Maybe Baby Page 9

  One side of his mouth quirked up. “The merry-go-round?”

  “Oh, thank you, that would have bugged me all day.” She sighed, took another sip of her beer, and giggled. “I think you’re right. I’m getting drunk fast. I can’t remember what I was talking about. What was I talking about?”

  “Shhhh,” he said.

  Dana leaned forward and said in a stage whisper, “Oh, God. Am I at that point already? When I’m even whispering too loud? Oh, that’s just pathetic.”

  He put his hand on hers, and she could see his eyes following something over her shoulder. Without looking at her, he talked coolly.

  “Lucky break. Our guy just walked in,” he said. “Glance behind me, like you’re looking at the TV. Do you see a large guy with a shaved head sitting at the bar?”

  Dana tried to be casual as she let her eyes wander over to the television hanging above the bar. Instantly, she locked on to the back of a shaved bald head. The guy was big, broad across the shoulders. She couldn’t see much of his face in the dirty bar mirror, but she’d have guessed his age at about thirty-five. He wore a denim jacket and jeans.

  “Very eighties in the fashion sense,” Dana said as she sat back. “What do we do now?”

  He ran his fingers lightly over her hand. “We act casual, like we’re just here for each other’s company.”

  Dana tried to breathe normally as the tingle from his touch made its way up her arm. Nick leaned forward, smiled at her, but his eyes were serious. She glanced over his shoulder at the bald guy.

  “Hey,” Nick said. “Don’t worry about him. I want you to keep your eyes on me.”

  She pulled her eyes off of the bald guy and looked at Nick, but the way he was holding her hand, gently rubbing his fingers over hers, felt really good, and she knew she didn’t want it to feel good, but her head was going all woozy and all she really wanted to do was jump over the table and have her way with him right there, but that would be stupid.

  Very, very good, but really, really stupid.

  “Dana?”

  She blinked at the sound of her name. “Hmmm?”

  “Did you just hear a word I said?” he asked quietly, looking at her the way he used to before all the crap came down between them. She knew he was just playing a role to keep attention away from them, but man it felt good.

  But. Oh. Wait. He’d asked her a question.

  “Hmmm?”

  He laughed and pushed her beer away. “We’re switching you to water.” His eyes lost the twinkle of amusement, and he leaned closer, speaking softly. “I said I’m gonna need you to do exactly what I say, no matter how strange it might seem.”

  Dana nodded, and it felt a bit like the room was nodding with her. “No matter how strange. Got it, cap’n.”

  “Remember we’re here for Babs. So no matter what I ask, you have to do it without argument. Just trust me, okay?”

  Dana held his eye. “I trust you.”

  Something flashed on his face, and he looked away for a moment as he leaned back, still holding on to her hand. When his eyes raised to hers again, they’d lost any trace of a smile.

  “Does he have his drink yet?” he asked.

  Dana glanced casually over Nick’s shoulder as the bald guy took a sip of a dark, thick beer that looked like syrup. Yugh. She nodded and took a sip of her own amber lager.

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Being casual.”

  He nudged the beer away from her. “Water, remember?” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. What now?”

  He glanced around, even though there was no one in the bar besides them, the bald guy, and the bartender. He leaned forward and spoke quietly, his voice soft and his expression all smiles as if he was whispering sweet nothings, but his eyes were calculating.

  “Pick a fight with me, and keep pushing me until you knock me into him.”

  Dana pulled her hand away. “What?”

  He grabbed it back, pulled it to his face, kissed the palm.

  “You said you trusted me,” he said. “Did you mean it?”

  “Uhnhuh,” Dana garbled in the affirmative through her closing throat as she tried to ignore the tingling on her palm where his lips had just touched her.

  “Then pick a fight with me,” he whispered. “Now.”

  “What…what…what am I mad about?” she whispered, her heart rate climbing.

  “Anything,” he said. “Say whatever you want, just back me up into that guy.”

  She glanced at the guy. Holy crap. She wasn’t ready for this. What would she say? What would she do? What if she screwed it up? She grabbed her beer.

  “Um… Dana?” Nick said warily, as she downed the last of her drink.

  “Liquid courage,” she said, pulling her hand away and standing up, knocking her chair back. The bartender and the bald guy both turned to look, but she kept her eyes on Nick.

  Showtime.

  “You big stupid jerk!” she yelled.

  He stood up, his face flashing with surprise. She stomped up to him and stabbed her index finger into his chest.

  “California?” she shouted into his face. “What the hell is so great about California?”

  She pushed him backward, and he stumbled. She knew the shock on his face, the stumbling, was all an act, but it felt kinda good. She advanced on him again, slammed her palms into his chest.

  “California’s stupid. Do you know how expensive it is to live out there? Property taxes are through the roof!” She huffed out some air, blowing her bangs off her forehead. “No pun intended.”

  “Dana,” Nick said, staring at her with a confused look. “You expect me to believe you’re pissed off about property taxes?”

  She felt her eyes start to brim up and threw herself into the part. She was acting, after all. Why not play it up?

  “No,” she said. “But you could have told me. Maybe I didn’t deserve to know, but I think I deserved to know. You know?”

  His face softened a bit. “Dana…”

  “It’s just so far away,” she said. The first tear had fallen, and her lower lip had begun to tremble. “Why does it have to be so far away?”

  His breath caught. “Dana…”

  She swiped at her face. He walked toward her, put his arms around her, drew her to him. She let him hold her for a moment, then braced her hands against his chest.

  “No,” she said, pulling back from him. “It’s too late.” She used all her force to push him away from her. He played up her force with a stumble that looked real but wasn’t, and he crashed into the bald guy, knocking the guy’s beer all over him.

  Dana swiped at her eyes and watched as everything played out in slow motion. Nick grabbing the guy’s wallet out of his coat as he fell. The guy giving a shout and grabbing Nick by the collar. Nick feigning apologies, trying to dry the guy off with the napkin. The guy pushing him away and heading for the men’s room. The bartender seeing them both out of the bar. A moment later, they were in the street, Nick raising his arm for a cab as Dana stood beside him and swiped calmly at her face, pushing away the last remnants of tears.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She pulled on a smile. “Oh, yeah. That was fun.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Fun? Really? So… you’re okay, then.”

  She widened her smile, thinking, No, I’m in a bottomless pit of hell, but I’m not going to let you see that, because it’s just embarrassing.

  She said, “Oh, yeah, absolutely. I mean, it was just acting. Right?”

  He nodded but didn’t smile back. “Right.”

  “And acting is fun. I like it. I think I’ll look into doing some community theater when I get back home.”

  “Yeah,” he said, still seeming a little stunned. “You’d be great.”

  “I think I would. What’s next?”

  “Well,” he said, pulling a hotel keycard out of his coat pocket, “this is for a room at the Fountain Street Arms. We start there.”
He eyed her for a moment. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Never better,” Dana lied. A cab stopped for them, and she walked over to it and opened the door. In truth, she’d meant every word she’d said and every tear was real and if she had her way, she’d be back in Bleeker’s drowning her sorrows in something seriously alcoholic. But Babs needed saving and Nick needed getting over and she needed to move on to the next thing before she had time to think about a future full of depressed benders, imaginary sweaters, and late nights with Dante from the Blockbuster.

  She turned to see Nick watching her, his eyes boring into her. Something was going on behind them, she knew, but now was not the time. Time to get cheery and make it through the rest of the day. She smiled brightly.

  “Ready?”

  “Yeah,” he said, and hopped in after her, being careful to keep a good amount of space on the seat between them.

  Which, she guessed, only made sense.

  Twelve

  In the cab ride over to the Fountain Street Arms, Nick discovered a few key pieces of information. The bald guy was named Simon Burke, he worked for the New Zealand Kakapo Wildlife Conservation, and he kept three thousand dollars in cash in his wallet. It was definitely some good starting material.

  Dana chatted amiably with the cabdriver. Nick watched her and tried to recover from the scene in the bar. She’d seemed so sincere, so upset about his leaving, but then just minutes later she was all bouncy and happy like it was nothing. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she really didn’t care that he was leaving. In that moment in the bar, however, he’d been ready to cancel his plans and spend the rest of his life in that apartment over Murphy’s if it would have made her smile again.

  As it turned out, she didn’t need him to. All it took was a short cab ride to a crappy hotel in a bad part of town.

  Just went to show that Nick knew even less about women than he thought, and he’d never professed to understand them at all. Seventeen years of trying to figure out Dana Wiley, even with the six-year hiatus, had pretty much killed any delusions he had that he’d ever know what was coming next.

  She leaned forward, arms on the back of the seat, and chatted with the cabdriver through the open square in the bulletproof partition, making him laugh. It was the rare person who took the time to make a cabdriver laugh, Nick thought. As the cab pulled in front of the Fountain Street Arms, Dana glanced at Nick and caught him watching her. She mouthed, What?

  Nothing, he mouthed back. He hopped out of the cab, paid the fare, and held his hand out to Dana to help her out of the backseat. He put his hand lightly on the small of her back to guide her into the tiny hotel. The lobby was small and dark, and the girl behind the desk was college age, chewing gum, and flipping apathetically through a magazine. Behind her on the wall were a series of boxes, each corresponding to a room.

  The stars were aligned. He turned to Dana.

  “Ready to play along?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  He guided her to the front desk, then slid the hotel keycard and some of the cash he’d nicked from the wallet into his pocket before laying the wallet down on the counter.

  “Hi,” he said, grinning brightly at the girl. “We found this outside. Thought it might belong to one of your residents.”

  The girl cracked her gum, flicked the wallet open, and began typing in the computer. Nick draped one arm over Dana’s shoulders, pulling her so close he could smell the flowery fragrance of her shampoo, mixed with the spice that was only Dana. His body instantly reacted to her scent, and he pulled back a bit.

  There was a job to do. He had to concentrate on the job. The girl tossed the wallet into the slot for 319, then looked back up at Nick and Dana.

  “Yeah. Thanks. You guys need anything else?”

  “Actually, yeah.” Nick slid sixty of Simon Burke’s dollars across the desk with a bright smile. “We’d like a room. For about an hour. And we’d like to pay cash, if you know what I mean.”

  He could feel Dana’s shoulders tense up for a moment, but when he looked at her, she’d pulled on a bright smile for the benefit of the desk clerk. The girl looked from Nick to Dana, then back to Nick. She raised one eyebrow. “It’ll cost you eighty.”

  Nick slid her another twenty. The girl sighed, slipped the money in her pocket, slid a keycard through the machine, and handed it to them.

  “Room 405. And you got one hour.”

  Nick winked at her, took the card, and led Dana to the elevator. Silently, they got in and she hit 3. They smiled at each other and looked away, like a couple of kids on a first date.

  “This is fun,” she said.

  “Really?” he said. “You think so?”

  “Oh, yeah. You have to understand, I’ve been running a winery for ten years. And here I get to be all Remington Steele with you.” She stared at the numbers blinking at the top of the elevator. “Takes my mind off worrying about Mom.”

  “We’ll get her back,” he said.

  “Yeah.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Nick moved down the hall toward Room 319, with Dana following.

  “So,” she said, “what was I supposed to be back there?”

  “What?”

  “What was I?” she asked from behind him. “A prostitute? A secretary running out with her married boss for a nooner?”

  He looked both ways down the hall, then reached into his back pocket for the keycard. “Either or. What does it matter?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I just want to know what I am to you.”

  Nick paused with the keycard in midair. “What?”

  She shrugged and made a vague gesture with her hand. “I just think… you know… it’d be easier if I knew my role. You know…” She kept her eyes on his for a moment, then looked away. “To pretend.”

  Nick watched her for a moment. “I don’t know. Be whatever you want.”

  “I think I wanna be a prostitute.”

  He raised one eyebrow and slid the keycard into the door. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  The door buzzed, and he pushed his way in, Dana following closely behind. The drapes were closed, and the room was dark, but Nick recognized the smell the moment he walked into the room. He remembered it from Vivian Bellefleur’s house. Earthy, sweet, and very, very strong.

  “Oh, my God,” Dana said, her voice going nasal as she put her hand over her nose. “What is that smell?”

  Nick reached over and flicked on the light and saw it, perched under the chair in the corner of the room. It had a body like a fat, graceless, green chicken. Its eyes were black, beady, too far apart, and set inside two round puffs of whitish feathers that gave its face an owlish appearance. Only, instead of having an owl’s short beak, this thing had a long honker curving down the front of its face, giving it a slight resemblance to Horshack from Welcome Back, Kotter.

  “We came all this way for a big, fat, smelly green chicken?” Dana whispered, huddling close enough behind him that Nick could feel her breath on his neck.

  “It’s a parrot,” Nick said, grabbing the cardboard box lying next to the bed. He took a step toward the bird.

  “Hey, Horshack,” he said lightly. “Time to go, buddy.”

  Horshack, however, had other ideas. As soon as Nick moved toward the bird, he flapped his wings and let loose with a monstrous squawk reminiscent of an eighteen wheeler screeching to a violent halt. Dana screamed and clutched at Nick’s shoulder.

  “What the hell is that thing?”

  Before Nick could respond, there was a knock on the door.

  “Housekeeping,” a voice came through the door. Dana clutched harder at Nick’s shoulder.

  “What do we do?” she whispered.

  Nick glanced around the room, then started to guide Dana toward the closet. The bird gave another squawk at their movement.

  “You wait in here,” he said to her. “I’ll handle this.”

  There w
as another knock at the door. “Housekeeping. Is everything all right in there?”

  Dana resisted. “But they’ll see you. They’ll know you’re not him. He’s bald. And from New Zealand.”

  Nick sighed. “You got a better idea?”

  Dana’s grip tightened on his shoulder, then suddenly released. She looked up at him, her eyes wide as a light-bulb went off over her head. “Oh! Yeah, I do!”

  She began working the buttons of his shirt. He reached out and grabbed her wrist.

  “Dana,” he said, his heart rate quickening, “what are you…?”

  She met his eye. “Trust me.”

  Their eyes locked for a moment longer. Another knock at the door.

  “Housekeeping,” the woman said again. “I’m going to come in now.”

  In a flash, she had his shirt off, and then pulled her own off, revealing a lacy, electric blue bra. Nick felt his breath catch in his chest.

  “Dana,” he said, trying to keep his voice even as his heart rate picked up, “why don’t you tell me what you’re doing?”

  “Because you’ll argue,” she said, “and there’s no time.”

  She pushed him back on the bed and placed a pillow over the top half of his head, covering his eyes and forehead, then unbuttoned his jeans. He lifted himself up on his elbows as danger alarms went off in every area of his body.

  “Dana—”

  She put one hand to his chest and pushed him back down with a smile.

  “Trust me,” she said.

  Nick sighed, lay back, and allowed her to settle the pillow back over his eyes. A moment later, he felt her straddle him and lean her body over his. It was warm and soft, just like he remembered.

  Oh. God. This wasn’t going to be good. He tried to think of England, think of kittens, think of anything but how good it felt to have Dana’s nearly naked body on top of his.

  “Dana,” he said again, but was silenced by her lips on his. She tasted heady, like the beer she’d been drinking, and Nick felt the bed spin as she ran her hands down his chest, toward the waist of his jeans, nudging them down a bit lower on his hips. He reached for her, relishing in the feel of her bare, soft skin under his fingers. He slowly moved his hands down her back as their tongues danced hungrily, one over the other, and realized that at some point, she’d removed her jeans, leaving on something satiny and, he could only hope, electric blue.