GirlNextDoor (4 page)

“And we’re really going to buy furniture?”

“I promise.”

She looked over at him, her brown eyes warm and serious at
the same time. “Good. I’ve been worried about you.”

“You and John both. I know.” He shrugged. “So here I am.
Socializing.”

Lucy laughed. “Oh is that what we’re calling this now?
Socializing?”

She was a gorgeous woman. He was a gay man. They’d known
each other since before kindergarten. They’d spent a weekend making love once.
They never would again. But they always slept in the same bed when they were
together. “I don’t know what the hell this is,” Nolan answered. “I’m just glad
you’re here.”

* * * * *

Lucy looked around his apartment, her lips pursed in
disapproval. He’d told her that Kevin had taken a lot of the furniture, but he
could see in her posture that she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. He watched
her gaze linger on the tiny TV. But when she finally spoke, all she said was,
“Well, good. We can buy all kinds of new stuff.”

“Thanks,” Nolan answered.

“For what?”

“For not saying you told me so.”

Lucy gazed at him. “I did, you know.” A little teasing smile
played around the corners of her mouth.

“I know you did.”

“Bed first,” she decreed. “That futon thing is not going to
cut it. And then a decent TV set.”

“Whatever you say,” Nolan agreed happily.

* * * * *

“You have frozen dinners,” Lucy announced.

“Yeah.” Nolan finished opening a second bottle of beer and
glanced over at her. She was standing in front of the open freezer with her
hands on her hips. “I don’t cook much.”

“I know. But shrimp in linguini? Sea bass? You don’t even
like seafood.”

“Yeah,” he said again, slowly. “You’re welcome to them, but
they’re probably outdated.”

“They’re Kevin’s.”

“Yeah.”

Lucy and Kevin had met twice, and heartily disliked each
other both times. But she didn’t comment on that. Instead, she shook her head.
“So they’re six months old. Ewww.”

“I just never got around to throwing them out,” Nolan
admitted.

“Ewww,” Lucy said again. She closed the door. “Tomorrow.”

“I promise.”

* * * * *

Later, stretched out next to Lucy on the little futon bed,
Nolan said, “I’ve decided I really do want you to meet John.”

“Oh good.”

“Without him and you, I don’t know if I would have gotten
through this.”

Lucy took his hand in the dark and squeezed it. “I’m glad
you’re finally feeling better.”

They were quiet for a time, and then Lucy asked, “Is he
hot?”

“John? Yeah.”

“You got a thing for him?”

“He’s straight, Lucy.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nolan hesitated. “If he was gay—or bi—I might make a play
for him. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“He’s kind of a player.” Nolan chuckled. “Not kind of.
Totally. He’s commitment-phobic.”

“So he’s more my type than yours.”

“Exactly.”

“But you’re still friends with him.”

“I’m friends with you,” Nolan pointed out, “and you never
met a zipper you didn’t want to open.”

She giggled in the dark. “Are you calling me a slut?”

“No, of course not. I just…he’s a lot like you. That way.
It’s just sex to him.”

“A little casual sex would do you a world of good, Nolan.”

“Maybe so. And maybe a little romance would do you a world
of good.”

“Me? Romance? I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

Lucy was quiet for a moment. “You know why.”

Nolan did. Her first relationship, back when they were in
high school, had ended spectacularly badly and scared her deeply. She’d never
gotten over it. Sex was good, in Lucy’s book. Relationships were bad.

He wondered, not for the first time, what pain in John’s
past left him hopping from bed to bed.

“You’re pissed,” he observed, “because I have six-month-old
shrimp in my freezer, and you’re still hung up on something that happened years
and years ago.”

“Yeah, well. You’re braver than me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Nolan rolled closer to kiss her forehead. “I hope someday
you meet the guy that convinces you that you are.”

“Or girl,” Lucy corrected gently.

“Or girl. And someday maybe I’ll meet another guy. But for
right now, it’s enough that I can commit to buying a new TV set.”

“Yeah.” Lucy snuggled closer.

They were quiet again, and Nolan thought she was asleep when
Lucy spoke up. “So, can I jump him?”

“Who?”

“Your partner.”

“Oh.” He considered for a split instant. If he asked her not
to, she would do it—or rather, not do it—without question. “Yeah, sure. It’d
probably do him good. He’s in a little slump.”

“You sure?” Lucy insisted.

Nolan shrugged in the dark. “If you meet him and you hit it
off, go for it.”

“You’re sure?” she asked again.

“I’m sure, Lucy. I mean, I don’t want all the details. I do
have to work with the man every day. But as a concept, it’s fine with me.
Really.”

She nodded. “Eh, I’ll probably think he’s a wanker anyhow.”

“Maybe so. Get some sleep, Lucy.”

“Night, Nolan.”

He felt her body relax as she drifted toward sleep almost
right away. But he stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling Lucy’s warmth
beside him. He wondered if he should change his answer. She would understand.
And maybe she was right, anyhow. Maybe she and John wouldn’t get along at all.

He was kidding himself. They’d be all over each other.

He wanted that, he realized in surprise. They were his two
best friends in the world. If he couldn’t be making love to either of them,
then they should be making love to each other. It only made sense. John would
be happy. Lucy would be happy. And he would be…

His heart was broken, still, and it would be a long time
before he would be happy again. If he ever was. But he could still enjoy their
happiness.

He’d given Lucy the right answer, and he wasn’t going to
change it.

Chapter Four

Crane’s cell phone rang while they were restocking from a
run from the skate park—broken arm, broken leg, boy’s helmet had probably
prevented a fractured skull. He went down the hall to talk, returned looking a
little worried. “Hey, John, I need a favor.”

“Anything,” John answered at once, and then amended, “as
long as it doesn’t involve manual labor.”

“I need you to take Lucy out to dinner tonight.”

“Who? What?”

“Lucy. My old girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah, the one who made you gay.”

Nolan rolled his eyes. “I promised I’d take her to dinner.
But the chief managed to crash the station’s computer again and he wants me to
look at it.”

“Tell him to fix it himself. Or call tech support.”

“Yeah, right.” Nolan tipped his head impatiently. They both
knew what would happen if Chief Waldron tried to fix the computer on his own.
He was only slightly worse with technology than John himself.

The computer at the firehouse wasn’t critical equipment—it
wasn’t the dispatch computer that had the problems. It was the one in the dorm
that the firemen used for personal surfing, which usually meant porn surfing.
They caught viruses on a sadly regular basis. And though they wouldn’t let him
be a member of their team because he was gay, they were all too quick to summon
Nolan Crane to fix their mistakes.

Nolan, John knew, couldn’t tell them no, any more than he
could tell John no when he’d brought his laptop to him with an alarmingly blank
blue screen. It wasn’t in his nature.

But. “I, uh, I have plans,” he lied.

“You do not,” Nolan said firmly. “Look, just meet her at
Chelsea’s. If it’s something quick on the computer, I’ll meet you two there. If
not, just feed her dinner, maybe take her dancing.”

“I’m not taking her dancing. I’m not taking her to dinner.”

“John, please.” Nolan reached for his wallet.

“Not even if you’re paying.”

Nolan looked exasperated. He flipped the wallet open and
held out a picture in a plastic sleeve. “This is Lucy.”

“I’m not…” John paused and reached for the wallet for a
closer look. He rubbed his chin, wondering if he should shave again before he
met her. “All right,” he agreed, with token reluctance. “If it’s that important
to you. But just dinner. I’m not buying her flowers or anything.”

Nolan grinned. “Thanks, John.”

John studied the picture again. “But not Chelsea’s. The
Lighthouse.”

“Whoa.”

“Hey, for a friend of yours, partner, nothing is too good.
Especially when you’re buying.” He held his hand out, palm up.

Nolan barely hesitated before he pulled out his Amex card
and put it in John’s hand. “Try not to burn it up, okay?” he pleaded.

“No promises.” John grinned. “And you still owe me.”

An odd smile crossed his partner’s face. “You’re right, I
do. But not for long.” He picked up the supply box and started down the hall.

“Hey,” John called after him, “what’s that supposed to
mean?”

There was no answer. Krulak rubbed his chin again.
Definitely a shave after work.

* * * * *

He was checking out the woman even before he realized she was
the one in the picture. She wore a t-shirt-knit dress, red, just a bit tight
over her nicely proportioned curves, and flat sandals, no nylons. She didn’t
need them over her perfectly tanned legs. To John’s practiced eye, the tan was
natural, not spray-on; it matched her arms and face. Invitation to skin cancer,
his medical mind knew, but the rest of him just admired the way it looked on
her. She had a dark complexion naturally, long black hair soft around her
shoulders, beautiful dark eyes. Her mouth was small, but her lips were full and
red, like a Kewpie doll.

He’d finished his physical assessment of her in the time it
took her to pause in the doorway and look around. She seemed a little lost.
John left his drink on the bar and went to greet her. “Lucy?”

She smiled warmly. “Are you John?”

“John Krulak,” he answered. She offered her hand and he held
it, not shaking it and not letting go. “Our table’s not ready yet. Can I get
you a drink?”

Lucy nodded and he led her back to the bar. He had to let go
of her hand then. She ordered herself a Scotch, neat. As if he needed another
reason to like her.

“I’m really sorry about this,” she said sincerely. “I know
Nolan roped you into this at the last minute. If you had other plans…”

“I didn’t,” John assured her quickly.

“I know how Nolan can be when he wants something.”

“Relentless,” Krulak agreed. “But believe me, I’m glad to be
here. Really.” He meant to leave it at that, but he heard himself add, “You
broke about six hearts when you sat down with me, you know. You’re the most
beautiful woman here.”

Lucy smiled, flushed and looked down at her drink.

“I’m sorry,” John blurted. “I didn’t mean to say that. I
mean, it’s true, but I… I’m not hitting on you, I know you’re Nolan’s friend,
but it is true.”

Her smiled brightened. “I was just thinking the same thing
about you. Not that you were beautiful, but that you’re Nolan’s partner and I
shouldn’t…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Well, now neither of us can
talk.”

The hostess rescued them from their silence and led them to
a table in the corner. By the time they were settled with menus, John had
regained some of his composure. “The steaks are excellent here.” Then, alarmed,
he asked, “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

“Oh hell no,” Lucy answered firmly. “I’m a drug rep. Being a
meat eater is part of the job description. And also I don’t chant, believe in
reincarnation or think that I’ve ever been abducted by aliens.” She looked at
him sidelong. “You?”

“None of the above.” John laughed. “You’ve done this
before.”

“The first-date tango? Oh yes. I like to get the weird stuff
on the table right up front.”

“Thank you. You have no idea what a relief you are.” He
wondered how
take my old
friend to dinner
had somehow turned so quickly into a date, but he
was glad. He loved how upfront and open she was. After the bar-crawl routine,
she was like a breath of clear air. “I could tell you stories,” he said
ruefully.

“Do it.”

“What?”

Lucy put her menu down. “Tell me your best date-from-hell
story.”

John thought about it. Usually women wanted to hear his
paramedic stories—tell me your best save, tell me your worst scene. One
particularly creepy young woman had wanted to hear all the details of a car
crash decapitation, in excruciating detail, during sex. He hesitated a few
seconds, then told Lucy all about her. She listened, and she laughed, and she
sympathized.

He liked talking to Lucy.

They ordered steaks. When the waiter had gone, he said, “All
right, your turn.”

She pondered for a moment. “I dated a paramedic once.”

“Anybody I know?”

“No, up in Chicago. He was a nice guy, mostly. Except he had
this kink.”

“Wait, let me guess,” John said. “He wanted to tell you all
the gory details of his runs during sex.”

“Worse.” Lucy leaned closer and spoke softly. “He dressed up
like Elvis.”

“In bed?”

“Yes.”

John laughed. “I think you win.”

“Actually, it would have been okay if he’d warned me,” Lucy
mused. “But he went into the bathroom and came out in this white jumpsuit and
black wig…” She shuddered. “I suppose the jungle bedroom decor should have
tipped me off.”

“Probably. Maybe people should come with little cue cards or
something. You know, like business cards, only with all your kinks on the back,
so potential partners would know what they were getting into.”

Lucy nodded. “And a fake name and phone number on the
front.”

“Right. Exactly.”