I should have stayed at work with Hank. Hank may be ornery but his requests are so much more normal.
Hearing her determined yelps had me burying my face into my hands.
“Give me your arm,” she said. “I think I can make it to the door.”
“And what happens after the door?” I asked.
“When did you become such a smarty pants? Once I get to the door, I’ll figure it out.”
“It’s good to know you have a plan,” I said, taking her arm.
“I need some more of those pills Evan gave me. I was feeling loose as a goose.”
“Have your doctor prescribe them,” I said. “I think he told me they were a muscle relaxer.”
“I could do that,” she said, hobbling to the door. “I’d much rather have Evan give them to me. He’s going to be a great doctor.”
“Yep. Great,” I agreed, tightening my grip on her arm to keep her from slipping.
“We’re almost there,” she said.
Thank heaven!
“Now, tell me about this graffiti,” she said.
“Two men were spray-painting the wall. It looks like your typical graffiti.”
“What color?” she asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does!” she said with conviction. “There are gangs that use certain colors only.”
In Madison?
“I think it was black. It’s hard to tell since there’s hardly any light.”
“Did you see any markings?”
“I wouldn’t know a marking if I was tagged with it,” I said. “We’ll be there in a minute . . .” or an hour “. . . you can see for yourself.”
When we finally reached the door, I asked, “Do you think you can continue?”
“I made it this far; I can make it out the door.”
“It’s around the building,” I said. “You still have a bit of a walk.”
She made a slight whimpering noise before gritting her teeth. “I can do this,” she said.
I pushed open the door and led her out. Before we had gone two steps, a shout from the bar across the way had us both looking at the commotion. A man was shoved out by the territorial bartender. He stood menacingly above the man sprawled on the asphalt. I couldn’t hear what the bartender said, but even from our distance, I could see the man on the sidewalk had paled and then bloomed an angry red.
I knew that man.
The bartender turned on his heels and disappeared into the bar.
“Mrs. J., can you stand here for a moment?” I asked, not waiting for an answer. I wrapped her arm around a handicapped-parking sign and then flew across the parking lot to Mac.
“Mac, are you okay?” I asked, attempting to pry the burly biker off the ground. I wasn’t making any progress.
“I’ve been better,” he ground, his face still a pulsing red.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I thought it was rather obvious. I was kicked out,” he said, picking himself up.
“Were you looking for Bob?” I asked.
“You keep asking the obvious,” he complained, dusting his jeans off. “If I needed a drink, I’d be at Hank’s.”
“I’m sorry. I normally don’t see men getting thrown out of buildings. It’s a bit of a shock,” I said.
“Try being the one thrown out.”
“Did you see Bob?” I asked.
“No. But I know that he’s there.”
“What’s going on in there?” I asked. “There are always cars parked outside but no one is sitting at the bar.”
He shook his head and walked to his motorcycle parked only a few yards away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Will you answer my question then?” I asked.
“Ask Bob,” he gritted and started his bike, drowning any chance of conversation. He peeled out of the parking lot.
“Help!” Mrs. Janowski hollered as she slipped down the sign. “S.O.S.!”
I jogged over to her before she was completely laid out flat.
“Here,” I said, offering my hand.
She grabbed on but was unable to hold it. She slipped from my grasp, falling flat on the ground.
“How did this happen?” I asked. “I left you for a minute.”
“I thought I’d eliminate some back stress by bending my knees and stretching,” she explained. “I bent but I couldn’t get back up. I don’t suppose Evan’s in the area, is he?”
“He’s sleeping. I doubt a phone call would wake him. Let me see if T is still around the corner.”
“Hurry,” Mrs. Janowski said. “Before someone thinks I’m a floor mat.”
I rushed over, calling T’s name. He stepped around the corner just as I was about to turn. I slammed into him, bringing us both to an abrupt stop.
“Jesus, Mars,” he said, rubbing his chest where my face made contact.
I rubbed my nose. “Ow.”
“What’s the rush?” he asked.
I pointed to where Mrs. Janowski was still flat on the ground. “Mrs. J. needs help.”
He gave a weary shake of his head. “It never ends.”
“Just help her. She’s afraid someone will mistake her for a rug.”
“Not in that getup.”
“It’s your fault we’re wearing these uniforms.”
“I only suggested fluorescent yellow. I don’t see one stitch of yellow.”
“It doesn’t matter. I still hold you responsible.”
A movement behind T caught my attention. Was the creep awake? I peered around T and flinched.
T saw my reaction and instantly clamped down on my shoulder, holding me in place. “You stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll go help Mrs. J.”
“But . . .”
“Stay!”
Geesh.
When T walked away, my shielding wall moved too.
“Hey,” I said, looking at my toes.
He didn’t say anything.
I peered up to find him in the same spot. Brett was as handsome as ever. Not that I expected him to have changed since I’d seen him last, but it was irritating that he looked so perfect and I felt frazzled and knotted.
“Hi, Mars,” he finally said. “How have you been?”
A huff escaped. “You know how I’ve been,” I said. “You always know everything.”
He nodded. “In general. But that doesn’t mean I know how you are.”
“I’m great.”
He shot a disbelieving look.
“I’ve been better,” I amended.
“I miss you,” he said.
“Then you should have called,” I stated, turning to return to the arcade.
“I know,” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear. “And I’m sorry every day.”
I didn’t turn around and kept walking instead.
I miss you too, idiot.
That night, I crawled into bed, not bothering to snuggle with Evan, who was sound asleep, cuddling with every single pillow.
Adorable, yes.
But not adorable enough tonight. I snatched a pillow from him and settled into a fitful sleep.
Damn them both.
Chapter 10
The emergency astronomy club meeting was held at Road Hog. Dad was able to get word to Fritz, so the entire bar was filled with bikers and club members.
“They’re really getting into it,” Brandy said, watching as Fritz rolled out a diagram on the billiard table.
“Did you know he likes astronomy?” I asked.
She shook her head and then took a sip of her cosmo.
I knew it was short for cosmopolitan, but I was trying to pass off the drinks as “cosmos” instead.
“I really didn’t know,” she said.
“What do you normally talk about?” I asked.
Brandy coughed into her drink, sputtering. She wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand, blushing. “Nothing that you’d be interested in,” she said.
Jack pushed through the kitchen door, arms loa
ded with appetizers. “Can you help with these?” he asked.
“How did you know I was hungry?” I teased.
“Hey, Jack,” Brandy waved.
“Hey,” he returned the greeting, dumping the plates into my hands. “I see you’re with new riders.”
She smiled coyly. “You know you’re the only rider I’ve ever been interested in.”
Jack leaned over and whispered something that made her giggle.
“Get a room,” I muttered while walking with my arms weighed down. I set a plate at each of the tables the club members were using.
“When do you think we can have a prototype ready?” Dad asked Fritz.
Prototype?
Walk away, I thought to myself. Walk away.
“Have you seen Mac or Bob?” I asked Hank when I returned behind the bar.
“No. I’ve been wondering if I should send a search party to find them.”
“Maybe they need a day off,” I said. “Drinking can be tough.”
I had a feeling they were both avoiding each other. I didn’t know if I should tell Hank what had happened. Even if he knew, it’s not like I’d get any information from him.
* * *
Hours later, I glanced at the clock above the bar. The club meeting had wrapped up a while ago and most of the bikers had already left in search of the local gentlemen’s club.
Gentlemen’s club, I scoffed. At least I knew what kind of bar that was, and it wasn’t for “gentlemen.”
Glancing at the clock again, I tossed the rag onto the counter and picked up my purse. It was still early enough to make it to Evan’s going-away party. I’m sure he wouldn’t want me to miss that, I thought ruefully.
“Hank, I’m out of here,” I said.
He gave a tired grunt. I took that as his acknowledgement and headed out the door to my car.
As I drove out of the parking lot, I passed the twenty signs jammed haphazardly into the ground. They did draw attention, I thought.
I think I rather like them.
Some of them.
* * *
It took only a minute of searching before I found Evan drunk and blindfolded, attempting to . . . hell, I had no idea what he was trying to do with the inflatable nurse wearing a surprised expression.
She wasn’t the only one surprised.
“He’s looking for the thermometer,” Sam answered my question. “You’ll never guess where we hid it.”
“I’m pretty sure I already know. How many drinks did you have to give him before he agreed to this?”
“I lost count.”
Great.
I guess I should be happy they used an inflatable instead of a real one.
“I found it!” Evan said, whipping off the blindfold and holding up the thermometer.
There was some clapping and tittering.
“We knew you couldn’t resist feeling up a nurse,” a man called amongst the laughter of the room.
“Just like the time we found you in the back of the truck with nurse what’s-her-name.”
“Now you’ll have even more nurses to chase after,” someone else said. “Boston’s got a whole new crop.”
Evan laughed until his eyes fell on me. All humor vanished, though his drunk sway remained.
“Mars,” he said, sounding rather like a question.
I didn’t say anything.
The room grew a little too quiet for comfort, and I could feel eyes burning into me.
Evan took a step forward, tripping over the inflatable nurse. He finally steadied himself enough to cross over to me. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he said.
“Which part?” I asked. “You feeling up a doll or the party?”
“The party. The doll I had no choice about.”
“Ah. Well then, it looks like a going-away party,” I said.
He blinked. “Okay. It might be what it looks like, but there’s something you should know.”
“I already know you’re leaving,” I said.
“I’m not.”
“You packed up your apartment and you quit your job,” I said, still feeling the stares of his co-workers. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“Let me come over tonight,” he said. “I’ll explain.”
“I’m busy,” I said. “I just came to say congratulations.”
His eyes were a bit unfocused but I could tell he was trying to figure me out.
“I mean it,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m happy for you. You’ve always wanted to become a doctor, and now you’re on your way.”
I smiled as much as I could and turned to leave.
“I’m coming over tomorrow,” he said.
I gave a tight nod and walked out to my car.
* * *
“Did you see the signs?” Mac blustered the next day as he stormed into the bar. “They’re ruined. All of them!”
“I saw them,” I said, cleaning a glass. “It’s too bad. I rather liked them.”
“Who do you think would destroy the signs?” Jack said, leaning against the bar.
“Maybe teenagers with too much time on their hands,” I said.
“I know who did it,” Mac said with conviction. “It was Bob!”
“Why would he want to break the signs?” Hank asked. “He helped make them.”
“He’s mad at me for butting in,” Mac answered, plopping onto a barstool.
“You always butt in,” Jack said. “What changed this time?”
“I went to the place he’s been working,” Mac admitted. “I pushed my way in and ended up getting tossed out.”
“Were you able to see him?” Jack asked.
“No. I couldn’t find him.”
“He might be in the bar today,” Hank said. “He wasn’t yesterday.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Mac said and then looked down. “My beer is missing.”
“You never had one,” I said.
“What does it take to get one?” he asked, growing rather surly. “And why does it smell like bananas?”
“Bananas?” Hank asked, tapping a beer and sliding it to Mac. “I’ve been smelling lemon.”
“It smells like cherries in the kitchen,” Jack added.
Mac took a long swig of beer and sighed happily. “I’ve heard about people smelling different things,” he finally said. “Bad stuff can happen.”
“Like what?” Hank asked.
“Aneurisms.”
“Aneurisms?” Jack asked. “Isn’t that when something pops in your head and you die?”
“I heard it’s a warning sign if you smell things that no one else does,” he replied.
“But all of us smell something different,” Hank said. “Do we all have this aneurism thing?”
I stayed quiet.
“How can all three of us have aneurisms?” Jack asked.
“Is it contagious?” Hank asked and then turned to me. “What do you smell?”
“Lemons,” I answered.
“So, if Mars and I both smell lemon, we’re okay,” Hank said thoughtfully and then pointed at Jack and Mac. “It’s you two who are smelling something different.”
The bar door swung open and Bob walked in. The conversation died as we watched him take a seat. It wasn’t his normal seat next to Mac. It was all the way on the other end of the bar.
Hank gave him a nod. “Usual?”
Bob nodded in return. “What happened to the signs?” he asked.
“We thought you might know,” Mac stated.
“How would I know?” he returned.
“Because you broke them!” Mac snapped.
“I didn’t break them,” Bob fired back. “Why would I break something I worked on?”
“I don’t know,” Mac snarled. “There seem to be a lot of things I don’t know about you.”
“Meaning?”
“Your job for starters. Is it really a job, or is it just a way to get your kicks?”
Kicks?
Bob’s eyes nar
rowed. “You were there? I knew it!”
“I know everything,” Mac gritted.
“Obviously you don’t,” Bob said into his beer. “Stay away if you know what’s good for you.”
Mac stewed.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Bob asked, “Why does it smell like coconuts in here?”
Jack opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when the door opened again. Evan walked through and made a beeline over to me.
He said a general hello to everyone before leaning in. “Can we talk?” he asked.
“I’m working,” I answered.
“It won’t take long,” he said. “Can you take a five-minute break?”
“I could. Or you could have had this talk with me the many times we were alone.”
He sat on a barstool, his gaze steady. “I’m really sorry. I’ve made a mess out of things, but nothing is going to change.”
It was hard to notice anything when Evan was near and with eyes so intent, but I couldn’t miss the fact that the four other men in the room were leaning forward to listen.
“How is nothing going to change?” I asked.
He tapped his fingers on the bar for a moment before saying, “I assume you know about Harvard.” At my nod, he continued. “I’m not going.” At my gaping expression, he said, “It was either you or Harvard.”
It felt like my heart melted, but that would be impossible since it was thudding in my ears.
“So, did he choose Mars?” Mac whispered to Hank.
“But, you quit your job,” I said, ignoring the whispers in the background. “Where will you work? Where will you go to school?”
Evan smiled briefly. “There are a few other schools that have accepted me. Harvard was my dream school, but I didn’t know if they would accept me. So, I applied at a few others.”
His dream school.
“Where would you go to school?” I asked.
“Chicago. I think that’s the closest.”
Two hours away.
He would still have to move there.
“Had I known I was staying, I would have applied to the medical school here,” he said. “I can still do that. I’ll just start at Chicago and transfer back to Madison next semester. Better yet, I can take a semester off and regroup. I’m sure I can get my job back.”
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