by Zoe Chant
“Good,” Mikhail said, looking relieved. “Tonight, after the meeting, I want to go out to your ranch house to put stronger wards on your perimeter.”
“I won’t disagree, but I now have a small army of volunteer student-shifters patrolling. I almost feel sorry for any overconfident Cang minions who try to invade my place. Almost.” Joey added with an airy wave, “I should get started on the barbeque prep. Doris was leaving to pick up Godiva and Jen when I left Shifra’s.”
Nikos could not prevent a smile at the mention of Jen’s name, but at least Joey had the grace not to gloat.
SEVEN
JEN
“Thanks for the ride, Doris,” Jen said as she sank into the passenger seat, the fringes on her jacket swinging. “I’d take my bike, but—”
“Rain in the forecast tonight,” Doris finished.
“Of course we need it,” they said at the same time—the mantra of the Southern Californian.
Doris gave a soft laugh. “But you don’t want to sit the writers’ group in wet jeans. Or bike home in them.”
“No.” Jen shuddered.
“Especially in those clothes. I notice you broke out your good jacket.”
“Seemed appropriate for the weather.”
“It makes you look cooler than cool,” Doris said. “One of the few pieces of clothing that never went out of style.”
Jen thanked her, laughing at the idea of being in style. She’d never in her life been in style or paid attention to trends—she wore the jacket because she loved it.
Doris didn’t say anything more as she negotiated afternoon traffic to Godiva’s house. Godiva appeared immediately, and opened the passenger door to the front. But when she saw Jen, she switched to the back door, saying as she slid inside, “Jen! This is the second time I’ve caught you in my shotgun seat. Where’s the green machine? Don’t tell me that old VW bug of yours finally kicked the bucket?”
“You malign it. That car is now the proud first car of a freshman university student.”
“Who I hope is handy with a wrench,” Godiva commented.
“Indeed. It’s why she picked it—she rebuilt VW engines in auto shop in high school, and wants to experiment on the green machine. More power to her,” Jen said in her most casual voice.
But Godiva wasn’t often fooled. “Why did you sell it?”
Because I can no longer afford the insurance was the real answer, but Jen wasn’t going there.
“It’s ridiculous to keep a car when everywhere I go is within jogging or biking distance. The only thing we’d ever used it for was grocery runs. And now that I’m single, I don’t need it for groceries. The bike basket works just fine.”
Godiva said, “At least you’re not giving me that I’m too old to drive nonsense.”
Which made Jen wonder, as she had occasionally over the years, why Godiva didn’t have a car. She was a successful writer, so it certainly wasn’t money. And now and then she’d made casual and brief references to cross-country drives during her past, so it seemed she knew how to drive. But she had a way of deflecting personal questions that the other three of the Gang of Four had gotten used to over the years.
Godiva leaned forward. “I see you’re grooving that suede jacket. I hope that’s aimed at that handsome Greek.”
Doris said, “Are you seeing Nikos?”
Jen said, “I’m seeing him, yes. All three of us are seeing him at the barbeque—”
“Do not nitpick words with the expert nitpicker,” Godiva butted in. “Did he ask you on a date?”
“I don’t know that I’d call it a date, but he said he’d be there tonight.”
Godiva gave a dramatic sigh. “Why are you pussyfooting around? Are you dating or not?”
“Not—I guess—or maybe I am?”
Doris stopped at a red light, and cast a quick look at Jen. “Do you not want to date him? Or would you rather not talk about it?”
“Neither,” Jen said, feeling her way into this totally new territory. “It’s just, I don’t really know what constitutes dating.”
Godiva’s gnarled fingers gripped either side of Jen’s seat—which meant she didn’t have her seatbelt on. As usual. “Jen! Did he or did he not ask you out?”
“He asked if he could see me again, but—”
Godiva thumped back into her seat, as if she were eighteen and not in her eighties. “That is a date!”
“Oh. I wasn’t sure.”
“What? You were married for years—”
“And we never once went out on a date, the way I understood dates were supposed to be. The boy asks you out, you both dress up, he pays for dinner and a movie, and you worry all night if you ate a food that makes your breath a turnoff in case he kisses you, and maybe make out in some car, with a gear-shift poking your spine. First base, second base, third base, will he or won’t he ask. I never missed that kind of thing—it sounded awkward and anxious. Just as well I never had the chance during high school. I towered over the boys. And while a super thin girl could be forgiven for being super tall, as my dad said proudly to me once, I’m built like a Mack Truck.”
“That was then. Good riddance to those attitudes.” Godiva dusted her hands. “But this is now, and I hope you are planning to make some whoopie with Hot Stuff’s lady-dagger—”
Doris choked.
“—before he ups and flies back to Greece.”
Doris’s laughter vanished and her hands tightened on the wheel. Jen cast a fast glance through the windshield, but there were no traffic hazards that she could see.
Godiva patted the back of Jen’s seat. “The important thing is, remember, whenever you get sick of that jacket, I get first dibs.”
“You’ve been saying that since I first met you,” Jen laughed. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“One of the few styles of the late sixties I really liked,” Godiva admitted.
“You can find them now,” Doris pointed out. “And you could afford to buy a set of them, in every color, with the royalties you rake in.”
“Not the same. There’s something about a lived-in one from the time that still has its moxie,” Godiva stated.
“This one is definitely lived-in,” Jen said. “I wore it pretty much every day, after my cousin gave it to me, back in 1975. And he only did because he grew out of it.”
She’d worn it every day until she moved in with Robert, who had pointed out that it wasn’t a practical garment for hard travel. Which was true. The suede was shiny at the elbows, worn thin in places, and the fringes along the sleeves and across the back tended to brush against things, and even get caught if she wasn’t careful. But she loved it anyway.
In recent years it had largely lived in the back of her closet, except for occasional jaunts with the Gang of Four. Today it had seemed somehow right to wear the jacket—it made her feel young and adventurous again. She smiled, letting the fringes dangle across her fingers as she thought about seeing Nikos again.
Godiva said in an uncharacteristically soft voice, “Jen, kidding aside, are you ready for something to happen? You weren’t sure the other day.”
“Yeah,” Jen said. “I’m sure. I realize it might seem kind of sudden, but . . .”
Godiva snorted, sounding more like her usual self. “After four years? If that’s sudden, I’d hate to see what you think slow is.”
“A lifetime is too soon, for some,” Doris murmured. “If that was a person’s one and only. It happens.”
Godiva sighed sharply. “In poems. Not real life.”
Jen decided it was time to cut into an old argument—Godiva had said for years that her motto was like the old rock song, “If you can’t be with the one you love, then love the one you’re with.” Godiva didn’t believe in true love.
Jen said, “I think I was frozen after Robert died.”
Shock, the therapist she’d seen twice had called it. That had made sense. So did the suggestion that her shocky freeze was becoming habit, mixed with guilt because she was st
ill here.
But when the therapist had suggested looking at what had happened, Jen had walked out angrily. Why torture herself? By forcing away that memory, she’d managed to form a scab over the wound of Robert’s sudden heart attack. Numbness was so much better than the raw pain of guilt and grief, and the torment of what-ifs. Raking over that day of horror for the entertainment of some stupid therapist who had never known either of them seemed like pointless misery.
With long practice, Jen shoved aside that train of thought, realized she’d gone silent, and said in her lightest voice, “A couple nights ago I tried sleeping in the middle of the bed for the first time, and you know what? The world didn’t end. So . . . maybe it won’t end if I try to build some kind of new life. I’m still playing it by ear.”
Doris asked, “So what is everyone reading tonight?”
Godiva cackled. “Oh, I’ve got my pages of Jen and Mr. Hot Stuff. Wait’ll you get an earful—if my description doesn’t set everyone’s panties on fire, I’ll throw my keyboard out the window. . .”
Godiva finished out the short remainder of the drive talking about the changes she’d made to Jen and Nikos in creating her characters.
When they reached Bird’s house on the cliff, Jen found herself searching all the faces until she found Nikos. As soon as he saw her, there was that brief smile that warmed his eyes—and in turn warmed her to the core.
She forced her steps to turn aside toward the kitchen, where she caught sight of Bird bustling about. “Can I do anything to help?”
“Thanks, but no—we’re good—in fact, any more bodies in here and we’ll start crashing around like the Keystone Cops. Go relax and chat!”
Jen went outside and headed toward the barbeque area, to meet pretty much the same friendly rebuff from Joey. “I’ve got it all laid out—from this point I’m faster on my own. Why don’t you go chat with Nikos over there?”
She turned toward Nikos, and met a searching gaze that maybe was a little like her own in trying to read signals. Like, does he really want to talk to me? Did I screw up yesterday? It had occurred to her after lying awake half the previous night that he had said little about himself—but what he’d said didn’t seem to include another woman in his life. He certainly wore no wedding ring. She didn’t think that red stone was the sort of thing a woman would give him—it looked so old it seemed more of a family heirloom.
She knew she’d mostly talked about herself—actually about Robert—but that, she’d concluded, was inevitable. Robert had been the elephant in the room of her life. And Nikos had seemed to accept that. In fact, it was his quiet and sincere appreciation that had decided her that Nikos was worth pursuing.
He crossed the terrace to meet her. He said in that rich, warm voice, “Do you get the sense we’re being thrown together for our own good?”
“Um, they’re not exactly subtle, are they?” Jen asked. “If you’d rather not, I totally understand.”
“I would rather,” he said, “be right here next to you. If that makes me boring and predictable, well, I’ve been called worse things.”
She laughed as they headed for a pair of wicker chairs. He added, “I really like your jacket.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I believe the word now is vintage instead of old as the hills.”
He said, “I have a long coat with a similar history. Belonged to my father. It’s so old that they seem to have come back into fashion.”
At that, she enjoyed a brief, incredibly hot image of him wearing a loose shirt like the days of yore, a long coat, and boots as he strode among the . . . goats? Student martial artists?
Her brain camera stuttered to a stop.
What exactly did he do? This time, it’s you who’s going to talk. “So,” she said, “what is it exactly that you do?”
A faint line puckered between his brow, but there was no corresponding tightening of his mouth, as if he was affronted at the question. It was more like he was . . . puzzled. Then she reminded herself that English was a second language for him, as he said slowly, “Right now, it’s full time—more than full time—teaching as my pair of students learn through travel. They chose this country for their tour. It has been so very long since I was in North America that it is actually an education for us all. But Cleo and Petra are like most teens. The moment we set foot in North America, they demanded to see movies.”
“Movies? Which ones?”
“Any movies. Those being scarce in our island. Not unknown, but we’re fairly isolated. Even cell towers are problematical,” he said. “So we just went to the first cinema we saw . . .”
Jen was soon laughing. The girls had picked the latest Marvel Universe film—and Cleo had been so enchanted she’d insisted they sit through it twice, eating hot dogs both times, because those were such rare and interesting, genuine American foods.
From there they talked about the oddest experiences they had ever had while watching cinemas. Jen said that hers was watching the Barbra Streisand film On a Clear Day You Can See Forever projected on a whitewashed wall high on a mountaintop in the country then known as the Republic of Georgia, which itself seemed a place lifted out of the stream of time. Nikos claimed that his was watching the American film Blazing Saddles while in Paris. He was with a pair of Americans, who were the only ones laughing most of the way through.
From there they traded stories as fast as they could talk until suddenly the meal was ready. And then it was eaten, and she didn’t remember a bite, good as it was. All she knew was that she hadn’t noticed any other conversations, she had been so intent on Nikos. Every time their eyes met, her breath caught on a rush of heat straight down her nerves to pool deep inside her, charging her with anticipation.
Suddenly here was Bird, coming around with warmed rice wine. “Just a tiny cup so we don’t roll into Linette’s smelling like a bar.”
Godiva cackled. “I think that would be fun. Except half the people would want to know why we didn’t bring any to pass around.”
The sun sank behind a brief, luridly glorious sunset, which was swallowed by oncoming clouds. Jen scarcely noticed until suddenly raindrops spattered coldly on her face and hands. Exclaiming and laughing, the group began hastily picking up dishes and carrying things inside.
Jen set her load down and went out to get more, to discover that Joey had stacked everything on the rolling prep table, and he was on his way to the kitchen. There was nothing more to be done. Jen stood alone on the terrace, gazing out at the last bit of light under the low clouds, as rain glinted with sunset colors. She hugged herself, shivering not from the cold—though the temperature was dropping—but with anticipation.
Then Nikos was beside her. He looked down at her, his face in shadow, and she looked up. The buzz of the wine warmed her lips. Reckless, she smiled . . . and the next thing she knew, his hands cupped her face, and hers locked around his waist as their mouths met in a wine-spiced kiss.
The first was quick, a questing kiss. The answer, unspoken, was yes. The second was longer, exploratory, as hot pleasure flashed through every nerve in her body. She melted against his length, molding against him. Here was another layer entirely to the give and take of practice blows and feints and shifts of balance. This layer was as old as time, a wordless duel that was closer to a duet, a mock battle that was also a dance.
The mating dance.
She’d thought that side of her completely gone. Except in those early, enthusiastic days when everything was funny, and it was easy to bounce right into the day after a night of sleeping on a hardwood floor, sex had gradually ceased to be important. It wasn’t practical after long days tramping through the rainforest, just to sleep on mats that had to be inspected for bugs, or after arduous climbs up mountains, with fingers and toes numb.
But here she was, longing to be rid of the restriction of clothing so they could—
“Jen? Where’s she off to? Jen? It’s time to bail!” Godiva called from inside.
Jen and Nikos broke apart, she b
reathless with laughter.
“I . . . forgot myself there, I think,” he said huskily. “I probably shouldn’t have—”
“I was right there with you,” she said, still fizzing. “Wrong place and time maybe, but the right move.”
“So very right.” He smiled at her in the shadows.
She sighed, reality reasserting itself. “I guess it’s time to go. But I don’t think I’m ready to face the others yet . . .” Her emotions roiled, happiness foremost but it was new, tender. Like a sunburn on my heart, Doris had told the Gang of Four after she got together with Joey. Jen had thought that a weird thing to say, but now she understood the sensitivity that seemed to make every sensation so intense. She needed some time, even knowing how much her friends would like seeing her happy.
“I can go in first,” he offered.
“Please. I’m going to take a few deep breaths. Let the raindrops cool me off a bit. Then I’ll be ready. Though I like most of the writers in our group, and love what we’re doing, attending group sessions takes . . . energy.”
He took a step toward the house, then turned back. “And after?”
“After, we could go out, as you suggested,” she said. “Or . . .” Her heart thumped against her ribs. “There’s my place?” She had spent the entire morning scrubbing her house, and changing the bedding to fresh, sun dried sheets, just in case.
“Yes.” A quick, promissory kiss, and Nikos walked swiftly toward the golden light spilling out the door.
Jen waited where she was, doing her slow breathing. She was still giddy, intensely aware of tingling lips, of that thrill of nerve and muscle that she suspected she would be aware of secretly all through the meeting. Her emotions swooped between hilarity and anticipation. And wonder. This feeling, so strange, was something she could have every day.
Except that he did not live here.
He had a life elsewhere, and a job, and . . .
Don’t borrow trouble, she told herself. You’ve come this far. You’re both adults. Talk it out. And if it turns out he sees this as a temporary fling, enjoy it while you can.
