Quick Fix

by Linda Grimes

  “Funny, I had the impression James was born with a test tube in one hand and a microscope in the other.” The pretty mouth wasn’t so sardonic now. In fact, it looked almost tender when he thought about James as a kid.

  “Not James. He’s a real Renaissance man. Science is only his latest passion. History was the big thing when we were kids. He had a music period, too—did he tell you he plays concert piano? And guitar, and oboe, and violin, and a few weird medieval instruments I can’t remember the names of.” I suspect James tends to overcompensate for his lack of adaptor capability, but I couldn’t tell Devon that.

  “No, he didn’t. Where are his instruments? I haven’t seen any around here.”

  “My parents keep them at their house. Not enough room here.”

  He looked around longingly. “Yeah, it’s small. But there’s something about it. I miss it.”

  “Do you miss it or my brother?”

  There wasn’t a trace of guile in the eyes that met mine. “I miss James. Didn’t think I would, but I do.”

  “Do you love him?” I asked, flat out. Why be coy about it?

  He drew his head back in surprise, and a puzzled look came over him. “I suppose I must. What an odd notion.”

  I snorted. “Well, offering to dive into bed with me and Billy is a fine way of expressing it. No wonder James kicked you out, if that’s your usual modus operandi.”

  His smile was that of a naughty boy caught but not expecting to get into much trouble. “Old habits. If it improves your opinion of me, I knew all along you wouldn’t take me up on the offer. I just couldn’t resist giving you a little shock. Sorry.”

  “Huh. I’ll reserve my opinion for now. James is the one you have to worry about.”

  He shrugged off my concern with a grin. “Worry gives you wrinkles.”

  “Look, Devon—I love my brother. A lot. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

  He cocked his head. “Serious little thing, aren’t you? So much like James. Well, tiny one, let me reassure you. I don’t want to see him hurt, either. That’s why I’m back—to tell him I’m willing to go for a ride on the monogamy wagon, if he’s willing to give us another chance.”

  I tilted my head to one side, skeptical. “Can you do that? Just decide to stop playing the field and stick to one person, if it’s not really your nature?” (Okay, I admit my reason for asking wasn’t purely on my brother’s behalf. There’s nothing wrong with multitasking.)

  “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never tried. But I’m going to give it a hell of a shot because James is worth it.”

  Since I never could keep my mouth shut, I also asked, albeit gingerly, “Won’t it be a little more difficult for you? Because I understand your, um, playing the field, is a little bit broader than most?” There. That was delicate, right?

  He laughed outright. “What has James been telling you? I wonder. But, no, to answer your question, being bisexual doesn’t make monogamy any more difficult, I wouldn’t think. Why should it matter which gender tempts you away from your commitment, if keeping your commitment is the important thing?”

  I gave him a long, level look. Decided he sounded sincere. “You know what, Dev? I believe I’m rooting for you.”

  Chapter 15

  I was a woman on a mission: to avoid my mother for as long as possible, because once she had me, I was stuck until after the party. One of my rat fink brothers had given her my new cell number, so my voice mail was already getting overloaded with frantic messages. Where was I? When was I going to get there? Billy had called Mo, so why hadn’t I called her, my mother? Didn’t I care that I was worrying her into an early grave? Was I sick and afraid to tell her? Did I have a fever? Had I even looked at my throat? For God’s sake, call!

  Damn. When she started bringing God into it, I had to call. I knew from experience the police would be next.

  She answered on the first ring. “Ciel! Are you all right? Where have you been? Why haven’t you returned my calls? And why did you change your number?”

  “Hi, Mom. I, uh, accidentally dropped my cell phone in the toilet,” I mumbled, praying she’d be too bogged down with party prep to examine my excuse too closely. “It took a while to dry out.”

  “Again?”

  Oops. Guess I’d already used that one. “Um, yeah. You’d think I’d learn, huh?”

  “Why would I think that? You kids never learn, not one of you. Why, just last week Brian’s phone fell out of his shirt pocket into his drink at the sordid little excuse for a bar he plays at—”

  “Mom, listen, I’m in the middle of something. I just wanted to call and tell you I’ll be there for the party. I’ll let you know when I’m in town—” I crossed my fingers, hoping her motherly lie-detecting instincts were muffled by preparty confusion.

  “What? You mean to tell me you’re not in town yet? The party is tomorrow, Ciel. To-mor-row! If you don’t—”

  “I’ll be there. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be staying with Billy—” Geez, I hoped she was too busy to swing by Billy’s condo, because if she saw crime-scene tape, she’d go nuclear. I already knew the shooting couldn’t have made the news, or else I’d be having an entirely different conversation with her. “I can help him watch Molly for Auntie Mo. Boy, she’s a handful, isn’t she? I know Auntie Mo must be grateful we’re keeping that little monkey occupied for her. ’kay-bye-love-you.”

  “Ciel Colleen Halligan, don’t you dare hang up on me! I need you to—”

  Eek! The dreaded middle-name inclusion. If I didn’t disengage pronto, I was doomed. “Sorry, Mom, gotta go. Molly needs me … and … and I’m losing the signal. I’ll try back later,” I said, speaking more softly as I extended my arm away from my face. I felt guilty about cutting her off, but I couldn’t risk staying on the line. The longer we were connected, the more likely she’d suck the truth directly from my brain. Couldn’t risk that.

  Okay, mission accomplished. I should now be able to avoid Mom’s calls right up until party time without her feeling compelled to call out the National Guard. Next up: James’s lab. I could only hope against hope he’d gotten Molly fixed overnight and simply hadn’t called to tell me yet out of some brotherly concern for my sleep.

  I sipped my third cup of coffee from a travel mug as I hailed a cab outside James’s place. The first two had been consumed, along with a whole wheat bagel (bleah) smothered with enough peanut butter to drown out the healthy taste, while I washed the sheets and remade James’s bed. He might question why I bothered to do that this time when I never had before, but he couldn’t be sure of the reason. It was at least feasible for him to assume I’d matured into a more considerate houseguest.

  (Okay, maybe not feasible, but better than the alternative. I mean, I couldn’t not wash the sheets, not without wordlessly proclaiming to my brother that I’d had sex in his bed—and believe me, that seemed a lot more sordid in the bright light of morning than it had the night before.)

  Besides, I’d thought doing laundry would keep me busy enough not to think too much about whether I’d done the prudent thing buying into this relationship with Billy. He sure hadn’t stuck around long enough to reassure me, had he? But busy didn’t keep the bagel from congealing into a cold lump of buyer’s remorse in the pit of my stomach. More than anything, I wanted to run to somebody who would give me a hug and not ask questions. Unfortunately, my usual source of unquestioning hugs was Billy.

  While I was waiting for a cab, a hot little gunmetal gray convertible pulled up alongside me. “Hop in,” Mark called out, his voice chipper. Well, as chipper as Mark’s voice gets, which basically meant he didn’t sound pissed. Which was nice but didn’t stop the heat from rising in my cheeks.

  What could I do? I got in, put the empty mug on the floor, and prayed the breeze would cool me off before he examined me too closely. Why did I have to see him now, so soon after I’d … well, done exactly what he’d warned me against? The only explanation I could come up with was that my life is a cosmic joke. Some great
, omnipotent being was getting a good laugh out of setting me up.

  “You okay?” he said as he eased back into traffic.

  “Yeah. Sure. Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I perked up my voice as much as I could and told myself to stop thinking. I was pretty sure thinking would do no good in a situation like this.

  I especially didn’t want to think about how I’d always fantasized about Mark being the one who’d someday divest me of my virginity. On his sailboat. At sunset. In the summer, off the coast of one of the Keys, after dining on lobster and caviar, with a dessert of strawberries dipped first in champagne and then powdered sugar, lovingly fed to each other.

  Not that I’d dwelled on it overmuch.

  And not that I ever really thought it would happen. Only, now it never could happen, and that was kind of sad. Death of a fantasy.

  Mark darted a sideways glance at me, then focused on traffic, a thoughtful look on his face. “You hear anything from Billy?”

  I jerked. “What? Why would you ask that? I was at James’s. But you know that—of course you know that—you’re here, aren’t you? You came to get me. Anyway, James sent me to his place to sleep. I slept.” All technically true. I had slept after Devon left. Not for long, but enough.

  “I just thought Billy might contact you before any of the rest of us.”

  Was Mark talking more slowly than usual, or did it just seem that way compared to the speed of my thoughts? I didn’t want to lie, so I changed the subject. And slowed my tongue down. “James didn’t call me. Is Molly better? Did he fix her?”

  “Not as of half an hour ago. Thomas and Brian are already at the lab. We’re going to have to decide what to do next.”

  “Thomas? I thought he went with Laura. How is she, anyway?”

  “She’s stable. There’s a doctor with her, a good one. Right now she needs rest more than anything, and Thomas playing mother hen was agitating her. Harvey sent him away.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me the background there? What is Laura to Thomas?”

  He shrugged. Not that I’d really expected an answer.

  “Why does everything have to be such a big mystery? It gets old after a while, you know,” I grumped. Like grumping had ever done me any good with Mark.

  “It’s not my story to tell, Howdy. Ask Thomas.”

  “I did. He won’t talk about it. What’d you do? Steal her away from him? Did she break his heart?”

  He smiled, a genuine one. “You have a lot of faith in my prowess. I think you’re overestimating me.”

  “Your prowess works just fine,” I said wryly.

  “Not with you, apparently.” He glided smoothly between lanes, moving at a good clip without ever giving the appearance of rushing.

  “Oh, come on. You never wanted me. Don’t pretend you were serious.”

  He pulled into a parking garage off a side street near the lab. Found a spot almost at once, pulled into it, and set the brake. He turned to me, caressed the back of my head, and pulled me toward him before I could think to protest. “Maybe I’m serious now.”

  His kiss brought every memory I had of the boat in Sweden crashing in on me. Shit. This was not good. This was not the kind of person I was. Granted, I hadn’t had a lot of experience with men, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t the type to bounce between two of them like a tennis ball at Wimbledon.

  At least, I didn’t want to be that type. I wasn’t a cheater.

  But was this cheating? I mean, Billy and I hadn’t really defined our relationship. We hadn’t declared anything openly, had we? Or was I just rationalizing?

  The higher me, the superego me, the part with a conscience, said, You weasel! You just made love to another man—fidelity should be implied.

  But the id me, the if-it-feels-good-do-it me, wasn’t listening. Probably the pounding of my heart drowned the higher me out.

  It was all so confusing.

  I felt Mark’s hand on my neck stroking the hollow of my throat with his thumb, dipping lower to loosen the top button of my blouse. I was going to protest, really I was, but … I didn’t. Part of me knew I’d feel ashamed later, but honestly? I was too overwhelmed at the moment to care.

  His lips trailed after his hand, and then his head lifted. I held my breath and waited. When the pause stretched to be uncomfortably long, I opened my eyes and found him staring at the tops of my breasts. Well, at one spot in particular—a love mark left there by Billy. Crap. Why hadn’t I noticed that when I’d showered earlier? It was too late to adapt it away now.

  The eyes that lifted to mine weren’t as cold as I expected them to be. In fact, they were kind of understanding, which was somehow even worse. He rebuttoned my blouse while I stared at my elbow. I couldn’t look at his face again. When he was done straightening my collar, he dropped a kiss on my head and got out of the car.

  “Mark,” I said in a small voice, once he came around to my side to open the door for me—a gentlemanly action that served to remind me in a painful way I wasn’t acting like much of a lady. “I … I…” But I couldn’t finish.

  “It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

  Damn it. He was going to be nice. I can’t handle nice when I feel like shit about myself.

  The phrase “burst into tears” has always seemed melodramatic to me, but this time it was an apt descriptor. Huge sobs blasted from me, tears exploding from my eyes onto Mark’s tailored blue shirt, splattering it with dark spots. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or him.

  Mortified, I tried to turn away from him, but he wrapped his arms around me and tucked me against his chest, cradling my head in one large hand. I boo-hooed for freaking ever, until all the dark spots on his shirt morphed into one huge, ugly blob. Great. Now I had a ruined shirt on my conscience, too.

  Mark didn’t say anything. He just hugged me, barely moving in a twisty, rocking kind of motion that eventually soothed me down to the trickle I was more accustomed to when I cried.

  “Bad night?” he finally said quietly. Probably afraid to trigger another outburst.

  “N-no. It was an incredible night. God, I think I might love him. But then, when you kiss me, I think I still…” Another small squall, patted away by Mark’s careful hand. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Not a damn thing, Howdy.”

  “Then why … I mean, how…?” I took a deep breath, looked up at him, and plunged through it. “How can I feel what I feel when you kiss me if I really love Billy? What kind of awful person am I?”

  “Tell me something. Did you and Billy elope?” he said.

  “What? No way!”

  “Did he propose? Got a wedding planned?”

  “Of course not,” I said, beginning to see what he was getting at.

  “Then you’re not awful. And you feel what you feel because I’m a damn good kisser. I thought we’d established that in Sweden,” he said with just enough humor that it didn’t sound egotistical.

  “You are that,” I said with a short, dry laugh.

  He smiled. “Or maybe it’s just leftovers from that crush you were telling me about, huh? I hear tell crushes are powerful things.” He was teasing now. It made me feel a little better.

  “Maybe,” I admitted. “And maybe it’s time I grew up.”

  “You’ve grown up just fine, Ciel. Don’t worry. Things will work out.”

  “You’re not mad at Billy?”

  “Sure I am. I’m tempted to punch his lights out, but not for loving you. If he drags you any further into this mess he’s in the middle of, though, there isn’t an aura he can hide behind that will keep me from making his life hell.” He took my hand and started walking toward the exit. “Come on. The others will be waiting.”

  “Your shirt…” I could fix the ravages of my tear storm with some tissues and a simple adaption—in fact, I already had—but his shirt was still a soggy mess.

  “I’ll tell them I spilled a drink on myself.”

  “Ha. Mr. Coordinat
ed spill something? They’ll never buy it.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell them you spilled a drink on me.”

  Now, that they’d believe.

  “Hey, wait a second—what do you think Thomas will do when he finds out about me and Billy?” I wasn’t looking forward to sharing the news with Brother Bear.

  Mark laughed, full and hearty—something even rarer than one of his smiles. “Howdy, that’s the best damn part of this whole situation. Thomas will be all over Billy’s ass instead of mine.”

  Chapter 16

  You can’t walk into a party with an orangutan on your hip and not be the center of attention. Every adaptor or adaptor adjunct there, from “Barack Obama” to “Lady Gaga,” crowded around to pay homage to Her Royal Orangeness, and Molly held court with aplomb beneath the whirling lights of the rented disco ball. It was the first time she’d been to one of these parties in something other than her own skin, and she was milking the experience for all it was worth.

  Nobody even gave me, Clint Eastwood, a second glance, and I looked damn good. I mean, Clint in his Every Which Way but Loose days was hot. Not to mention the only easily recognized persona who could realistically show up with an orangutan. Lucky for me Mr. Eastwood was strong, because baby orangutans get heavy after you lug them around for a while.

  Of course, I’d never had the good fortune to touch the 1970s version of the man, so my Clint was far from perfect. Mark had offered me the Gran Torino version he had in his repertoire of auras, but that wouldn’t have worked. So I made do with what adaptors refer to as cardboard—looks okay from a distance, but pretty fakey on close examination. Since most of the adaptors present were in the same boat with their chosen famous auras, it didn’t really matter.

  Thomas, Brian, and Mark were going to take turns donning Molly’s ten-year-old-girl aura at various times throughout the party, so Mo wouldn’t freak about her missing daughter. I’d smuggled some of Molly’s clothes up to my old room earlier, when I’d checked in with Mom after my “arrival” in New York. The guys would sneak off, by turn, change auras and clothes, spend a little time as the energetic Molly, then go change back to whatever persona they had adopted for the party before they were missed. Tag-team. With a little luck the confusion of the party would be cover enough for our deception.