A Boat Made of Bone (The Chthonic Saga) (30 page)

She’d get over it. Start over. Find someone else. Maybe. She heard herself sighing and stopped halfway through.

“You could . . . Uh, never mind,” he said, laughing shortly and shaking his head. He averted his gaze. 

“What?” she asked, searching his eyes for a hint. “I could what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he blushed and looked toward the kitchen, as though wishing their food would arrive. The loud college kids had been funneled to a corner booth and a four-top that had been shoved to the edge of the corner booth to fit them.

“Tell me,” Kate said, quietly.

“I just thought, I mean, if you’re not doing anything, and I know you’ve finished school, well, I thought you could come with me.” He rushed through the last part, almost like he was trying to skim over it.

“Oh wow,” she said, managing to hold in the larger part of her surprise.

He cleared his throat. “It was nothing, I didn’t mean it, it was a stupid idea, I mean, let’s be honest, I wasn’t serious. I wasn’t. It was a joke.” The words poured out of him uncontrollably while he smiled and blushed furiously.

“You can’t take it back now, Ty,” she said, flashing him a wicked grin. “I’m onto you now.”

He laughed, studying her face presumably to detect her intent.

“But—and that’s a big but—we haven’t even kissed,” Kate explained.

“I can fix that, Kate,” he answered. “If you want. It’s not you, you know? I move slowly.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“Not because I don’t want to—um—kiss you. It’s just, I like to get a feel for things.”

“Clearly.”

“I’m experienced enough, it’s not that, I assure you,” he said, and Kate began to say that she didn’t think it was, but he kept talking over her, without even hearing her.

Kate bit her bottom lip as he pressed on.

“It’s simply that I don’t kiss
just anyone
. Not that
you
are just anyone. See, kissing is an art. It’s important. Too many people these days see it as a step toward the next peak, you know, like people who only climb K2 in preparation for Everest—they don’t even enjoy K2, their ultimate goal being something else entirely. No, no, no, they have it all wrong, the kiss—and ascending K2— is a thing unto itself—” he stopped and stared at her, his eyes suddenly alert as though realizing he’d said too much.

At that moment, their waitress burst through the swinging door to the kitchen, carrying plates of food. Kate heard a soft sigh of relief from Ty as Emma waltzed to their table and placed pancakes before Kate and eggs in front of Ty. “Eggs Benedict, pancakes and an egg,” she informed them.

Kate’s pancakes were the size of pizzas, which was what she found so lovely and magnificent about the pancakes at Lucy’s.

“Does everything look right?” Emma asked

“Yes, it’s fantastic” Kate said with a polite smile. “Thanks.”

“Looks good,” Ty agreed. “Thank you so much, Emma.”

Emma’s cheeks colored slightly in gratitude as she backed away, “I’ll be back to check on you in two minutes, all right?”

“Well, I guess you were spared by pancakes and eggs,” Kate said as the girl moved out of earshot.

Ty laughed as he plunged his fork into the stack of poached egg and ham. “I guess. And I thank the eggs. They’re so selfless.”

“Pancakes have some pretty altruistic qualities as well.”

“Don’t worry, Kate. We can finish that conversation later.” He winked and Kate’s stomach did a cartwheel. It was all so confusing, she knew she’d never figure it out before Ty just decided she wasn’t worth it.

***

“You just about through with S?” Ferg asked.

Kate bristled and glared up at him. She’d been working on a storefront on Amazon and had created sale pages for their vinyl up to N—not quite to S. Ferg stayed out front, dealing with customers and Kate huddled in the back room with her laptop, adding Suga’s inventory to Amazon. Marking it competitively took time. Scoping out other seller’s inventory and their prices wasn’t just a couple clicks here and there. It required verifying used or new status and item condition. Basically it was like being a clever shopper. It was a time-suck. And some of the price levels were insane, with no room for profit. Sellers like that must have had massive quantities to price their stuff so low.

She sighed. “Not even close. Well, I’m in N, so maybe I’m close. It just depends, Ferg.”

“Why isn’t it faster?” he asked.

“It just isn’t. I have to find the album, then I go through the prices of other independent sellers. Then I add ours. Since we do it one by one, it takes time.”

“Sorry. I’m just anxious.” He stood there for a minute, staring at Kate, slapping his thigh with a Deltron 5000 album and twirling it in his hands, until he stopped and leaned against the doorjamb. Out in the store some new dub-step album played. The smell of dust and the air conditioner permeated the little office—it rarely got cleaned out. Behind Kate were boxes of albums to send back to the distributers and spare racks and old cardboard displays. Ferg raised his eyebrows at her. “You doing OK? You seem . . . tired, or stressed out. Something.”

“I’m fine.” Kate shrugged, then reluctantly admitted, “Maybe I’m a little tired.”

“Your sweet-pea keeping you up all night?” His mouth twitched into a slight sneer before he caught it and forced it into a benign smile.

Kate chortled. “None of your business.”

He dropped the Deltron album on a stack of LPs next to her laptop so he could begin counting on his hand. “One, you’re my friend. Two, you’re sweet and tend to get involved with jerks who don’t appreciate you, so sometimes good old Ferg has to step in and save you.” Kate’s mouth dropped open to protest, but he stopped her with a gesture. “Three, you work for me, and if your romantic life begins to interfere with your performance, well, I’d have no choice but to fire you.” He didn’t even grin when he said it.

Kate straightened in her chair, suddenly finding energy to put up a small fight. “Four, you totally suck. One is fine, two and three are bull crap. You never step in to save me, and furthermore, I don’t work for you. I work for Darryl.”

“Yes, but I have the authority to let you go.”

“Do that and I’ll shave your precious, glorious locks while you sleep. Don’t think I won’t,” Kate smiled evilly. She would do it. So help her.

“Kate, please, I just want to know what’s going on. It’s Ty, isn’t it?” He crouched down at the edge of the desk. The back room couldn’t have been the home to a family of mice it was so small. With Ferg lurking in there with her, it became oppressive. She leaned back to get out of his airspace. His breath smelled like he’d had a couple coffees already and it was only one in the afternoon.

“If it were Ty, I’d tell you. It’s not. I’m just—I’m just not sleeping well lately.”

He leapt to his feet and took a step back, avoiding her gaze. “Fine. I get it. Great. Fine. Be that way. You don’t have to tell me. But know this, Kate, if Ty hurts you, he better run because the heavens will rain blood and fire and there will be hell to pay.”

“Aw. You’re so sweet. I love it when you make impossible threats like that,” she joked, turning her attention back to the stack of albums.

Ferg receded toward the front of the store where a couple of high school kids had come in. She could hear him muttering stuff about no one ever taking his threats seriously and what did he have to do to prove that he would follow through?

Um, follow through,
she told him mentally.

With a shake of her head, Kate picked up an old Olivia Newton-John album. The sight of it jarred a memory loose and she was swept back to a dream with Will.

Disco skating,
Xanadu
style.

Kate inhaled sharply. She couldn’t believe she’d been thinking about a relationship with Ty. Had she forgotten all her promises to Will? The dragonfly ring, the kisses, the millions of sexual acts? Did they really mean nothing, since they happened in a dream world?

She stared blankly at her laptop screen.

She hit Command-T and opened another internet tab and searched for
LA: Bluefire
. The desk where she sat faced the wall, positioned sideways to the doorway—barely the door’s width away. Kate glanced out and saw Ferg at the cash register. He was gesticulating wildly as though in the midst of an argument with one of the teenage boys. She squinted and saw that a vein popped at Ferg’s neck. He was really into the discussion.

So into it that he wouldn’t notice Kate not entering albums into Amazon.

She clicked on a YouTube video for
LA: Bluefire
and watched it for a few minutes.

There was something weird about being able to see Will like that. As soon as Kate pressed play and he began moving across the screen, all her dreams seemed to become cemented in her subconscious, as though they’d never been dreams at all, but real. An alternate life. A parallel reality.

Will strutted around in his blue cop outfit, swaggering across the screen like some kind of super confident executor of justice. He threw out witty lines here and there, flashing a cocky half-smile, looking good in short sleeves and a uniform. Kate imagined the ladies swooned a lot back then. She wouldn’t blame them. And the men—the gay ones. She amended that to add the straight men too as Will charged across the screen and tackled a bad guy.

“What are you doing?” Ferg asked at Kate’s side and she jumped, her heart shorting out like a dying fluorescent light.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” she snapped, immediately frustrated at herself for responding in anger. “Where were you raised? In a barn?” She put her hand over her heart to calm it.

“Close. A garage. Dad’s a mechanic, remember? Anyway, you’re not getting paid to watch YouTube videos. This again? Are you getting obsessed?”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Let me get a look at it,” he said, bending down and putting his head beside Kate’s. She flinched away, trying to get out of range of his breath.

“So, um, what did you drink today? No offense, Ferg, but here, have some gum,” Kate said, fishing a pack of Trident out of her messenger bag, which was hanging from the back of the chair.

Ferg took the gum, unfazed by her offer of help, or insult rather, but he didn’t seem to take it that way.

“So what, are you totally obsessed with this show now? My mom loved it. Yeah, I think she had a thing for the guy.” Ferg popped the gum in his mouth and began chewing it, much to Kate’s relief because he hadn’t stopped breathing in her face.

“She would,” Kate joked.

“That supposed to be an insult?”

She laughed. “No, no, I’m sorry. It was dumb. Your mom is sweet.” She coughed a little, changing tack, trying to seem really nonchalant about how she felt about the TV show and the man in it. Seeing Will in real life like that was really affecting her. “I was personally in love with
TJ Hooker
. Reruns. My mom had a thing for that show.”

“She would,” Ferg retorted. Straightening. “Anyway, get back to work. This is our last hope. If we end up without jobs, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“Fantastic. I love working under that kind of pressure.”

Ferg’s eyes narrowed at her. “Good, because it’s not going away anytime soon.”

Kate sighed, getting serious. “I know. Sorry. I’m back on it.”

***

Three days later and Kate was at Salt and Sugar, doing another performance. From the small stage, she could see Ty smiling at her. He still hadn’t kissed her, which . . . was fine. She was beginning to think he wasn’t that interested despite what he’d said otherwise. And she couldn’t really blame him, since he’d taken the job in Vegas and would be moving in a month. As Kate sang and played, she channeled the emotion about being left and pushed it into the song, like opening a valve in her heart and letting the steam pour out.

She felt like such a mess, torn between her dreams and her waking life. Torn between being in love with a non-existent man and a man who was about to leave. She didn’t even know what she wanted anymore.

All those confused emotions found their way into the songs. 

Kate wrapped up the mini-show with a cover of the old song, “Torn Between Two Lovers.” She changed it up a little, making it sound more emo and less folksy. She caught Ty’s eye as she finished the song and noticed that his brow was furrowed. As she lowered her guitar to its case, the guys from Salt and Sugar immediately began to take down the PA system.

It was dark, though the sky above the city held a bit of golden light from the summer sunset. Kate rose from the stool, intending to head to her friends’ table. Before she could make it, a guy pushed his way through the small crowd and approached her.

“Nice set,” he said, flicking his black hair with a sharp toss of his head. He was completely hipster and fit into the Salt and Sugar crowd perfectly, wearing a pair of old shoes with a half inch heel and thin laces, like something he got at a secondhand store. His gray jeans were rolled, his white T-shirt hung loosely on his wiry frame, and over the tee he wore a blue blazer that looked like it came from the Salvation Army.