by Amy Reece
Mina took a gentler approach. “I think it’s nice.”
“Thank you, Mina.” The rest of the group rolled their eyes and let loose a collective groan. We were in the midst of a Jason Bourne film fest—it had been Rémy’s turn to choose.
“He sounds very much like he needs a friend,” she said as she reached for another slice of pizza. My boss, Rudy, also the owner of the restaurant, had handed me a giant box containing one of the 26-inch pizzas he was famous for as Tara and I left at the end of our shift.
“Table that ordered this sent it back. Said they didn’t order green chile. You take it home to those boys,” he had said gruffly. For some unexplained reason, he had sort of adopted Tara and me, giving us shifts that worked with our schedules, time off whenever we needed it, and he always sent food home, frequently manufacturing a reason why it was extra when I knew good and well that he had made it just for us. Although we were both too young to have a server’s license, he allowed Tara and I both to be waitresses, having other waiters deliver our alcohol orders. “I put some slices of cheese pizza in there, too,” he finished, knowing that I was a vegetarian.
“Thanks, Rudy,” I had given him a hug. He was a good guy.
“Jack, what do you think?” Tara appealed to him. “Are you okay with her befriending this Michael character?”
Jack paused in the act of chewing, wide-eyed. He swallowed and reached for his soda, taking his time before answering, as if sensing a trap. “I am not Ally’s boss. She can be friends with whoever she wants.”
There was a beat of silence before he was hit in the face with a sofa pillow, thrown by Mat. “What a suck up! Ally, he told me he was gonna kick the guy’s ass if he ever saw him sniffing around you again! Oof!” he said as Jack threw the pillow back with greater force.
I intercepted the pillow as it was returned. “Stop wrecking my living room, you two! Jack gets points for a good answer, at least.” I settled on his lap and kissed him. “I already knew how he felt about Michael. I don’t know how I really feel about him, either, but I can’t…” I let my sentence fade.
“We know, chérie, we know,” sighed Rémy. “You just don’t have it in you to be unkind to someone.”
“Hey, don’t knock it.” Tara now came to my rescue. “That’s why you’re still around, after all.”
I ignored the others and slid off Jack’s lap and snuggled into his side. He put his arm around me and pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. “Jack, you know he’s not a threat, right?” I whispered. Why in the world would I be tempted by anyone else when I had this amazing guy right next to me? There was absolutely no comparison between him and Michael, either physically or emotionally.
“I know, querida. I just can’t help being jealous when I see any other guy around you. It’s natural. Sorry,” he whispered back.
“It’s positively primeval.” I giggled and reached up to kiss him.
“Umm, hello. We’re all still here, you know,” Tara complained as our kiss went on longer than was probably appropriate in mixed company.
I smiled against Jack’s lips. “Later,” I whispered.
“Count me in,” he said.
***
The nightmare changed that night. Up until now, I had searched frantically for something and then tried to follow the shadowy figure; tonight I was followed. I wove in and out amongst the rows of cars in a parking garage, trying to find whatever it was I had lost. At this point in the dream I usually caught a glimpse of the figure in the black hoodie and started following. Tonight, I heard a noise behind me and turned around, startled, just in time to see the figure dart behind a concrete column. My stomach flipped as I realized the nearest exit was three rows away. I moved quickly around a Toyota Camry—what was it with the car brand recognition?—and toward the elevator that I knew would lead me to the street level. My stomach dropped further as I heard footsteps behind me. My pace increased; so did the footsteps behind me. I began to run, reaching the elevator just as the mysterious figure caught up with me, his hand—I was fairly sure it was male—grasped my shoulder. I screamed in terror.
“Ally! Wake up! You’re having a nightmare. God, girl, you need to wake up!” Tara sat beside me, shaking my shoulders.
I sat up, knocking her hands away. “What? Where?” I panted, looking frantically around my bedroom. “Oh, my God,” I slumped back against my headboard. “Oh, Tara. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You didn’t. Don’t worry. I was in the living room working on a paper and I heard you whimpering. I was coming to wake you up when you started screaming bloody murder. You scared the shit out of me! Look! I’m still shaking.” She held her trembling hands in front of my face.
I took her hand in one of mine, the other wiping the sweaty hair out of my face. “I’m sorry. I had a nightmare.”
“The same nightmare you’ve been having?” I had told her about the recurring dreams several weeks before.
I nodded. “Yeah, but it was worse this time. This time I was being chased. It felt so real, Tara. Why is this happening? I’m so tired of it!”
“I know, sweetie. Hey.” She pulled me into her arms. “I’m here. It’s okay.”
I managed to keep from completely falling apart, but I clung to my best friend, not able to let her go.
“Do you want me to stay with you for a little while?” she offered.
“Oh, no. You don’t need to do that. I don’t want to bother you.” But I didn’t let go of her hand.
“Scoot over.” She curled up against me on the bed. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” She was still there in the morning. Just another reason why she was my best friend.
***
“Ally, the guy at table four requested you specifically. Can you take it?” Amber, one of the other waitresses asked as she came in the kitchen.
“Um, sure, if you can take over here.” I was prepping dinner salads. She smiled and swapped places with me. I wiped my hands and hurried toward the dining room, sure that it was Jack who had stopped in to surprise me. The surprise was entirely on me as I approached table four; it wasn’t Jack. It was Luc.
“What are you doing here?” I stopped a few feet short of the table.
“Having lunch. That is what one does at an establishment of this sort, isn’t it?” He smiled suavely.
“I mean, what are you doing here in Albuquerque? It’s a long way to come for lunch.”
“I wanted to speak to you, Ally, without the rest of the Conseil there. You seem like a sensible young woman; I’m sure you will be able to understand what I have to say.”
“I have no interest in what you have to say.” I turned to go.
“Well, if you are afraid…”
Did he really just dare me? What was this, middle school? And yet, I sat down across from him. Dang it, why did dares always work with me? “Talk. I have a ten minute break, then I’m done.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Very well. I will take what I can get. Ally, I have come to make another plea for you to listen to reason. The Conseil is living in the past. We are standing at the precipice of a new world of opportunity. You are the next Oracle—”
“Shh! We’re in public, you idiot! Do you think I want the people I work with asking about that kind of stuff?”
He looked irritated for a moment before covering it smoothly. “Of course. My apologies.” He lowered his voice. “You are the next in line. Everyone knows this. I want you to know that there are options beyond what Kate and the rest of them have in mind for you.”
“Options? Like what? What are you trying to tell me, Luc?” I was running out of patience.
He leaned across the table. “The Conseil has no vision! They would have you spend your life hidden away in that mansion, doing nothing but running the family business, making money. With your abilities, you should be running countries! I can help you make that happen.”
“Sorry, Luc. You are barking up the wrong Oracle. I have no plans to take over anything. The
gods or fates or whatever chose poorly when they picked me.” I stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work. I have salads to make.” I retreated to the kitchen to spend the rest of my 15-minute break—yes, I had lied to Luc—thinking about what he said. Oh, not so much what he said—I truly had no interest in the kind of power he seemed obsessed with—but more why he said it to, to me, at least. He had been extremely circumspect this last summer during my visit to Rouen, not starting any of the controversy he had begun during my first visit. In fact, he had been absent more often than not. So why was he here now? And why come to me?
Rémy? I sent my thoughts to him, hoping my long-distance communication skills were up and running. It took quite a bit of concentration for me to talk with him over any kind of distance. Nothing. Rémy? I tried again
—I’m in class. Is this important? he finally responded.
—Luc just showed up here at the restaurant, I replied somewhat impatiently. As if I would bother him for trivialities!
—What? Merde! he cursed. What did he want? Are you okay?
—I’m fine. He spouted more of that crazy ‘let’s take over the world’ crap.’ He’s gone now. I just thought I should give you a head’s up in case he hunts you down.
—Thanks, chérie. I will keep my eyes open. Can I come by your house later so we can talk about this?
—Sure. See you later.
***
He was waiting for me in the driveway when I got home after my late afternoon class.
“You have a key, Rémy. Why didn’t you go on in?” I asked, juggling my book bag and the bag of groceries I had stopped to purchase.
“I was fine listening to music in my car.” He took the groceries from me and shut the door of my SUV. “I haven’t been here long.”
“Thanks,” I said, opening the front door. “Come on in. We can talk while I get dinner ready. It’s Mina’s night to work late, so I’m cooking. Why don’t you stay? I’m not as good a chef as Mina, but it’s pretty hard to mess up spaghetti. Unless, of course, you have a hot date?”
He laughed lightly. “No date, hot or cold. Thank you. I will be happy to stay for dinner. I assume Jack will be here, as well?”
“No. He has plans with Megan tonight. She’s been feeling a bit neglected, so they’re going to try and spend more quality time together. It will just be myself, Tara, Mina, and now you.”
He helped me prepare dinner, taking over the sauce creation, claiming that he had a secret recipe that would cause us to swoon. He probably just didn’t trust me to produce anything edible.
“But you’re French. How is it that you have an amazing recipe for Italian spaghetti sauce?”
He scoffed and gave me a disparaging look. “Maybe because I can read a recipe book. The French prepare everything better than you Americans.”
“Don’t be such a snob, Rémy. Drenching everything in butter doesn’t qualify as better cooking. But I am looking forward to your sauce. Mine comes straight out of a jar.” I began washing and chopping vegetables for a salad.
“Luc was waiting for me when I walked out of class today,” he said as he measured oregano into the pot of sauce.
“And?” I prompted.
“I was civil, at least somewhat. We went for coffee and I listened to what he had to say.”
“Which was?”
“More of the same.” He shrugged. “Seers should rise up and take control, we should be running the world, blah, blah, blah.”
“Did you just say ‘blah, blah, blah?” I laughed.
“Ah, oui. I’ve clearly been in America too long. All the wrong things are rubbing off on me. Are you going to keep interrupting?”
“Sorry, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Continue. You left off at ‘blah, blah, blah.’”
He rolled his eyes. “So, after I listened to him rant for a while, I told him he was still crazy and could go to hell. Do you have any wine?”
“For you or for the sauce?” I asked.
“For both. One should never cook without a glass of wine,” he said, stirring the sauce.
“Is that an old French proverb?” I asked slyly, going to the pantry for the bottle of wine he had given me as a housewarming gift last year.
“It should be.” He chuckled. “I can’t believe you still have this. It’s a really nice merlot. Why didn’t you drink it?” He fished around in my junk drawer for the corkscrew he had also given me.
“You do know the drinking age is 21 in America, don’t you?”
“It’s not my fault you live in a nation of puritanical hypocrites. I am trying to educate you, that’s all.” He opened the wine, poured a glass for himself, added a few glugs to the sauce, and then handed me a glass. “Here. Tell me what you taste.”
I took a small sip and kept it on my tongue as he had taught me. “Umm, blackberry,” I said after I swallowed. “And cocoa. It’s good. Thanks.”
He flashed his signature smirk and took a sip before going back to stirring and tasting the sauce.
“What do you think it means, Rémy? That Luc showed up here? What do you think he wants?”
“I’m not sure. I thought maybe he had gotten over his crazy ideas about Seers being in control, but it doesn’t appear that way now. This worries me, chérie.”
“Me too. I don’t like Luc. He scares me,” I admitted quietly.
“Oh, Ally,” Rémy set down his wine and came across the kitchen to hug me. “He can’t hurt us, chérie. I won’t let him. I promise.”
Mina came in just then. “Oh, I’m sorry. Excuse me.” She started to back out.
Rémy’s reaction shocked me. “Where in the hell have you been?” he yelled, dropping his arms from around me and advancing toward her, grasping her upper arms and shaking her slightly. “I have been trying to get in touch with you all afternoon! You didn’t answer your phone and you closed your mind off from me completely!”
Mina squared her jaw and faced him. “I was at work,” she said calmly, brushing his hands off. “I didn’t have my mobile on me.” I noticed that she did not address why she had closed her mind to him; he didn’t follow up on it.
“Did Luc come to see you?” he asked.
“Luc? From Rouen?”
He nodded. “He came to see both Ally and me today.”
“Why? What did he want?”
I broke in. “It was more of his crazy ‘Seers should be in control of the whole world’ rant from last summer. It creeped me out.”
“I haven’t seen him,” she said. “This is very odd. Why, after all this time, would he come here?”
“I very much fear that he did not give up on his idea. In fact, I believe he has simply been biding his time until he was ready,” Rémy said.
“Ready for what?” I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer.
“I do not know.” He shook his head. “But I fear he has something planned. Something we will not like.”
Tara came in a few minutes later, full of news about her day and oblivious to the undercurrents in the kitchen. She took the glass of wine from me and sipped. “Mmmm. Hell, yeah. This is great. What’s for dinner? It smells amazing.” None of us mentioned Luc’s mysterious appearance to her.
I finished making the salad, Mina slathered the loaf of French bread I had bought with butter and garlic salt, and Tara set the table. Rémy was right about his sauce: it was swoon-worthy. I pretended that it was merely acceptable, though; his ego was big enough. In spite of the upset of the day, we managed to have a relaxing evening, finishing the bottle of wine and talking about anything except what Luc had said. I noticed the increased tension between Mina and Rémy did not totally abate throughout the evening, however. They spoke to the others around them, but never directly to each other. Once, when they reached for the salad at the same time, their hands touched and they both jerked away as if they had been burned. Hmmm. Very, very interesting.
***
I showed up to my midmorning Victorian lit class to find a cancellation note on the door.
Yes! It was nice to have an unexpected break. We were currently reading Christina Rossetti’s The Goblin Market, which was an amazing poem and not really about goblins at all. May I just say the Victorians were obsessed with sex? Nevertheless, I was happy to forego class for the day. The past few weeks had been stressful, with a heavy work schedule, unremitting homework, and the worry over Luc’s unexpected visit hanging over my head. I headed back to the Student Union Building, planning to enjoy a latte and maybe a bagel since I had skipped breakfast. I approached the bigger-than-life bronze sculptures in front of the SUB but stopped short when I saw Jack talking to a guy I didn’t know. He laughed at something the guy said and I paused to enjoy the sight. Jack was a pretty serious guy most of the time and I loved to see him laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an attractive manner. He wore jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeved Henley that stretched across his broad shoulders. He had pushed the sleeves up to his elbows, which showcased his chiseled, brown forearms, the left one with the compass tattoo. He wore a red baseball cap perched backwards on his head and he hadn’t shaved that morning, his jaw scruffy with his black whiskers. I bit my lip in appreciation. And he was mine. He was, thankfully, oblivious to the admiring looks from some of the nearby girls. I smiled, because simply looking at him made me happy. I sauntered over to him, standing at his elbow, not wanting to interrupt.
He saw the guy notice me and looked down. “Hey, beautiful! What are you doing here? I thought you had class right now?” He leaned down to give me a quick kiss.
“Cancelled. I’m free for a whole hour. What about you?”
“This day just got better. I’m free for a couple of hours. Oh, this is Rick. He’s in a couple of my engineering classes. Rick, this is my girlfriend, Ally.” I still got a thrill when he called me his girlfriend. “You want to grab some coffee or something?”
“Sure, but I don’t want to interrupt.”
“No problem. See you, Rick.” He waved and steered me away.
“I didn’t mean to drag you away from your friend, Jack,” I began.
