“Uh-huh…”
“Mm, can you blame me? You’re alone in a new city, twenty-two, prone to doing very illegal things on the Internet.”
“And you’re bored and lonely,” Mel said.
“What? No.” Yes.
“I know Hannah’s at the release party. You told me, Matt.”
“I’m not bored. I’m home on a Saturday night. I thought you might be bored.”
“Sure.” Mel chuckled. She was silent for a while, and then she clicked her tongue. “I’ll pick you up in a few minutes, okay? I am pretty bored, come to think.”
“I want to be back by eight.” I think Mel knew she was doing me a favor, and I didn’t care. “And don’t meet me out front. I’ll go out back.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” I hung up.
I killed time cleaning Laurence’s hutch, then bundled up in my coat, hat, scarf, and sunglasses, and slipped out of the complex by the back exit. Mel’s Corolla idled at the corner.
I climbed in. “The color of this car, it’s like a neon sign. Ridiculous.” I was trying not to smile. The condo wasn’t home anymore, not without Hannah, and it felt good to escape.
“Whoa, what happened to you?”
“Hm?” I adjusted my sunglasses. After wrestling with Hannah over the last two days, I looked a little worse for wear. She’d inadvertently elbowed my eye, purpling the orbit. A bruise darkened my jaw. Scratches lined my neck and I had hickies and other bruises all over my body. Hannah had a few marks, too, but no black eye, thank God. “Fight club,” I mumbled.
“Tough love.” Mel sighed. “Lucky girl.”
“Drive.”
“Okay, yeesh.” She pulled away from the condo. “Wanna … watch TV? I’ve got HBO at the hotel. I have a deck of cards, too.”
I glanced at Mel as she navigated Denver. She was a good driver, confident on unfamiliar roads. She didn’t make one wrong turn during the two-hour drive from the cabin.
Tonight, she’d straightened her red hair. It was thick and glossy like shampoo commercial hair. She wore a tight puffy vest and a hooded sweater beneath, the hood fur-trimmed. Fur again. She owned a jacket with fur and furry boots.
“You like fur,” I said.
“Profound observations from the late great author. So, the hotel?”
“No. I don’t think we should … be in your hotel room.”
“Oookay. Even though we’re staying at the cabin together?”
“The cabin is different.”
“Am I too tempting, Mr. Sky?” She flipped her hair. I snorted. “I’m kidding, kidding. I’ve seen Hannah. I know I’ve got no chance.”
“I didn’t realize you wanted a chance.”
“Oh, please.” Mel turned the wheel on a whim, taking us closer to the heart of Denver. “You’re attractive, you’re unmarried, you have an actual brain, and you’ve got that whole”—she gestured—“brooding artist thing going on. Do I need to spell it out for you? Nine in ten women would want a chance.”
“That’s not true.” I shifted on my seat. “And I don’t have a thing going on. You make it sound pretentious.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You’re cute, Mel. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding someone. And even if circumstances were different—” I shook my head. The lights of the city scrolled past, muted by my sunglasses. “You’re too young for me.”
Melanie grew quiet.
A crowd crossed the street in front of us, friends laughing and shouting.
I glanced at Mel. The excitement was gone from her face.
I meant it when I said Mel was cute—she was on par with Hannah, at least—but the world is full of beautiful women, and love, which starts as a feeling, always ends as a choice.
A familiar sign caught my eye, winking blue in the night. LOT 49, BAR AND LOUNGE.
I tapped the dash. “But you’re not too young to drink,” I said.
*