He shrugs. “I like her films. And you’re unstoppable, Ripley Adams. Your passion inspires everyone around you. The things you’ve done, the community you’ve built…I’ve said this before,and repetition grows tiresome,” he says. “But would you spend your one precious time-machine trip—after you’ve dispatched Hitler—to get the people who left you to stay?”
The pain in her chest eases enough for her to sit up straight. “No. But, James, you came to me for my connections. I just alienated my best one because I can’t keep my mouth shut.”
“Ba-dum-chhhh,” he says, drumming an imaginary rim shot. “RipleyAlien-ating people?”
She gives him an annoyed look.
“Come on, that was funny.”
“It would be hilarious if I were the kind of person who got second chances in this industry. If I had a powerful family or tons of money or even a big swinging dick.” She gestures at his lap.
James has a sudden coughing fit.
“I didn’t meanyours,” she says quickly. “I meant dicks in general. Yours is…”
Yesterday rises up, shimmering between them. She’s hardly forgotten the feel of him. Judging by his darkening eyes and convulsive swallow, his memory is working fine too. Curse her tell-all cheeks and her nonexistent verbal filters and every other way she just unintentionally told himFrom what I could surmise, your penis is very nice.
“Yours is very much not something we’ll ever talk about,” she finishes weakly. They look away from each other, Ripley toward the Late Cretaceous, James toward the exit.
“Well,” he says finally. “I suppose you’re feeling your usual urgency to do everything now, but we have time. No one’s digging until Tuesday, at the earliest. What do you want to do?”
Ripley wraps her fingers underneath the cold metal edge of the bench and imagines herself absorbing James’s forbearance. Hiscalm. His steadiness. He’s very good at waiting for her, she realizes after a minute of silence.
“I like it when you don’t talk to me,” she says.
“Honestly, Ripley.”
“I meant like the way it helped you when I talked in the car. It helps me to have you here, even when you’re not talking.”
“Then I’m glad I came,” he says in a low voice.
“Me too,” she says. For some reason, her throat is tight. “I’ll ask somebody at the information desk to call Charlie. If he talks to us, okay. If he doesn’t, we make another plan on the way home.”
James stands, offering her his hand. She shouldn’t take it, but she does. It feels good to have his strength added to hers, to rise so easily it feels almost like flying.
Their movement draws the eye of a blond, fair-skinned docent who’s taking over the fossil-cleaning demonstration that’s set up between the lobby and the forest diorama. He pauses in the middle of adjusting a light source over his specimen, frowning at Ripley.
James’s body stiffens, his hand coming to her elbow as the tall, powerfully built man walks around his table and across the lobby.
“Xena?” the man asks tentatively.
Ripley blinks, her mind superimposing the man’s face on an old memory of a tanned, bearded friend with the same sweet smile. “Oh my God,J.D.?”
The docent breaks into a delighted grin, sweeping toward her with open arms.
There’s a lot of excited squealing and several rounds of “Oh my God, you lookamazing!” before Ripley gets to the introductions.
“James, meet J. D. Oakes.” she says, glowing with the pleasure of J.D.’s easy affection.
“Xena?” James asks mildly, extending a hand to J.D. She’s never seen his face quite so polite and impassive.
“It’s short forxenomorph. You know—Ripley,Aliens.” J.D. releases James’s hand and slings his arm around Ripley’s shoulder. “Coincidentally not the huggiest organisms.”
James’s expression gets even blanker. “Ripley likes hugs. From select people.”
“James,” she scolds. “J.D. and I are old friends. We worked together for one weird summer six years ago.”
“Remember when Sheena got so annoyed with Anthony’s midnight singing that she lashed his guitar to the ceiling of the dining hall and nobody noticed it for like a month?” J.D. laughs. James scowls, brushing invisible lint off his jacket.
