Dawn Autumn Page 2

  His lips quirked. “Hello, Rapunzel. Let down your hair tonight.” Before she could object, he reached out and snatched her hair-stick out of her hair.

  “Hey!” she reached for her hair, but it was too late; the long mass had already tumbled down. “It’s going to get in my way.” She reached for the hair-stick, and then frowned as he tucked it in his belt pouch.

  “One night won’t kill you,” he said teasingly as he opened the car door for her.

  Rolling her eyes, she slipped on her cropped leather jacket and slid her jean clad bottom into Cole’s white leather seats. She frowned at the mat under her blue suede boots, a shadow outline of African dancing girls with wild drummers. A pair of fuzzy white dice dangled from the rear view mirror.

  Fred grinned as he flexed his fingers and gripped the pink leather steering wheel cover. “I’ve been looking forward to driving this.”

  He started it up and threw it into gear. The car lurched forward, and then slammed to a stop.

  Jay gripped the seats and stared at him, grateful for her safety belt. “You do know how to drive a stick, don’t you?”

  “Sure.” He frowned in concentration and lurched forward again, narrowly missing a fire hydrant. “I’ve had a couple of lessons.”

  Jay gulped and opened her mouth, but by then he’d pulled out into traffic and it was too late to make a break for it.

  By the time they arrived at the library, she had a white knuckled grip on the door frame and seat.

  “Are you all right?” Fred asked in concern as he came to open her door.

  “Fine. I’m fine.” She gave him a smile that was all teeth and forced herself to pry her fingers from the leather. Hopefully Cole would forgive her for the permanent nail marks, but if not, she was going refer the bill to Fred.

  How was she ever going to find him a date? A steady girlfriend was out of the question, though it might help if she sent him to hang out in the metaphysical stacks. Yiee! She’d thought they’d never survive the ride.

  She was either catching a cab or driving on the way back. Her nerves couldn’t stand another close encounter with the grim reaper. She’d swear he’d been staring at her though the windshield the whole time.

  The poetess—Rainbow Star, as it turned out—was delighted to see Jay. She looked rather more doubtfully at Fred. “Oh, is this your boyfriend?”

  “No! No, just a friend,” Jay said hastily, with perhaps less than flattering force. Her nerves were still strung too tight for tact. “He’s an artist.”

  Rainbow pursed her bright red lips and stared at Fred doubtfully.

  Fred returned the favor, taking in her unrelieved black outfit with ill concealed misgiving. Turning aside with a dismissive air, he helped Jay off with her coat and pulled out her chair.

  Thrown off balance by his courtesies, Jay took her chair and checked out the rest of the group. There were five other women there, counting Rainbow. Jay counted one kaftan, complete with turban; one nose ring, two anti-men t-shirts and a quasi-military blond with army boots, orange and black camouflage pants and a skimpy black halter top. Breasts the size of Mount Rushmore threatened to burst out of the fabric at any minute.

  The blond gave Fred the evilest look of all.

  To his credit, Fred averted his gaze and managed not to drool. Jay began to think that he might get lucky after all, if she could just get the man eaters here to quit looking at him as if he were Stalin.

  Rainbow canted her head and looked at Jay. “Tell me, as a female musician, do you encounter a lot of opposition from male artists?”

  “Dare we even say ‘oppression’?” the blond cut in.

  Jay laughed. “Actually, the guys are pretty supportive, and I don’t think they’re any more cut throat to me than they are to each other. Most guys dig a chick who knows her way around a guitar.”

  “Amen!” Fred said heartily, giving her an admiring glance.

  Rainbow frowned. “So you don’t feel pressured out of the business by your male counter parts?”

  “The only ones who’ve pressured me out recently have been my female band members. Thanks to them, I’ll be playing for change on a street corner if I don’t watch out.” Jay ignored Fred’s surprised expression. She knew what she’d stumbled onto here—one of those, ‘Woe is life, men are the cause of all doom’ groups. Jay had no problem with equal rights, but she hated hard core feminism. To her mind, the pendulum had swung too far in that direction, causing its own share of social problems.

  Ignoring the murmurs of sympathy, she slouched comfortably in her chair and continued, “I can’t say I’m any more oppressed than the poor stiff who has to work nine to five in an office cubicle. If I want a beer, I can go out and buy one and drink it in public. If I want to wear pants and not marry until I’m forty-five, nobody’s going to stop me. I can’t see what there is to whine about, really.”

  As the others tried to argue her out of complacency, Jay exchanged a look with Fred. It was hard to tell what he was thinking behind his huge dark glasses, but he took in her ironic glance and held it for long moments.

  He glanced at the cartoon mouse on his wrist. “Oh, oh! I’m going to be late for Cruising for Cash if we don’t go. They’re having that supermodel and the car salesman on this episode, and I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

  Jay frowned at the mention of the tacky reality show before she realized that he was giving them an out. Quickly standing up, she excused herself with, “He’s my ride, so I guess I have to go, too. I’ll see you guys around.” Though hopefully not in this lifetime.

  Once outside, she got in front of Fred and braced her hands. To her surprise, she’d misjudged the distance and actually made contact with his chest. It was surprisingly hard, and since he seemed poised to move around her, she pressed firmly and stayed put. “Fred, I need to drive.”

  He stared down at her, his dark glasses lending him a seriousness he probably didn’t feel. “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  She took her hands off him and stepped back, but he moved forward, so she braced herself and stopped him. Had he always been so tall? The man towered over her! Ignoring the discomfort at the notion, she squared her shoulders. This was life or death.

  “Fred, give me the keys.” Keeping the tips of one hand warningly on his pec, she held out the other hand and stared at him expectantly.

  Slowly, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled them out. Instead of handing them to her, he dangled them just out of reach. “You want them? Race me for them.” He made a sudden break and dashed around her, his long legs carrying him to the low rider in seconds.

  Jay dashed up to him and plastered herself to the driver’s door. “Fred, this is serious! I can’t let you drive. I really can’t. Somewhere out there is a car full of angry motorists with your name on it. Don’t be difficult.”

  His lips turned up at the corner. “You think I’m going to kill us, don’t you?”

  “Was I that obvious?” She asked with mock dismay. She held up her hand again.

  His smile deepened. “It’ll cost you.” He leaned forward slightly.

  For a moment, she swore that he would kiss her. Her eyes dropped to his rather attractive mouth and the firm line of his jaw. The feel of his chest was fresh in her mind...but this was Fred. “What will it cost?” she asked, more breathlessly than she should have.

  He straightened and handed her the keys as he reached around her to open the door for her. “You have to let me buy you some ice cream.”

  Ice cream. She could handle ice cream. Almost wilting with relief, she climbed in and started the car.

  Cold Stone had a sixties décor and an incredibly good supply of premium ice cream. Jay relaxed once she’d pulled in and parked the still immaculate Impala in front of the big front windows. Her own driving skills were a little rusty, and she’d never liked city traffic, but at least she’d gotten them there alive.

  Fred moved to her door while she was still saying a heartfelt prayer and op
ened it for her. “My lady.”

  She laughed at him a little shakily. “Something about this is backwards, I think.” She let him open the ice cream parlor’s door for her, and then chose the booth directly in front of the low rider so she could keep an eye on it. Both the red vinyl benches and the newsprint table top were spotless, and the black and white tiled floor looked respectably swept even at this hour.

  A waitress dressed in a pink poodle skirt and demure blouse came to take their order. An earring winked incongruously in her left nostril. “What can I get you two?”

  “I’d like a glass of water and a parfait,” Jay said when Fred waved for her to go first. She listed what she wanted on it, and then listened as Fred ordered a banana split with everything but chili sauce on it.

  “Oh, and make those out on separate checks,” she told the waitress.

  “No, don’t.” Fred’s huge sunglasses stared at Jay in disapproval. “My treat.”

  “Fred...”

  “I’ll let you two work this out while I get your order,” the waitress said, making good her escape.

  “It would be rude to let you pay,” Fred said firmly.

  “We’re just here as friends,” Jay said coolly, trying not to squirm at his generosity. She wasn’t used to this kind of treatment.

  “Then as your friend, I’ll treat,” he said, as if the matter was closed.

  Jay frowned, disliking these hints of masculinity he showed. She was used to thinking of him as, well...neutered was a pretty close description. After all, sex and Fred weren’t words most women would string together without a grimace. Since she wasn’t inclined to churlishly argue her point, she chose to pick at another sore spot. “Why don’t you take off your sunglasses?” It was driving her crazy. Not only could she not see his eyes, most of his expressions where lost with a third of his face covered by the huge things.

  “Can’t. Photosensitive,” he said with the cheerfulness people were apt to use when covering a sore subject.

  She sighed, but let it go, letting her gaze wander to the glossy dessert photos lining the walls. Her gaze jerked back to Fred as he got up and wandered to a juke box. He read the listings and slipped in some quarters. To her surprise, the first song up was a love song, one of her favorites.

  “How did you know?” she asked him as he sat down again.

  He shrugged. “I’ve heard you singing sometimes. When you’re not singing, you’re playing CD’s or practicing the guitar. Anyone who listened would know.”

  Suddenly self-conscious, she glanced at him, and then sighed with relief when their order arrived. She didn’t have to ignore the undercurrents between them when she was busy with her spoon.

  “Do you have family in town?” he surprised her by asking.

  Surprised into meeting his gaze, she shook her head. “My parents are dead. I have a couple of uncles, but we never talk.”

  He nodded. “Did your mother teach you to cook? I smell some pretty good stuff coming from your apartment sometimes.”

  “No. I’m self-taught, though it’s not much fun cooking for just myself.” She bit her lip as soon as the words were out. When he didn’t jump on them, she said cautiously, “If you promise to leave your hat in your room, I might be persuaded to share sometime.”

  He laughed. “You don’t like my hat?”

  She grimaced. “What’s to like?” The silence stretched, became uncomfortably taut. Her invitation sat on the table like an invisible gauntlet, mocking her. She hadn’t planned to get involved with him. If she’d had friends, they would laugh to see her running around with a guy like him. What did she think he looked like, husband material? She winced, shying away from that road. So she was a little lonely. He was funny in his way, and she wasn’t out to break his heart. Just to remind them both, she added, “Just as friends, you know.”

  Even through the dark glasses, his gaze was intense. “I’d like that.”

  Suddenly unable to eat, Jay let the last bit of her parfait melt in the glass.

  * * * *

  Cole was waiting for them when they parked in front of their building. He actually seemed relieved to see Jay driving. “Just thought I’d say hello,” Cole said, his eyes darting anxiously over the paint job.

  Jay smiled and tossed him his keys. “I filled it up on the way home. Thanks.”

  He caught them neatly. “You’re welcome. Have a good time?” He eyed the two of them curiously.

  Jumping in before Fred could say something incriminating, Jay said, “He didn’t get her number, so he bought me ice cream. It wasn’t a date.”

  A slow smile started across Cole’s face. “Okay.”

  Feeling a little uncertain, Jay nodded her goodnight and hurried inside before Fred could walk her in.

  Leaning back against the car, Fred just watched her with boneless satisfaction.

  Cole slowly raised his brows, silently asking for details.

  Smiling, Fred said, “She invited me to share dinner with her sometime...or lunch. She didn’t say which. In her apartment.”

  Cole grinned. “You breached the wall. Way to go, buddy.” He slapped Fred on the back, incidentally loosening Fred’s hold on the car. “I think you should go lie down.” Away from the car. “You look a little punch drunk.”

  “Good plan,” Fred said with good humor. He moved away from the low rider, allowing Cole to bond with his machine in peace.

  Coal’s backslap had caused his shades to slip. As he moved away, Fred shot a last, wickedly amused look Coal’s way. He shoved the glasses back into place, but not before a glimpse of silver eyes flashed in the streetlight.

  He was going to have excellent dreams.

  Chapter Three

  Jay didn’t know what she had been thinking. Having Fred over was a bad idea, especially when she was worried about how she was going to feed herself, let alone a guest. Her savings were slowly but steadily dwindling. She needed a better job, quick, and hanging out with her wacky neighbor wasn’t going to pay the bills. With that in mind, she sat in her apartment after work, sipping cocoa as she scanned a paper someone had left in the coffee shop. The slightly crinkled pages were spread out on her counter, folded neatly to the help wanted section. Just for amusement, she’d circled a few entries in red.

  “Hm. Looks like either dental hygienist or exotic dancer. Not exactly my cup of tea,” she muttered to herself. She’d already applied at the few waitress and clerk jobs advertised, with no calls yet. Ah, well. There was always the paper route. If she delivered in the mornings and worked at the café in the afternoons, she should be all right ... if she was very, very frugal. Fortunately, she excelled at frugal.

  Tossing down the paper, she held her mug in both hands and let her eyes unfocus, thinking of nothing in particular. She was tired, with a warm meal in her belly, and had no greater concern at the moment than preparing for bed.

  Sudden movement made her stare at the fridge. The door had cracked. Was the seal going bad? Did anything work right in this dive? She set down her cup, prepared to investigate. Before she could, a giant green slug with an upright carriage slid out of her fridge. She froze. It was the size of a man, glistening green, and definitely not something she’d carted home from the grocery. Stupefied, she stared as it turned its eyestalks toward her, nodded politely, and slithered on to the door. A gelatinous tentacle slithered out of its body and wrapped around the door knob. As he was making his exit, three more slugs came out of the fridge, each smaller than the other, like a mother and stair step children. They hurried after him/it, ignoring her. The last one out slammed the door.

  The sound galvanized Jay. Leaping to her feet, she hurried to the door, barely noticing as clear slime soaked into her socks. Throwing open the door, she stared as the last of the slugs disappeared into Mr. and Mrs. Fadious’ apartment. Certain they were about to eat her helpless neighbors in a painful and disgusting manner, Jay dashed toward their door—only to end up sliding in the trail of gook. The next thing she knew, her head slammed ba
ck against the floor, and the lights went out.

  * * * *

  Voices woke her. Scrunching her eyes shut, she cautiously opened them, blinking against the bright glare. Her neighbor’s worried faces appeared above her. Mrs. Fadious’ ever present curlers and hair net rose above her pointed brows and heavy bone structure. Mr. Fadious’ square face and old fashioned fedora hat blocked a large part of the ceiling, but she could see bits of Fred and Cole’s faces peering down at her.

  “She lives!” Mrs. Fadious said in her low pitched voice.

  Groaning, Jay slowly sat up, grateful for the hands supporting her back. She lifted her hand to her throbbing head and noticed the slime coating her palm. She looked quickly up at Mrs. Fadious.

  Before she could speak, Mrs. Fadious grimaced. “I’m so sorry! A jug of cleaner broke as I was carrying it in. I hurried in to get a mop, but when I got back you were here on the floor.”

  Jay stared at her. Keeping her mouth shut, she painfully got to her feet, limped to her door, and opened it wide to stare at the carpet. It was perfectly clean. She knelt down and touched it. It was dry. Blinking, she slowly moved to her fridge, took a deep breath, and threw the door wide. Nothing but leftovers and a few drying carrots peeked back. She needed to go shopping.

  “Are you all right?” Fred said cautiously, hovering just out of arms reach. She ignored him. The rest of her neighbors watched with expressions of concern from just outside her door as she moved back to check the inside knob.

  It was clean, too.

  “I think I need to go to bed,” Jay said slowly, reaching up to feel the knot on the back of her head. Either she was losing her mind, or she was more tired than she thought, but something didn’t add up.

  She didn’t bother shutting the door, just headed for her room. In the doorway she paused, one hand on the frame. She half turned, not meeting anyone’s eye. “Do you know why I was in the hallway, Mrs. Fadious?”

  “Why, no, dear. Maybe it will come to you in the morning?”

  Nodding, Jay entered her room and shut the door.