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“Only if you tell her. ”
“I wouldn’t!” Annie sounded less than convincing, though. “Look, clearly this is not a good time for you to have me hanging around whatever … stuff … you’re into…. ”
“God, Annie, do you think I’m a drug dealer?” Because that would be gruesomely ironic, all things considered.
Annie chose her words carefully. “I think you may have some kind of a problem you don’t want to acknowledge,” she said. “I mean, damn, you’re working with dead people; it’s no wonder you’d want … some kind of—”
“Oh, so I’m not a drug dealer, just a junkie. ”
“I’m not saying that!” Annie took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m taking the next flight back home,” she said. “I’ll leave your key with the apartment manager. And I shredded and flushed your apartment codes. Anything else you want me to do?”
“Walk Mr. French before you go running home to tell Mom what a loser I am,” Bryn said.
“Bryn, c‘mon, you were arrested. Many people would consider that a wake-up call!”
“I was innocent. ”
“You were off skulking around in the dark with a married man and you almost got shot. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Bryn, but whatever it is, it’s nuts. You’re nuts. I always said you were when you went running off to join the army, but now—”
“Says the girl who can’t add well enough to avoid overdrafts,” Bryn snapped. “Don’t hit me up for money anymore. Go crying to Mom; tell her I’m not her golden girl anymore. Maybe you’ll get the job. ”
“Maybe I will!”
“Do it!” Bryn slammed the phone down and concentrated on controlling her breathing. Damn, no one could push buttons like family, especially bratty little sisters. How dared Annie get holier-than-thou with her, especially when the holier-than had to be bailed out of trouble six months out of twelve?
The downside is that I have to make my own dinner, Bryn thought, and almost laughed, but she was afraid it would sound too much like a sob. She felt sick and feverish, and was deathly afraid there was something wrong with her. Nanite wrong. You have another shot coming up, she reminded herself. Don’t get panicky.
She drank three glasses of water, signed papers, wrote checks, and finally it was twelve thirty. She told Lucy where she was going, and headed for La Scala Ristorante.
“You know,” Bryn said as the needle pushed into her arm, “my sister thinks I’m a junkie, and she’d really think it if she could see me now. Shooting up in a bathroom. A men’s bathroom, at that. ” She closed her eyes and focused on the warm strength of McCallister’s fingers where his left hand gripped her, holding her shoulder still. The hot surge of the shot almost took her focus away, but she held on and didn’t flinch.
McCallister put the used syringe back in the tube and pocketed it. “You’re done,” he said, as she pulled her shirtsleeve down. “Have a nice lunch. ”
“Wait—”
“I can‘t, Bryn. ” But he hesitated, with one hand on the latch of the cramped bathroom stall. There was barely room for the two of them and the discolored curve of the toilet seat. “What?”
“I just wanted to ask …” She fell silent as the hinges on the bathroom door creaked. They stared at each other, pressed intimately close, as the unknown man outside unzipped his pants, grunted, and started splashing the urinal cake. Bryn covered her mouth with her hand, afraid that for some insane reason she was about to laugh. Even McCallister couldn’t suppress a smile.
Especially when the man started to sing off-key along with the Italian music piped in over the bathroom speakers. Dear God, he was awful.
McCallister put his lips very close to her ear and whispered, “I think he’s got a future on American Idol. The wrong kind. ”
She shook with the silent force of her laughter, and bit her lip until tears threatened. Part of it was the sheer craziness of being so tired and emotionally stretched. The man finally flushed, washed, and the door thumped shut behind him.
Bryn found herself leaning against McCallister, eyes closed. She’d relaxed sometime in the last few seconds. I trust him, she thought, and hated herself for it.
“What did you want?” he asked, still in that very soft whisper.
“He’s gone. You don’t have to whisper now. ”
“I know. ” There were volumes of meaning in that, too much for her tired brain to decipher. “You’re wondering about Joe. He’s fine. Kylie’s at the hospital with him. He’ll be home in a few days to recuperate. ”
“She probably hates me. ”
“She hates me a whole lot more. I’m the one who’s responsible for all this. ” McCallister’s slightly beard-rough cheek rubbed along hers, waking all kinds of shivers down her skin. “I have to go. You’ll be all right, Bryn. I’ll see you for dinner on Thursday. ”
Thursday was after Irene Harte’s deadline, and he knew that. He was trying to give her some kind of hope for a future.
