles over the posted speed limit across the city right now to get to Molly Knowell’s apartment. I’m going to throw myself into my casework because suddenly the idea of sitting at home all night with my own thoughts appeals to me not one bit.

  In the passenger seat next to me, Harry clears his throat.

  “My lady, your Mustang is an amazing piece of machinery, but I wonder if we might stay to a speed that won’t flip us over onto her roof.”

  “What’s the problem, Harry? Aren’t you immortal?”

  “I think,” he grumbles, “that I would rather not test that theory today.”

  “Whatever. I know how to drive. Plus I can see all the cars coming at me before they’re even there. Didn’t you know? I can see the future.”

  There’s a right turn onto another street up ahead and I take it way too fast, making Roxy’s tires squeal and throwing me up against the door until I straighten her out again.

  “I’m some kind of freak with a talent that keeps me from getting close to anyone.”

  The streetlight up ahead is already yellow, heading for red, and I’m not even close to making it on time. A car blares its horn at me in protest that it wasn’t my turn. I holler something appropriately profane back at them.

  “My lady,” Harry says, shocked that I even knew those words.

  “Oh, come on, Harry. You knew I wasn’t an altar girl when you met me. I’m a freak, remember?”

  “You are not.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m a girl who can peek into the future like a pervert looking into someone else’s window. I’m a freak.”

  “You are not,” he insists.

  “Oh yeah?” I take the next left hard, clipping the corner. “I told him I can see the future, for the love of God. Who says things like that? I mean, this is worse than telling someone you’ll go all the way on the first date. Worse than saying you have mono. This is…it means I’m some kind of weirdo and now it’s just out there.”

  “No. You are not a freak.”

  “Then what am I, Harry?”

  “You are Sidney Stone. You are an amazing private investigator who gives all she has for her clients. You have never given up on anything in your life. You have magic you do not fully understand and it pains you to carry the burden of it, sometimes. You are an amazing woman. And, you are my friend.”

  When he says that, my foot relaxes on the gas pedal. Roxy slows to a fraction below the speed limit just a few blocks from our destination. I glance over at him to find him watching me with great concern written all across his wonderful face. He’s a good friend. He knows I’m upset, and even if he can’t know the specifics of what Chris said to me, Harry knows me well enough to know how dark my thoughts are.

  With a wide smile, he says, “You are amazing, Sidney Stone. I wish you would never forget that.”

  Just like that, I laugh. It bubbles up from my chest and overtakes me completely, and then everything looks a little brighter. “Harry, I’m the one who’s supposed to make wishes.”

  He crosses his arm over his waist and does his best to bow without banging his head against the roof. “At your service, my lady.”

  Wow. How did I luck out to get Harry in my life? That’s actually a good question, considering I still don’t know who sent him to me or why. I don’t care, I guess. He’s here. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Of course,” he says, before things could get too heavy, “I could also suggest that you purchase another car. A more modern vehicle that could hug the road, as the commercials on the TV say.”

  “No way! Shh. Don’t even say that in here.” Pulling the car into a parking space up against the curb, I shut off Roxy’s engine and stroke my hand along her dash. “It’s okay, baby. The bad man didn’t mean it. You know I would never get rid of you.”

  I’m pretty sure Harry rolled his eyes at me. “But with the money that Li Qiang Chen has paid you for his case alone, you could afford one of Roxy’s more modern cousins. More horsepower. Better suspension. Better gas mileage.”

  Why do I get the impression he’s just repeating things he’s heard on TV? “Those cars have no soul, either,” I point out to him. “They don’t make cars like they used to, not even here in good old Detroit. Roxy has spirit. She’s got a personality. That’s something those modern cars lack. Roxy stays. She’s taken bullets for me before. I’m not giving her up now.”

  I remember every single one of those bullets, too. That’s why parts of Roxy are different colors. It’s hard to get parts for a spirited girl of Roxy’s age. It’s like getting a new pair of shoes when the old ones wear out. Any woman in the world can tell you that finding just the right pair of shoes to match the rest of your outfit isn’t always possible. Sometimes you have to go with whatever fits even if it isn’t the color you wanted.

  Don’t think I’m not aware of Harry trying to distract me from my thoughts about Chris. I know exactly what he’s doing, I’m just choosing to let him do it. I feel better now, thanks t
o him. He’s the type of guy pal every girl needs. He understands me and doesn’t push.

  Considering the matter closed I take my keys and open my door. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Molly. See what she has to say.”

  “Wait. Do you want…?”

  I can’t help but grin. Harry isn’t at a loss for words very often. “Yeah, I want you to come with me. Molly already knows about me. She knows about werewolves and witches and zombies, apparently. I don’t think a genie is going to freak her out.”

  “Other people will see us together,” he reminds me.

  “Let ‘em. There’s nobody here who’s going to see anything other than a halfway decent-looking woman walking with a guy. A really big, gorgeous guy. Come on.”

  The Mustang rocks as he hurries to catch up with me.

  Molly’s apartment building is one of the better ones in the city. DuCharme Place is a relatively new building, modern and blocky in its design, all black and gray on the outside, four stories high with a “green space” out back. Very nice. Very expensive. Even with Arnie Chen’s paychecks fattening up my bank account, I wouldn’t be able to afford a place here for more than a couple of weeks. The inside is brightly lit with wall sconces along every hallway and rugs the color of burgundy and gilded trim along the ceiling and I swear that somewhere I can hear somebody counting the money in their mattress.

  Kurt must be paying for Molly to live here, because somehow I doubt a pixie witch has a six-digit income.

  Her apartment is on the second floor. The few residents who pass us going back and forth to the elevators take just a moment to look up at the tall guy walking next to me in his dark sweater and tight, tight jeans. Just a single moment, and then they go back to their day without giving him a second thought. This is Detroit, after all. Something weirder is bound to be right around the corner.

  If they only knew.

  “Here it is. Apartment 7.” I reach up and give the door a hard knock. Since Molly’s a Person of Magic I don’t sense her coming. There’s no warning for me before the door opens and there she is, hanging on the edge, looking up at Harry from her slender height. Her eyes are wide. I expect her to demand an explanation for who he is, and why I brought him here.