.1.

 

I do not like coffee. Not really. In order for me to drink and enjoy a tall cup of joe, I need to add at least a third of milk, not cream or half and half, to it before it becomes something I will enjoy. When I took my first sip of coffee in high school I could not understand what caused people to demand it so.

 

It was as if someone took perfectly fine water and then made it into a chalky, brown stew. Why would someone do this, I thought to myself at the age of fifteen? And why are people paying so much money for it? I don't get it.

 

So I stopped drinking coffee before I began. Which may explain why I am taller than most of my friends by five inches but that is also because both my parents have swedish ancesters who I am told were very tall. I have yet to confirm this through any visual evidence. The fact remains: I am six foot three and my tallest friend is five foot nine.

 

Perhaps I just make friends with people who are shorter than me.

 

I tell you this because you may find it odd for someone with no real desire for coffee to spend so much time in or even write his book about a coffee house.

 

Yes, I am that guy sitting at that small table alone with his laptop with a large yellow coffee cup to his left sitting untouched for the past hour. I am filling that sterotype tonight as are three other patrons of my favorite coffee house, Expresso, although two are writing term papers so they really don't count.

 

I decided to forsake my quiet and calm apartment for the buzz and noise of this coffee house to work on my novel. It's not because my roommate is noisy and obtrusive, although he is. It was not because the four falls of my room are a shade of monotonous white with the few interruptions of pictures and posters that make sitting in there akin to a prison cell. Or that there are at least half a dozen distractions for me other than working on my novel.

 

Nor am I here to impress you. I am not trying to be cool although I am. I did not drag myself down here so you can come up to me and ask what I'm working on. It's not conversation starter to help me pick up women. If it was, it's an awful choice since I've never been approached by any such woman so far. Which either leads me to believe that women don't find men writing novels in coffee shops attractive or just don't find me attractive.

 

I prefer to think it's the former although my gut knows better.

 

Why I did decide to work in a coffee house was the positive energy I get from being around other people. Not the sudden spike of energy from a espresso or one of the other caffinated confections they offer here. The radiating, pulsing flow of human interaction. Of conversation and laughter. Of smiles and arguments.

 

If only I could relate that to paper. Or screen. Whatever.

 

I won't summarize my story here because by the time anyone reads this I will have either completely rewritten or deleted it. I am not a perfectionist. I just don't like a lot of what I write down. If that happens to be a perfectionist well then perhaps we need to redefine what a perfectionist is because like I said, I am not a perfectionist. If I was, at some point, what I am doing would be perfect. Or, at least, what I think of as perfect. And I know what I have done so far is not perfect.

 

Lest you worry that my self confidence is beyond salvaging, fear not. I believe in myself and I believe in perfection. It is just that, to me, perfection is an ever distant finish one which we and by we I mean I, can never finish. Because if we did, if we did perfect something, anything, what would that be? Perfect? Would we ever do it again? How could we? Can you replicate perfection? No because something that is perfect can not be replicated.

 

But you can always strive for perfection. You can repeat coming close to perfection. You can do whatever you want to do to the best of your ability and be happy with it because you know you tried to acheive perfection.

 

That is why I am here. To repeat my process for perfection.

 

And to watch and listen to others talk. And drink disgusting coffee.

 

Why do I drink coffee if I do not like it. Well you wouldn't want me to be rude to Rebecca now would you? I'm taking up a valuable table in her small coffee house, one which I am sure she would prefer had a faster revolving set of customers than it does now.

 

Now you must be thinking, ah here is why our hero is at a coffee house drinking coffee he does not like. A woman. A beautiful woman who he gazes at from a far. Has he made his intentions known? Is she seeing someone else and he is merely biding his time?

 

And yet here, I avoid another cliche by having no romantic illusions towards Rebecca. She's attractive, don't get me wrong and we have flirted occassionally but no more than I would with any other pretty woman who I see on a regular basis. I could mislead you and say that it is she who has feelings for me but given the revolving door of boyfriends I've seen her go through in the past six months that would quickly be proven false.

 

Nor am I pining for any other woman who frequents Expresso since I am not single. True I did meet Kate here at first but she wasn't attracted to me hunkered behind my laptop. We bumped into each other as I was leaving the store and she was coming in from the cold, a scarf wrapped tightly around her head obstructing her view. My excuse is I was not looking down. Kate is only five foot one and like I said I am six foot three.

 

If Kate and I get married, which at the moment is not a topic I am interested in relating, and we have children who ask how their mother and I met, I will not tell them that their parents met at Expresso downtown. It was probably our first contact true but not how we met. We excused ourselves and continued on our paths. It would not be for another six weeks till a party at a mutual friends house did we meet again.

 

She was dating the mutual friend and I was dating Sarah at the time. But that was the first time we met.

 

I look up from my latop to see Kate entering the coffee house. I flick my eyes down towards to the computer to check the time. It's six thirty an hour later than I thought it was. I am not surprised nor is Kate here to chastise me for forgetting to come home for dinner. Kate doesn't cook and I don't eat at her place. She drops her large purse beside my satchel on the floor, gives me a quick kiss and a hug and walks over to the counter to order her usual from Rebecca.

 

.2.

 

"How's it going?" Kate asks as she returns from the counter, an equally large cup in both hands. Hers is red and contains chai another concoction I have never been able to get my tastebuds around. Perhaps my tastebuds just need more experience.

 

"Oh you know, the novel." I answer, lowering the top half of the monitor so I don't appear to be ignoring her. It was a constant problem with my last girlfriend Isabella. She would talk for twenty minutes or more only to realize I had been typing for the same twenty minutes. To her frustration, I had not been copying down what she was saying.

 

"Same story or something new?" Kate murmurs as she take a cute sip from her cup. Her lips twinge at the hot liquid and she blows the steam from the top in a futile attempt to lower the tempature.

 

I mentally calculate the last time I told Kate what I was working on. Was that merely three revisions ago of the same story or three different stories? "I don't know." I respond, giving up "What was the last story I told you about?"

 

"Well, I didn't really know what it was about." Kate says, screwing up her face as she tries to comb through her own library of my story ideas "But I remember it beginning with a witness being murdered."

 

That story. No, that is not what I am working on. That was good. Not great but good. I actually finished half of that one before putting it down for awhile. Much like wine, I like to let my writing age before I complete them. Unlike wine, my writing does not get better with age. It merely gets dust on it. I am not sure if this process helps my writing although it has helped me not publish anything.

 

"Oh yeah, that story. No I'm not working on that one at the moment." I respond with some finality, hoping that will be Kate's clue to let the matter drop. It's not that I do not like talking about my writing, I do. Just...not with Kate. She understands my musings well enough but I can see in her eyes she's just going through the motions. I don't think she doesn't understand, I just don't think she finds it interesting to talk about.

 

But than, that's why I like being with her. With Kate it's easy just to relax and have fun. If she had more interest in my work it might turn into just another pressure on my shoulders. As if being unemployed isn't pressure enough.

 

Yes, I am unemployed which is why I can spend so much time in coffee shops drinking coffee I do not like. How do I afford all the coffee I dislike? Thanks to a generous donation from a wealthy Uncle three years ago. While most of my family rolls there eyes when I say that I'm a writer and casually try to change the subject at Thanksgiving, my Uncle Rob actually believes in me.

 

Well, believed in me. He passed away and left me a nice trust fund to fuel my coffee hatred. I'm sure it's what he would want me to be doing with the money. Not going to school or anything foolish like that.

 

Since that time the trust fund has taken a steady turn downwards and according to letter from the lawyer my Uncle put in charge, at my current rate there will only be enough money left for another five months. So there was enough money for three and a half years. You can either take that as a sign of my lavish lifestyle vis a vi the swanky coffee house I hang out in or my Uncle's restraint. Frankly, if I were him, I would have only put enough money in it for a year.

 

Kate has been sipping her Chai, letting her eyes wander around the coffee house looking for friends she might know or men who aren't as addicted to their laptops as I am. She's wearing a long sweater I bought for her last Christmas with a orange scarf still wrapped around her neck. It's so hot in here I've completely forgotten how cold it is outside. I turned to look out the large windows to our left to see huddled figures scurrying along the streets desperate to get to where there going without loosing a precious BTU of heat.

 

"Are we going to Mike and Cindy's tonight?" I ask.

 

Kate's eyes refocus on me, a small smile as well. "You remembered?" she asks which is always a foolish question to ask. If I hadn't I wouldn't have asked the question to begin with but I am not about to ruin this compliment by arguing about her redundant queries.

 

"Of course. It's tonight at seven right?" I answer with a grin. Of course, I didn't really remember. In an effort to pay more attention to Kate I have been using Google Calendar to keep track of appointments. Thankfully I managed to remember to put dinner with Mike and Cindy on there. A little popup reminder blinked on my screen about an hour ago which completely broke my concentration. I was trying to decide whether to try to Columbian Dark Roast over my usual Kona Mild Roast. Who knows, maybe the Columbian Dark Roast might be a coffee I actually liked?

 

It wasn't.

 

"Yup, it's at seven. I was planning on going home first and changing." Kate looks at my sloppy sweatshirt and jeans ensemble "Which you should consider doing as well."

 

"Yeah I figured I should change into something more casual than this." I joke which gets an exasperated laugh from Kate. I flick my eyes down and see that it's only five so we have plenty of time to waste. I may even be able to get a chapter out beforehand.

 

"Do you think we need to bring anything with us?" I ask. My Google reminder didn't tell me how formal this dinner party was suppose to be. Is it just pizza and beers or is Cindy going to try making coq au vin again. I cross my fingers that it's beer and pizza. How could Cindy have ruined coq au vin?

 

"If you could stop and get a bottle of wine, that would be great." Kate says while checking her watch as well. She will require double the time I'll need to get ready plus a healthy buffer of time just to safe.

 

I catch myself from rolling my eyes. If wine is involved, that means Cindy has some wicked plans for this evening and I shudder to think what tragedy will befall french cooking in her kitchen. Still, it'll be good to see Mike. Misery loves company.

 

.3.

 

Kate finishes her chai and gets up to leave. Since she hasn't taken off her coat, she has to wait for me to to fumble into my jacket and scarf while slinging my laptop bag over my shoulder. I return her empty coffee cup and my half filled coffee cup to the tub by the bathrooms and we walk out the door together.

 

"I'll go get the bottle of wine." I say, nodding my head towards the wine store three stores away.

 

"Okay. Do you want to pick me up or just meet there?" Kate asks, moving towards her car. Mike and Cindy live in a townhouse on the east side of town while Kate lives in an apartment complex on the west side. I live right here in the center of town thanks to a fluke in rent control.

 

"I can pick you up. Do you want to stay at my place tonight or yours?"

 

Kate gives me a look "Have we ever stayed at your place Mark?"

 

Oh yeah, that's my name. Mark. Seems like something I should have mentioned a while ago. Mark Emerson. Son of Dan and Judy Emerson. Pleasure to meet you.

 

And for the record, my place isn't bad. It's not dirty or smell funny. I don't have a roommate who doesn't wear clothes...anymore. I keep a clean place and for the money it's not a bad pad. The thing is it's small, more to the point my bed is small. I would buy a larger bed so that Kate would stay at my place more often but that would mean getting rid of my desk, chair, dresser and knocking out a wall.

 

"Just checking." I answer with a laugh and a peck on the cheek. I can see Kate starting to shiver and she ducks into her car. I watch for a few moments while she fumbles with her keys and then takes off. Feeling the cold myself, I hustle to the wine store.

 

Thanks to my father I'm expected to know something about wine. Wine knowledge is not genetic. Just because my father has a wine cellar that rivals most families libraries, if people still had libraries in their homes, doesn't mean I know anything more than you about wine. Yes, I may have drank a few more really expensive bottles of wine than you have but that doesn't make my palate any more discerning than yours.

 

Well maybe a little.

 

I nod at Russ whose restocking the special of the month and head for the California section of the store. If I was trying to impress someone I might go with a French or Italian wine or if I was buying something for myself I'd get a bottle from Argentina. Since it's Mike and Cindy, a pinot noir from Sonoma will do just fine.

 

I find a reasonable priced pinot towards the back as well as a blend of shiraz, cabernet and merlot that Russ recommends. Alright, quite a bit more.

 

I tuck the two bottles into my laptop bag and head to my place. Since it is also downtown I don't bother driving to the coffee house. Of what little exercise I get during the day, the brief commute between my apartment and the coffee house is my nod to healthy living.

 

You may be wondering if Kate and I are at the stage in our relationship where we're thinking about moving in together. One of us is and I am not that side of the equation. Kate's lease is up in January and she's been hinting about finding a new place for the two of us. I'm not opposed to the idea per se but I don't really want to give up my current place either. I see things in the future for Kate and I, I do. It's just, will I see things in the future with myself and someone else?

 

.4.

 

When I survey my apartment I wonder why I cling to it so hard. It's a small place above a chinese restaurant that used to be attorney's office before that same attorney was indict for fraud. His chinese replacement has been a difficult transition but at least when I order General Tsao's chicken, it gets here in five minutes or less.

 

Like I said I keep my place clean and I'm proud of that fact. My living room sports one faded couch and a television that's seen better days. A plant or two from previous girlfriends which survived better than the relationships. On one wall is a collection of rejection letters which I use to remind me to keep going or to mock myself. On the other wall will be an acceptance letter one day.

 

I rummage through my closet hoping to find some clothes other than the sames ones I always seem to wear to dinner parties. Kate has threatened to take me shopping one of these days, as have all my girlfriends to date. If I don't add something new to my wardrobe soon, I believe that threat may come to pass. I try to make one or two shopping trips a year which I think usually lasts me for awhile. Every girlfriend I have had has begged to differ about that though.

 

After several minutes of fruitless searching, realizing no new clothes have magically been placed in my closest without my knowledge, I settle on my a sweater that is only a year or two old. My Ex Melissa bought it for me for our three week anniversary which was a sign that the relationship wasn't going to last. It's also a detail I've neglected to tell Kate. While I'm sure Kate would understand in a completely rational way, that this is just a piece of clothing and not a keepsake of a lost love, I don't want to tempt her inner crazy.

 

Popping into the bathroom, I consider my appearance. I don't mean to brag but I am good looking. I'm not going to give Sean Connery a run for his money any time soon but compared to most writers, I'm the exception not the rule. While at times my five o'clock shadow might be considered rugged, I doubt Kate would appreciate it tonight. A shower and a shave is in order which I'm able to finish within fifteen minutes, a new personal best.

 

I throw my laptop bag with the wine back over my shoulder as I head to the door. I'm fairly certain there will be a new groove in my shoulder blade that my doctor will notice at my next checkup which will be a symptom of this bag. The price you pay for your art. Another cursory glance in my hall mirror shows I nicked myself shaving. Perhaps a few more seconds wouldn't have killed me.

 

I exit through the side door of my apartment and head downhill towards the parking lot three blocks away. It's difficult finding parking close to my door and I don't use my car that often so I leave it at a free lot down by the train. Again, it's my nod to excercise.

 

The streets are desserted with few cars roaming the streets. It's almost seven and most people have gotten home by now. This part of town doesn't have a thriving restaurant scene or any other reason for people to brave this weather. Other than the coffee house. I shove my hands deeper into my coat pockets hoping there is a resevoir of warmth in there besides lint.

 

There isn't.

 

I study the pavement, noticing cracks and ruptures that are emphasized by the frost that is settling in for the evening. I've lived in this part of town most of my life so the route to the parking lot is second nature. Even some of the pavement is familiar. Every few minutes I look up to see which business has had their sidewalk repaved.

 

A screech of tires on asphalt breaks my routine. Ordinarily I wouldn't give it another thought. It's an urban area and people are getting worse at driving every year. But the sidewalk I've been memorizing is suddenly ablaze in the headlights which causes alarm bells to ring in my head. My head jerks up and suddenly I feel like I am in the center of a prison with two spotlights barreling down on me. And these are just as lethal.

 

I shield my eyes for a second before hurling myself to the side into the ground. The cold earth is unforgiving and I feel at least one of the bottles of wine in my bag break. My first thought is for the safety of my laptop. My second is for myself. A few more thoughts after that is for the safety of the driver. A dozen feet away the car has made contact with a brick wall. I'm surprised I didn't register the sound of the accident but maybe I replaced it with the sound of the wine bottles breaking.

 

Slowly I standup, patting myself to make sure nothing has been rearranged. These kinds of things don't happen to me or to anyone I know. Sure, in movies and in some of the books I've written they happen but not actually in real life. I have always been sure they happen but I never expected my statistic would be in that same vicinity. But it is happening and as the scene starts to unfold, my brain begins to accept that I was nearly hit by a car. My hands feel sweaty and a chill colder than any this winter can come up with grips my body. I sallow, pat myself again and try to think.

 

What should I do?

 

I see lights going on in a few apartments above but I am amazed by the lack of noise. The street is as quite as it was two minutes ago. I always figured once an accident happen there would be more noise but it isn't like that. The only sounds are in my head and they even they can't get there story straight.

 

Surprisingly, the dome light in the smashed car still works which goes on as the driver trys to exit. Before my brain can decide what it want's to do, my feet have come to a decision and I'm running to the car. I am only twenty feet from the car and yet it feels like two hundred. What do I do when I get there? I was a lifeguard when I was younger and I kind of remember some first aid but I've never actually had to use it. Will I hurt the person if I try and give them CPR?

 

And there I am, beside the car. The driver is bent and coughing terribly. Automatically I bend down and put my arm underneath his, no her, shoulder and begin to move away from the smoking car. I know cars do not explode like they do in movies but I still feel it's better to get her away from it all the same. I see a man appear in a door way three buildings down.

 

"Call an ambulance!" I yell to him and he's gone.

 

The driver seems to grip my shoulder and I turn to look at her. She has long red hair which partially obscures her eyes. She's beautiful and I kick myself for thinking that at a time like this. But that seems to be my luck. My own first car accident was with a rather attractive woman her fault not mine. Unfortunately, my entire family was in the car as well so I wasn't able to be as charming as I hoped to be. I still got her number.

 

And her insurance information.

 

"Are you okay?" I ask since it's what you ask of someone whose just been in a car accident. I set her down on the curb and look her in the eyes. They look green to me but that might just be from the street light. I don't see any cuts on her face which I take for a good sign. She's shivering and I wonder if it's shock or the cold. "Are you okay?" I repeat again, if a bit slower.

 

She nods which is a tremendous relief. No CPR disasters this evening.

 

"What happened?" I ask, hoping to get her talking. Her eyes are dancing around the street and shock can't be very far off.

 

"I lost control when I made that turn." she answers feebly and points to in the direction of the corner. Then she stares at me for a long second. "Are you okay?" She asks.

 

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" I respond a bit disconcerted that the conversation has turned to me.

 

"Well that was you in my headlights right? I don't see many other people on this street. Unless.." She gasps, her eyes going wide at the thought that has crept in her mind.

 

"Oh!" I exclaimed realizing her fear. The same fear starts to crush down on my mind as well but I fight it back. I need to be in control at the moment and considering the very real possibility that I could have been introduced to her in a very different way is going to have to take a back seat at the moment. "Yeah that was me and no there wasn't anyone else behind me. You did not hit anyone else."

 

I see skin relax only to be tighten again when the first siren hits our ears. She tenses and I feel her trying to get to her feet.

 

"What's wrong?" I ask, as if there wasn't a dozen answers to that question.

 

"Are the police coming?" she asks, getting to her feet.

 

"They should be. Don't worry an ambulance will get her soon."

 

I hear her curse under her breath and she rushes back to her car. I stare at her, unsure if I should stop her or not. Maybe I am in shock. She yanks open the back door of the car, grabs a bag from the backseat and slams the door back home. Dumbly, I realize this mystery woman who nearly ran me over is not planning on sticking around.

 

.5.

 

"Hey!" I yell but she doesn't seem to notice. She's rummaging through her bag while casting quick glances down the street. I too look down the street. The siren howls can be heard but no flashing lights appear. The man who made the call has not returned, I guess feeling his civic duty complete. The lack of people again surprises me. Aren't accidents suppose to lure more flies than honey?

 

"Where do you think you're going?" I challenge. She starts walking down an alley but I get in her way. "Are you in trouble?"

 

She gives me a look, as if seeing me for the first time. Maybe it is the first time and she can't remember what happen to her five minutes ago. And again I am struck by her beauty.

 

Which makes it all the more surprising when suddenly she is kissing me, deep and hard. My mind is lit like white fire. This doesn't happen. Not to me, not to anyone. A beautiful woman does not nearly run you down and than kisses you to make it all better. My brain can not handle this stimuli and I know no one is going to believe me when I tell them this story.

 

As suddenly the warm press of her lips is replaced by agonizing pain shooting up from my crotch. My brain doesn't register exactly what happened but as I recall now, her knee came in the same contact with my groin as her car had with the wall. Naturally, I fall to the ground.

 

I try to speak but it is not happening. This is too much.

 

It's several long minutes before I am able to make sense of whats happening. I am now totally alone on the street, the smoking car my only companion. The woman is gone and the sirens aren't here yet. I roll on to my back and look up into the night sky. It's a cloudless, starless night and the void helps me evaluate what has happened in the past half hour. Some how, some way, I think to myself, I'm going to get this into one of my novels. At least something good will come out of all of this.

 

"Hey buddy you okay?" I hear the voice but it's from a long distance away. I look up to see a police officer staring down at me. He shines his flashlight into my eyes and I have an immeadite flashback to the beginning of my evening.

 

"Yeah I'm okay." I answer getting up.

 

The next hour goes as you might expect if this is a type of situation that you would expect which hopefully it is not. At first the police think it's my car and it takes them awhile before they come around to my side. The smell of alcohol doesn't help either. I show them the broken bottle of wine in my bag but even then they are reluctant to accept my story. I tell them about the girl, the kiss and the knee but they chalk that up to the wine. Finally the man from the doorway shows up to corroborate the events. Yes there was a woman, no I wasn't driving, yes I was the one who called for help.

 

Begrudgingly, the officers acknowledge my heroics and tell me to stick around for awhile so they can get my report. Mercifully they let the EMT through although theres not much he can do for me. He shines a small pen light in my eyes, checks my head for any new bumps and gives me the okay. As far as he's concerned I'm fine and just wasted his time.

 

"Did you see her?" I ask the man from the doorway whose also been asked to wait while the two police officers examine the car. We've been joined by a firetruck and another police unit who is setting up a roadblock. There's no traffic for them to redirect so they're huddled next to each other talking about whatever cops talk about when there isn't anything for them to do. I guess what you and I talk about.

 

"Me?" The man laughs "Naw. I could barely see you. Forgot to get my glasses before coming outside."

 

Great, I'm the only witness. I get out my cellphone and call Kate.

 

"Where are you?" Kate sounds annoyed. I have to restrain a laugh. Kate's frustration is the funniest joke I've hear all evening and it takes everything in me to keep from drowning her in my laughter.

 

Where do I begin. Oh well Kate, I was minding my own business when this ravishing woman nearly killed me with her car. No, no Kate it gets better. After said near vehicular manslaughter was avoided, same woman then knees me in the groin and flees the scene. Oh and she kissed me too. Almost forgot about that bit. And that's the bit you'll focus on I'm sure.

 

"I'm going to be a little late." I say with as much calm as I can muster. The cops are coming back in my direction and for once I'm happy to be subjected to their questioning.

 

.6.

 

"Are you alright?" is the common question of the evening and one I am starting to get sick of.

 

It's three, no four hours later and I'm sitting in Mike and Cindy's apartment. The police took my statement at the scene and then let me go, saying they would be in touch as they always do. Kate had showed up at some point although the two cops at the perimeter didn't let her through. Once free of the inquistion and the police perimeter, Kate navigated me to her car which she had left running to keep warm. As my fingertips regain circulation, I wonder just how long I'd be standing outside.

 

I figured Kate would take me home, her place or mine I didn't care which. Hoped she would take me home. Apparently the dinner party needed it's star of the evening. We headed cross town, the daze of the evening beginning to lift as heat replaced cold in my body.

 

"I'm fine." I say for what feels like the millionth time but is probably only the thousandth. If I wasn't, I'm not sure telling them that would really make a difference so you end up saying you're fine because well you are.

 

I am staring at a plate of short ribs, mashed potatoes and cornbread, surprising comfort food from Cindy. My stomach growls at me to begin eating it but my mind can't seem to find the right buttons to push to get my limbs in motion.

 

"This looks great Cindy." I tell her genuinely and cut myself off from saying 'I'm surprised.'. Cindy beams at me and then at Mike but the glow quickly changes back to concern upon remembering why Mike and Kate are looking so worried.

 

"You know, I've never been able to eat when three people are staring at me. It's true." I half joke. The stress of the evening has not evaborated and I would very much like to tuck into my dinner. But there stares cause a tingle on the back of my neck and I know they expect something more from me tonight. Sorry guys, the stores closed. We're all out of whatever it is you think I'm selling. Try again tomorrow. "Two is fine, surprisingly so is four. But three. That's just weird."

 

Mike is the first snap out of his concentration but his focus on the topic remains. "So she really kneed you and ran away?" Mike asks for the third time. As a fellow man, Mike is all to aware of the pain and tenderness I must be going through. It's a subject we men try to keep close to the chest and far enough away from our wedding vegetables.

 

"Yes, she really did knee me in the groin Mike. And yes, she really did run away. Does that differ from the last time you asked me that question officer?" I respond snidely although I think I deserve it. My friend's questioning while not as thorough as the police, has been just as repeative and exhausting.

 

Yes, I did forget to include the part where the strange redhead, my nickname for her, kissed me. Both from the police report and to my friends. I was certain someone would ask how the woman would have been able to get so close to me as to inflict such a heinous injury but the subject hasn't come up and I haven't provided any reason for it to. It's not that I am embarassed or ashamed about the kiss or that Kate would get mad at me for it. Well perhaps Kate would get mad at me about it. It just didn't seem like a detail they needs to be included because it would be the detail that is focused on for the rest of the evening.

 

"Listen," I say in a voice harder than I expected it to be. "I am going to eat this lovely dinner that Cindy made for me right now. There is not a sidedish of 'How are you feeling' or 'What happened when..'. There is just short ribs, potatos and cornbread. If you want to sit and talk with me while I eat that woudl be great. Otherwise, I'll eat it alone." And with that my brain finally gets it's motor skills in line and I jam my fork into the closest short rib which tears a part without effort.

 

My friends are, of course, stunned. They'll probably chalk it up to this evenings events but really I'm just hungry and I can't stand talking about it any more.

 

I reach for my wine glass but realize it's empty. Of course, I was suppose to bring the wine. I never checked my bag to see what became of the wine bottles and decide now is as good a time as any. I stand up which to Kate, Mike and Cindy seems sudden and head out to the car where I had left my bag. Grabbing it from the back seat, I return inside, the laptop bag smelling distinctly of grapes. Great.

 

I gently lower the bag onto the counter in Cindy's kitchen although why I am cautious is beyond me. While the bag is black, a darker oil spill outline is visible on the bottom and side of the bag. I curse as I usually do when something happens to my laptop but strangely I am not paniced by it's condition. Gingerly I open the bag.

 

Sure enough, there is a resevoir of wine at the bottom with my one fourth of my laptop sitting in the puddle. The paper bag did not do much to contain the flood. I am surprised to find it could have been much worse. The second bottle of wine, the blend Russ recommended, is still intact while the pinot I chose is in ruins.

 

"Good news guys." I say, as I gingerly lift the bottle out of my bag expecting the bottom to fall out. "We have wine."

 

.7.

 

Kate and I return to her place later that evening after things have return more or less back to normal. The wine helped and Russ was right in recommending it to me. After my second glass, the evening became distant memory and I was happy to be with my friends.

 

Kate joins me in bed, snuggling up beside me, her cold feet grazing mine. I cup an arm around waste and bring her close, kissing her cheek and slowly moving towards her lips. My intentions are clear but Kate seems surprised.

 

"Are you sure?" Kate asks which just about kills the mood completely for me.

 

"About what? Sex? Yeah, I'm pretty sure about that Kate."

 

Kate's face goes sour and I feel the same exaspheration coming over the evening. Kate doesn't like it when you mention sex. Oh she loves having sex just as much as any girlfriend I've ever had. She just doesn't like you actually mentioning the word sex. I tried to find out why she dislikes the word but that only led to several nights without sex and at that point the cost was too high.

 

She also doesn't care for the word moist. In case you were wondering.

 

But Kate is feeling sorry for me tonight and so ignores the s word. "Well, you know. With everything that happened tonight especially down there, I figured it wasn't a good time."

 

"Sweetie." I say steadily, as I move her hand to the affected region. "As you can see, it is definitely a good time."

 

I feel a little guilty about taking advantage of Kate's sympathy for sex. And, honestly, my penis does not feel one hundred percent thanks to strange redhead. But I've always prided myself for working through difficulties whether they be writers block or a grande latte from Starbucks.

 

The lovemaking, which is a word I am not fond of, is short but intense which accomodates us both. Pretty soon Kate is breathing quietly beside me, one arm on my belly. It's always taken me a while to fall asleep and given my evening this doesn't seem to be a early one either.

 

It's times like this, when I'm lying awake in bed trying to quiet my inner demons so I can get some rest, that I really understand why someone would pick up smoking. I have no desire to smoke, let me be clear. My grandmother smoked for most of her life and it left a deep impression on me. And no, there isn't a tragic end to that story. My grandmother is still alive, living upstate, going through a pack of menthols a day. God bless her.

 

No, it's the idea of smoking I like. That you can just sit and enjoy a small stick amazes me. It's something to do while you while away the hours.

 

There seems to be too many hours in a day especially when each hour is compounded on each other in a coffee house. There are times when I am in a rush or have too many things to do in the amount of time I have to do them in but there are these lulls in my life. When I have two or three hours of just nothing. No writing, no friends, no responsibilities. Just me and my thoughts.

 

And it might be nice, to have something to roll around between my fingers.

 

.8.

 

I wake up the next morning to an empty bed which is not surprising. Kate leaves by seven to make it to her job downtown in one of the skyscrapers that looms over our city. I check the clock and it's just past nine. Usually I sleep till ten but that's about as late as I'm comfortable to waste. I may be an unemployeed writer but at least I am not an unemployeed writer who sleeps in every day.

 

That would just be sad.

 

Groaning, I make my way to the shower, feeling the weight of another morning on my shoulders. Within minutes I'm ready to leave, my hair still damp, my stomach grumbling for food. I check Kate's kitchen but there's nothing there that appetizes me. I'll just eat something at the coffee house, I tell myself as I close the cabinet. My stomach lodges a protest against this idea but a sticky bun at the coffee house sounds better to my brain than a bowl of cold cherrios here.

 

"Thought I heard someone." a female voice says over my shoulder. It's Nikki, Kate's roommate and I know better than to look. Nikki is gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. She's also a stripper. She's also a stripper who usually doesn't wear enough clothes whether she's at home or at work. How Kate became her roommate or how I became a guy with a girlfriend who has a stripper roommate who must take special care not to oggle especially when Kate is not around is a story Mike and I have gone over at length. Because Kate and Nikki are as tight as any two roommates can be and Nikki delights in testing me every time she can.

 

"Hey Nikki." I say back over my shoulder. "You decent?" My eyes search the kitchen for some reflective surface to see for myself but Nikki has is not appearing in the toaster or the coffee pot.

 

"That's decent of you to ask Mark." Nikki answers without actually answering the question. Since this is an old game, I know she has answered the question and is in all likelyhood topless. We are now in a classic game of chicken. Will I break from pretending I'm looking for breakfast or will Nikki laugh and put a shirt on.

 

My ears deceive me and I think I hear cloth moving. Letting out a sigh of relief, I turn only to come face first with Nikki. And it's not her face that my eyes are being drawn to. At six foot and weighing less than what a woman her height should be, Nikki is more than what most men would kill for. Her long blond hair dusts her shoulders and her skin is a light brown despite it being winter. In my times between girlfriends, Nikki is the exact kind of stripper you hope to see at a club.

 

Nikki laughs, a sterotypical girlish laugh that has on more than one occassion cause a man to relieve himself of another hundred dollars and I know I have lost this game.

 

"You tricked me." I say playfully. By this time, I have managed to refocus on her face and she gives me a smirk as if to say 'We both know I did not trick you.'.

 

"I heard about what happened last night." Nikki says casually as she slouches against the counter, her crossed arms hiding her breasts yet only making them that much more appealling.

 

"Oh yeah." I respond. I can't even make it out the door without someone asking me about last night. I hope the news hasn't reached the coffee house or else I won't be able to get any work done which is as good an excuse as any for not getting any work done today. I throw one last glance at the kitchen, see that it's hopeless and make my way tot he door.

 

Nikki intercedes. "For what it's worth Mark." Nikki purrs in a voice that costs twenty dollars a minute to listen to. "I wouldn't have kicked you in the nuts."

 

"No." I say, keeping my eyes pointed at the ceiling "I imagine you'd do what you're doing right now and that would definitely work."

 

"How can I be sure?" Nikki's hand brushing against my leg, coming dangerously close to my anxiety.

 

"Trust me Nikki." I mutter "At the moment, I would not be able to catch you if I tried."

 

"Let's see!" Nikki yells, changing directions in a second and bounding across the living room.

 

Here's my chance and I take it. "You win!" I call back, exiting stage right through the door. Nikki may be brazen but she's not about the chase me outside.

 

.9.

 

Of course once I get outside I remember I didn't drive to Kate's apartment last night as I had planned. You could say some things got in the way. But only if you wanted to belabor the point. Which means I can either walk the mile or so to the subway station or wait for the local bus to swing by.

 

I opt for the bus as Nikki's playfulnes has left me too excited to walk straight. The brisk breeze that rolls through is taking care of that though and waking me up more than a cup of disgusting coffee ever would. I look at the signs telling me the bus schedule although it's one I know by heart. I hate losing a good parking space near my apartment so I'll take the bus out to Kate's if I have the time.

 

Shivering on the bench, I don't notice a now fully clothed Nikki join me on the bench. Despite a heavy coat and sweatpants, Nikki manages to be alluring just the same.

 

"Tag you're it." I joke, pushing her shoulder which gets me a small laugh. "Now you have to catch me."

 

Nikki smiles but it is combined with concern and I know my favorite question is going to get another spin on the jukebox.

 

"Kate told me about what happened last night." Nikki starts, her eyes looking straight ahead.

 

"Oh yeah?" I inquiry with as little enthusiasm as possible. It's not that I dislike talking to Nikki or that because she's a stripper it's going to be more of the same questions I had to deal with last night, only more insipid. In fact, Nikki is an amazingly bright and insightful person, stripper or not. It's not that I think she's smarter than I am, it's that I know that she is but doesn't cram it in my face that I respect her. But I still do not want to talk about my run in with the mysterious redhead. "So you said in the apartment."

 

But Nikki, as is often the case, surprises me. She doesn't ask a question.

 

"I was coming home late from work one night."  Nikki starts in a typical storytelling fashion. We both know work means the strip club but we all just call it work whether it's an office building or a bar. "It was in the summer so it was warm. I had had a good shift and was still feeling energized. My body tingled in a way that just needs to be used. It was too late to go to any other club, so a friend and I decided to race each other home."

 

"Don't you live three miles from the 'office'?" I ask. Just because we've accepted Nikki's job, doesn't mean I have to let one go over the plate.

 

"This was before I lived here but yeah, it was about ten or fifteen miles. We didn't expect to make it to the finish line, just blow off some steam you know? Grab a cab when we got tired and laugh about it on the ride home. One of the bouncers didn't like the idea but we had already taken off and had soon ditched him after three blocks."

 

"I think I know where this is going Nikki and it's okay. You don't have to tell me this story so I know you understand what happened last night. Believe me, I wouldn't even compare my situation to yours in the slightest."

 

"Maybe you would if you let me finish my story." Nikki scolded me with a fierce look in her eye. I raise my hands to let her continue.

 

"Like I was saying, we were running and had made if a few blocks before doubling over from laughter and exhaustion. We weren't in a rough area of town so we weren't worried about anyone seeing us or anything like that." Nikki added, giving me another look. Sorry I brought it up.

 

"My friend's cellphone went off and she managed to stop laughing for a few seconds to pick up the phone. I didn't hear what was said but I could fill in the blanks from her expression. Cindy, that was her name, had a jealous boyfriend. It's a common thing in our line of work. The guys who we end up dating start by saying they're cool with what we do but it quickly goes downhill. It's a huge strain on a relationship and most of the guys the girls date, don't have the biggest tolerance for stress in a relationship.

 

I guess her laughter must have been the trigger because whatever he said to her killed every last laugh in her that night. She was turning white before my very eyes and it was slowly leeching my enthusiasm as well. I ran over to her to find out what was the matter but she was already running again but this time towards the street.

 

And then she did something I never thought I would see in my life."

 

Nikki takes a breath and I have to exhale mine because now I think I know the direction Nikki's story is going and it's where I had hoped it was going. I had hoped it was going into a fantasy I had when I was fourteen but that seems oddly inapproriate to retell at this moment.

 

"No, she didn't get hit by a car Mark." Nikki answers my unasked question and I exhale again. "She did just about the opposite."

 

"What? Miss a car?" I wonder aloud.

 

Nikki gives me a patronizing look and then continues her story. "She stole a car Mark. Grabbed a rock from the side of the road and busted the window right out of this old Nissan that was parked there. I was stunned but was even more stunned when she managed to hotwire it. I didn't think people much less Cindy still knew how to do that. But she did and in a flash she was gone. I didn't know you could steal a car that quickly. And there I was, the laughter now dead in my stomach, trying to realize what had just happened."

 

Another breath. "Now I am not saying Cindy kicked me in the junk but it might as well have been. I was flabbergasted to say the least and I didn't have a clue as to what to do. For a good long while I just stood there in shock and to this day I'm still in shock about what happened. I wasn't hurt, not physically or emotionally but still I felt like a victim."

 

"So what happened after that?" I wanted to know. With a story like this, there was no way I didn't want to hear the conclusion. I was even beginning to think up ways to ask Nikki gently if I could use it in a novel even if it would be in a genre I had never written about.

 

"Immeaditely after? I went to the first house that seemed the closest to car, figuring it might be the owner, to let them know and call the police. It wasn't but they let me in to call the police even if it was three in the morning.

 

As for Cindy, I don't know. The police took down what little information I knew about the car but by the time it's owner reported it stolen, three days had gone by and Cindy hadn't come back to work. Her boyfriend did though, so I guess she must have fled. Who knows where. I was sick with worry for the next several months but after awhile you get used to people coming in and out of your life. I was still new to the business then and hadn't gotten used to the turnover."

 

"More than just turnover Nik" I say, my own thoughts wondering what happened to Cindy.

 

"Yeah, I know." said Nikki, shivering a bit now that her story was over.

 

I put an arm around her, partially because of the cold but also because I can tell the story took a lot from her. I don't know how close she was to Cindy but I know that Nikki make friends quickly and sincerely so Cindy's departure must have been a real blow to her.

 

After a few moments I say "So. Not to sound callous or anything but are you trying to say Cindy kicked me in the nuts last night?"

 

Nikki laughs and moves away from my arm while blotting at her eyes. "No. If it was Cindy she would have stolen another car."

 

We laugh as the sound of the bus makes it's way up the street. I look at my watch and realize we've been sitting here for twenty minutes.

 

Before the bus gets to us, Nikki looks me in the eye and says "No Mark, the point of that story is that random things happen. Not because Cindy was running away from her boyfriend or that woman ran off the road last night. There are millions of events like those every night all over the world and you or I just happen to be a part of one.

 

Not to trivialize you though." Nikki finishes with a pat to close for Kate I'm sure.

 

"Thanks, I guess. Something to think about on the bus. You coming? I'm going to the coffee house. First cups on me." I ask, getting up. The bus driver has opened the door and is waiting impatiently for me to get in. He's letting out precious heat and has no time for me to be indecisive.

 

"Hah are you kidding. I'm getting back in bed." Nikki shouts over the bus engine.

 

"Now that is what I'll be thinking about on the bus." I yell back.

 

.10.

 

In fact, thoughts of Nikki in bed does occupy me for at least the first half of the trip back downtown. I would feel guilty about it but Kate and I have already discussed these things and frankly, if I wasn't having these dreams I'd be worried. And Kate has nothing to worry about either, from me or Nikki. For my part, my second and fifth girlfriends cheated on me and I'd never put someone through what they put me through. I just do not think I have it in me to be that cruel.

 

And I don't think Nikki does either but as her story also showed, you never really know a person.

 

Plus, did I mention that Nikki is hot. I'm talking super model hot. She's not just out of my league, she's in a league I don't even know the name of. I couldn't even imagine being in a relationship with her for, with my ego being the biggest roadblock. When I'm out, frankly I like to think people are looking at me. And while I'm sure they're looking at Kate when we are out together, with Nikki it's going to be obvious.

 

The bus ride downtown is short if bumpy. I notice I'm scanning the other passengers with a greater attention to detail than I usually do. Normally, I am just casting for characters in one book or another with the bus or subway being an infinite menagerie for ideas. But today I am inspecting people. Every person who gets on or off with red hair immeaditely get's my attention and I have to forcibly look out the window to keep from getting dirty looks from other passengers.

 

I don't expect to see her. Not here on the boss or anywhere really. And yet I am looking. Because despite the sage advice Nikki gave me, I have to know more about what happened last night. Whether it was random or not, there is just too much for me to ignore. Perhaps with time and no new evidence it will fade from my memory. But for right now, it's all I can think about and I hate myself for it.

 

Which is why I hate people asking me about what happened. I know what happened but it makes no sense. I can not give them a good answer because I do not have an answer for myself. And I like giving answers. It's why I am a writer. I like explaining to others what is happening, of knowing what will happen before they do. That is my control and I can not flip to the end of this book to find out what I need to know.

 

These thoughts and others are still swimming in my head as I enter the coffee house. I scan the tables looking for a seat and see one of my usual spots near a sunny window is free. It's towards the back and some would say a little too close to the bathrooms but I like it. Let's in just the right amount of sun and given the amount of coffee I drink during the day, having a bathroom near you is a good thing. I put my bag in the chair to reserve the seat and go to order a cup of coffee.

 

The barrista on duty eyes me warily. He knows me, they all know me. I am not Mark to them. I am that guy who sits in a corner with his laptop all day long making faces when he sips their coffee. I am that guy who asks questions about the different coffees they are serving and whether any of them taste the opposite of tree bark. They do not hate me, well maybe one or two do, but they do not like me either. I do not have a witty reportoire with any of them. Nor can I say 'The usual.' and like magic, my favorite, if I had a favorite, cup of coffee is there before my eyes without any qualifications on my part.

 

I would really like to be able to say 'The usual.' I come here often enough that you would think I would be able to do that. But Expresso has a pretty brisk turnover in college student employees and I can't seem to stick with just one coffee flavor to hate.

 

But today is the day. "The usual." I say to the man who was beginning to get impatient with my reverie.

 

He looks at me blankly. He was prepared for a multitude of sentences but the usual has stopped him in his tracks. The usual? The usual what? Do I know this man? No. Is the usual some special no one told me about? Goddammnit why doesn't anyone tell me these things before I'm up here. I hate these people. They're all jerks and they can take this job and shove it. Wait. Maybe he means my usual? No that doesn't make sense. I'd have to know who this guy was if he knew what I usually get. Unless he's my stalker. I hope he's not my stalker. Well, maybe a little. No, scratch that, definitely no.

 

What the barrista really says is "I'm sorry sir?" following back on his training.

 

I shelve my little barrista inner dialog for another day and return "You know..." I look at his name tag "Phil, the usual." I put on a charming smile to really sell it, the first time for another guy.

 

But there's nothing to charm out of Phil and he has a growing line of customers behind me to contend with. "Is that sumatra sir?" Phil asks, trying to pretend he just forgot this once.

 

I take pity on the man. "No but you know what," but not much pity "I'm feeling for something a little different today Phil. Any new specials of the day?"

 

I can see Phil flick his eyes up involuntarily at the sign above his head which lists the daily specials. I know what they are, they rotate them weekly and by this point I've memorized the schedule. But I like to keep the barristas on their toes. You know, for when an actual coffee affacondo comes through the door and asks for Kona or something.

 

"Anything you would recommend Phil?" I continue. Even I am becoming uncomfortable at this point. The line of customers behind me are jonesing for sixteen ounces of caffeine and I am in their way. I learned early on, you do not want to get between someone and their caffeine.

 

"My favorite is the French Roast sir." Phil answers, moving in that direction. It's not mine but I order it anyway to relieve Phil. He grabs a chubby mug, this one green with small brown circles around the circumference and fills it with French Roast. I pay and go to add a mixture of condiments to the cup. Currently I'm experimenting with a one part sugar, two parts cream, and a drop of honey mixture which has yielded, if not pleasing, at least promising results.

 

I take a sip, control a reaction to gag, and hoist the cup in Phil's direction for a job well done. Phil ignores me, the cappacuino he's making taking all his attention.

 

Returning to my seat, I place the cup on the table where it will go unnoticed till I need another, an hour usually, and remove my laptop from the bag. You may be wondering what kind of state my laptop is in, given it's Roman bath last night. Of all the friends I could have visited last night, I am thankful it was Mike and Cindy. Along with being a pretty decent cook, Cindy is a world class computer specialist. After some clucking about how this was no way to treat the computer she helped me buy, she took it down to her office for an hour while the three of us sat upstairs and drank wine sans the laptop.

 

I do not know what magic Cindy was able to conduct in her workshop but within an hour she was back upstairs, my laptop as good as new. Well, not new, it's two years old. Working at any rate.

 

"That's amazing Cindy." I said, complimenting her a second time that evening. "How did you do it?"

 

Cindy beamed at me and said "Oh Mark. You know I could tell you all about how I removed all the parts, wiped them all down, resoldered the whosit to the whatsit and made it work but we both know you don't care."

 

"No I really want to know." I implored.

 

Cautiously, Cindy began "Well if you really want to know." She eyed me for a second, trying to determine if I was interested or just making fun. "First, I started by removing the keyboard. It's not that hard, you just need to release two pins. Luckily, the wine didn't get inside the case, so you don't have to worry about your motherboard..." Cindy was interrupted by a unison of snores coming from Mike, Kate and myself.

 

"You guys suck." Cindy muttered, refilling her wine glass.

 

Which is the long way of saying, my laptop works. Which is good so I can get back to working on my story this morning. Which is bad because I needed a good excuse to procrastinate for a couple days. Currently I am stuck. My main character has realized her father was once part of a biker gang and now that biker gang has come to collect one of their own. A classic, once in, never out type situation. But now that I've gotten the characters to this point, a journey of some hundred pages, I'm not sure where to take them besides the open road.

 

It's at this point that I usually put this novel on hiatus and start something else.

 

While I toil over this literary decision, Gabe walks in the door. At just under six feet, Gabe is a close a friend as I've ever had. We look alike, talk alike and have the same outlook on the life. I met Gabe when I was in high school and while no one would mistake us for twins, even though we tried, we stuck together enough that we might as well have been brothers. Having only one older sister, it was refreshing to meet someone like Gabe at the point in my life. We were fast friends and we've pretty much followed each other since that time. The only major difference between Gabe and I being, is that Gabe has been published.

 

Several times.

 

Not that I hold it against him. Gabe is a tremendous writer, who constantly keeps me on my wits end, forcing me to be more than just good at what I do. While he'd never know it, Gabe makes me strive to be a better person. I feel lucky to know someone like him and that we get along well. It doesn't happen that often in my experience.

 

"How's it going hack?" I greet Gabe. Alright maybe I hold it a little against him.

 

He sits beside me with his own coffee in a paper to go cup. Gabe isn't going anywhere being as much a resident of Expresso as I am. But for some reason he prefers to get his coffee in the paper cups, mother nature be damn. He's said he likes to know he can just get up and go if he wants to and still take his coffee with him. I said I can do that as well, getting up and walking out the door. I may have danced out the door come to think of it.

 

"Not bad Unpublished." His nickname for me "I see you're hard at work on yet another literary masterpiece that will never see the light of day."

 

"But of course, one can not be a struggling artist if one does not struggle, oh great sellout to the stars." I shoot back. Did I mention, as part of publishing deal, Gabe had to ghost write a famous celebrities biography? I won't tell you who but if you go to this months edition of People, she's on the cover. And has blonde hair.

 

Whose last name is Johansen.

 

I ride Gabe about his book deal but never too hard. I know it wasn't easy for him to agree to that stipulation in the contract and it's not something he likes to talk about even though he got to spend two months in Greece with the lovely actress supposedly researching her life story. He tells me it was not as fun as I think it was but then even if it was half as fun as I think it was, it would still be pretty damn amazing.

 

"Let me guess." I say, changing the subject while Gabe blows at his coffee. "You want to know about what happened last night right?"

 

Gabe gives me a quizzical look and responds "What happened last night?"

 

I can't tell whether he's putting me on or if Gabe really hasn't heard. I don't think my friends have a blog about my life that they all check and update religiously but I figured out of anyone, Kate would have told Gabe.

 

"You're kidding." I sputter.

 

"Don't think so? What did you and Kate break up?"

 

"What?!? No." I exclaim. Gabe knows about some of the recent problems Kate and I have been going through. We haven't gotten to a breakup point yet although it might be in the future.

 

"Damn. Well I guess what she and I did this morning still counts as cheating." Gabe says with sarcasm.

 

"Pretty sure it still counts as cheating even if we did break up."

 

"How do you figure? You're not dating her, so she's not betraying you."

 

"Read your man code Gabe. You have to give at least twenty four hours for makeup sex before the relationship is deemed over. Otherwise, you are cockblocking your friend's makeup sex."

 

"I always forget about that rule." Gabe says with a laugh. "Seriously though. What happened? I haven't been in the loop. My editor had me on a deadline till the other night. After it was in, I crashed and nearly slept half the day."

 

"I remember when I used to sleep half the day." I reply wistfully.

 

"Yeah, those were the good old days I guess." Gabe agrees although Gabe has since become a respectable sleeper, almost never waking up past eight except when he has a deadline.

 

Sighing, I launch into my story, one which I don't embellish but include all details for Gabe. He stays quiet for the most part, occassionally nodding his head, taking a sip of coffee at an interval and gasping at the appropriate parts. When I am finished he nods and we sit there for a few seconds, watching the others around us.

 

"Was she a good kisser?" Gabe asks finally.

 

"The best. Better than Kate, better than you."

 

"Please. She may be better than Kate but she's not better than me. And if you need proof on that, I'll give you some references." Gabe shoots back. We laugh till we return to the subject at hand.

 

"I'm sure you are sick of this question but are you alright." Gabe wants to know. And while yes I am, I am still glad that Gabe asks and I have no problem answering him.

 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Confused but fine. You're right. I am sick of that question." I say as I laugh into my coffee. Gabe nods and let's the moment pass. He knows we will get to it in due time and there is no need to press now.

 

"New barrista's kinda cute." Gabe remarks offhandedly.

 

I don't even bother to look over my shoulder. "There are only men working today Gabe."

 

"I know." Gabe quips back with a devilish grin.

 

I roll my eyes in response. "One of these days you're going to tell me you have switched sides and all these years of making homoerotic jokes has really hurt you."

 

"Well, those jokes have hurt but mostly because they were so bad. And if I did join the other team, as you call it, there would be a line of women at my door trying to get me back."

 

"I'm sure." I mutter. I look back at my computer screen but I had not started on anything so I close the lid.

 

"What are you working on?" Gabe inquires. He takes a deep pull from his coffee, grimaces and turns back to look at the counter. "These bastards cannot make a decent cup of coffee to save themselves. Why do we keep coming here?"

 

"I figure if I don't enjoy the coffee no matter where we go, might as well go to a place where I know you won't enjoy the coffee either." I answer him.

 

"Right." Gabe gives me a look to see if I'm joking, see's that I am, then returns to his first question. "So, what are you working on there Mark. Another masterpiece I'm sure, one which your publishers are just dying to get their hands on."

 

"Oh, well my publisher gave me an extension so I'm alright." I joke which receives a knowing smile from Gabe while he gulps down another large portion of his coffee. He thinks even if it's bad, he needs to finish it since he bought it and he might as well finish it as soon as possible. "Eh, it's a story I've been kicking. Basically, it's your classic heist novel."

 

"Sure. But what makes your heist novel different than my heist novel." Gabe asks.

 

"Are you writing a heist novel Gabe?" I ask, a bit defensively.

 

"No you donkey, I'm not but I'm sure someone else is and someone else definitely has. Yours will not be the first heist novel to come across a publishers desk so you better have something different that will catch his eye. So what are you going to do differently?"

 

"Oh." I say quietly, taken aback. If there is anyone more exasperated at my lack of publication than myself, it is Gabe. For some reason he believes in me despite all signs to the contrary. I've shared story ideas with him without hesitation with no fear that he would rip me off. Gabe has always been truthful with me when it comes to my work, about what works and what doesn't. Like I said, he's my best friend.

 

"Well of course the twist." I rally with some cockiness in my voice. "What do you think I'm new to this?"

 

"No Mark, you are certainly not new to this. Just unpublished." Gabe shoots back.

 

"Point. Anyway, so it's a heist. It's begins with the group getting ready. The leader calls everyone over to give them a little motivation. He says they are not better than the cops. That the cops can and probably will catch them if they are not careful and fail to follow the plan."

 

"Great motivation." Gabe interjects but I ignore him.

 

"Then the leader follows it up with the real motivation. That if they fail in their tasks, he will make sure they end up dead. Now, He knows that any one of these cutthroat mercanaries wouldn't spare a second thought of leaving him for dead in say the bank vault or when they switch get away cars. So he tells them that he has arranged for a hit on each of their heads, starting now and that only word from him after the heist is complete will stop the clock. So whether they kill him or screw up and get caught by the police, they're dead. They can not believe him sure if they want to risk it but he gives them adequate evidence to show that the contracts are real."

 

I take a breath and throw in my kicker. "And what's his motivation, the leader asks the other men? Why he has a contract on his own head as well. The leader is part of a far larger organization that does not tolerate failure."

 

"Sounds like you're writing a Jerry Bruckheimer movie." Gabe sums up after I've finished.

 

"Yeah I get that. Dunno, just wanted to do something fun you know. Completely unrealistic and ridiculous with mass market appeal. Hell, if my other work isn't getting any takers might as well write to what the public want right?"

 

Gabe frowns and says "Take it from me Mark, writing to what the public wants is no way to enjoy any literary success. Sure you'll get published. Actually, scratch that, this won't get published. But anyway, sure you will get published but you don't want that."

 

"Oh don't get on your high horse about writing ethics." I say a bit too defensively although I agree there is no way this story would get published.

 

"I am not saying you need to write Shakespeare or anything like that Mark but you need to write something that you can be proud of. Because that pride will come across in your work and that sells more novels than any kind of lowest common denominator style writing ever has. Look, I know I am being hypocritical here by saying you shouldn't write what you don't believe in but if you want any sort of voice of experience well than I'm your man."

 

We let that sit on the table while Gabe finishs the last of his coffee and I swirl mine in it's cup. I know he's right and he knows that he doesn't need to lecture me about it. But it's always good to get the words out in the air once in awhile.

 

Finally I say "Sure your publisher wouldn't let me ghost write your next biography?"

 

Gabe laughs and punches me playfully on the arm. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they would notice a difference in quality."

 

"Also, that it didn't show up on time." I half joke.

 

"So, how's Kate?" Gabe asks. It has been a week or so since Gabe and I saw each other last, so we need to catch up on the details of our lives.

 

"She's doing good I guess. Concerned about me and all from last night. On the whole, eh we are about the same which you are going to say is not very good."

 

Gabe is a lifelong bachelor. The reason for this is he tries to see to far in to a relationships future. If he see's or thinks he see's it going nowhere then he breaks it off. If he see's the relationship in a sort of limbo, the kind he thinks Kate and I are in, then he thinks it should be cancelled as well. Why waste each others time, he argues?

 

I've tried to argue that he is his own worst enemy, that he creates self-fulfilling relationship prophecies but he ignores me just as much as I ignore his sage advice about book publishing. Like I said, sometimes the words just need to get out in the air.

 

"I didn't say anything." Gabe responds innocently as he starts to peel a part his coffee cup. "If you ask me, two people stuck in a rut should probably figure out a way to get out of that rut even if getting out is painful for the both of them."

 

"And if you ask me, sometimes getting stuck in a rut is just what a relationship needs."

 

"You can't be serious." Gabe replies with exasperation.

 

To which I respond "Well not entirely but hear me out. Your life with some one can not be a constantly changing series of events. Oh sure that's fine in the start and it's always good to have things to do together but after a while it gets to chaotic and you need something real to hang on to. At some point, you want someone to be the same with even if that is a rut. If you had a relationship that lasted more than two months you would realize that sometimes being with someone forever means being just okay for some of the time."

 

"Eh I don't think you know what you're talking about." Gabe waves me off.

 

"And you do. So how is Rachel anyway? Is that her name? Sorry, haven't had the time to memorize it." I respond, my temper rising. I count to ten to keep my anger under control but it's a topic that usually gets me started. Kate and I have enough issues as is without having the constant relationship pessimist at my ear.

 

Gabe pauses and purses his lips. "Rachel and I are not seeing each other any more." He answers slowly.

 

I keep myself from saying why am I not surprised. I am sure it's what Gabe expects me to say and it probabably should but I like to keep my friends on their toes. "That's too bad." I respond simply.

 

Gabe's eyes dart to mine to see if I'm serious and then dart away. "Like I said, I do not like ruts."

 

"Ruts!" I exclaim "You were only dating for two weeks. How in the hell could you have gotten in to a rut yet."

 

"It's a fair point and no we had not gotten into a rut yet but we would have. I could just tell."

 

"Oh sure, you could just tell. Just like I can tell you didn't give the relationship enough time to get into a rut." I utter. "Well I am sure you'll meet someone else soon who can avoid getting in a rut with you as well." If I am harsh with Gabe about his wanderlust approach to the fairer sex it's because that's my half to our relationship. He grills me on my writing and I grill him on his love life. It goes to show that we must not be doing a good job since neither of us has improved.

 

"As a matter of fact, I am seeing someone else."

 

"You're kidding." I exclaim although I am not that surprised. Gabe is devilishy handsome and if I stumbled over story ideas as much as he stumbles over beautiful women, I'd be as prolific as Stephen King.

 

"No." Gabe responds but ends it there which is odd because normally he is almost impatient with longing to tell me about his newest muse. While he may not last with any of this madonnas, Gabe is a hopeless romantic and idolizes women.

 

For the first week or two anyway.

 

"What, does she have a hump or something? Is that why you're embarassed to tell me? Because hump people deserve love too Gabe."

 

"She doesn't have a hump. She is in fact, quite lovely." Gabe answers, acting the gentleman.

 

"Oh I'm sure she is which is why I can not wait to hear all about her." I say, pulling up my chair. "In fact, I think I need another cup of coffee to hear this."

 

"You haven't even started this one." Gabe points at my chilled cup of brown.

 

"Gabe." I reply with a patronizing voice, my eyes deadpan.

 

"Yeah yeah I know." Gabe mutters, ushering me on to get my next cup of coffee. "Get me another willya. At least one of us should get something they'll actually drink."

 

.11.

 

She has been running for too long. Her legs hurt, her stomach hurts and all it's all she can do to keep running. But what hurts most of all is the tearing fear that she isn't getting anywhere. He's behind her and he is mocking every step she takes. She knew he would find her even when she finally decided to leave but she didn't know how much he would toy with her. How he would let her have hope even for just a second and then snatch it away. Always reminding her that he was in control and the only reason she was here and not back with him was because he allowed it.

 

Her stomach cramped in revulsion to the idea and the dozen miles she had been running. It was too much. She wasn't that old. How could someone at her age have so much pressure, be so involved in the dark side of the world. She was a good person wasn't she?

 

No, she wasn't, she reminded herself as she stopped to drag in bitter air, her lungs grateful yet still sending fits of pain in response. She had not been a good person since she ran away from home and she had kept running since, ever further down a road of ruin. And that road had led to him as, she now realized, it was destined to. He was always at the end of that road and no matter how far she ran, she could never backtrack.

 

"Feeling tired Emily?" A voice calls from the shadows to her left. For a second her mind cannot accept that she has heard the noise. She has worked too hard, ran too far for him to already have caught her. And yet the other part of her mind knows, that it is entirely possible for him to be here even though she should not be. What is distance to a man such as himself.

 

Her first instinct is to flee, to continue on the road she has been going running. It may be hopeless but it is a good sight better than staying here. Her legs resist and it is a tense moment as she grapples to gain control of them. As she does so, she realizes it is her body telling her that it has given up. It can no longer continue a race it knows it can not win.

 

Slumping against a wall to her left, away from the direction of the voice she says aloud "What do you want?" in a tone that speaks of courage and stubbornness which upon inspection would be found wanting.

 

"Come now my dear." the voice responds, getting louder as he approaches "You know exactly what I want. You know what I've always wanted."

 

"Fuck off. I'm not going back even you take me. You might as well kill me now because I'll just escape again until you do or I really get away." she yells.

 

There is a pause while the shadow considers her remark, whatever glimpse of motion Emily thought she saw in the darkness ceasing. Then she hears a low laughter and bristles at it. Before she can yell at him again, the voice continues in the same calm manner. "Emily, I hate to break it to you but you never escaped. Oh I know you feel like you did. A daring break out at night, a few dead guards and some thousand miles in your dust would feel like a getaway to most people. But you and I know differently. Deep down you must know that the only way for you to leave me was for me to want you to leave? Come now, let's not be ridiculous."

 

She hates him and knows that it's true. Her throat clenches at the thought of the guards she killed. She had only knocked them unconcious when she had left but for their failure it had cost them their lives and she was partly to blame for that. Because he was right. She did know it was foolish to try and escape. But she had done it anyway, the flicker of hope within her finally getting the best of her.

 

"Yes, hope." He murmurs as if reading her thoughts which perhaps he is. "Tell me, were you curious when you felt that ping of hope. When the idea came to you that night that if you planned it just right, did everything exactly and had just a little bit of luck, did it occur to you why it appeared at all?"

 

"My mind is my own and I can have hopes and dreams just as much as you can." Emily spits back, unsure what malicious thought he is trying to create in her.

 

He laughs at this. "My dear, never confuse your hopes and dreams with mine. Yours are but a speck compared to my ambition. And no, I do not have control over your thoughts at least not directly. But that is what makes me me isn't it. To suggest, to imply and to allow for the possibility that something could happen. I am so very good at setting up the variables for people to complete the equations I want them to solve."

 

She considers running once more not out of fear but out of boredom. Emily has heard him crow on and on about himself more than she ever wished to and while some of what he says may be true, she does not want to be audience to his boasts.

 

And again, it seems as if he can read her thoughts. Briefly she wonders in her ragged state whether she is wearing her emotions that visibly on her sleave.

 

"I'm sorry Emily, I do know how much you hate my pompous nature but sometimes I just can not help myself."

 

"What do you want?" Emily growls, preparing herself for the deal she will have to make with her devil.

 

"I want something? What ever made you think I wanted something?" he responds coyly.

 

"Shuttup and get on with it. You've implied that you let me leave for a reason and I'll accept that. Now tell me why you let me leave so I can tell you to go to hell and we can continue our dance." Emily fires back.

 

In the silence that follows, Emily can feel more than see the motion as he appears from the shadows. He is as he always is. Tall, lean and handsome. If she didn't know who he was she would be as attracted to him as she was when she first met him. In fact he is wearing the same clothes he wore that first day, the same clothes he wears every day with a few exceptions. Black pants, a black collared shirt and a white tie. He told her once why he wears the tie and it caused her to cry for days afterwards.

 

His face is grim now and Emily feels a sense of smugness knowing she has ruined his fun. It's a small victoy but one she will hold on to.

 

"If we must cut to the quick, then let me be clear as I do not want to take any more of your precious freedom than I must." His grin returns and she scowls. "You know that man you nearly killed."

 

"Which one?" she asks and while she has an idea who is referring to, it has been a trying week and she has put more than one strangers life in peril.

 

"The one you nearly ran down with your car. Oh, no I guess that does not narrow it down far enough. How about the one you so unceremoniously kneed in the groin to make your escape. Does that one sound familiar. I hope it is because I hope that behavior isn't indictive of anything I've done to you."

 

"It's only what I want to share with you." Emily growls. He has never been physical with her, never touched her in any way nor given her a chance to physcially fight back. It has all been mind games and misdirection which has made it all the worse. She wonders if today that will change.

 

"To be sure but that will have to wait for another day." He answers, stepping to one side as if he expects her to charge him. To her credit, Emily doesn't flinch.

 

"So, what about him? What do you want with him?" Emily answers. She knows who he's talking about and there is no point in belaboring the point.

 

"My dear, he, like you, is mearly a means to an end. One more step in a very long path which only I can understand and travel. Suffice it is for you to do what I say, to play your part."

 

"Why should I?" Emily asks.

 

"While I could just say, because I said so." And at this he gives her a hateful stare which does cause her to cringe. "I'd prefer if you thought of it as a vacation."

 

"A vacation?" Emily says dumbly. Of all the words to come out of his mouth, the last would have the words vacation in them.

 

He grunts some amusement. "Indeed, a vacation. A vacation from me. I know how cooped up you have been over these past few months and why it only makes sense for you to want to spread your wings a little. And who am I to get in your way."

 

"Only because it works for you." Emily snarls, knowing that anything he allows is part of his master plan.

 

He laughs again while looking at his fingernails which he keeps perfectly clean. "Of course."

 

Emily mulls it over in her mind. She doesn't trust him, not for a second. She knows he is using her and will only use the man she nearly killed the other night. And when he is done using him, he will throw him away, just as he will one day throw away Emily when she no longer amuses him. So what point is there to help him even if it means a few moments of freedom? Am I that selfish she wonders? Would I condemn a stranger to what I know, just for my own happiness.

 

Her despair is almost too much. Perhaps if she had stayed another month, things would have gone differently. But she still has some hope left, still has some faith left with in herself to see the positive. If she refuses he will be angry but that anger will only fall on her shoulders. She doubts it will stop him from proceeding with his plans for he always has contingencies waiting in the aisles. He will find some one else or some thing else to get to that man. And while she may not be a good person, she is better than most of his friends.

 

"Fine. What do you want me to do?"

 

.12.

 

Gabe and I are sitting next to each other in the coffee house, neither of us speaking. We are intently staring at our laptop screens, one of our hands flying across the keyboard, mine tapping the table which must be annoying the hell out of Gabe. But if it is, he isn't showing it. When Gabe gets in the zone, he is dead to the world, completely focused on what he is writing, the words flowing from his mind to his fingers. It's something that is both amazing and incredibly frustrating. I am guilty of coveting Gabe's writing ability.

 

I stare at my screen. I had a brief spurt of inspiration around one o'clock and managed to jot down a page or two before it passed. Unfortunately, the inspiration was not for the story I am currently working on but for one that I had given up hope on a few months ago.

 

My process at work.

 

The cursor mocks me. Type, it yells at me. In frustration I turn away.

 

"Want another cup of coffee?" I ask Gabe. If he hears me he gives no sign. It's been three hours since his last refill and an hour since he started typing so he should be coming in for a landing any minute now. And like a good friend, I'll have a nice warm cup of coffee waiting for him. Even if that does make me the wife in our relationship.

 

"What'll you have?" the barrista asks casually. It's later in the day so the level of respect the employees have for their patrons has fallen a few pegs. In the morning, the staff is attentive and proper making sure all the office bound professionals get their caffeine with a smile. By now, most of the people in the coffee house are college students or unemployeed like me so there is very little thought given to trying to impress us. I consider bantering with the man, to see if he is any more receptive than his colleague this morning but I realize I used that joke several chapters ago and I hate to reuse material.

 

"Two mocca javas, one in a to go cup with room for cream please." I order. The kid, probably a freshman on financial aid, gives me a queer look but shrugs his shoulders and punches the order into the computer. I back away from the counter to wait for my order while the barrista accepts the next customers order with as little enthusiasm as he did mine. I am glad he is consistent.

 

As I lean against the counter, my eyes fall on one of my favorite patrons of the coffee house. He's my favorite patron because there's something about him that just begs for you to come up with backstory for him. Gabe and I have spent hours laughing and brain storming completely random reasons for why this man should be as he is in this coffee shop.

 

A description is in order. On first look, he looks like any other man in his thirties. Perhaps a little balding but he carries it well and you could be forgiven if you thought of him as attractive. His average weight and full face does not make him particularly attractive to Gabe or myself but then women are far more forgiving of the male species than men are so we have to assume he has had some success with the ladies at some point in his life.

 

What is curious is two things. First, he is wearing a tuxedo. Not that extraordinary I'll grant you. But every time we've seen him and this is going on thirty or fourty times, he is always wearing a tuxedo.  Perhaps the man plays in an orchestra but we have never seen him carry an instrument. Perhaps he just happens to go to a lot of weddings but no man is a groomsmen that often. When I say he always wears a tuxedo, I mean no matter what time of day it is, he is wearing a tuxedo. At seven a.m. or at two in the afternoon, he will be wearing a tuxedo. When the coffee house has midnight hours for college student exams, I have seen him show up, tuxedo and all.

 

But what makes the tuxedo is what's underneath them. This was a revalvation neither Gabe nor I saw coming and I am grateful that it was Gabe who made the discovery. Gabe was coming out of a bathroom stall on evening when he saw our friend at one of the urinals. Now Gabe knows the man code as well as any other man above the age of thirteen, that you keep your head straight and just walk past. Unfortunately, Gabe's eyes were drawn to our man for two reasons. One, his tuxedo pants were dropped completely to the ground, crumpled up in a pile around his ankles. While the coffee house keep a respectable bathroom, no man should drop his pants that low if he's older than ten.

 

And what had caught Gabe's eye was that he wearing bright blue underwear.

 

"I didn't even know they made BVDs like that." were the words Gabe spoke to me upon returning to the table. I didn't know that either.

 

"Maybe it's some sort of rebellion against the tuxedo?" I suggested to Gabe who nearly spit the sip of coffee he had just taken out. If he had, he would have spit it right at the man in the tuxedo.

 

And no, the bright blue underpants is not the second curious thing about the man in the tuxedo. Perhaps I should have said three curious things but Gabe and I believe the underpants go with the tuxedo in whatever twisted logic goes on in the man's head.

 

The second curiousity is that the man has a faint but rather large scar along his left cheek. It's not terribly noticeable and most people wouldn't if they had not been staring at a man in a tuxedo for two hours like Gabe and I did that first day. But we had and he did, so that coupled with the tuxedo only made him the perfect muse for us to build wild fabrications about. As writers, spitballing is one of our favorite past times and this man was food aplenty.

 

Of course, we had conjectured he was some sort of spy, lying low in this coffee house till the heat blew over from his last mission, the scar an artifact of things gone wrong. But that was an easy backstory and Gabe or I could do better. At the moment, Gabe is the reigning champion with his story.

 

He paints the man a ventriliquist in from Las Vegas, down on his luck because he double crossed the mob. See he was smuggling illicit items for them inside his dummy which worked out perfectly since he travelled all over the country. He was told never too look inside the dummies head and he tried not to. But as a human, curiousity go the better of him. Whatever was inside that dummies head, both the manequin and the man, could never be forgotten because when the man showed up at his next gig, the mobster who was to exchange his dummy could see the truth in his eyes. A quick phone call to Chicago and the order was given. Teach him a lesson. Don't hurt him too bad so he can't go on stage. Hey, we need him to keep doing what he's doing, he's the best courrier we've got. But teach him a lesson just the same.

 

Thus the scar.

 

So far, I've been wracking my brain trying to come up with something to top that. I hear one of the barrista assistants place the two cups of coffee, one in a to go cup, behind me but I ignore them trying to get in the same zone Gabe is in. Why would always wear a tuxedo? Why would you have a scar? Why would you wear bright blue underwear? There must be a connection.

 

The man in the tuxedo must feel my eyes because he turns sharply and it's with some effort that I appear to look at something other than his back. For a tense moment I wonder if he realizes what kind of focus he has been under for the past few months. Perhaps he would find it funny if we told him a few of the stories we've come up with. Maybe we might even find out why he is what he is. I'm sure the answers would not be as exciting as what we've imagined it to be but Gabe and I are realistic. We know he could never be a maitre'd turned hit man. Or could he?

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the man in the tuxedo turn back to the paper he has been reading. I too turn to pick up my coffees, the fear of being discovered quelling all hopes for inspiration. As I head back to the table I spy, with my little eye, the man reach for his pant leg. In but the briefest of gestures he pulls up his tuxedo pant leg and adjusts his socks.

 

Which so happen to be bright blue as well.

 

My eyes go wide and I wonder if I've already dropped the two coffees I am suppose to be bringing back to the table. No, they are still in my hands but my fingers are feeling the tingle that I know as inspiration. It is almost too much and I move quickly to our table to tell Gabe the good news.

 

"Gabe. You will never believe what just happened."  I say breathless. Gabe has stopped writing but his focus is not on me. Slowly, he turns his head to me.

 

"Mark." Gabe says slowly. "Perhaps you did not see our guest."

 

My eyes dance over in the direction Gabe's face had been pointing. There, sitting as if she had been there the whole time and probably had, was the woman from the other night albeit less distraught then I remember.

 

This time, my fingers do release but it is only a few inches for the coffee cups to fall to the table.

 

.13.

 

He's cuter than she remembers but then she hadn't been paying much attention to the details of that evening. She was focused and driven. It had been so long since she had stopped to check out other men that now as she gazed at the man and his even more attractive friend did she realize how lonely she had been. She knows the two are as dumbfounded as she would be if they had done to her what she had done to him so she gives them a few seconds to recover themselves.

 

In that time, she takes a few minutes to go over and reherse what the man had told her to do.

 

"Be yourself, my dear. That's all you need to be." he had said, with an evil glint in his eye.

 

"Be myself. And who would that be?" Emily asked. "Who do you want me to pretend to be for him."

 

"Oh no!" the man exclaimed "You must not pretend. No, no, no that would not do at all. Because he would see right through that. He is a man of words and while he is not particularly clever, he is bright. He can spot a web of lies a mile away just as you can spot me and my hand."

 

"Than what do you want me to do?" Emily exclaimed, exasperated.

 

"Be yourself my dear Emily. Be the woman we all know and love. Be the woman I fell in love with all those years ago." He remarked with a grin that made Emily's heart turn to stone. She knew the man had loved her once, perhaps still loved her. But Emily knew the kind of love this man thought was what a woman wanted and it was not the love you find in greeting cards or in marriage proposals.

 

"It's been a long time since I was myself. I am not sure I even know who that person is." Emily answered with some regret. Only faint memories of her life before this man still lived in her subconscious and she was hesitant to give them over to his purposes. What few shards of respect she had for herself lived in those memories and she was damned if she was going to let him use them.

 

He laughed at this, as he laughed at most things. The whole world was a joke to him, one only he knew the punchline to. When she first met him, she thought he would tell her what the punchline was but it had never come up. Besides, as she learned later, his kind of jokes were never funny.

 

"You will remember Emily. We never truly forget who we really are no matter how hard we try to be someone else."

 

Emily felt the same chill but decided to move on. "Fine, I'll be myself, whatever that is. Now, what do you want with him."

 

"Oh I can't tell you that. That would lead you in one direction and you know how I like to be a little more subtle than that." the man answered, letting his fingers tap dance in the air as if to mime Emily and the stranger walking in the direction he wanted them to go. The man could explain something without making anything more clear.

 

"Look, you are going to have to tell me something. I can't just go up to him and say hello. I don't want anything to do with the guy."

 

"I'm sure you and he will have plenty of things to talk about. I would start with an apology if I were you but than I am a lot more polite than you are. Kicking a man in the junk Emily. That is so unlady like."

 

She glared at him but he moved past her without another word. She turned to yell at him but stopped as he got into a waiting towncar which had silently pulled up behind her.

 

"Coming?" the man, asked holding his hand out to Emily. Grudgingly, she got in the car with him.

 

.14.

 

It's a funny feeling when you disbelieve what your eyes are telling you. My eyes are telling me that the face not three feet away from me is the same face I briefly saw the other evening. My brain, however, will not accept this to be true. Mostly because it doesn't want it to be true. If this woman is, in fact, real and I can believe what my eyes are telling me than I must accept what happened to me the other night and not just repress it as intented. I must deal with it and get the answers which I thought I wanted. Only now, when they three feet within my grasp, as it turns out, I was much happier with the answers I had imagined myself.

 

A sense of deja vu sweeps over me only it's not a memory I have but a scene from a movie or a bad television show. Cinema vu? I am sure there is some french expression to properly and arrogantly encapsulate this feeling. Probably happens a lot more today than one might think. Especially for an information junkie such as myself.

 

"Ahem." Gabe clears his throat rather loudly and I realize it's been several minutes since I dropped the two coffees. I flick my eyes down to see if they have spilled, thankfully they haven't and return them the woman. My brain ignores Gabe's clogged throat just as much as it is ignoring the evidence before it's eyes.

 

Giving me up for hopeless and having far less history with the woman than I do if that is possible, Gabe introduces himself to the woman to his right. Something which would have occurred to me in the near future. If near meant, ten or twenty minutes from now.

 

"Hi, I'm Gabe, Mark's friend." Gabe reaches out his hand which the woman timidly accepts. She doesn't seem put off by Gabe but there is a sense she did not expect him to be here either. I realize, Gabe has introduced me as well since we never exchanged names the other night.

 

"Nice to meet you." the woman says, in a silky voice that makes me instantly fall in love with her "My name is Emily."

 

Emily. My brain tosses this set of five letters around to see if it makes sense. Emily nearly hit me with her car the other night. I helped Emily out of her wrecked car the other night. Emily kicked me in the groin the other night. This bit of evidence does not explain any of the sentences my mind runs through, so it gives up and hopes for more information to come.

 

I manage to find my voice and say "Emily. It's nice to put a name to a face." Gabe arches his eyebrow as if to ask, really it's nice to meet this woman after what happened but I ignore him.

 

Emily gives me a dazzling smile and apologizes. "I am sure you must think the worst of me and I am really very sorry...about last night." It could be a mistake but I think Emily blushes.

 

"Heh." Is all I can manage at first. An apology is nice but I still don't know why she did what she did so the apology seems half empty. Or half full but I am not an optomist, least of all with her. "I'm glad I can say that doesn't happen very often to me." I joke.

 

"It doesn't happen to me very often either." Emily's smile returns.

 

"But it did happen right?" Gabe butts in. He knows my weakness for a damsel in distress and won't let Emily get off just yet without more grovelling.

 

Emily turns her eyes down to the table and starts making circles with her finger along the grains in the wood. I shoot Gabe a look. How could you embarass her like that I yell with my eyes. How can you letter her sweet talk you with that bullshit apology after what happened last night he shouts back. I never told you want happened last night my eyes say without as much force. Oh, get over it, his eyes answer, Kate filled me in before I even got here. Listen, there better be a good explanation and I am not letting you or her leave here without getting one. Thanks, I say with a wink.

 

Best friends can communicate without words. Trust me.

 

.15.

 

"I know and I really don't know how to explain what happened." Emily says at last and truthfully she does not. You can see it in her eyes. This was the part she feared the most, the part she knew the man would be taking the most pleasure. Seeing her flail around in the air, helpless for justification while he watched from somewhere doubtless with glee. Emily did not know where he wanted her to take this poor man but she knew this part of the story was defintely in his plan.

 

"Well starting from the beginning is usually a good place to try. Trust us, we're writers." the cute blonde one called Gabe tells her. She see's in his eyes that he distrusts her which only furthers her fascination for the man. Why is it only the ones who hate me that I feel any sort of attraction to, she wonders? If anything, that shows what a truly wicked person I am.

 

And the other has no reason to love her either but she see's in him what she see's in most men. Baseless fascination. He is attracted to her only on a physical level and if this man had any brains, he would be twice as skeptical of her as his friend is. Maybe the man was right. Maybe he is an idiot. He probably isn't worth saving.

 

But Gabe's words drive right through her. Start from the beginning. Oh, if I did that we would never leave this coffee house. And I fear that is what we must do. Because I do not know what the man wants but sooner or later he will come and when he does I want us to be as far away from here as possible. And the only way you will move is if you know why you must move.

 

So, we start at the beginning.

 

Emily prepares them. "I know what I am about to tell you might seem absurd and frankly, unrealistic. But I assure you, it is very real and the level of importance is staggering, so please accept what I have to say at face value until the end of my story and then you can question me all you like. I do not have all the answers and it is all very confusing to me still so I apologize from the outset if there are parts that do not make sense."

 

"Oh boy." Mark mutters while Gabe let's out a low whistle. Mark's fascination of her has vanished from his eyes. She is surprised by this. If anything she thought her tale would have only ensare them more, helping her bring Gabe to her side. But Mark crosses his arms and Gabe starts to get up.

 

"Well I guess I'll need a cup of coffee for this one."

 

"Coffee? Weren't you paying attention to me?" Mark says to his friend while pointing at the two coffee cups he had brought back with him.

 

"When did those get here?" Gabe seems genuinely surprised that there is coffee waiting for him as he returns to his seat.

 

"Man, you really were in the zone. What are you working on?" Mark asks, peering over at Gabe's screen.

 

"Later." Gabe barks, closing his laptop. "I think we have something a little more interesting to listen to then what I am working on." He nods his to go coffee cup in Emily's direction, beckoning her to start.

 

Nevermind, they are both idiots, Emily thinks to herself, even if she finds their banter charming.

 

"Thank you." Emily responds and then places her hands flat on the table. "If we start at the beginning, then I guess you should know I am an runaway. When it comes to fight or flight, Mark can attest that I choose flight." Mark grunts from the other end of the table but keeps quiet.

 

"I ran away from home when I was nineteen. I won't go into the details of why I ran away. Suffice it is say I had perfectly valid reasons and no one of them was not a drunken father or anything like that at all." Emily pauses to see if the two men want to press her on that part of her past but they raise no objection.

 

Emily is about to continue her story when a fouth joins there table. Emily's winces at the sudden intruder but tries to keep her face calm.

 

"Whose your friend?" Nikki asks.

 

.16.

 

It's a funny feeling when you disbelieve what your eyes are telling you twice in one day. While Nikki drops by the coffee house every so often it is either usually in the company of Kate or close to closing time.

 

This time, my brain is able to reconcile what is happening faster than the first time and I say in a pleasant tone "What you doing here?"

 

"Figured I'd take you up on that coffee. As long as you make it a hot chocolate. And include a muffin."

 

"I don't remember offering any baked goods this morning." I respond playfully.

 

"You were just tired. As a gentlemen, you wouldn't offer a lady coffee without a muffin of some kind to go with it now would Gabe?" Nikki answers, acknowledging Gabe who is now torn as I am between the introduction of Nikki's beauty and that of Emilys. I am not sure whose life I am in right now but for the time being, I am glad they are in mine.

 

"Hey Nikki." Gabe says just over the lip of his coffee cup. Nikki and Gabe went out on one date a year ago. He never told me what happened, at least not in the detail I wished he would. He simply said, things didn't work out and left it at that.

 

"Nikki this is Emily. Emily this is Nikki." I rush through the introductions. The two beauties give polite smiles to each other and shake hands but even I can tell the intense inspection each is giving the other. "She is the woman from the other night."

 

Nikki's eyes go wide as mine surely must have. "You mean that woman?" Nikki exclaims and her eyes flick downwards. I'm sure it is only because we're in pubic that Nikki doesn't point.

 

"Yes Nikki, the woman who kneed me in the nuts. And she was just about to explain why he did so when you got here."

 

"I can't wait to hear this. Let me just get my drink." Nikki says but doesn't move towards the counter.

 

My eyes turn back to her. "Are you waiting for something?" I ask and then see her outstretched hand.

 

"You said you would pay! Can you believe this guy?" Nikki laughs to Emily as if they are old friends. Emily returns with a smile as if she totally understands where Nikki is coming from and does.

 

While we wait for Nikki, I try to come to grips with what's happening. I am happy to see Nikki here but she has always proven a distraction even when she isn't saying anything. I know I will be have difficulty following Emily's story without my eyes sliding to my left on their own accord. But it's good to have another set of ears I guess and like I said, Nikki is sharp as they come. Who knows, perhaps her understanding of the female vocabulary both spoken and gesture, will shed more light about Emily's story than either Gabe or I would know.

 

I pull my eyes away from Nikki nibbling at her chocolate chip chocolate muffin to return my eyes to Emily who is catching Nikki up on what she had said so far. With a large hot chocolate in front of her, I wonder what Nikki is compensating for but I keep my mouth shut.

 

Emily resumes her tale. "After leaving home I bounced around from city to city trying to figure out what I wanted to do at the tender age of nineteen. My life being what it is, found me in quite a few less than reputable spots which I am sure your imaginations can fill in for you. I am sure Mark and Gabe here are thinking the worst, what with their active literary imaginations but I will bet Nikki knows just what I am talking about."

 

Gabe and I turn to look at Nikki, who quietly ignores us. She's blowing on her hot chocolate which does nothing but fuel our active literary imaginations. There is no way for Emily to know that Nikki is a stripper but for Gabe and I, it is the height of hilarity. We've never discussed Nikki's past in any great detail with this morning being the most candid so far.

 

"So as to quiet your fantasies, I will give you an example. In New York, I found myself in front of a strip club." Emily continued and it's all I can do to not exclaim. "Now I wouldn't stoop down so low as to actually be a stripper but after several hungry days I decided I could be one of the waitresses. While I am sure you two have been in quiet a few strip clubs."

 

"Guilty." Gabe murmurs but Emily ignores him.

 

"I doubt you have spent too much time looking at the women who bring you your drinks. That was a position I could do well and would keep me out of the spotlight as it were. The tips were good. Not as great as the performers on stage but you would be surprised at how much a man will tip for only a couple of beers."

 

"Not too surprised." I also murmur under my breath which gets a grin from Gabe.

 

"The owner was a sleazeball but you could put up with him if one of the veterans taught you and I was lucky enough to find one. Mandy taught me how to be gracious without being flirty, how to extricate myself from a situation while making it seem like it was the patrons idea. They have been invaluable lessons to me." Emily says and a faint happy memory plays across her face.

 

"But even Mandy couldn't be trusted. Most of the girls there would sell or exchange drugs with the other women but Mandy took it to a whole other level. She was lacing herself with cocaine so that when she took clients back to private rooms, they would sniff the concaine right off her shoulders...and other parts of her body. Soon she would have them hooked and pass them off to her boyfriend.

 

"I was at their place when the cops knocked down the door. I would like to say that was the last night I was thrown to the ground and handcuffed. I wish I could also say that Mandy was the worst person I knew but she pales in comparison compared to who I am with now and who, for some reason wants you Mark."

 

I focus on her sudden words. "Wait, someone wants me? That doesn't even make any sense. I barely know you."

 

"I don't think knowing me has anything to do with his intentions." Emily answers. "That we ran into each other has merely been a happy accident for him, no pun intended. But I've gotten ahead of myself and you are probably very confusing."

 

"No argument here." Nikki remarks and Gabe nods his agreement. If Nikki took offense to Emily's recollection of her job at a strip club in New York, she doesn't say anything. Maybe they can talk about it after Emily finishes her story.

 

"Let me tell you about a man, one I'm afraid will be very much a part of both our lives. His name is Stefan Rikkos although that is only the name he has been using lately. The other pseudonyms he has used in the past would not ring any bells in your minds either for they are all names which serve their purpose and then are discarded. It's difficult to explain what Stefan is other than a man with limitless ambition and power. His lust for power is only heighten by his success in getting it.

 

"Stefan is not a part of the mafia or any other type of criminal organizations although he has done business with them if he thinks it will fall in his favor which it usually does. He is not a part of any corporation or conglomerate other than himself. He has people who work for him and he controls vast resources but he does not have what you or I would call a company. Nor is he associated with any government or public organization although these too he will do business with if it so helps him."

 

Nikki interrupts Emily "I take it, that by leading off with the criminal underworld you want us to know that this Stefan is dangerous?"

 

Emily winces a dark laugh. "Dangerous? Yes, you could say he is dangerous. But it is not a danger you would typically associate with a person. The mafia would just as soon kill you if they couldn't get the money you owed them. A company would bankrupt you and perhaps hire someone to kill you if you are dealing with certain types of businesses. And the government could take your life or throw you in jail for failing to meet whatever laws they have accussed you of. Those are all types of punishments we'd expect from someone of Stefan's caliber.

 

"Stefan does not just hurt you. He only hurts you if it serves a purpose for him. If he believes you will be motivated to complete a task simply by threat then he will threaten you. But he will threaten you from the angle which does not come from him. Stefan loves to be subtle. If he can exert pressure on your parents to sell their house, forcing them live with you so you are in a more fragile state when he approaches you to buy what he wants then consider your parents evicted."

 

"That does not sound too much different than what any other manipulative individual would do to get what they want." I said, wondering how Stefan could influence me. More to the point what he could want from me.

 

Emily closes her eyes and says "It is difficult to convey the magnitude for which Stefan plays. I use a simplistic example, one which Stefan hasn't had to use in years. His scope is much larger than any one example will help you understand. Even I don't know what his true goals are and I have been living with him for the past six years."

 

My eyes narrow at this last piece of information and I can feel my friend's attitudes shift as well. If Emily is disturbed by our hostility she doesn't show it but seems to accept it. "Yes, I lived or who knows, perhaps still live with Stefan." Emily repeats.

 

"How do you not know if you live with him or not?" Gabe exclaims, asking the question all of us are thinking.

 

"You will find, Gabriel." Emily responds using Gabe's full name which I have only heard used twice. "That what you think is and what Stefan says is so, are two very different things and that you soon learn that the latter is the truth."

 

We try to grapple with this contradiction while Emily stares at us in kind to ensure that we are confused. "It was the second time I have run away from home in my life. I called Stefan's home my home because when I first moved in it was everything a home should be. Comfortable, quiet and yes luxurious. The home I stayed at, for Stefan has many homes across the world, was in Maine and for a time I thought I would settle in and live an ordinary life.

 

"But there is no ordinary life with Stefan. And He likes nothing more than to show you just how extrodinary his life is compared to yours. He took to places I did not even know existed or even could exist. He showed me his world because it is a world that you and I live in but one in which he is slowly coming to control. I saw him be generous and kind while in the next breath bring years of misery and pain to millions. I fooled myself into thinking I could live with it then realized I was not free to leave even if I had not been so foolish. I was a part of Stefan's world and he knew just how to keep me there."

 

I see Gabe's knuckles go white and I know he is thinking what has entered my mind. Gabe has zero tolerance for men who hurt women and does everything he can to protect them often coming physically between the abuser and the abused. A black eye is a small price to pay for Gabe.

 

Emily reads this from his expression and offers a tender smile "No Gabriel he did not hit me. He never physically abused me any more than this world has physically abused any of us. But he manipulated and controlled me. Made sure I knew what he knew and what he knew was that I wasn't going anywhere unless he wanted me to go.

 

"So when the oppurtunity came up that it looked like there might be some hole in his walls, I took it. As foolish as ever, I believed Stefan had let down his guard just enough for me to sneak away. That's something I never did learn and something you should remember. Stefan never lets his guard down. If it appears so it is only because he wants you to believe it. But don't be fooled as I was."

 

"But if you're here." I interrupt "Doesn't that mean you escaped? Successfully?"

 

"Oh I left Stefan's house." Emily acknowledges "But I did not escape. I thought I had but that was just what Stefan wanted me to think. I have been running from him for over two weeks now but every day I knew I was still in his grasp. I could feel him, not getting closer but just always being there, watching and waiting. I don't think I was ever really out of grip. And that grasp closed last night."

 

"He caught up with you?" I ask, since it seemed like something that needed to be said.

 

"Yes. After leaving you, he found me if you can find someone you have never lost from the start. So I guess you could say he met me. He told me I had to come back here and talk to you."

 

"Me?" I said, stupidily pointing my finger at my chest as if Emily had also nearly rundown Gabe or Nikki the other night.

 

.17.

 

"Yes you." Emily says to Mark, feeling the weight of her story come off her shoulders only to be replaced by the anxiety of having nothing more to tell these people. Emily was honest with them, as much as she could be and still have them trust her. Just as he had told her to be. She may have deviated a little from the truth here or there but the overall picture was enough. Emily didn't think adding that it was she who got the customers hooked on the concaine would be particular helpful in gaining their trust.

 

"But what does he want with me." Mark says across from her.

 

If only she knew, Emily thinks to herself and then says the same aloud.

 

"I wish I could tell you Mark, I really do. But as I said, Stefan is a manipulator. He likes for events to unfold on their own with as little influence from him as possible. I think it feeds his ego that way. The less pressure he has to exert on events and the more things work out for him is in his mind, the world telling him it wants him to be as powerful as he is. His exact words to me last night were to come and talk to you but that was all he had to say. I don't know what he expected me to tell you, so I decided to tell you the truth.

 

Perhaps that's what he wanted me to tell you, maybe it's not. I've long since given up trying to figure out Stefan's plans or second guessing myself. I can tell you that whatever he wants with you Mark, it is not good. Believe me when I tell you, Stefan has never made a fair deal with anyone, not even God. He may approach you with some scheme that promises to make you rich or powerful. But the only one who will come out ahead in one of Stefan's plans, is Stefan. Do you understand?"

 

Emily knows it is a lot for the trio to take in and she is not sure what she expects them to do with the news. Get up and run away like she did? Disregard her warnings and call the cops? Do nothing? Which action did Stefan want to happen or was there another plan that Emily had not thought of. Trying to piece together Stefan's logic was draining at the best of times and Emily did not have it in her to play this chess game at the moment.

 

Scanning the faces of Mark, Gabe and Nikki, Emily could tell they were each lost in thought. Well at least her words had not fallen on deaf ears. At least, something will happen now, even if it is what Stefan wanted all along. Perhaps it was time to let them think.

 

If she needed an excuse to leave there it was. Or he was. There was the man, standing outside, the same devilish grin on his face, flanked by two large men in dark suits. Emily could see him through the windows although he was about twenty feet away blocked by other customers entering or exiting the coffee house. Emily had dreaded when Stefan would make his move but she didn't think it would be this soon. Why had he bothered to let her talk to Mark if he was just planning to introduce himself now?

 

"Excuse me, I'll let you think about what I said while I go use the ladies room." Emily apologized as she got up. If they acknowledged her excuse or paid attention to the fact that Emily when out the front door instead of towards the back where the bathrooms were, the three did not comment.

 

Gathering her nerves, Emily walked slowly to where Stefan was standing. If the chill air bothered Stefan, he did not show it nor did either of his bodyguards, so Emily put on a brave face to show that the artic winds were not having any effect on her either. Despite the thick traffic of customers and commuters flowing back and forth through the coffee shops doors and the other shoppers walking along the streets, Emily felt alone outside with Stefan. Somehow Stefan was able to isolate you in a crowd, to make you feel alone despite the conditions. It was attractive when she first met him, to know that she had his full attention but now it only made her lose another percentage of confidence.

 

"That was a rather entertaining story you told Emily. I must say I did get a laugh about your past. Can't be too honest with new friends now can we." Stefan said as soon as Emily was in front of him. The two apes that were beside Stefan moved a respectable distance away, leaving Emily and Stefan alone to discuss whatever their master chose to talk about.

 

"It was your idea to be truthful. And if it's my truth than I can spin it however I want to. Isn't that what you taught me?"

 

"Oh Emily, it is but one of the many things I wished to teach you while you were with me. That you decided to stop learning what I had to teach only made our relationship that much weaker." Stefan chuckled to himself.

 

"Your lessons turned out to be something I could never use nor want to know." Emily said bitterly. The early lessons of manipulation and guile had been interesting and worthwhile to Emily and she had used them well in escaping from Stefan. But the lessons afterwards, the lessons you used to get what you wanted when the manipulation and guile had failed, were not tools Emily wished to use.

 

A sneer appears on Stefans face but is quickly replaced by a passive smile. "Those words of wisdom may yet prove useful to you Emily so please keep them in mind over the next couple of months."

 

"Does that mean you're letting me go?" Emily asked timidily. She did not let her hope rise knowing that Stefan would crush it immeaditely. But if Stefan was done with her, perhaps he would let her go. She knew that thought to be foolish but she had to hold on to something.

 

"In a manner of speaking Emily, yes I am." Stefan laughed.

 

The gratification of the words hit her ears and they so knocked Emily off balance that she didn't realize their or Stefan's true intent. Before she could regain control of her senses, Stefan had pushed her with tremendous force towards the large windows behind her. Stunned and off balance, Emily grappled with the air looking for something or someone to grab on to. But now she realized why Stefan's bodyguards had moved away from the two of them. It was not to avoid hearing their conversation. It was to keep other people from getting too close, to keep Emily from having something to grab on to.

 

Emily's last bitter thought before the thick glass came into contact with her skull was that Stefan had finally hurt her physically and now she knew he was done with her.

 

.18.

 

Have you ever seen a window shatter? You know, hit a baseball through a neighbors window or slammed a door to hard. You see the fractures suddenly appear but it's not as dramatic as you think it would be. Just a hole where the glass used to be.

 

This is not the case when someone is pushed through a large glass window right in front of you. It is loud, it is deafeningly loud. But it is also slow. You see the shards of glass moving and cracking, see the large form of someones body falling with those shards of glass. I realize that I've already moved away from the danger but I still feel as if it's going to hit me. And a piece does skin my cheek but I won't notice that until later. But my brain takes time to notice the way the glass hits the table and bounces off in different directions. I wonder why my brain thinks that is important information in a time like this.

 

The thudding noise of a body hitting a table speeds the world up and soon the sounds of breaking glass are replaced with screaming and yelling. I look down at the from below me and it takes me a while to realize the bloody person in front of me was also talking to me only five minutes ago.

 

"Emily?" I mouth but I know it is her. I feel someone knock me in the shoulder and then see that same person running towards the door. I see Gabe desperately brushing pieces of glass off of Emily, yelling for someone to call an ambulance. I turn to find Nikki grabbing a phone behind the counter, the barristas training failing them in this instance.

 

I know I should be doing something, I know I should be down there with Gabe trying to do something for Emily but my body has become so used to inactivity that it takes me awhile to get it in motion.

 

"Mark, you asshole, get over here and help me." Gabe yells at me and that does it. My brain goes from twenty five miles an hour to fifty five and I am down on my knees, aping Gabe's efforts to clean off Emily. "Stay here Mark. I'm going outside."

 

"Why!" I yell after him but it is too late and he's already through the door. I know he is hoping to find some trace of the person who did this to Emily. Hell, he's probably hoping to find the person outside so he can return the favor. I am not sure whether to hope he finds Stefan, because at this moment I know it had to be him, or not. If Stefan is at all like what Emily said then I don't want Gabe becoming yet another lump on the coffee house floor covered in glass.

 

"The police are on their way. They said the ambulance should be here in five minutes." Nikki says breathlessly beside me. She takes off her coat and puts it underneath Emily's head who groans at the movement.

 

"That's a good sign right? That she is making noise?" I question Nikki who probably has as much of a clue as I do.

 

Nikki shrugs and begins inspecting Emily's face. "I think we should roll her over so we can check her back." Nikki commands as she motions me to help her.

 

Some small bit of first aid training kicks in and I say "I thought you weren't suppose to move a victims neck?"

 

"I think it's more important to find out if she has a shard of glass in her back right now don't you, since it looked like she came through the window backwards." Nikki counters. She's already moving Emily on to her side so there is little point in my arguing with her.

 

I let out a sigh of relief when Nikki's shard of glass does not appear anywhere in Emily's back. The back of her shirt is torn to shreds and Emily has more cuts and bruises than I ever thought I would see on one person. Emily is coughing now, interrupted with bouts hacking which feel more liquid than anything. I take off my coat and put it underneath Emily, trying as best I can to keep from touching Emily's back and cutting myself on the glass below her. Slowly we roll her back on to my coat.

 

"Know any other life saving things we can do?" I ask Nikki.

 

"No, that's about it." She manages to squeak out before tears start welling in her eyes. I know Nikki does not know Emily from Adam but seeing Emily in this state can only be triggering memories and nightmares within Nikki that I can not even begin to understand. Kate has told me about some nights when men have tracked Nikki back to their apartment and banged on their doors at four in the morning. The cops had to be called to their apartment more than a boyfriend would like.

 

Gabe returns with the medics in tow. As they rush in to help Emily, Nikki and I move out of the way.

 

"Anything?" I ask Gabe, who only shakes his head. The anger is palpable on his face and I can see he is having a hard time controlling it. I put a hand on his shoulder but he shakes me off. Gabe has never been very good dealing with situations like this. I don't think anyone should be good dealing with situations like this. But they happen and this one is happening to us, so we have to be able to handle it.

 

They won't let us come with Emily in the ambulance. We're not family and they don't have that much room in the ambulance to allow strangers to tag along. Strangers. I guess we are still strangers. I've only known Emily for a short while but it feels longer. How time flys when you're having fun.

 

"Where are you taking her?" Gabe yells after the EMT who responds that they are taking Emily to Mercy East. It's a good hospital that's only twenty minutes away.

 

"Who has the closest car. I came here on my motorcycle." are the next words out of Gabe's mouth.

 

"I took the bus here but my car is down on Houston." I answer.

 

"I'm just up the street." Nikki said as she started walking out the door without her coat. I grab hers and mine before leaving the scene. I notice that my black coat now has specks of red dotted on it in various sections. I push down the wave of fear that threatens to halt me in my tracks.

 

Nikki is cranking the ignition while I get in the front seat and Gabe jumps in the back. Nikki peals out of her parking spot, barely checking to see if there is any oncoming traffic. We don't need to accidents tonight Nikki, I think to myself. But what happened to Emily was not an accident. We all know it and in the quiet of the car, the events of the past thirty minutes catch up with us.

 

In between brushing a swollen eye, I think I see a man standing outside the coffee house, staring after us, grinning.

 

.19.

 

We are waiting at the hospital for some word on Emily's condition. They wouldn't let us in to see her since none of us were family. They asked us questions we couldn't answer and finally told us to take a seat and they would let us know Emily's condition when they had an update.

 

Gabe is pensively stalking the waiting room, making circles around the line of chairs undoubtable upsetting the other people waiting to hear news about their loved ones. Nikki is slumped against my shoulder, her eyes are closed although I don't believe she is sleeping, as I stare at my cell phone. I try to ignore the hypnotic smell of Nikki's hair long enough to put into action what I know I should be doing.

 

I should be calling Kate to let her know what has happened. Hell to just keep in touch. I haven't spoken one word to her since this morning and that was a groggy goodbye as she left for work. But there's a part of me who does not want to involve Kate in this. I would like to think it is the heroic side of my brain that is arguing that if Stefan wants me and clearly he is dangerous, Kate should not be anywhere near me. I don't want her getting hurt on account of me for whatever reason I've become involved in this. My life has progressively turned in to a movie and if I've learned anything from the many hours of B grade dramas I've subjected myself and Gabe to, is your girlfriend or wife always ends up in danger. The good guy always saves her, true, but not before she's kidnapped and put in some horrible perdictament. And I am no John McClaine.

 

As much as I would like to believe that story, the rest of my brain knows better. This cast of characters is already full and I feel as if Kate would be a third wheel. I would have to change how I act around Emily or watch what I am saying. Not that I am flirting with Emily or anything but I can't help it if I'm the charming man I always am. I don't need the stress of handling my relationship with Kate while I handle my new relationship with Stefan.

 

Whatever that is.

 

I feel guilty and I know I should call. Nikki, as always, pushes me on. "So are you going to call her or just wait for her to figure out you want her to call you?" She murmurs from my shoulder.

 

"She told you about our telepathic link?" I respond mockingly back, starting to press the buttons to get to Kate's stored phone number.

 

"Oh no. See I'm telepathic too and occassionally I hear bits and pieces of your communications while I am trying to sleep. And while we're on the subject, yes I do agree with her."

 

"About what I ask." for some reason taking seriously Nikki's joke.

 

As Nikki repositions herself in my elbow, she whispers "That you stare at my butt too much."

 

I open my mouth to disagree but the words to form a plausible argument are lacking. Have I been checking out Nikki's ass any more than normal? I know Kate has chided me about it once or twice but I always figured she understood. I did not realize she would have gone as far as to tell Nikki about it but perhaps she would. My face flushes and I worry that it is not the only part of my body getting a sudden injection of blood as images of Nikki's aformention perfect butt start to swirl in my head.

 

"Sorry." I squeak. If Nikki heard me or cares she doesn't show it.

 

It is with some relief that Kate's phone goes to voicemail. I give her a run down. Things are going good, just hanging out with Gabe and Nikki. Oh and guess who showed up at the coffee house? Yeah, that crazy woman who tried to imprint me in her car's grill. You know the one right? Anyway, we talked and it's cool. She just wanted to warn me that some massively manipulative, incredibly dangerous individual is after who oh by the way, tossed her through the coffee houses window. They're going to be pissed about having to replace that I am sure. So we're here at the hospital waiting to find out how she is doing and I am quaking in my seat hoping I never run into this guy. But enough about my day. What have you been up to.

 

Of course, I do not say that. I simply leave the message "Hey, it's me. Gabe, Nikki and I are at the hospital. Long story. We're fine. Give me a call when you get this. Bye."

 

I think the longer version would be more insightful but I do not want to be a voicemail hog.

 

After hanging up, I watch as Gabe makes another circuit of the lobby, hitting the plastic leaves of various plants as he walks by. I worry the nurses will start to get concerned and have Gabe committed. If they start analyzing his mind, he'll never get out of here. As he makes his way past me, I flag him down.

 

"Gabe, calm down. You're making everyone restless in here."

 

Gabe whirls around, gives me a wicked stare and continues on his lap. Okay, may be he needs a few more laps to cool down and then we can talk.

 

If Gabe appears to be overly angry about the situation, it helps if you know a little bit about what makes the man tick. If you ask most guys about their feelings toward abusive husbands or boyfriends, you'll get the same response. It's a shame and they don't understand why the woman puts up with it. This is the man's point of view remember.

 

Gabe takes it further though. His father never laid a finger on his mother for thirty five years until one Christmas when they were driving home from Gabe's Grandparents. His father was trying not to collide with oncoming traffic on the freeway, his little sister was yelling about a toy that had been forgotten and which she desperately needed at right this second. Gabe's mother was taking her daughters side, chiding his father about being stubborn and not listening to the rest of the family. Gabe was sitting in the backseat, staring out into the black holiday sky hoping they would all just shut up.

 

He took one quick look at his parents in the front and it was at that moment that Gabe's father had had enough. Maybe it was the traffic, maybe it was that last glass of wine or maybe it was a culmination of more excuses than I can list here. But Gabe's father who had never lifted a finger to anyone, turned a slapped his mother. It was over in a second and the car became deafeningly quiet. As Gabe tells it it was a long car ride back to their house. Gabe doesn't know whether his father apologized for what he had done, whether his mother forgave him or if they just swept in under the rug of their marriage.

 

Gabe never forgave his father. No apology was coming and even if there was there would be no forgiveness on Gabe's part. Gabe swore he would never talk to his father again for the rest of his life, a difficult task for a thirteen year old boy. Gabe did talk to his father after that night but not as a child addresses a father. It was as a child addresses a stranger who never becomes familiar.

 

On that Christmas, a part of Gabe's heart closed off from the world. It was not the kind of gift he had hoped to get.

 

Even that does not explain his anger towards abuse. I guess it's just the way Gabe is wired. He get's absolutely incensed when he hears or see's someone abusing the other. So much so that Gabe has on more than one occassion felt it necessary to involve himself in their quarrel. When I bailed him out of jail, after he put a guy twice his size in the hospital he told me:

 

"I can not stand it Mark. It tears me up inside and I must do something or I will go insane. How can someone be that mean. How can soemone still love someone who has hurt them repeatedly? I don't think I"ll ever understand the answer to those questions if I ever hear them.

 

"If I can do one thing in my life, it is to return the pain and suffering to those who inflict it on others. If I can do that, then I have done all I can hope to do in this life."

 

At the time, I think I nodded with agreement and told him he owed me for the bail money.

 

.20.

 

"Mr.Thurston?" a doctor in blue scrubs calls out after exiting from two swinging doors. It is Gabe's last name who insisted on filling out the information for Emily. A look from me told Nikki to let him.

 

In a flash, Gabe stopped his pacing and made a bee line to the doctor. I give Nikki a gentle nudge with my shoulder. She rubs her eyes as I tell her the doc is here to let us know how Emily is doing. We approach Gabe and the doctor who have already begun discussing Emily's wounds. When he realizes we are also concerned, he starts from the beginning.

 

"Emily sustained serious injuries to her neck, back and arms. Luckily, none of the glass shards was longer than three inches and nothing came too close to puncturing anything vital. She received a serious concussion though, either from the impact of the window or when she hit the ground, probably both. We have her scheduled for an MRI scan in a couple hours but I don't expect to find any internal bleeding. She is breathing normal although she has not full regained consciousness.

 

They won't let you see her till tomorrow during normal visiting hours but when you do see her remember, it looks a lot worse than it really is. For all the bandages and swollen bruises, it is not as bad as it could be, believe me."

 

After delivering his news, the doctor is about to depart to inform another family about their loved one when Gabe grabs his sleave. "Please doc, can't you let one of us in to see her? I know we're not family but it would mean a lot if one of us could just have a second to see that she's alright. It's been a long night and we could really use the comfort before going home."

 

The doctor scowls at Gabe's hand but when he turns to look at Gabe in the face, the doctor see's the worry and anxiety in his eyes. Maybe it's been a long night for the surgeon as well but he takes pity on Gabe. He motions to a nurse who joins us. "Take this man and only this one, to see patient in room four thirteen. He is allowed to see her but he may not talk to her either. He get's five minutes, that's it."

 

The nurse nods and Gabe calls "Thanks, I appreciate it." to the doctor who is already moving on to other matters.

 

"This way sir." the nurse says, her face soft and caring, not the angry, vengeful kind I usually encounter when I show up at the emergency room. Maybe insurance does make a difference.

 

"We'll wait out here." I said, as Gabe follows the nurse through the flapping doors. Nikki nods her agreement, clearly too tired to talk.

 

"I'll try not to be too long." Gabe quietly calls back to us since we are in a hospital. Once through the large doors I lose sight of him, so we return once again to uncomfortable benches. Nikki resumes her nap on my elbow, prodding my muscles into a more comfortable shape.

 

"I am glad to be your pillow for this evening." I mutter with sarcasm.

 

Nestling into my tricep, Nikki responds "I like your shoulder Mark. It's comfortable. It's not all hard and boney like most of the guys I date. Sleeping on their arms is like sleeping on rock. Yours, it's kind of like a soft bed of grass."

 

"I am not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. Should I work out or not? Will that make my arms less pillowlike? That's a whole new avenue of excuses I can use to not work out on Monday."

 

Nikki gentle punches my shoulder. "Ow, what was that for?" I plead playfully.

 

"There was a lump in my pillow." Nikki speaks softly. "Don't worry, I'll knead all the self loathing and cynicsm right out of this ball of feathers."

 

Not for the first time, I wonder if Nikki likes me. I would be lying if I said I didn't have feelings for her. I'm not sure if they are the same kind of feelings I have for Kate or not. Whether it is purely a physical thing and just wanting something you can't have. I've been happy with Kate for the past six months but I don't see it going anywhere. I don't think Kate see's it going anywhere either.

 

Not for the first time either, I wonder if the reason I stay with Kate is to stay in touch with Nikki. Because the fallout from our breakup will undoubtable be the termination of whatever relationship Nikki and I have. If there is Bros before Hoes, than there is Sis before Dicks. Just not as catchy.

 

It dawns on me that if Nikki is one of the reasons for me to say in this relationship, then what are Kate's reasons. I am a catch sure but there must be more. We both know marriage isn't in our future. We had that discussion a month ago and that was nearly the tipping point in our relationship. But somehow we returned to our routines and haven't discussed it since.

 

These are the thoughts that fly through your mind as you wait in a hospital lobby with a stripper sleeping on your shoulder, a stranger in a bed unconcious and a man coming to get you.

 

Not for the last time, I check my cellphone for any missed calls.

 

.22.

 

"Here we are sir." the nurse tells Gabe as they approach yet another nondescript door in a long corridoor of nondescript doors. The rooms do not have numbers which Gabe finds odd and truly wonders how the nurse manages to differentiate them from each other. He reminds himself to ask her before he leaves but it will probably slip his mind.

 

"Thank you." Gabe responds to the woman in the pink uniform.

 

"I need to check on a few patients, so I'll be back in five minutes or so. Please stay here while I am gone. If you start wandering the halls I'll just have to hurt you when I find you." the nurse warns Gabe playfully as she starts to head down another beige corridor.

 

"I won't, I promise." Gabe assures her as he pushes open the door to what he can only assume is room four thirteen.

 

The room is dimly lit, the neon lights from the various monitors and instruments the only light to tell things a part. Carefully, Gabe makes his way in to the room, trying to avoid making much noise. Despite his caution, he bangs his foot into the side of the bed. Gabe catches himself from cursing out loud. As his eyes adjust to the dark, Gabe begins to get an idea of Emily's condition.

 

He repeats to himself what the doctor told them in the lobby. It looks a lot worse than it really is. It looks a lot worse than it really is. Those words thunder through his mind but they are nothing compared to the sensory noise of what he is seeing. An IV is by her bedside naturally and it's slow drip is a cold melody for the room. Most of Emily's head is bandaged and one arm is propped up in the air, as if she is waving at Gabe. The bandages do not cover her eyes but Gabe wishes they did. Emily's left eye is swollen and the right has large cut above it coming dangerously close to her eyelid.

 

Gabe scans the rest of Emily's body but see's nothing more since it is covered in a blanket. The read outs on the various monitors mean little to Gabe. The only sound of encouragement he can get from this scene is the steady breathing coming from Emily. The doctor was right about that. She's breathing normal and she does not have one of those ghastly breathing tubes stuck down her throat.

 

"I am sorry you know." A voice says from the behind Gabe nearly causing him to jump out of his skin.

 

Whirling around, Gabe can now see the outline of a man sitting down, the light from the doorway illuminating his legs. "Who the hell are you?" Gabe trys to yell quietly with some degree of success. Meanwhile his mind is grappling with how this man appearred behind him. The only logical explanation is that Gabe must have been so focused on Emily that he ignored the man sitting quietly in the corner. But Gabe nows that that logical answer does fit because he remembers looking at that chair when he entered and it was empty at the time.

 

"Please mind you volume." the man chides and then says "Besides, you know who I am."

 

I know who this is? Gabe wonders to himself quickly but his mind as quickly falls on the answer.

 

"Stefan?" Gabe mutters, disblieving the answer.

 

"Right in one try. Good for you kid."

 

Gabe can not believe it. "I am going to kill you." Gabe growls, damning the sound of his voice as he prepares to leap on top of Stefan. You're lucky you're in a hospital, Gabe thinks. Before his feet can get traction, two large hands clap down on his shoulders. They pull him like a feather and not too gently thrust Gabe in to a chair that was not there two seconds ago.

 

"I considerably doubt that." Stefan said with the grin Emily had described earlier. The behemonth behind Gabe grip grew tigher as if Stefan's point needed reaffirming.

 

Fighting against himself and not the man restraining him, Gabe wrestled with his emotions, trying to keep his butt in the chair and not force himself out of it. The rational side of his brain was telling him that Stefan and his goon were trouble. Big trouble. Clearly, they had no compunction about hurting women so they would not hesitate to throw Gabe through a window, one that might be several floors up. As much as he wanted to avenge Emily, Gabe knew it would be a little more difficult if he was dead.

 

The angry side of his brain however was railing against this reaction. Every fiber of it's being wanted to knock this gorilla behind him into a corner and make short work of Stefan. Gabe wasn't a very strong man but he was in good shape. If he managed to find a weak spot on the bodyguard, Gabe imagined Emily's tactic on Mark, it would give him enough time to do some serious work on Stefan who did not look that imposing. About Gabe's build, maybe an inch or two taller although it was difficult to tell with Stefan sitting in the shadows.

 

"What do you want?" Gabe spat at last when his rational brain was finally able to convince the angry side that the two concrete hands on his shoulders weren't going anywhere and they might as well find out whatever they could.

 

Picking a piece of lint off his pants leg, Stefan began "Forgive me if we bypass the small talk. I know Emily told you about me because well I told her to do so, so there is no real point in circling around now is there. Yes, I am Stefan Rikkos, yes that is my bodyguard holding you down and yes I did push Emily through the glass window at the coffee house downtown. Does that answer you first set of questions?"

 

What angered Gabe the most was the apparent coolness with which Stefan dispensed with his answers. He treated saying his name with as much importance as having nearly killed Emily. If Gabe could believe, he even suspected Stefan put more importance on his name then on Emily. To be so casual and callous about what he had done was infuriating. Gabe had seen so many men like Stefan, who had somehow convinced themselves that hurting women was not only okay but was not that important.

 

Stefan continued without a word from Gabe. "Yes, Emily told you about me and while I won't contradict her story since most of it is true where it is false I couldn't be bothered to correct. But what Emily failed to tell you and in fact fails to grasp herself, is what I am doing. My raison d'etre if you will.

 

Oh, she told you that I was ambitious and I am. But what are my ambitions? Did she tell you that? I doubt it because she doesn't really know. I would have told her, like I'll tell you, but Emily wanted to keep her head in the sand and stay blissfully ignorant of what paid for her happiness."

 

"Bullshit." Gabe muttered through gritted teeth.

 

Gabe could feel a shift in the darkness as if his curse had upset Stefan's speech. He likes to talk, Gabe remembered Emily saying. I doubt he likes people interrupting him either. I'll have to do that more often Gabe thought as he made a mental note.

 

"Whether you think Emily was happy with me is bullshit really does not concern me. I know more about Emily then you do my son and in fact, I know more about most things then you do, so I suggest for the time being you listen." Stefan intoned sternly. Another shift in the darkness and Gabe could see him rise. As Stefan moved into the light, Gabe got his first glimpse at the only man he had actually committed himself to killing.

 

As Emily had said, he was wearing a black suit with that odd white tie. Gabe begrudgingly admitted that Stefan was handsome in a European kind of way and he couldn't have been any older than thirty five. Gabe suspected the suit belied the physical shape Stefan was in because there was an almost predator type way in which Stefan carried himself that caused the hairs on Gabe's neck to stand on end. Gabe had to reassess his notions on whether he could successful take Stefan at all. Perhaps he would have to kick Stefan in the groin as well.

 

Gabe's eyes grew large as he saw Stefan move to Emily's beside. "Stay the hell away from her!" Gabe yelled but a big paw suddenly was over his lips. Even with only one of the bodyguard's hand on his shoulders, it still felt like a ton of bricks was holding him down.

 

Ignoring his threat, Stefan crouched low beside Emily, one hand caressing her cheek. Gabe could not see Stefan's face but he could tell something had changed in Stefan's demeanor. It revolted Gabe to think that Stefan might actually be sorry for what he had done. That would be impossible. This monster does not have any remorse.

 

As if hearing his thoughts, Stefan straightened and returned his attention to Gabe. "It is a pity I had to hurt my dear Emily. I do regret that but only so much. She played her part in this great symphony and as the composer I must make difficult decisions.

 

"Still, you shouldn't worry yourself about Emily right now Gabe. I will not hurt her anymore."

 

"Says the man who pushed her through a plate glass window. Yeah, that holds a lot of credit with me." Gabe was able to say through the fingers that had only slightle loosened their grip. Where was that nurse? Gabe was sure it had been more than five minutes since she had left him at Emily's room and she should be coming back now to pick him up. Maybe she forgot? Maybe she has to deal with a trauma and got called away. Maybe there is another guard outside keeping her away like there is sitting on top of me? Who knows.

 

Stefan shrugged. "Necessary actions had to be taken. A plus B equals what? C of course but what exactly is C Gabe? May I call you Gabriel? Uttering the name Gabe makes me feel childish. Really you should grow up." Stefan chastised Gabe's shortened name "Regardless, my actions towards Emily served several purposes, two of which I will reiterate here so even someone as thick as you will understand."

 

Seeing that Gabe wasn't about to interrupt him or take the bait, Stefan continued "The most obvious lesson is to show you just what lengths I will take to get what I want. I want you to know that Emily means a great deal to me and the same righteous anger you feel like inflicting on me I would turn around ten fold on any who would hurt her. But if it served my purpose, than I allow it to happen. Do you understand?"

 

Gabe nodded with some forceful assistance from the bodyguard.

 

"Good. Next, it brought you here which would be as good a place as any to meet you and you friends. Yes, Emily was telling the truth there as well. I do want you and you friends, not just Mark. Could I have just approached you without taking these unfortunate steps? Perhaps but as Emily must have told you, I like to influence events, sometimes not so subtlely."

 

"If you think Mark or me is going to help you, Emily forgot to mention that you were out of your mind. Go fuck yourself pal." Gabe took some satisifaction in responding. It all led to this didn't it. All the stories, the pain and trauma. It was as Emily had said. Stefan wanted something from them and it was only a matter of time for him to ask for it. Gabe was surprised that he would be so direct about it given Emily's description of his manipulations but that did not much matter right now.

 

Stefan grinned as if Gabe had just paid him a compliment. "I am what the world would call a successful businessman. In fact, a phenominally successful businessman. People pay hundreds of millions of dollars to hear me speak on how they should run their businesses, on how they should plan for the future and how much risk they should take. So, keep that in mind when I give you this piece of advice for free." Stefan leaned in close to Gabe, giving Gabe the chance to memorize ever last inch of the man's face. "Always, listen to what the other man wants. Always. Even if you plan to say no, listen to him. If for no other reason so you can find out what he is doing and then do it better than he does. That ones on the house." And Stefan leaned back and returned to his chair.

 

"Just tell me what it is you want already."

 

Stefan chuckled then leaned forward in his chair. "I would think it would be obvious, given Mark and your talents. Were you expecting me to ask you to go steal something for me. Believe me, you are the last two I would think to steal candy from a child, let alone anything of real value."

 

The thought had crossed Gabe's mind. What could require so much effort on Stefan's part if it wasn't something illegal? Begrudgingly, Gabe asked "Alright, I give up. What is it?"

 

"Why, I want you to write my history." Stefan stated in the same cool voice he had started the conversation in.

 

.23.

 

I check my watch for what feels like the hundreth time but only twenty seconds have elapsed since I checked it last. It has been over twenty minutes since Gabe went in to see Emily and I am starting to get worried. What could go wrong in a hospital I ask myself but then the movie references start popping in to my head and I check my watch again.

 

Nikki has gotten up to stretch her legs. She tells me to relax, that the nurse probably forgot to tell Gabe to leave and Gabe isn't really paying that much attention to the clock. It makes sense but there is still something I don't like. I feel as if someone is talking about me and not in a good way. I don't believe in extrasensory powers even if I did read a lot of comic books growing up.

 

The nurse that took Gabe inside returns to the front desk but before I can get up to ask her a question, she is back through the swinging doors with a clipboard under one arm.

 

"Relax." Nikki says returning to the chairs we have been occupying. She is holding two cups of black coffee in the typical hospital paper cups.

 

"I know, I know." I mutter than remember my manners "Thanks."

 

I take a sniff of the coffee. This is going to be bad. At least the coffee at Expresso was at some point coffee beans. Whatever was used to make the cup of black liquid that Nikki just handed me can not make the same claim. The distinct smell of burned rubber and stale water mix with my inner nose which causes me to grimace.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know it's not good coffee but what do you expect at a hospital?" Nikki remarks after seeing my face. She takes a sip from her own cup, grimaces as well and then continues. "It's meant to keep you up and anxious, I guess."

 

"It's not that." I answer and then for whatever reason I decide to tell Nikki my aversion to coffee. Maybe it's from sitting here for so long without having much to say or the natural easiness I feel when talking to her but it is with some trepidation that I admit "I don't like coffee."

 

Nikki stares at me and then says "Bullshit. You must spend a hundred dollars a week on coffee at Expresso. What do you mean you don't like coffee. I've seen you drink it all the time."

 

"I clever ruse on my part. I bringing the coffee cup to my lips but I normally don't drink from it. I might take a sip or two here and there but I don't think I've ever been able to finish an entire mug."

 

Nikki is speechless for a few seconds. Then "Then why do you buy coffee?" Nikki blurts at me. A fair question.

 

"I am in a coffee house. Well, not right now. But usually." I respond.

 

"So what? I don't go to hair salon and get my hair done when all I need is my nails done." Nikki scoffs.

 

"Bad example. You're going to the hair salon for something, it's just not to get your hair done. Besides, I bet you've gone to the hair salon gotten your nails done and had your hair done as well." I reason.

 

"Fine, so I get something at the hair salon when I'm there. I don't go to the park and feel like I have to buy a pretzel from one of those vendors."

 

"Come on Nikki, no one buys a pretzel from those vendors." I joke "Not if they want to live anyway."

 

Nikki laughs her deep laugh, the laugh you know to be truthful, not the one she uses on customers when they make a crude remark about her cleavage. "But seriously Mark, why do you get coffee if you don't like it?"

 

"Honestly, I do not even know the reason. Part of it is peer pressure. Or business pressure. I take up a lot of table time in Expresso and I feel bad that a paying customer could be using that seat. Another excuse is that may be one day, I will find just that right mix of coffee to milk to sugar to cream to whatever ratio that will make me like coffee. Man, on that day look out because I will be caffeinated to the nines."

 

Nikki shrugs her shoulders in mirth and takes a pull from her coffee. "Ugh, well this won't be that combination." She mutters, the grimace returning to her face.

 

"Oh no, I ruled out black coffee a long time ago. I think I'm getting closer though. If I combine three parts milk, one part honey, and..." Before I can recite the recipe for my almost palatable cup of coffee, Nikki's eyes cause me to turn towards the large doors. Gabe is shuffling in our direction, a sour look on his face. He reaches us and plunks himself down in one of the bucket seats, all of the pent up energy from earlier gone.

 

Nikki and I wait for a few seconds before blurting simaltaneously "Well! How is she!"

 

This jars Gabe back to reality and he sits up with a start. "Wha. Who?" Gabe asks, confused, as if seeing us for the first time.

 

"What do you mean who? Who do you think we are talking about Gabe!" I explode, the monotony of sitting in a hospital waiting room for the past couple of hours finally getting the best of me.

 

"Emily." Nikki throws in, giving Gabe a hand in case he forgot. I look at her questioningly, surprised she isn't reacting the same as I am. But Nikki is concentrating on Gabe who has returned to his slumped position but is still at attention.

 

"Oh right, yeah sorry. It's not that I forgot, it is just that I have a few other things on my mind." Gabe apologized as he ran his hand through his hair.

 

My eyes shift back to Gabe. Nikki may be registering something but I am not. "What else could be on your mind besides Emily?"

 

Gabe let's out of long breath of air, his cheeks going flacid as he expels the carbon monoxide. "Yeah, what else. But I'll get to that in a second. Don't worry, Emily is fine. Like the doctor said, she's pretty banged up but otherwise doing pretty well. She was asleep while I was in there so I did not get a chance to talk to her."

 

"If she was asleep, what took you so long?" I return, getting a little annoyed at Gabe's cageyness.

 

"Someone is in love." Nikki sings from my shoulder. I try to ignore her but I see it too. There's a look of concern in Gabe's eye that is more than just the his normal protective nature towards women. In the brief period he's known her, it would seem as if Gabe has fallen in love with Emily and I am embarassed to say I am jealous. I didn't think Emily had feelings for me or I was going to leave Kate for her but after everything we'd been through, I thought we had the connection, not her and Gabe. Of course, how much of a connection can you have with someone when they try to run you down. If anything, that's the opposite of creating a connection.

 

Gabe replies with a soft smile which acknowledges and tentatively agrees with Nikki's cooing. Before Nikki can get all girly on him, Gabe continues "Whether I love Emily or not is really beside the point right now I'm afraid. I wasn't the only guest in Emily room just now."

 

This stops us in our tracks. "What do you mean, you weren't alone? The doctor only allowed you to go back there. Did some of her family show up before we did?" I ask, turning serious.

 

"You wouldn't call him family although I suppose Stefan considers himself to be her family now since I doubt Emily has any."

 

"Stefan was in there!" Nikki exclaims only seconds before I do.

 

"In the flesh." Gabe acknowledges before leaning back in his chair. He seems tired. Without the adrenaline, Gabe has come back down to Earth hard and I can see it in his eyes. But it's more than that and I hope he starts explaining what happened.

 

"So what happened?" Nikki prods.

 

Gabe rises again, garnering his strength. "Well Stefan is exactly what Emily said he was although he's in better shape than I thought at first. He had one of his goons hold me down while we talked" Gabe makes air quotes "but I could tell he could have put me down easily enough on his own. He told me he regretted hurting Emily although he would do it again or do it future if he thought it would help him acheive his goals. But for right now, he's content to let Emily rest and heal."

 

"But why did he push her through the window in the first place?" I ask, interrupting Gabe's summary. Gabe scowls as if to say 'I was going to get to that in a second but you had to go ahead and jump in didn't you?'.

 

"According to Stefan, it was to get our attention." Gabe answers.

 

"There are easier ways to get my attention than pushing a defense woman through the window of my favorite coffee shop. Hell, he could have just come through the door and talked to me."

 

"That" Gabe smiles bitterly "Is not Stefan's style. As Emily said, Stefan attacks you from various angles but never directly. He prefers to exert pressure on various parts of your life so as to move you in to the path he wants you to go. And the path he wanted us to walk involved Emily being sent through that window."

 

"God dammnit, what does he want already. This is getting ridiculous? What does he want me to rob a bank or something?" I blurt out loud. My own fatigue is getting the best of me as well. Perhaps I should have drank more of the coffee Nikki had brought me.

 

"He also wants me Gabe and that's what we talked about. Well, when I say we, I mean Stefan talked and I listened. Emily was right, he is a talker. But anyway, he told me what he wants me to do and he wants you to help me. He said he has other plans for you down the road but that for right now, you should accompany me."

 

"Accompany you? Accompany you to do what? On some sort of pilgrimage?" I guess.

 

Gabe laughs. "Not exactly but you're not that far off. I have been hired, such as it were, to write Stefan's biography. He's given me a list of various places and people he wants us to visit to get background and material for his book."

 

"Are you serious?" I ask dumbfounded. I expected Stefan to ask us to break murders out of prison, to kidnap wealthy businessmen's children or even go after the President. But write a book? All this for a book?

 

"Deadly. Because that is part of Emily's message as well. Emily could tell us that Stefan was dangerous and we would just nod our heads and say sure. Because what did we know? We've never met him and we hadn't really met Emily till today either so for all we knew he could just have been a bully. Stefan wanted to make sure we know that he will go to whatever lengths he see's necessary to convince us to do what he wants."

 

I reply sarcastically "And what he wants is a book? By you and I? Doesn't he know my track record?"

 

"He does and I guess that's why he put me in charge more or less. He suggested, if telling you point blank is a suggestion, that we begin immediately. Personally, I couldn't give a damn about writing his life story but after seeing what he did to Emily I don't really know what to do. What happens if we do not do what he say's? Does he hurt her again? Does he kill her? Does he go after someone else we love? I looked into his eyes Mark and believe me, this man was serious."

 

Comically, I take a deep gulp, now as unsure as Gabe. I know that he's right and that I would help him do whatever he thought was best to help keep Emily or anyone else we cared about safe. But it was such a bizarre situation to be thrust into that my brain did not have the necessary environment to handle this situation. It wrestled to make room for it in my normal absurd situations but they didn't quite fit. Anything that came close was something from a movie and that was flagged as imaginary.

 

"What about me?" Nikki asks from behind me. Gabe and I both suddenly realize Nikki hasn't added one word to the conversation and more to the point, we do not know how to answer her question. Is Nikki suppose to help us? Did Stefan plan for Nikki to stop by the coffee shop today or was it just an accident that Nikki got wrapped up in this with us? I can not tell just how far Stefan's manipulation goes and where my paranoia begins.

 

"Uhh." Gabe stammers "I'm sorry Nikki, Stefan did not have anything to say about you. Which you can count your lucky stars because I do not think you want to be on his radar."

 

This answer seems to tick Nikki off "Whether I am on his radar or not doesn't matter. He hurt Emily and I'll be damned if I'm just going to go work my shift at the Pink Unicorn like everythings alright. I might not be as crafty with words as you two are but I am smarter than the two of you combined so if you think you're leaving me behind, you've got another thing coming."

 

"Whoa." I put my hands up as if Nikki was physically charging us. "Calm down there. Neither Gabe or I is saying we are going to leave you out of this, whatever this is. Hell Nikki, Gabe and I do not even want to be in this thing."

 

"Typical pathetic manchilds." Nikki accuses us with more anger than we were expecting. "You are a whole lot of talk when it's just words and ideas but when the shit hits the fan, you stand around shuffling your feet. You know what happens to people who stand around for too long shuffling their feet? They get pushed through windows by people like Stefan."

 

Gabe and I are shocked by Nikki's words and are at a loss for how to respond. I am sure there is some sisterhood pain that Nikki must be feeling right now that is causing her to be so protective of Emily. But it's more than that. Nikki is also being protective of us and I did not even think we needed protection.

 

"You're right Nikki, I am sorry." Gabe is the first to speak. "Whether Stefan mentioned you or not, you are more than welcomed to help us. But Mark and I are not just shuffling our feet. Believe me, I would like nothing better than to go a few rounds with that asshole but that doesn't seem to be a good option right now. I think we need to come up with a plan before we rush out and do anything stupid. I don't know what we'll find at these places Stefan has told me to go but given my impression of the man, I doubt we'll find too many warm receptions. So I think we need to go over what we've got, make a few Google searches and go from there. No one is being left out."

 

Nikki doesn't respond to Gabe but her anger levels seems to come down from volcanic. I check my watch. It's almost midnight and while that's not a late time for any of us, the past hours have been stressful and have pretty much drained me of what energy I did have this morning.

 

"I think we should go home and get some sleep." Gabe says as if reading my mind. Nikki checks her own watch and then realizing the time, lets out a yawn.

 

"I am surprised your tired, after the nap you took on my shoulder." I joke.

 

Nikki shrugs "What can I say, I like to sleep."

 

Gabe rolls his eyes. "Right. How about we meet at Expresso tomorrow around nine? I know that's early for you Gabe but I'd like to get things going. I have a feeling we're going to have a long day ahead of us."

 

.24.

 

We pile back into Nikki's car and take the freeway to Gabe's apartment. Thanks to his book deals, Gabe has a swanky loft in the urban renewal part of the city and I am not the least bit jealous of it or of the thirty two hundred square feet living room overlooking the river. Not even just a little.

 

"Thanks, I'll see you in the morning." Gabe says, getting out of the backseat.

 

"Need me to pick you up tomorrow? Isn't your bike still at the coffee shop?" Nikki calls from the drivers seat.

 

Gabe swears beneath his breath and then answers "No, don't worry about it. I'll make my way over there myself. Probably just use the car tomorrow, don't know why I road my bike today."

 

Yup, Gabe has a car and a motorcycle. Nope, I am not the least bit jealous.

 

As we enter Nikki and Kate's apartment, it feels as if it's been a year since this morning when Nikki flashed me while I was trying to find something for breakfast. In all that time I haven't talked to Kate once and that is causing me the most concern right now. Has Stefan done something to her? My heart clenches and I tiptoe over to Kate's bedroom.

 

Kate's asleep, sprawled across the mattress, no signs of concern on her face. While I am relieved, I feel let down that Kate was not concerned about not seeing me today.

 

"Is she alright?" Nikki whispers behind me causing me to jump. I close to the door to Kate's bedroom and turn to face Nikki. It's dark but I can tell she's changed into to her sweatpants and a t-shirt which does little to hide her phsyique. How was she able to do that that quickly?

 

"Yeah, she's sound asleep." I murmur keeping my voice down. I suck on my lip, not sure what to say next. It's been a long day and I feel there needs to be something more to cap it off but for the life of me I can not think of any grand gesture to make.

 

"Well goo.." I start to say but suddenly Nikki is hugging me, her head in my chest, her body pressed uncomfortably against mine. Not for the first time do I feel guilty about holding Nikki with my girlfriend a mere few feet away. I realize Nikki is unsuccessfully trying to choke back tears. I bring my arms around her and pat her on the back. "It's going to be okay Nikki. Don't worry things will work out for the best."

 

"You don't know that." Nikki states from below my chin and she's right. I do not know if it will be alright or whether things will work out for us. It's just something you say and right now it feels hollow because there is very little truth to it.

 

"No, I guess I don't. But I have faith in us Nikki. I have faith in you, in Gabe and because of that I have faith in myself. No, I do not know whether things will work out for us in the end or what Stefan will do when this is all over but I know that as long we stay strong, we will be able to handle it. It's not much to believe in right now I know but for me it's enough and I only hope my strength is enough for the both of us."

 

Nikki sniffles, thinking about what I said. "Is that from one of your stories?" She asks.

 

"Might be." I lie. "It's hard to keep track after awhile. You regurgitate a speech here for one character, you restructure it there for another. Soon you begin to wonder whether you thought it up at all."

 

Nikki smiles. "It is a good speech. It is not the best confidence booster I have ever heard but I liked it. Felt genuine."

 

"It was." I murmur and I begin to sense things are in a very precarious situation. I've been in situations like this before. Well, no I haven't. This is a first for the whole villian aspect to it. But I have been here, with a woman like Nikki, with a girlfriend somewhere other than here and the mood changing from tension to something else. I wonder if I am strong enough to pull away from this and I desperately hope I do not have to make that decision because down deep I know that I already have made my decision.

 

Thankfully, Nikki breaks her embrace. "Thank you Mark." Nikki said "I needed that. I don't think I could have handled sleeping alone in my room tonight without some male reassurance."

 

"I could give you some more reassurance if you know what I mean." I kid and Nikki slaps my shoulder. But as we part, our eyes linger and we both know my jokes contain a hint of truth to them. And for the first time, I know that Nikki agrees with that truth.

 

"See you in the morning." I whisper to Nikki whose now at the other side of the apartment. Nikki responds but it is so faint that I can barely make out the words.

 

Carefully I close the door, hoping not to wake Kate up. A quick trip to the bathroom where I brush my teeth and wash my face and I slip under the covers as if I am just returning from Expresso, albeit two hours after they close. This is not that unusual for Kate and I which has been part of the problem. We are on two different schedules and perhaps if mine was a little closer to nine to five things would be better. As is, we are often missing each other for large stretches of time and the only time we are consistently together is when we are sleeping. We've fought about it several times but neither of us seems to be ready to change.

 

On that pleasant thought and the other events of the day looming in my subconscious, I close my eyes and prepare for a fitful night of rest.

 

.25.

 

True to it's word, my subconscious let's me have it with both barrels. On a normal night it takes me an hour or so of tossing and turning before I can get to sleep. If I am really tired, about half that time but usually an hour is the rule. I have chalked it up to having too many ideas running through my head when I come back from Expresso.

 

Why is it you have the best ideas right as you're drifting off to sleep? I've tried keeping a notepad by my bedside to catch a few of these nighttime fantasies but my writing skills in the dark usually encypher the idea to well.

 

I return to a college classroom, full clothed in case you are thinking this dream sequence is going to be another cliche. This is a standard dream of mine, one I have every couple of months. The class I am attending changes from time to time, this one happens to latin, a course which nearly kept me from graduating on time. If by graduating on time from college you mean into your sixth year. It was with the grace of god that I somehow managed to convince the registrars office to count the summer school classes I took and that I did have enough credits to graduate with a major in english studies. They were relieved to be rid of me and I was glad to get out on my own.

 

I awake terrified at least one morning a month thinking I am still in school. I am not sure how my brain not only convinces me that I am still in Mrs.Kepfield's "Introduction to Genealogical Formations", a class I never took in college mind you, and that I am about to fail it mostly because I can't remember learning anything since this is the third month I've been taking the class and the midterm is next week.

 

I wake to the sound of my cellphone ringing. Blindly I get up to stop the noise, my hand eye coordination being temporarily disabled so it takes me a minute to find it right beside the bed. Always in the last place you look.

 

"Yeah." I mutter into the receiver. It's Gabe.

 

"Wake up." He answers simply.

 

"What? I am up." I return although he and I both know that is not the case.

 

"Thanks to me it is. Get in the shower and get over here."

 

The question confuses me. "Over where?"

 

I hear Gabe mutter another curse but maybe he's just talking to someone. "Expresso. We were suppose to meet at Expresso by nine remember?"

 

"That doesn't sound like something I would agree to." I mutter back in to the receiver. My brain begins to look through it's appointments for the day and is surprised to find a meeting with Gabe scheduled for this morning. A meeting at nine in the morning? That can't be right. But even as I resist, the memories from the previous night begin to take shape and I groggily acknowledge that Gabe is right.

 

"Alright, I'll be down there in twenty minutes or so."

 

"Remember to bring Nikki with you." Gabe says before hanging up. Right, Nikki, I think to myself. Reflexively, I look to the other side of the bed but Kate has already left for work. There's no note so I can only assume she is pissed off at me. Another argument waiting for me when I get home. That is lovely.

 

Quickly, I shower and shave, making the most out of the ten minutes while throwing on some casual clothes. I am not sure what to expect today but I figure jeans and a sweater can't be a wrong choice. I head in to the living room, hoping Kate has left me some breakfast. No such luck. But there are more breakfast options this morning then yesterday meaning Kate must have stopped by the store on the way home from work. I grab a bagel, slice it and throw it into the toaster oven. There's some chive cream cheese in the fridge and my stomach growls with yearning.

 

I hear the shower running in Nikki's room so thankfully I don't have to interrupt her beauty sleep. The bagel makes a little jump out of the toaster but fall back down, one side golden brown, the other slightly burnt. A quick schmear of cream cheese and breakfast is served. Might as well go see how long I have to wait for Nikki.

 

I usually don't enter Nikki's bedroom without being asked but I think our relationship took a turn last night so I casually walk in. The shower is still going and I can hear the faint sound of Nikki humming to herself. I peek into the bathroom but am dissappointed to find that Nikki has an opaque shower curtain.

 

"Almost ready to go?" I call over the sound of rushing water. The humming ceases and I can see Nikki's outline motionless.

 

"Who's there?" Nikki askes tentatively.

 

"Geez, Nik, it's me."

 

"Mark?" Nikki doesn't quite believe my voice since her head pops around the shower curtain a moment later. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

 

"I'm not in there. I am outside in your bedroom." I shoot back. I didn't expect Nikki to be this hostile in the morning. Maybe things hadn't changed between us.

 

"You know what I mean." Nikki responds but quickly turns the tables on me. "Unless you want to join me."

 

"Right. I was just wondering how long you would be in the shower. Gabe called. He's already at Expresso and has probably drank a few as well. He seems to have gotten his nervous energy back."

 

"Another twenty minutes or so. If you want to go meet your boyfriend, I can catch up with you guys. Or you can take me up on my offer. Your choice." Nikki answers, returning to her shower, the outline of her body resuming it's movement.

 

Nikki's offer has the opposite effect on me. Well I am aroused but I am also annoyed. Her double standard, that it's alright for her to flirt with me but not the other way around ticks me off and I have to keep from saying what I'm thinking. I know she must think because I am with Kate I shouldn't flirt with other women, especially her, but at the same time she shouldn't flirt with me either.

 

"That's not funny Nikki." I say simply and begin to walk away. I am not sure if Nikki heard me but I am glad I said the words.

 

"I wasn't joking Mark." Nikki calls back. Clearly, she did hear me. Now I'm stuck. Do I pursue this conversation with Nikki or get the hell out of here. My brain is telling my feet to head for the door but instead they are headed back towards the bathroom.

 

I say the words I didn't want to say, knowing they'll begin a conversation neither one of us wants to have. "So what, you can flirt with me but I can't flirt with you? Is that it? Cause I'm getting a little confused here."

 

Nikki doesn't say anything for a few moments and I immeaditely begin to regret having said anything. This is why you do not tell you feelings to women. It only leads to trouble. Spilling out what's on your mind does not work the same as in the movies. It's not a monumental scene where the two of you realize your feelings for each other. It is just awkward and painful. Take my advice. Don't do it.

 

My brain regains control of my feet and thankfully I am now heading in the direction of the door. But before I can get there, I hear Nikki say from behind me. "She doesn't love you."

 

I stop in my tracks and the only word that comes to my mouth is "Who?" as if there were multiple people who could love me.

 

"Who do you think I am talking about Mark? Emily?" Nikki said as she turns off the water. I hear her getting out of the tub, the sound of a towel being pulled from a hook. Focus.

 

"May be." I mutter.

 

"Look, I don't want to come between you guys but if you want my opinion, there's nothing to come between."

 

"What? What has she told you?" I ask, my mind jumping to conclusions.

 

"Nothing you don't already know yourself." Nikki answers and I realize she's behind me, the smell of soap and shampoo itching my noise. Look straight ahead soldier, don't turn around now. Danger lies that way.

 

"You're not breaking any girl rules telling me this?" I ask while counting down from one hundred.

 

Nikki laughs. "If you think Kate and I talk about you behind your back...well you're right we do."

 

"I knew it!" I yell with pride.

 

"Calm down. We also talk about other things. Other guys." Nikki let's that linger in the air.

 

Through a throat that's starting to get choked up, I say "So, she is cheating on me."

 

"I don't know Mark. Maybe. I haven't talked to her in awhile. But the last time we had a pajama party..."

 

"Thank you for that." I interject, making a mental image for later.

 

"No problem. The last time we talked, she did mention getting coffee with someone from work. It could have been harmless I don't know. I do know she didn't seem to think she was cheating on you because she thought your relationship was coming to a close. Is she wrong?"

 

"Bet he likes to drink coffee." I mutter, not answering Nikki's question.

 

"Mark?" Nikki whispers while putting her hand on my shoulder. The hairs on the back of my neck go ridged and I know it's do or die time. If I turn around now, things will only get worse. Well they'll be good for twenty minutes or so. But afterwards they will be worse and I do not want to be that person this time. I've cheated on a few girlfriends and I don't want to do so again.

 

"Thanks Nikki. I'll see you outside when you get dressed." I said and without looking over my shoulder, I walk out the door.

 

.26.

 

While I wait for Nikki to get ready, I putz around the kitchen trying to make sense of what just happened in Nikki's bedroom and trying to formulate some plan on what to say to Nikki when she comes out. In the end, I decide to make her breakfast.

 

By make her breakfast, I mean I drop another bagel in to the toaster while pouring a cup of orange juice for her. If Gabe wasn't waiting for us, I may have scrambled an egg or two but that's about the extent of my breakfast talents.

 

"For me?" Nikki asks as she reaches the counter. The bagel is sitting there with chive cream cheese, maybe a little cooler then when it first came out of the toaster, the cup of orange juice alongside it. I am a few feet away, looking through todays paper, trying hard not to look at Nikki.

 

"Huh?" I feign, as if realizing for the first time that Nikki has joined me. "Oh, yeah, figured I'd save you the trouble since we need t get going. Gabe must be goig berserk right about now."

 

"Thanks. I thought it was some kind of peace offering. But then I remember it was from you and you don’t apologize for anything.”

 

“So Kate has told you about yet another one of my terrific qualities.” I retort, looking above the edge of the newspaper. Nikki is also in jeans but she's wearing a sweatshirt from some university she didn't go to. She has her hair pulled back in a ponytail and you can tell it's not quite dry. God, I love women in sweatshirts that are too big for them. Always have.

 

"I wouldn't call it terrific." Nikki answers while munching on the bagel.

 

"Geez a hot chocolate and a muffin yesterday, a bagel with cream cheese and a glass of orange juice today. I am beginning to think you don't appreciate me Nik."

 

"You just won't let me show you my appreciation." Nikki returns while licking some of cream cheese off the bagel, far far too slowly.

 

I feel a buzz in my pants and thankfully it's just my cell phone ringing again. I take it out of my pocket and sure enough it's Gabe again. "Yeah we're on our way Gabe, calm down." I answer as I shoo Nikki out the door. She grabs the other half of the bagel and her coat.

 

"You said that thirty minutes ago. What's taking you so long?" Gabe says, the nervous energy palpable over the phone.

 

"Don't blame me. Nikki took forever. Drying her hair, painting each finger nail and then taking ten minutes to decide what to wear. Women right!?" I joke.

 

"It wouldn't have taken me so long to find something to wear if Mark would stop tearing my clothes off. Down boy." Nikki yells into my ear and into the cellphone. It's always hard to top Nikki.

 

I hear Gabe laughing at the other end and at least the sexual tension between Nikki and I has broken Gabe's tension. "Great I think he's going to burst a rib from laughing to hard." I tell Nikki as we get to her car. "I didn't think it was that funny."

 

"That's just because you can't find the humor in it. Believe me, it was funny. Your face was priceless too." Nikki grins as she puts her Subaru into drive.

 

"Alright alright. Calm down Gabe. We are in the car and should be there in a ten minutes. I'd like to not end up at the emergency room again this week so try to hold it together."

 

"See you crazy kids in a few." Gabe responds warmly and hangs up.

 

"Well you put him in a good mood. Wonder how long that will last once we figure out what Stefan wants us to do." I say to Nikki while looking out the frost covered window. The car is chilly, the warm air taking some time to get to us. Perhaps it's the chill in the air that keeps us from talking but for the first couple of blocks, the silence in the car is all that passes between us.

 

Finally Nikki says "Thank you for not turning around earlier."

 

"No need to thank me. Last time a beautiful woman was that close to me, I got kicked in the nuts. I am still in shock. Post traumatic whatever, you know?" I quip, trying to hide behind more jokes.

 

"Could you be serious for a second Mark?" Nikki asks, the same serious tone in her voice when I surprised her in the shower this morning. 

 

"I'll try but no promises. Another one of my terrific qaulities. A joke for every season."

 

"And that's one of the things I love about you Mark. You're funny and quirky. You always have something nice to say even if it is formed in some harmless barb. You're so different from most of the guys I meet." Nikki said and I wonder if she's going to tell me what a great friend I am.

 

"I'm not that different Nik. I've been to a few strip clubs in my life. Not yours but a few." I say, hoping to distance myself from the friend zone.

 

Nikki smiles "That's not what I meant. You're miles away from those guys and quite a lot better than most of the guys I usually date. Which is why it bugs me to see that you're still with Kate."

 

"Didn't know you were so interested in our relationship. Isn't this a talk you should be having with Kate?" I respond, the feeling in my hands returning, the car finally getting some decent heat out of it's vents.

 

"Kate doesn't want to listen to me. Besides, I am more interested in your happiness than Kate's." Nikki tells me, leaving me with mixed emotions as we pull into the parking lot behind Expresso. We sit silently for a few minutes, the car's engine returning to it's cooled down state.

 

"If I had turned around, what would have happened Nikki?" I ask. "And I'm not just asking because I want to dream about it later tonight."

 

Nikki shifts in her seat. Whether she's uncomfortable about the conversation or the cold, I can't be sure. I am beginning to feel the chill return to my fingers so this conversation only has another minute or so.

 

"What would have happened isn't important. It's that you made the right decision. If whatever happens between us in the future happens well it will be better off because we didn't...succumb to what may have happened."

 

"That is a lot of 'happens'." I respond, the author in me objecting to her sentence.

 

"We are a generic generation." Nikki shoots back. "Come on, let's go see Gabe before we freeze to death out here.

 

.27.

 

"Finally." Gabe practically shouts as we enter. He's sitting at the same table we were at last night although now there are four empty expresso cups on the table. Great.

 

"Nice to see you to. If that's not a warm greeting I don't know what is." I say to Nikki, who rolls here eyes while taking off her coat. "Want me to get you something." I ask, heading towards the line.

 

"Coffee." Nikki answers simply.

 

"Which kind? They have over two dozen."

 

"Surprise me." Nikki adds and turns to talk to Gabe.

 

As the line at the counter moves slowly foward, I scan the coffee house. Everything seems normal. The tall containers of coffee beans for show are behind the counter, miscallaneous art for sale from local artists still hanging on the walls, various people hunched over their beverages or eating a pastry. The morning rush is in full swing and this is partly why I hate getting here this early. The other reason is I hate getting up earlier. No reason to start my day any earlier than necessary.

 

And then my eyes fall behind on the window now covered in cardboard. It feels out of place and the mental image of Expresso isn't complete without that pane of glass. I try to rememeber what happened the previous night but the memories have already begun to fade. At the time they were so crystal clear. Now, they have fuzzy edges and I wonder in time whether I'll remember any real detail. Whether it will just be another vague memory. No, it can't be. Something that traumatic stays with you right?

 

"What will you have?" the barrista asks. I realize I've made it to the front of the line and I don't know what to order. I am annoyed because I hate people who get to the front of the line and then take time to figure out what they want, as if now suddenly they can read the giant names above. And if there's one person I hate hating, it is myself.

 

"What would you recommend?" I ask the barrista, stalling for time. I can see the woman roll her eyes. Maybe she thinks I am hitting on her. You wish lady. Did you see who I came in here with?

 

"The pumpkin mocca whipped latte is good sir." the barrista answers, not really selling me or the pumpkin mocca whipped latte.

 

"Eh, yeah it's alright but I had that the other day. I feel for something different." I answer, getting into my usual patter. "How about two large sumatras and a single expresso."

 

"I'm sorry sir but we stopped serving sumatra a week ago." the woman responds as politely as she can but the line of office workers is starting to get restless and she knows their wrath will be thrown at her and not at me.

 

"Oh I didn't know that." I lie. Sumatra had been exchanged for breakfast blend about a week ago although I couldn't tell the difference between the two. "How about Costa Rica?"

 

Relieved, the barrista punches a few keys. "That will be ten twenty sir." she responds with an outstretched hand.

 

"Who knew coffee was so expensive." I say sarcastically returning to the table.

 

"I think Gabe has had enough expressos for one morning." Nikki said, redirecting her cup of coffee and Gabe's expresso to her.

 

"Sorry man, I tried. She coffee blocked you." I apologize while taking a sip of my own cup. Today I am trying a combination of one part sugar, one part honey and one part cinnamon. The cinnamon is a nice touch but it's still not something I would pay to drink.

 

"Eh, she's right, I've already had more caffeine this morning than I should. I've been to the bathroom five times already." Gabe says, his leg bouncing up and down as if to confirm this.

 

"Gross. Thanks for that." Nikki mutters from across the table.

 

"Sorry. Alright, you two ready?" Gabe asks starting to get up.

 

"Um, Gabe, we just got here." I respond, pulling him back down.

 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess we should talk first huh." Gabe answers, returning to his seat. Gabe's eyes are slightly blood shot and he didn't shave this morning. I would say he didn't comb his hair this morning but Gabe has always kept his hair in a chaotic due so I can't be sure. But if I had to guess, Gabe got even less sleep than I did last night.

 

"So what does Stefan want us to do?" Nikki asks. She's finished the espresso and is blowing on the top of her coffee. "I can't imagine it's sit around here in Expresso and talk."

 

Gabe smiles and then runs his hands through his hair. "No, nothing like that although I wish it were that easy. Like I said, he wants us, well Mark and I but you're more then welcome to come along Nikki."

 

"Like we had a choice." I kid and get a light punch in the arm from Nikki.

 

"To write his biography as it were." Gabe continues, ignore my interruption. "He's given me an outline here, a sort of bibliography if you will to get us started. Gives us some places to go to, people to see that sort of thing. But he said to follow whatever leads we turn up so this thing isn't written in stone. He doesn't want to lead us or dictate what we write."

 

"Almost sounds like we are doing this amicable." I mutter as I take the list from Gabe. The first item on this list, Stefan's birth place jumps out at me. "Rome!" I yelp. "He wants us to go to Rome?"

 

"Yeah, I was getting to that." Gabe swallows and I see him looking for a cup of caffeine. I push him mine while I continue to look at the list. Nikki intercepts it again. "Stefan said we should visit Rome first. He said it is a good starting point for his life, the genisis I guess."

 

"He means Rome, Italy right. Not Rome, Ohio or Rome, Florida? You know, something we could actually drive to. No of course not, he means the little penisula on the other side of the Atlantic ocean of course. Because jetting around the world isn't that big a deal for a crazy bastard like Stefan but for us, I think it's going to be just a little bit of a roadblock. Don't you think Nikki?" I look to her and she nods although she's looking at Gabe who answers my question.

 

"Yeah, he knows we're not wealthy enough to do this on our own. So he's given us an advance I guess. I'm not sure how much it is since all he gave me was this credit card." Gabe holds out a typical credit card with one exception. It's completely black with no numbers or any other writing on it. No bank name or signature on the back. It's only by tilting it towards the light that I can make out the black magnetic strip against the blackness of the card.

 

"Great, he's given us a charge card." I say, taking the card from Gabe. "Guess he won't mind buying the next round." Before Gabe can object I am back in line which has died down. Soon I am back in front of the barrista who served me earlier.

 

"Now are you sure you are out of sumatra?" I ask, while I flip the black credit card in my fingers behind my back.

 

"Quite sure sir." the barrista says through gritted teeth although this time the anxiousness in her eyes is gone since there is no line behind me. "Can I interest you in one of our twenty other flavors?"

 

"I'm sure you can." I respond with a winning smile. "Which would you recommend if you didn't like coffee?"

 

The barrista opens her mouth to answer but then shuts it. She replays my sentence in her mind. No, she must have heard me wrong. She corrects me. 'Which would you recommend if you did like coffee?' she must be thinking. That doesn't make much sense either. I smile but the barrista scowls, unsure if I am making fun of her. I simply smile, waiting for her to figure out how to play this hand.

 

"I like the Kenyan blend sir." the woman says after thinking about it for a while. It's a safe choice and it might actually be her favorite.

 

"Fantastic. I'll take two large cups and two scones please." I order to the relief of the barrista.

 

Again she punches in the order to the computer and stretches out her hand. "That will be ten twenty sir."

 

"Can you believe it, the same total as last time!" I laugh out loud as I hand her the black credit card. If she realizes the connection, the barrista doesn't show it. It takes her three tries to figure out which way to slide the card through the reader although she doesn't object to the card at all. Maybe it is a more common credit card than I know of since I only qualify for the introductory cards.

 

"Well it works." I tell Gabe and Nikki as I return with the two coffees and scones. I toss the card to Gabe who catches it then takes one of the cups of coffee. Nikki does not intercept this one since her hands are busy taking one of the scones.

 

"Blueberry, my favorite." she mumbles.

 

"Of course it works, why wouldn't it work?" Gabe asks bitterly.

 

I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe because Stefan is an asshole and that's the kind of things assholes like to do? Stefan's not our friend Gabe even if he is paying for us to travel around the world."

 

"Don't you think I know that?" Gabe fires back, the anger in his words sobering us all up. We sit for a few moments, either eating pieces of scone or sipping coffee.

 

"So, we're going to Rome huh?" Nikki breaks the silence. "I hear it's nice this time of year."

 

.28.

 

She knows where she is, the doctors told her that but her mind is still in pieces. Emily tries to shift her weight on the bed but splinters of pain cause her to roll back into the valley her body has created. She has been lying in this bed for too long and while her body might not be able to move, her mind is screaming to get out of here.

 

Emily was awake when Stefan had his meeting with Gabe the other night in her room. Emily could not speak, to yell for Gabe to leave but she could listen to what they had to say. And with each word, Emily's fears for Mark and Gabe grew. Stefan's request or demand, call it what you like, did not make any sense to Emily either. Stefan could tap a hundred different writers in the world to pen his biography, why had he chosen Mark and Gabe? There had to be something more to it than that. Why would Stefan even want his history written down? Why would he want two strangers poking through his skeletons.

 

That was what Emily feared the most for Gabe and Mark. That they would poke their noses into some corner of Stefan's life that should not be looked into. It wasn't Stefan's reaction to them uncovering some part of his life but of the people and places who had come in contact with Stefan that Emily worried about. Emily knew the memories and hatreds Stefan left in his wake and could only imagine what some of the people Stefan did business with would do to two writers working on his behalf.

 

She had to get out of here. Emily had to get out of this bed and find Mark, Gabe and Nikki if she was still with them. They were not prepared to deal with Stefan's past, no one was. Maybe with Emily's help they might stand some chance of understanding and surviving the places they would go but that was a big if. First she would have to get out of this hospital and that wasn't going to happen if she couldn't at least roll over.

 

Summoning all her strength, Emily pull herself up to a sitting position causing the wounds on her back to tear and a tube connected to her arm to come loose. Emily swayed momentarily, unsure whether the sudden wave of pain was going to cause her to lose conciousness. No, she could do this. She was stronger than she looked, a lot stronger to pain now thanks to Stefan and she was going to get out of this bed if it killed her.

 

"Already trying to leave us?" A nurse said from her beside. Emily focused on him as he stared at her chart. No, not a nurse, a doctor. Was he her doctor? Emily couldn't be sure, she had seen so many different faces in the past seventy two hours and most of them had been blurs. "Our food isn't that bad is it?" the doctor asked, making a few notes on the clipboard.

 

"Just tired of sitting still." Emily crokes and realizes she hasn't said a word since she got here. Her throat feels dry and rough, the act of speech feels foreign.

 

"I can imagine. I'd go crazy lying in one of these beds for more than a day but that's just me. Just between you and me, I think I have a minor case of ADHD but how would I know?" he jokes and she smiles.

 

"But that's me and you're you and you need to lie down. The injuries you sustained were serious and we don't need you upsetting any of the wounds...as you already have." the doctor mutters as he came around the bed to look at Emily's back. Emily can feel his critical eyes on her back, his gentle fingers lightly touching the sensitive areas of her upper back. She knows he's right and a flush of embarrassment upsets her pride of having gotten this far.

 

"I'll have a nurse come in and redress these wounds. I need you to lie down for me though. If you lie down for me, I'll give you the letter your friends dropped off for you. Deal?" Emily manages to focus on the blue envelope hanging between the doctors fingers. Emily reaches for it but she has used all the strength she has for today and her hand does not move. Instead, she feels her body slowly begin to fall back to the bed, the doctor quickly moving to her side to catch her. "Whoa, I didn't mean that quickly Emily. This is a hospital after all, we like our patiences to get better while they are here not hurt themselves while under our care."

 

"I promise." Emily manages to get out between chapped lips. The doctor nods and opens the letter for her to read. He places it between her fingers and returns her chart to the end of her bed.

 

"Nurse should be here in a few minutes. Try not to move." the doctor says over his shoulder as he heads out the door, on to another patient.

 

Pushing down the pain and fear in her body, Emily focuses on the letter. It is from Gabe.

 

"Emily,

 

I hope this letter finds you well. Mark and Nikki send their best and we are all hoping you get better soon. We wish there was more we could do for you but know that we are all pulling for you. The doctors said your injuries weren't as bad as they seemed. They did seem pretty bad but then what do I know. I'll take their word though and hope this letter finds you feeling better.

 

I am writing because you are not awake right now and I need to let you know what's happening since I can not stay here with you even though I very much would like you. As you predicted Stefan got in touch with us, in a slightly more direct manner than you described. Instead of wanting Mark though, for some reason he has chosen me to be his biographer. The request sounded ludicrous to us but perhaps you will understand Stefan's motives and will be able to explain them to us when you are well.

 

At first I refused Stefan's job offer but as I am sure you know, Stefan does not put you in a situation where you can really say no. So, unhappily, I agreed to research and write his life story, a task I grow to hate with each passing second. I am not sure where or what will come of this, only that the alternative is not something I can think to bear.

 

Mark and Nikki have both agreed to accompany me on this fact finding expedition. Stefan even insisted that I include Mark on this assignment. Stefan mentioned that Mark's cronic lateness made him a poor candidate for this job. If I had known being on time would have landed me this role, I would have adopted Mark's laissez faire attitude years ago. Perhaps it's best that I am in charge of this band, since I shutter to think how this enterprise would fair if Mark was in the lead.

 

Nikki has also decided to tag along much to my delight and to Mark's discomfort. I truly enjoy watching their feigned flirting and brushes with intamacy. Knowing Mark as well as I do, I am not surprised by his ineptness when dealing with his feelings for Nikki while maintaining his relationship with Kate. Oh, in case you didn't know, Mark has a girlfriend named Kate. I keep forgetting that we only met you yesterday. Feels like it has been a lot longer. Anyway, I have seen the connection between these two for months now and who knows, maybe this trip will bring it out in them. Or it could just be another annoyance on a trip filled with annoyances.

 

Our first destination is in Rome, a place neither of us have been to in our lives nor do any of us speak Italian. Unless you count the quotations for the Godfather Mark keeps using since of course, all Italians are mobsters in his mind. It is funny now but I am sure once we are over the Atlantic either Nikki or I will have to hit him to make him stop.

 

When you are well, I hope you will get in touch with us. I've included my business card which has my cellphone and e-mail address. I do not think I have cell service in Italy or from many of the places Stefan has listed here but give it a try, you never know. Best bet is to e-mail me, I'll check it as often as I can. Don't worry about travel. Stefan has given us a credit card to charge our expenses to and I am sure he wouldn't mind if I bought a first class ticket for you to join us. And if he did, well nuts to him.

 

Get some rest, feel better soon and I hope to hear from you soon.

 

Gabe"

 

Emily reads the letter twice, the words dancing in her mind, not willing to sit still so they can make sense. Emily tries to clear her head but the painkillers as well as the pain have made that difficult to begin with, without the sudden rush of new information from Gabe.

 

She knew Stefan wanted them to write his biography. Stefan has wanted someone to write his biography for years. It was one of the first things he told Emily when they met.

 

"I would like someone to write the story of my life." Stefan had said as they were sitting on the veranda of suite in Barcelona.

 

"Some day." Emily added, nestled alongside him. Emily shivers at the memory of ever being so intimate with the man.

 

Stefan chuckles and that chuckle had been starting to get on Emily's nerves. "No my dear, I want it written as soon as possible."

 

Emily expected him to continue but Stefan felt it enough to let those words hang. Finally she asked the quetion "Why would you want a biography written about you while you're still alive. Are you really that controlling that you would want to fact check it?"

 

Another chuckle from Stefan. "No, I am quite sure most of the facts would allude even the most persistent writer. No, I want it written now so I can read it Emily. You don't know where you are unless you know where you have been. Remember that my dear. In all my life, all my success has been in knowing where I came from and what I have done. I hope you remember that."

 

It's was a month or so later, when Emily was wandering through Stefan's estate in Spain did she find the library. Somehow she had walked past the smokey, dimly lit chamber upstairs to the vault below. There were rows upon rows of books which at first Emily took as just a collectors habit gone wrong. It was a cavernous place, the shelves reaching far back in to the darkness. Any one of those aisles had books that Emily would never read in her life so it was unlikely she should choose to go down the aisle she did. As she was walking and scanning the titles she realized they were biographys about Stefan and his relatives. She peered into the darkness and could only imagine how far back the story went.

 

Thinking nothing of it, she took what looked like the most recent volume in the history of the Rikkos family and went back upstairs to lie out on the beach while learning about Stefan. She was only able to read couple of chapters before Stefan came home that evening. For some reason she felt compeled to hide the book in her things and not mention it to Stefan. If he wanted another biography written, what was wrong with the one she now had?

 

Unfortunately the book never answered that question. That night Stefan took her out to eat and then they danced the night away. When the limo stopped, Emily was surprised to find they were not back at the estate but rather at the airport.

 

"We're going on a little vacation." Stefan had told her. "Don't worry, all your things will right where you left them and I'll have your clothes either sent to you or we can buy new ones."

 

The start of that vacation had been four years ago. Whether Stefan knew about the book Emily had found or not, she couldn't be sure. Their relationship soon deteriorated on it's own.

 

But Emily had read enough about Stefan's formative years to know why he had sent Gabe, Mark and Nikki to Rome. What better place to start their journey than Stefan's birthplace?

 

.29.

 

"I called the window seat fair and square." Nikki says a little too loudly for someone sitting in first class. I know this to be complete bullshit since I called it while Gabe and I were purchasing the tickets and Nikki was in the bathroom. Unfortunately, Gabe has hunkered himself down in his seat and wants no part in moderating who called the window seat first.

 

"Fine." I mumble and drop down into my own seat beside her. To be angry about not getting the window seat while also flying first class will sound childish to you I am sure but it is the little things that matter when flying. The seats are truly amazing and while I could never understand why the seats cost so much, I am beginning to understand why. It is like you have you're own little cocoon on board the plane and for someone who used to build forts out of couch pillows when he was young, this is the next best thing. And by when I was young, I mean last week. Except this pillow fort is comfortable and technoligical advanced. More than just taking the television remote control in there with you.

 

The three of us figured Stefan wouldn't mind if we splurged on the ten thousand dollar round trip first class tickets to Rome. I think Gabe's exact words when Nikki asked whether this was a good idea was 'Fuck him.' which summed up all our feelings. Gabe has a way with words.

 

Soon, we are somewhere over the Atlantic, the little airplane icon on the television that magical flips out of my seats arm rest telling me exactly where we are and yet that information being completely useless since where we are is over blue. Gabe has crashed, thankfully managing to get some rest. I don't know if he'll sleep the entire trip to Rome but I would not be surprised if he did. Nikki too has fallen asleep beside me, her iPod earbuds playing some song that has put her to sleep.

 

As for me, I am wide awake. I am just not a very good napper and have always forced myself to stay awake during the day. I know that to be relative right now as we cross several time zones but it would be more hassle trying to force myself to sleep than staying awake and getting some work done. While my first class seat has many entertainments and novelties to check out, which I'll get to in do time, instead I've decided to get some writing done. Nothing to do with Stefan since neither Gabe nor I have any idea how to begin that masterpiece.

 

No, I am trying to resume where I left off so long ago. Before Emily, before Stefan, before all of this came crashing into my life, derailing what little work ethic I had going. The anger and frustration begin to boil in me so I take a moment to catch my breath. While I regain my cool, I scan the cabin. I am surprised to find that the first class section seems to be fully booked except for maybe one or two seats although their occupants may just be slouched down or in the bathroom. Most of the people in first class are middle age, I would guess most to be businessmen either coming from or going to whatever important meetings would justify a ten thousand dollar plane ride. Gabe, Nikki and I are definitely out of place although no one comments on us. Perhaps they think we're rockstars or part of the new money generation of Internet wizards.

 

If only.

 

I return to my laptop and begin typing. I have found an odd sense of clarity since all this has begun. The adrenaline from the previous days must have knocked out a few cobwebs in my mind because as of late, I am feeling focused in a way that I had long since forgotten. It reminds me of my college days when I would pump out a short story, a blog post and my essay for class the next day without breaking a sweat. When typing was easy and the words came naturally.

 

Somewhere in there, I lost that passion although I never bothered to admit it to myself. Maybe I ran out of ideas, maybe I just ran out of enthusiasm for writing but it has been the biggest stumbling block for me in my career so far. Perhaps this is what I need, to get out of my rut of the coffee house and see the world. To explore and be amazed before letting my imagination have it's way with it.

 

I have my mole skin notebook beside my laptop, the pages littered with notes, the corners bent and bruised with business cards and scraps of paper stuck between pages. It has been awhile since I have retired a mole skin notebook so this one is brimming to the top with partial ideas, half assed thoughts and hair brained schemes. I have a closet full of mole skin notebooks, since I am a firm believer in writing everything down, keeping it and never going going back to it. If they were good enough for Hemingway, they are good enough for me.

 

A few of the scribbles make me laugh, more than one makes me cry but towards the end of the notebook I find a line that I had written which begins to get the gears turning in my brain:

 

"There are times when we can forgive our ignorant ancestors who believed that there were gods whose goal in our lives was to cause mischief and mayhem."

 

At first I am not sure where to take the story, if there is one there to begin with. I remember the line originated when I had just spread delectable peanut butter on a piece of toast and was heading to the sofa to eat it and watch some television, when somehow a gust of air in my perfectly still apartment managed to topple the piece of toast off of my hand. I remember watching it fall from my hand, knowing that it would fall on the floor face down as is the rule and thinking, why? Why does this happen to us. I understood why it fell on the peanut butter side and I accepted that. But why had it fallen out of my hand at all?

 

And it was at the moment that I began to believe in gods. Not God per se, I am a pretty agnostic kind of guy. I believe there is a God but that the main stream religions haven't quite gotten his message right. But what about all those various gods the Greeks and Romans believed in? Perhaps they had it right all along and if they did those mini gods have not gone anywhere since they are well gods. I do not know my greek mythology all that well but I remember their gods being quite prone to playing tricks on humanity.

 

Who knows. Perhaps there is an explanation for the toast slipping out of my hand. Perhaps I just moved too quickly or the air conditioning kicked in at just the right moment. If I can not explain this with all my modern scientific knowledge, how do we expect our ancestors to fair any better. Is it not logical or at least likely that you would animate your annoyances?

 

With this idea in mind, I put fingers to keys and begin my first paragraph:

 

'It was almost midnight but still Kevin felt for chocolate chip cookies. He knew he should not eat anything much less cookies this late at night but the desire was great in his stomach and the only way to quench it would be to make some moist and delicious chocolate chip cookies. Luckily for Kevin he had a roll of premade chocolate chip cookie dough in the refrigerator so this need could be served in less time than one would expect. Before his guilt could get the better of him, Kevin had sliced six circles of roughly uniform width, placed them on a small cookie sheet and passed them into the toaster oven which got more use in his apartment than the oven just below it.

 

Ten minutes later, the cookies were ready and Kevin's mouth was watering with anticipation. Holding the tray firmly in a gloved hand, Kevin turned to walk to the counter and deliver his fresh baked goods to a waiting plate. But as he did so, he felt his hand go weak and to his horror watched as the cookie sheet miraculous slipped from his grip. As it fell, it rotated so that on impact the freshly baked cookies landed face first into the vinyl floor. Kevin let out a groan of contempt.

 

"Damn it!" Kevin barked "Every damn time Heppios, every damn time."

 

While the god of the house had not made himself known to Kevin, Kevin could hear him laughing from what sounded like the direction of the stove. Heppios was the god of Kevin's apartment. It was just Kevin's luck that Heppios was a mischevious god who took extreme delight in ruining Kevin's desires. Whether it was cutting the hot water during a shower or causing a bad odor to waft it's way through the apartment while Kevin was making his move on his date, Heppios took sick pleasure in Kevin's misfortune.

 

"Wasn't me." the god said, appearing before Kevin as blue female about the size of a barbie with just the same figure. Heppios could take any form he wished or as Kevin understood it, any form he wished that was judged to be his rank by the more powerful gods, but Heppios chose this form most of all since Kevin's apartment god was a woman.

 

"Bullshit. I know it was you." Kevin sneered with more anger to a god than was wise. The danger was minute though, aparment gods wielded very little phsyical power over their occupants. They could cause them stub their toe or get shocked by a faulty electrical outlet but they couldn't actually kill a person. That was the domain of the elder gods and if Kevin had ever been in front of one he would have shown proper respect. The worst an apartment god could do was burn down the apartment which was foolish because in doing so it would destroy the god him or herself. No apartment, no apartment god or so the logic goes.

 

Far be it that apartment gods only cause mischief in their tenants lives, apartment gods were the only secure way to protect you apartment. But you had to be vigilant as well to remember to pray to your god or else the next time that theif was testing the windows, he just might find yours open and the apartment god wouldn't do anything to stop him once inside. Oh you could complain to the gods of justice but they would not be much help. You could not fool them if you were lapse in your offerings.

 

Kevin lifted the side of the tray, to examine the fate of his chocolate chip cookies. Sure enough they had all adhered to his beige vinyl floor, completely ruined.

 

"You know, one of these days I am going to burn this apartment down for the insurance money. Then we will see who's laughing." Kevin muttered to himself although Heppios could hear him perfectly.

 

"Don't even joke about that Kevin." Heppios admonished him as she jumped on his shoulder. "If the justice gods find out about that and it happens, you'll be the first ones they suspect."

 

"Whatever. No justice gods would convict me for it." Kevin replied, rising so quickly that he knocked Heppios off his shoulder. She cartwheeled through the air until she suddenly stopped in midair and righted herself. "Seriously though, what is your problem?'

 

"Whatcha working on?" Nikki asks interrupting my train of thought. I look over to see Nikki slouched in her seat, a blanket wrapped tightly around her body staring at me. I have no idea how long she's been awake or whether she's been reading over my shoulder this entire time. I don't know whether she can read my laptop's screen from her vantage point but it's a good bet that she can. So much for first class privacy. But there really is no point in lying anyway.

 

"Just a story idea I had. Since we have time to kill on this flight I figured I'd get some writing done. After we land, I doubt I'll be doing any writing for pleasure for awhile."

 

"Really? Didn't think you would be in much of a writing mood after everything that's happen." Nikki responds as she stretchs in her seat. I quickly look away as she aches her back. When I turn back, I see Nikki hitting a key on her seat's arm rest. I raise an eyebrow and Nikki answers my question. "I'm a little hungry and thirsty. Figured one of the perks of being in first class was a good flight attendant right? But anyway, what your story about?"

 

Either Nikki had not been reading my prose while I was typing it or she wanted to see if I would tell her what I was writing, I couldn't be sure. It is well known that I dislike talking about my story ideas especially ones that I just started. To me it's wasted time, reiterating the idea to someone else. If anything, it causes me to lose interest in the piece which believe me, I have enough ways of doing that.

 

But Nikki probably doesn't know that about me, in fact we've never really talked all that much. She has always been Kate's stripper roommate and I have always been Kate's malcontent, brooding boyfriend who doesn't get up on time.

 

Breaking my rule and any chance of my story being completed, I am about to explain to Nikki the jist of my idea when the stewardess arrives.

 

"How can I help you?" the woman asks. The stewardess or flight attendant as they like to be called, is surprisingly attractive. In all my flights the flight attendants have been middle aged women or men who are nice enough but nothing like the flight attendants you see in the movies. You know, the movies you see on showtime late at night. I guess there are more perks to flying first class than just a larger seat.

 

"Hi, yes I was wondering if I could get something to eat and drink if that was possible." Nikki asks.

 

"Of course miss. You can either order items from the menu on your console their on your arm rest or I can take your order right now if you like." the flight attendant explains sweetly with no hint of annoyance at our lack of knowledge about the amnenties onboard.

 

"Oh, I did not realize I could do that. That is so cool." Nikki practically squeals. Remembering that the woman is hovering over us, Nikki restrains herself from pushing buttons and asks "I am feeling for something sweet. Do you have any fruit?"

 

"We have a lovely dish of fresh strawberries with whipped cream with shaved chocolate on top." the flight attendant suggests. I throw my gaze at her. She can't be serious. Fresh strawberries on an international flight. Why would they even have that as an option.

 

"Oh that sounds terrific. I'll have that and a glass of water if that's alright."

 

"Of course miss. Anything for you sir?" the flight attendants asks turning to me.

 

For a second I am dumbfounded. If Nikki can get fresh strawberries at thirty thousand feet, then what can I get. In a rare moment of brilliance, I have it.

 

"I'll have a cup of coffee please." I order.

 

"Very good sir. I'll be back in just a second." the flight attendant acknowledges and silently goes to produce our meal.

 

"Why would you order coffee? You hate coffee?" Nikki says immeaditely, as if telling me something I don't already know.

 

I shrug. "If you can get fresh strawberries on a airplane over the Atlantic ocean, can you imagine how good the coffee must be?" I answer.

 

Nikki is speechless for a moment and then bursts into fits of laughter, receiving evil stares from the other passengers trying to get some sleep.

 

.30.

 

"So you never told me what you story was about." Nikki reminds me as she digs into a large cup of fresh strawberries. There is whip cream and chocolate shavings on top just as the flight attendant had said. It looks so good and I doubt this chance will happen again so I immeaditely order one for myself. The flight attendant doesn't look troubled by this at all and goes off to get my strawberries.

 

"I know." I begin, taking a sip of the coffee. Nikki is watching me attentively, ready to read my reaction for even the slightest note of happiness. Sadly, the review is not positive. The taste produces my usual grimace and I see Nikki is a little crestfallen, as if she had some stake in my finding a cup of coffee to enjoy.

 

"Swing and a miss huh?" Nikki reads my expression.

 

"Afraid so. Even at thirty thousand feet, I still do not like coffee. It was worth a shot though." I answer. I bring the cup back to my lips, to take another taste but a waft of air brings the smell of the coffee to my nose and I am immeaditely reminded why I did not like the first taste. I put the cup back down.

 

"Maybe they have other kinds?" Nikki offers but I simply shrug in return. I have long since given up on trying to find a good cup of coffee but Nikki is new to my quest so she is eager to experiment. "So your story? Or do you not like talking about it?"

 

"As a rule, no, I can't quite say I am a big fan of talking about what I am working on." I think I hear a snort come from Gabe's direction although I can not be sure whether he is listening to us or whether he is snoring. I ignore Gabe, whether it was clogged sinuses or derision, and explain myself to Nikki. "It's not you or anything. It's just I find if I start to explain the idea to someone else I tend to over exercise the idea in my head. The idea becomes stale and it is like I have written the story only not and then just out loud. If that makes any sense.

 

But this story isn't that important, in fact it's just something for fun. For some reason I am feeling rather energized lately about writing. Maybe it is from all the excitement lately but I feel like I have definitely turned a corner you know?"

 

I quickly run through the general idea of the story I had started to Nikki. I repeat the idea that had sparked the story. "There are times when we can forgive our ignorant ancestors who believed that there were gods whose goal in our lives was to cause mischief and mayhem."

 

Nikki appears to mull this statement over as she takes a big spoonful of strawberries wrapped in whipped cream and greedily devours it. I try not to concentrate on her licking the spoon after it is clean.

 

"That's a good idea and I know exactly what you're talking about." Nikki says after she has finished the spoonful. "We have a joke at the club. That your bra is always at the opposite end of the stage no matter where you put it when you first took it off. Of course it's probably just a guy in the front row who moved it. Also it's hard to remember exactly where you drop things with all the lights. Usually we just hang things up near the door but some girls like to toss their clothes around and then they forget they have to pick them up before they leave. But who knows, maybe that isn't it at all. Maybe there is a god of strip clubs?"

 

"Maybe. Do you mind if I use that in my story?" I ask casually since it is a good idea.

 

"Go right ahead. Remember, if it becomes a bestseller I'm coming after you for my cut of the profits."

 

"I wish." I mutter, typing the idea below what I had written so far. While I reread what I have written, Nikki finishes off her strawberries and leans back with a contented sigh. The idea has percolated a few more thoughts in my mind but I desist and close my laptop. Best to leave it for another time.

 

I turn to Nikki and ask "So, want to play a game?"

 

"What kind of game?" Nikki answers with a mischevious smile. My mind comes up with at least a dozen games we could play all of which would get us a stern talking to by the TSA when we landed.

 

"No, nothing like that." I admonish as if I am the pillar of respectability. Nikki pouts but listens to what I have to say. "I was just thinking that I don't know you very well. I mean, yeah we know each other and we have hung out a few times but I don't know you as well as I know Gabe or Kate. I am sure I'm just Kate's boyfriend to you as well?"

 

Nikki tilts her head, thinking about this. "Yeah I guess. Kate's mentioned a few things about you but no I wouldn't say I know that much about you."

 

My curiousity picked, I ask "What has Kate said about me?"

 

Rolling her eyes, Nikki answers "Of course, as soon as a guy hears that his girlfriend has been talking about him to another woman he immeaditely wants to know what was said."

 

"Ah, so she's only complained about me then." I reply reproachfully. Who knows what kind of impression Nikki has of me from Kate. If Kate isn't as interested in our relationship any more, I can't imagine her doing me any favors when it comes to discussing us. If anything, I imagine Kate burning bridges rather than building them.

 

"Lately, yeah she has." Nikki acknowledges and I begin to see that my fears are justified. "But she's also had a lot of nice things to say about you. Like, that you cook for her all the time, that you remember anniversarys without her having to remind you and that you do not snore. That's and a big one. Oh, yeah a big one."

 

"Wait, what. Do you mean Kate has said.." I trail off.

 

"Oh yes she has Mark and I must say, I have been dying to find out if it's true." Nikki responds and I suddenly I feel like a piece of meat.

 

"I always thought my feet were average." I joke, raising my leg to check. Nikki laughs since we both know what she meant. I continue "Anyway, I guess you know more about me than I thought. But we still have a ten hour plane ride to kill, so are you in or not?"

 

"You haven't explained the game to me yet so I'm not going to say yes until you do. I learned a long time ago not to agree to games from strange boys." Nikki replies although she is rearranges herself in her seat to look at me.

 

"It's nothing like that. It is just a game Gabe and I came up with to talk to women. We call it Quid Pro Quo. Basically, I ask a question and you have to answer it. You can answer it as long or as short as you want but in the end you must answer the original question. Then you ask a question and I have to answer it. So if I ask a question, I can't ask another till you ask me one, so the game never becomes lopsided or one person feels like they are getting picked on."

 

"So really just a normal converation for us regular people." Nikki summarizes with sarcasm.

 

I mock her sarcasm right back "Yes, I guess you could call it a conversation if you want to be so pedistrian."

 

"Alright, that sounds harmless enough. And you're right, we do have quite a bit of time to kill. Do you want to go first or should I?" Nikki asks.

 

"Ladies choice?" I offer, wondering what I have gotten myself into. I began to wrack my brain, trying to remember some of the classic questions Gabe and I had come up with that would illicit the most revealing answers.

 

"Well since I have never played this game and I do not know what type of questions are allowed, I will let you go first to get an idea of what we are talking about." Nikki decided after a few seconds of consideration.

 

"Everything is on the table within reason. You can plead the fifth if answering the question would implicate you in a crime or something like that but those are the best questions. You can refuse to answer but that does dimish the game as a whole." Nikki nodded that she understood the game and I asked my first question. "Where were you born?"

 

"Oh come on. After all that build up I thought you were going to ask me something interesting." Nikki responded with a pout.

 

"Patience. You have to build up to the more embarrassing questions. Besides, this game is about finding things out that are real about a person, not just what is scandalizing. This is not never have I ever or any of those other high school games."

 

Sighing, Nikki answered the question "I was born in a small town outside of Hartford, Conneticut called New England if you can believe it. Well, actually I was born in Hartford itself, that's where the hospital was if you want to get technical."

 

"Ah a yankee." I chided.

 

"Oh yeah and where are you from?" Nikki shot back.

 

"Is that your question?" I returned. This was a common problem with our game. People would ask a question without realizing they had used their turned. It seems like a strict rule I know but rules are rules and it is there for a reason.

 

"Seriously?" Nikki asked screwing up her face. "Besides is that your next question?"

 

"Point taken but those are the rules. If a conversation begins from a question than that is all well and good. But if you ask a question that uses up your turn and you cannot ask another question until it is your turn again. Those are the rules." I state and make a mocking gesture of slamming a gavel down on my arm rest.

 

"Fine, whatever. Yes, that is my question, shesh."

 

A brief moment of worry passes over me that my adherence to the rules is going to bore Nikki but I push on hoping to move past this one bump in the road. We hit a minor piece of turbulence to add drama to my metaphor. "Oh, I was born in New York City, NY. At St.Andrews Hospital on the lower east side." I say with a little bit of pride in my voice.

 

"That makes you a yankee too you know." Nikki scoffs.

 

"Never said I wasn't." I reply with a wink. For a second Nikki is not sure if I am joking or not than she breaks out into a grin. From there the game goes smoothly.

 

"How did you parents meet?" I ask. This is a great question and has gotten some of the most interesting responses. You would be surprised by how many children know the stories of how their parents first met and what their first date was.

 

Nikki thinks about this for a few moments and then responds "Well my mom was a journalist working for a newspaper in Boston, the Globe I think. My dad at the time was a low level employee for a large insurance company. Now he is the vice-president in charge of sales for all of the east coast. Anyway, my mom was doing research for a story about getting the best rate on your car insurance. My mom had gone through a lot of trouble trying to get her own quote and when she did she found she had so many different estimates and contract terms that for the average person it was overwhelming."

 

"I think that is how the insurance companies like it. Good thing they have made it simplier." I interject, rolling my eyes. As being essentially unemployeed I am for the most part lacking in insurance except for basic health insurance which my parents pay for. About a year ago I looked into getting off my parents plan and after digging through a couple of insurance companies websites, decided I was best just not getting injured.

 

"I know right. Anyway, my mom pitched the idea to her editor and he liked it so off she went. My mom was not doing any kind of indepth, investigative journalism or anything for this either. It was just a piece that would run in the lifestyles section or some other below the fold section of the newspaper where good stories go to die. Even still, the same insurance companies wanted very little to do with my mom, refusing in most cases to even listen to her questions.

 

Finally, after being stonewalled for a week, my mom decided to take the fight to them. It just so happened that the insurance company building she marched into that day was the same insurance company my father worked for. At first my mom lied and said she just wanted to talk to a representative about her car insurance estimate. My father was assigned to talk to her. After a little small talk, my mom came clean and said she was looking for some details on how people could go about buying insurance without all the headache. My father understood where my mom was coming from since most of the people who work at insurance companies know just how insane the rules are, even more so. But he also knew his companies policy on talking to reporters. All media inquires were to be redirected to public relations desk which my father was sure my mom had already talked to and had come up with nothing.

 

As my father tells it, this was one of lifes situations where he could kill two birds with one stone although my mom does not like him referring to how they met as a chance to kill birds. My father could ask my mother out on the premise of giving her some information for her story and he would get to see her outside of this office. So that's what they did. Met for coffee and pie at a diner up the street from his office after work." Nikki finished and took a breath since she had been talking for quite some time.

 

"And the rest, as they say is history." I added, since every good story deserves a good tagline.

 

"Huh? Oh no. That was just the first time my parents met. Believe me, there was a lot more before everything turned out happily ever after." Nikki says and then takes a drink of water.

 

"Interesting." I murmur, stroking my chin dramatically "But that will have to wait. Your turn."

 

Before Nikki can ask her question, the flight attendant appears magically beside me. "Sorry for the wait sir. Here are your strawberries."

 

I had completely forgotten about the strawberries and look at the dish of fruit now in front of me with the same amount of wonderment I first experienced when Nikki received hers.

 

"Anything else I can get you two?" the flight attendant asks as she clears Nikki's now empty dish from her tray.

 

"Do you have any cookies?" Nikki asks, a delighted grin on face. She is a kid in a candy store at thirty thousand feet.

 

"Of course. We have chocolate chip, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, macadamia nut, sugar, coconut, pistachio, almond and a sesame seed cookie. Oh and we also have a dark and white chocolate cookie that is very good as well." the fight attendant rattles off. Again, I am amazed.

 

"Ooh, I'll have one of those." Nikki coos at the idea of black and white cookie. "And can I have a peanut butter cookie as well?"

 

"Of course, I'll bring those right back." the flight attendants answers with the same genuine smile and departs.

 

"I wonder how many times we will be able to ask her to get us things before she starts to get pissed off at us." Nikki whispers to me as I watch the woman leave.

 

"I hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave." I mutter to myself as my eyes follow the flight attendants butt up the aisle and Nikki punches me in the arm for it.

 

"Okay there player. When and who was you first kiss? And don't tell me that counts as two questions because they are related and you know it." Nikki chides me. She's a quick learner. People usually don't figure out how to join questions till either Gabe or I do it ourselves.

 

"Well, I guess my first first kiss was with Lisa Amorreto in kindergarden but that was because I had pushed her down in the playground and the only way I could think to stop her from crying was to kiss her. I had seen grownups doing it so I figured it must be how you made people stop crying right?"

 

"Awww, that's so sweet." Nikki coos again.

 

"You wouldn't think it was so sweet if you knew why I had pushed her down in the first place. Uhh, that would be another question." I raise my finger before Nikki is able to ask what the reason was. "But you probably meant, when was my first kiss with a woman I had not just pushed off the jungle gym. And even if you did not, well I will throw it in for free.

 

"Morgan Coolly was my second girlfriend. My first girlfriend Amanda Hindes and I had gone steady in middle school for about two weeks but somehow we broke up. I have no idea why now but it might have been because I was more interested in hanging out with Morgan than Amanda. It was sometime in the fall, a month or so after Amanda and I had stopped going steady. Morgan asked if I wanted to walk her home and I said sure, why not. She only lived a few blocks away from me. Man was that one awkward walk on the way home. We didn't really know each other that well and I did not have the quid pro quo game to use so I was dying to figure out something to say. Morgan for her part wasn't doing much better. Every time we looked at each other, she would blush and look away."

 

"She liked you." Nikki sang.

 

"I know that now. But at the time, I thought I was doing something wrong. We get to her house, have an uncomfortable moment where neither of us knows what to say and the next thing I know, Morgan pops up and kisses me on the lips. Quick as a flash, she scampered into her house, leaving me outside to wonder whether her Dad was going to come out and kick my ass. It was only three in the afternoon but you never knew when parents got home or whether they were looking outside at their daughters. And that was my first kiss."

 

"Cute." Nikki remarks simply.

 

"Yeah, I know if sounds like something out of teen television show but that's how it happened." I defend myself.

 

The cookies arrive and the flight attendant has thought ahead. She has brought with her cookies for me as well and two glasses of milk, the perfect accompaniment to warm cookies. Wordless, Nikki and I devour the black and white cookies, making sure to take a bite of both the white and dark chocolate at the same time.

 

"Alright, next question." I begin while wiping crumps from my lips. Nikki is taking a might pull from her glass of milk and if I made her laugh at this very moment, it would be a disaster. "Were you popular in high school?"

 

"I thought you would ask about my parents again." Nikki says, arching an eyebrow.

 

"All in due time." I counter. I check the screen and it shows that we still have six more hours of flight time before we even reach the mediterrean.

 

"Alright. Well I know this will come as quite a shock to you but I was one of the cool kids at my high school. I know, a thin, blonde girl. What are the odds?"

 

"One in a million." I joke and Nikki sticks her tongue out at me.

 

"Fine, were you one of the popular kids in high school, Mr.Novelist?"

 

"How could I not be?" I said dramatically. "First I was in band which as we all know, is the very definition of cool. If that wasn't enough, I was a mathathelete, which is a lot like an athelete except without all the physical exertion and fame but plenty of numbering crunching. In fact, I ignored sports all together which are the bastions of the nerdom, rightfully so."

 

"I wouldn't have thought you were such a geek." said Nikki, trying to picture what I must have looked like in my teens.

 

"College changed all that. You know college, a chance to reinvent yourself. Ditched the glasses, got contacts, quit the math club and joined the soccer team, started working out my muscles instead of just my brain and other life altering shifts. Which more or less made me the man I am before you."

 

"You wore glasses?" Nikki squeals in delight.

 

"Guilty." I ackowledge.

 

"I can not imagine you with glasses on but I think they would be sexy. They would frame your face perfectly." Nikki imagined. As if to get a better idea of size of my head, she pressed her forefingers to my temples, shifting her eyes from one side of my head to the other.

 

"If you say so. Did you ever study to be an optomologist?" I ask with Nikki still probing my cranium.

 

"No, never went to college. Well, I did take a few courses at a community college but I never finished. Just really didn't see the point you know? How much education do you need to be a stripper?" Nikki answers and I think I see one of the other passengers open an eyelid as Nikki mentions her profession.

 

"So is that why you became a stripper?" I asked, hoping to finally have an answer and also hoping the answer would not be so traumatic that Nikki would not tell me.

 

"I do not think it is your turn if I am counting the questions right." Nikki replied, pointing her finger back and forth in a eenie meenie minnie moe type way to determine who had the last question. Whether she was ignoring the question or actually following the rules I couldn't tell. For my part, I had lost track of whose turn it was.

 

"Let's just say it was your turn." I offer.

 

"Good because it was." Nikki affirms, her finger pointing bringing her to the same conclusion. "Hmmm. What was your best date?"

 

"Well I think you need to specify what you mean by best. I don't want to be a lawyer here and quibble over langugage but the best date for a guy is usually where he ends up that night, whether the night was a success or not. On the other hand, for women it is all about the evening whether it ends in sex or not."

 

"It could be both. It's up to you which one you want to tell me." Nikki suggests, leaving it wide open for me to put my foot in my mouth.

 

I think for a few seconds, deciding which date I should reiterate and whether I should embellish it at all. One of the unspoken tenants of the game is to be truthful in your answers but when it comes to embarrassing moments in your past, you can be forgiven if you gloss over the pain. I also consider whether I should make the story about Kate. We have had a few good dates but nothing too exciting. If I did do something special I would imagine Kate would have told Nikki about it anyway. I decide to take the safe route.

 

"I don't know how most of your first dates go but when I was in college, I had the worst luck when it came to first dates. Which usually precluded there be a second date but that's not the question. Of the few first dates that went well, and I don't mind saying there was more than one, this one sticks out. Sarah was a woman in my Spanish class. Well, she still is a woman. Sorry, that's the writer in me." Nikki motions for me to continue. "Anyway, we had chatted a few times throughout the semester and I had finally gotten up the courage to ask her out. It was a Friday and I figured I would ask her out after class. Unfortunately, Sarah did not show up to class that morning so I could not ask her out.

 

"I was a little bummed but figured maybe it was just not meant to be. Finished the Spanish class and went on to my next class, which was Renassiance Comparative Literature or something. We had a paper due that day and when I got there I realized I had forgotten to print out my paper. Either that or I had just forgotten to put it in my bag. The professor was known for having very little sympathy for students who came to him with excuses. At the time, I lived off campus but fortunately I wasn't too far. Eyeing the clock, I had about ten minutes before the class started, maybe fifteen if the professor was running late. Without a second thought, I was out the door, running down the center of campus as fast as my legs could carry me, trying to avoid knocking people over. Like I said, I worked out in college so this sudden sprint was not outside of the realm of possibility as it is today.

 

"Anyway, I am about to cross the street to my apartment when who do I see crossing in the other direction but Sarah. This must be a sign, I thought to myself. Or maybe it was just lack of oxygen to my brain that made the decision for me. Before my courage knew what I was doing, I said hello and I asked her out. Just like that."

 

"Wow, she must have thought that was pretty random." Nikki remarked. While listening to my story, she was eating her peanut butter cookie and I was tempted to break a piece of mine off for myself.

 

"Yeah, I guess. Well, it was not as sudden as I made it sound. I wasn't out of breath or anything like that. I mentioned that I was in a hurry but I had meant to ask her something in Spanish that day. She replied that she had overslept and decided to skip Spanish that day. Couldn't say I blamed her. I think I said, oh that's cool. I was just wondering if you wanted to get coffee tonight. Thinking back on it now, yeah she did seem a little startled by my question.

 

"Wait, you asked a girl out for coffee?" Nikki asked as she stopped chewing the piece of cookie in her mouth.

 

Since I knew this question was coming, I let it slide. "Yes, I asked her out for a cup of coffee. But you know, that's what you do. Asking her out for a drink or dinner would sound too formal for someone who just asked you out of the clear blue. I know, for someone who does not like coffee, I sure do spend a lot of time drinking the stuff."

 

"I was going to say. But I'll grant you coffee is a better date than asking her out to dinner. That would have just been creepy. Continue." Nikki said, ushering me on with the hand that did not contain a piece of cookie.

 

"Sarah was a little hesistant to say yes but she could see that I was in a hurry and that she needed to make up her mind quickly. I think that worked in my favor. She said, sure that sounds like fun. I told her my screen name, since at the time that was how you communicated in college, she told me hers and I was off. Barely looked back. I had already used up any grace time I would have when I got back to class so I was in a serious time crunch. I could not be sure if she even understood my screen name correctly and almost as soon as I heard hers, I almost forgot it. Point being, even though I had asked her out and she had said yes, I was not even sure where we were going or what time we would be going there. But that was a trivial detail at the time. I had a paper to rescue and a date some time in the future."

 

"Well that is a good story about your best way to ask out a woman but I you really did not answer my question." Nikki accuses me.

 

"Hold your horses, I am getting there. Trust me, I am a writer. It is all about the build up and then the payoff. No backstory and the payoff will not seem as sweet. Since you are a little impatient about waiting for me to ask you a question, I will skip over the part where we talk over IM and actually schedule the date. Let us just assume, some magic happens, I was charming and we set a date for that evening to meet for a cup of coffee."

 

"Works for me." Nikki affirms, taking a drink of milk.

 

"As I recall it was a warm evening, so we decided to walk from campus downtown to a local coffee house. Similar to Expresso but not a chain."

 

"What college did you go to?" Nikki interrupted.

 

"Sorry, one question at a time." I scolded her, pointing a finger to my nose.

 

"Fine, continue." Nikki murmured, rolling her eyes. No one wants to obey the rules when it is not there turn.

 

"As I was saying, it was a warm night and we decided to walk to the coffee house from campus since it was not that far and besides neither of us owned a car that worked all that well. I had my father's old Ford Taurus and while I know it just makes the women go crazy, I liked this girl and I wanted her to like me for me, not because I drove a nineteen ninety Ford Taurus limited edition."

 

"Naturally. I love a man in a Taurus." Nikki joked, rolling her eyes again.

 

"Who doesn't? Anyway, we walked and talked right down to the coffee house, got a cup of coffee, sat and talked some more. Things were going great and I did not want the night to end. I was being sweet and charming as is natural to me and she was looking amazing that evening. Or maybe it's just my memory but I am pretty sure she was good looking. Instead of heading back to campus I asked if she wanted to go get some ice cream."

 

"Whoa," Nikki exclaimed holding her hands up. "Coffee and ice cream in one evening? You were trying to get into this girls pants weren't you Mark?"

 

"Well you know, what can I say. A way to a woman's heart is through caffeine and sugar. She agreed and we walked to this old time ice cream parlor that was also downtown. It was a local favorite, everyone and I mean everyone went there. The line was always long but it moved pretty quickly. I should take you there sometime, it is really good ice cream." I said, interrupting my own story.

 

"And where would that be." Nikki tried to ask slyly.

 

"All in due time." I said and then continued "So we each got ice cream. I think she got a waffle cone and I got a sugar cone which was nearly a deal breaker right there. I mean, who would chose a waffle cone over the far superior sugar cone? And if I see your hand raise there Nik, I am telling the pilot to turn this seven forty seven right around."

 

"What? You are right, sugar cones are way better than waffle cones." Nikki answered almost as if I had offended her and maybe I had.

 

"Good, I am glad we got that sorted out. So back to the story which I really need to finish without any more interruptions because here come the payoff."

 

"You slept with her didn't you?" Nikki said with a big grin.

 

"Hey, did I say I slept with her?" I exclaimed.

 

"You said the best date for a guy was if he ended up in bed with the woman. I just figured that was where this story was going." Nikki replied defensively.

 

"Well, let me finish and I'll show you how wrong you were. So, we each have our ice cream cones and I tell her there is this great spot overlooking the college that isn't too far away. At first she is hesistant because let's face it. It's late, she barely knows me and I am now asking her to go with me to some remote location she does not know. I'm telling you, all those horror movies are really making it hard for guys like me to be romantic.

 

"But it was not like that all. It was actually a really great spot I had found my freshman year where I would go to hang out and write when my dorm room got too loud. Not too many people knew about it and those that did, well yeah they usually went there to make out or to smoke pot. But I usually just went there to write and be by myself. I figured Sarah would like it and after a little convincing she agreed to come with me. It was a little farther of a walk then either of us would have liked but in the end it was worth it.

 

"The post has a great view and it has a nice outcropping of trees and rocks that make for great places to sit and relax. We had finished our ice cream and we just sat down on the grass. Slowly Sarah put her head on my stomach and we just sat there for awhile, talking occassionally but for the most part just watching and listening to what was in front of us. And that was my best date." I said finishing my story.

 

"So wait, you did not sleep with her?" Nikki asks me quizzically.

 

Rolling my eyes, I answer "No, I did not sleep with her...that night. We hooked up about four dates later. Man, did it take forever to get her into bed."

 

"Don't let him fool you. He did sleep with her but not until the eighth date." Gabe mumbles from across the aisle.

 

"Phew, I was beginning to worry about you there Mark. All that girly, romantic build up was beginning to make me sick. I hope you aren't that romantic anymore?"

 

"I can be when the time calls for it." and then turning to address Gabe "I thought you were asleep?"

 

Gabe shrugs his shouldes. "I was. I am. Been zoning in and out since we took off. While this has got to be one of the most comfortable airplane seats I have ever had the privelege of sleeping in, I just cannot get comfortable. Too much on my mind as well. But, I'm going to keep trying. You kids get back to your game. Do not let him push you around on the rules Nikki. They are just guidelines not commandments."

 

"Thanks Gabe." Nikki answers over my shoulder.

 

"Thanks a lot Judas." I grumble to Gabe, who rolls over in reply. Turning back to Nikki, I say "Well it is my turn now and by my count, I have about a hundred questions with all the interruptions and added questions you gave me during my last answer."

 

"No way. That does not count does it Gabe?" Nikki called to Gabe, who grunted. "See, he agrees with me." Nikki declared, getting to translate Gabe's grunt before I could jump in.

 

"Fine, only one question. Let's see. Better make it a good one. What is one of your happiest childhood memories?" I ask, finally getting a chance to start eating the second of my two cookies.

 

"That's not a very good question but so be it." Nikki responds while thinking about her answer.

 

"Why, what is wrong with that question?" I ask through a mouthful of cookie.

 

"While that is a second question right there, I will answer it since it leads in to the answer for my question. It is not a bad question per se but at least for me, it is not that interesting. Despite how you see me today, growing up I lived a fairly boring childhood. Well not so much, boring as in standard. Both my parents were involved with me and my sister, yes I have a sister. They never got divorced or anything like that and my sister and I got along pretty well, as much as any two sisters three years a part can. But I guess if you want a fond memory, I have one for you."

 

"If it is not too much trouble." I goad, swallowing the last of my dessert.

 

Nikki gives me a thin smile but continues "Every summer, my parents would rent a cabin on a lake about five hours north of our home in Vermont. It was a beautiful little cabin, with just enough room for a kitchen, a living room and one room for my parents and one room for my sister and I. It was nestled in the woods right beside a lake that at the time seemed huge but now that I have been there since wasn't that big at all. I think the greatest feature of all was the hammock right near the water. My father used to love to fall asleep in it up until my sister and I were tall enough and strong enough to push him out of it into the lake."

 

"That's not very nice. The man was just trying to catch some zzz's." I interrupt in defense of Nikki's father's ruined nap.

 

"Oh we never knocked him into the lake. We may have been strong enough to push him out of the hammock but we were never quick enough to surprise him either. Anyway, it was a nice little cabin, the only thing it was missing was a television but after the first couple of years we really didn't miss it all that much."

 

"I would have hated that."

 

"Yes, I am sure you would but it was actually really great not having it there. Gave our family time to just be around each other and not have something to distract us. But, I digress. One morning my Dad got me up early and said he wanted to take me fishing. Now, all of us girls knew my father really wanted a son but had ended up with two daughters. My sister Cathy was about as girl a girl as you could find and she barely tolerated living in the cabin for two weeks each summer, let alone going fishing. That left me and thankfully for my father, I did not mind going fishing."

 

Nikki chuckles a little to herself. "Man, I can still remember my father huffing and puffing trying to get the motor going on that old boat the cabin owners left there. The motor had to be a hundred years old and only had about fifteen horsepower when it was new but it was all we had. It was constantly breaking down and getting it working was always a pain in the butt which is why we usually didn't use it. But my father wanted to go fishing that morning and he knew just the place and the only way to get there was by motorboat.

 

"After several minutes of pulling on the ripcord and some praying to the gods, the old motor kicked alive and we were off. While this isn't the fondest part of the memory, one of the things I loved to do was sit on the front of the boat while my Dad would steer behind me. The wind would whip through my hair and tickle my cheeks. I would peer ove the side and there would be silver lines chasing us which was just the wake from the boat slicing through the water. But as a kid, I imagined them to be my friends, sort of like dolphins as they followed us where we went. Silly I know but what can I say, I was ten."

 

I have to choke back saying how cute that is because I really don't want Nikki to think I am even more of a wimp than she already must. But I know exactly what she is referring to and it is absolutely how I would have thought about it at that age.

 

"Finally we get to this little lagoon about fifteen minutes away from our cabin. Like I said, the lake wasn't that big but it felt big. My Dad killed the motor and raised it out of the water or else it would have gotten tangled in weeds and we never would have gotten home. He paddled us a little further into the nook with my help although really all I did was splash some water.

 

Once we got to a spot which my father deemed perfect, he threw an anchor overboard and we began fishing."

 

"Alright, now here's the big question. Did you put your worm on the hook?" I ask, hoping Nikki would not count the question against me.

 

Nikki makes a guilty face and answers "Well, I would be lying if I said I liked putting worms on the hook. I could do it but when their guts would get pressed out and get all over your hands. I may not have been as much of a priss as my sister but I was still a girl remember. My dad baited most of my lines for me. And like you, my story almost ends with the two of us simply sitting out there in the lake fishing. It was great spending time with just my Dad, knowing we were doing something that he loved and that he was sharing it only with me. Not with my mom, not with my sister, just me. It made me feel special and it is something I will always hold with me for the rest of my life."

 

"Ah but you said almost." I remind her, hoping Nikki will continue her story.

 

"Yes, I remember. The reason this fishing trip was more special than the others because my father took me out fishing several more times after that was that on this trip, he told me a story. He told me, that after he had met my mother, they had not started dating for awhile. In fact, my father dated quite a few other women before he started seeing my mother. Same with my mom. Like I said, it wasn't happily ever after right away.

 

My father told me, on their first date, things went as most of his first dates go. But something was different for my father that night. He could not explain it to me nor could he explain it to himself at the time but he just knew something was different. That my mother was special and that somehow he had to show her that she was special to him. It was bugging him after he had dropped her off at her apartment and was driving home. He could not quite shake the feeling that he needed to do something. As he told me, he screeched to a halt in front of a small store that was still open, bought some roses and rushed back to my mother's apartment. Knocked on the door and surprised my mother with the flowers and a kiss.

 

And that was happily ever after. Because my father did spend the night and the next night after that. It was only later did I learn that my mom got pregnant from that first night with me and my father rushed to marry my mother. I don't think my father ever regretted marrying my mom, in fact he told me didn't. But what he was trying to tell me that day on the boat was that, when you meet someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, you just know something is different. You will feel it in your bones and he wanted to promise me I would not settle until I felt that same feeling in my bones. And I haven't settled."

 

"Have you felt that feeling though? The one your father described?" I asked quietly.

 

Nikki looked me straight in the eys and answered "Yes."

 

And then the plane goes down. Oh noes!

 

The End