Punk and Zen (12 page)

“Candace,” I corrected without thinking.

“Candace? Candace? As in I-want-a-piece-of-candy
Candace?” His voice rose as his eyebrows climbed higher—I thought they might
disappear into his Mohawk. With surprising speed Darrel whirled and seized my
shoulders. “Nina, you must go. For the honor of the order of hot DJs
everywhere, of which we are but a humble two,” and I snorted with self-derision
as he gave me a little grin, “you must go.”

“So, you’ll cover for me?” I asked again, torn between
impatience and amusement. I lightly knocked his hand off my shoulder, and he
removed the other without assistance.

“She’s fucking hot—ah!” He clapped his hands to his
face.

“Great. Thanks.” I grabbed my jacket from the bench.
Black, of course, and leather, too. Highway-patrol style. It was late summer,
after all, and as scorching as the days were, the nights were starting to cool
a bit after midnight. I slid it over my shoulders as I jumped down the stairs,
then grabbed for the doorknob.

“Thanks again, Darrel,” I called back to him. “Thanks
for covering for me—see you tomorrow.”

I was on a mission, and I probably said hello to
everyone in the club and on the dance floor before I finally found Candace in
the ladies’ room, checking her hair in the mirror.

“Hey there!” I greeted her reflection as I slid into
the spot next to her and put an arm lightly around her waist. “Let’s go.”

She dropped her hands from her hair and faced me, and
I kept my hand on her waist.

“Now?” she asked, while the shine of her eyes and the
delicious curve that grew along her lips told me I’d made the right decision.
“You mean, right now?”

Mmm. Her tones and accent were so alluring that as her
hands fluttered up to play with my collar, I felt a desperate need to just
forget about everything—dinner, whatever—and take her home, if we made it that
far. Darrel was right—she was so fucking hot—but I didn’t really need him to
tell me that. I already knew it.

I didn’t give in to that feeling, that pull on my
blood, completely, though. Instead, I let it show in my voice as I leaned in
close to whisper in her ear. “Well,” I drawled, blowing softly behind her ear,
“I do recall you were thinking in French.” I nuzzled her neck, gently pulling
at the skin with my lips.

“That’s nice.” Candace exhaled and arched her throat
toward me. “I thought you couldn’t read minds,” she said as she twined her arms
around my neck. I placed light kisses along that center column, until she
shifted slightly to lay butterfly kisses in the hollow above my collarbone.

“Only in French,” I reminded her as I closed my eyes
and enjoyed the sensations. Just forget going home, my car was closer. “I can’t
read minds in French.”

I twisted my head away and sought her mouth with mine,
and tonight’s kiss tasted like cherries and bubble gum. As that kiss deepened,
Candace’s fingertips moved from behind my neck to patter light touches from my
neck to my chest. I brought my hands up to her face, brushing my lips right
behind her jaw. We really had to leave.

The bathroom had started to get a bit crowded—either
our little makeout session had drawn a crowd or it was merely that communal
time. Whatever we were going to do, it couldn’t continue here. Most of the
women either acted bored or impatient as they waited, and as I caught the eye of
one or two, they blushed and looked away. I didn’t care, though, because unless
this was their first visit to the club, I was definitely not the only woman
who’d kissed another in that bathroom or any other place in the club. For some
of the patrons, that was part of the attraction and definitely part of the
club’s reputation.

Fuck the occasional total straights that came in
there. They either came for the show, or they left soon enough. I did mention
earlier that this was one of the coolest places to see and be seen, and that
meant a lot of try-sexual activity. There, in the corner by the sink, was
proof. Two girls I’d observed on the dance floor, with what I was pretty sure
had been their boyfriends, were leaning together face-to-face, stroking each other’s
hair, occasionally kissing each other’s cheek, trying to get up the courage to
take it to that next step. I knew what that was like, I thought with a smile.

I glanced back at Candace, who’d noticed what I had.
“Do you want to get going?” I grinned at her and indicated the girls in the
corner with my chin.

She glanced their way, then back at me. “I thought we
already had,” she murmured and caught my hand. “Yeah, let’s go,” she agreed
decisively.

I led the way through the press to the door, and as we
passed the girls by the sink, a sudden inspiration made me pause.

“Hey there,” I greeted each of them—first a very
pretty girl with a deep tan and red and gold streaks in her dark hair, whose
back was against the counter, then an equally stunning almond-eyed brunette,
who looked slightly familiar to me from somewhere other than the club. Well,
Staten Island really was a small place in many ways, after all. Maybe I’d seen
her on the bus on the way to school or something over the years. “How you
doing?”

To their credit, while they may have both blushed,
they neither stopped holding hands nor changed positions. Why is that to their
credit? Because it meant that they weren’t ashamed or embarrassed. Good for
them. Maybe I’d have to reevaluate my estimation of ABC their male
companions’ status as boyfriends.

“Okay,” answered the girl with the tan noncommittally,
with a slight shrug. Her head bent closer to her companion’s shoulder.

“Fine, thanks,” answered the other. “You spin great
tunes by the way, really love these Experience Nights.” She beamed shyly.

“Thank you,” I told her, honestly taken aback. I
hadn’t thought I’d be recognized. Perhaps that was foolish. I mean, it’s not as
if I was completely invisible up at the booth, and let’s face it—neither my
hair nor my attire was nondescript, especially when I was working. And quite
frankly, as long as I was still in the club, I was still on the job, especially
since this was supposed to be one of “my” nights.

“Oh, you’re DJ Nina!” exclaimed the girl with the tan.
I couldn’t help but smile as I noticed her arm steal around her companion’s
waist. “You really play great music!”

“Thanks, thanks a lot, really.” I blushed a bit
myself. “It’s very nice of you to say that.” From the corner of my eye, I could
see Candace pull her phone out of the bag slung from her shoulder.

The brunette stuck a hand out. “Oh, I’m Gina, by the
way,” she introduced, and I shook her hand, “and this is—”

“Mary,” the tan girl interrupted, putting out her free
hand. “I’m Mary.”

“Nice to meet both of you,” I answered sincerely. “And
right now, it’s just Nina, Nina Boyd,” I said as I shook her hand as well, “and
this is,” and I turned to find her staring at me as she spoke into the phone,
“Candace.”

She shook her head a moment, and instantly her expression
changed. “Hullo, girls.” She waved, then directed her attention back to her
phone. “Yes, on Bay Street, wonderful.” She closed her phone with a snap.

“We’ll have a car in ten minutes,” she announced with
satisfaction. “Let’s go have a drink in the front while we wait?” She offered
me her arm.

“Oh, okay.” I slipped my arm through hers. “Nice
meeting you guys,” I said to Gina and Mary. “You have a great night.”

“You too,” and “Nice to meet you too, Nina,” they
answered severally as we left.

“Oh, by the way?” I turned back and asked.

They now had their arms around each other and glanced
up in inquiry.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I winked, and they
laughed as ABC Candace and I left.

“Barbarian!” she jokingly scolded, lightly slapping my
bicep.

“That’s ‘colonist’ to you.” I licked my teeth as we
squeezed through the corridor to the front bar. “You called a car?” I asked.
“So we’re going to, what was it, Port Mar See?” I exaggerated my bad
pronunciation to see if I could get a rise out of her.

“Port Marseille,” she corrected, amused. “You aren’t
going to let the ‘colonist’ thing go, are you?” she asked, rubbing the bicep
she had just slapped as we walked through the hall arm in arm.

“Hmm…” I considered playfully. “You know what?
‘Colonist’ is such a novel thing to be called,” I said, smiling to take any
possible sting out of my remark. “I mean, I’ve been called many things, but
still…”

Stopping as we reached the front of the Cadillac bar a
few feet from the door, I freed my arm from hers, put my hands on my hips, and
faced her. “I think it’s going to take some time,” I told her in mock
seriousness.

“Well, then,” she said coyly and brought her
fingertips to the edge of my neckline while she played with my collar, “let me
buy you a drink, and we can let the reparations begin.”

With my fingertips, I drew gentle lines down her
cheeks, and her skin was so very smooth. “Oh, so now you’re trying to seduce me
with your decadent European sophistication?” I asked. “Besides, you can’t.”

“Can’t what?” she asked in a throaty whisper, kissing
my ear. “Seduce you?”

I closed my eyes and let her continue. “You can’t buy
me a drink,” I murmured as she licked the hollow in my throat. “I work
here—it’s one of the perks. So,” I asked as her ministrations continued, “what
would you like?”

“You…” she said, nipping lightly on my neck, “on
silk.” That sounded good to me too, and as her lips reached the hollow of my
throat, a light growl escaped me. As I opened my eyes, I realized—the club, we
were still in the club. We were supposed to be leaving, and I was supposed to
be doing something. Oh, yeah! Drinks! I was getting those.

“I meant…what would you like to drink?” I finally
sputtered. “Since you’re getting dinner, let me get you a drink.”

Candace trailed her fingertips up and down the column
of my neck as she straightened. “You know,” she said, “that’s not a bad idea.
Do you recommend anything specifically?”

“I do recommend you stay away from doing entire
pitchers of Red Death,” I told her, ruefully twisting my lips as I remembered
my recent occasion of overindulgence. Oh, but I did have an idea. “Would you
mind if I surprise you?”

“Hmm, surprise away, then,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve
got good taste, if your clothes and your musical choice are any indication.”
She waved at me.

“Great, I’ll be right back,” I said, and walked to the
end of the bar.

“Hi, Dee Dee!” I called to the bartender, yet another
stunning example of women the powers-that-be have placed on this earth. A
statuesque “five foot twelve” as she called it, Dee Dee had skin the color of
coffee with cream, very curly blond hair, and startlingly hazel eyes that
shaded from golden amber to an incredible light green, depending on her mood.
Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what I found most attractive about her—her eyes,
her personality, or her drop-dead gorgeous accent. She was sexy all around.

Born in Bonn, Germany, of a Japanese-American father
who’d been stationed there while in the army and the wife he’d brought there
from Port-Au-Prince, Dee Dee, the living example of how beautiful human beings
would be if we all just got along, had come to the United States not quite a
year ago to finish her education and currently went to a local private college
where she was getting a master’s degree in chemistry—which was probably why she
was such a great bartender in the first place, sort of an extension of natural
talent, I guess. Why she lived and worked on Staten Island was beyond me—she
had the rest of the city to choose from, but I knew that I, for one, was glad
she was there.

“Hallo, Nina!” Her eyes were on the cocktail she’d
been mixing. “You’re well tonight?” she asked, tossing a little flurry of ice
flakes on the concoction she’d just finished and passing it to the waiting
customer.

“I am…
wunderbar
!” I answered, using the only
German word—wonderful—that I knew. Well, there were a few others, like
hamburger
,
achtung
and
mach schnell
, but I don’t think any one of those
would have been appropriate, especially since I’d learned them watching movies.

“
Wunderbar
, eh?” she asked, widening her eyes
at me. “And is that the reason?” She pointed with her chin toward Candace, who
was watching from a window for the awaited car.

I glanced down at the bar to hide the rising red in my
cheeks. “Maybe.” I paused. “Can’t it just be a beautiful summer night?”

Dee Dee pursed her lips in what I recognized as
amusement and picked up a glass. “Right. A beautiful night. Yet another for
you, then?” she asked with a little smirk as she focused on polishing the
glass.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told her
with as straight a face as I could muster. “Most summer nights are beautiful,
don’t you think?”

“Hmph,” Dee Dee snorted, putting the glass down and
wiping the bar. “What I think is that you are going to get lai—”

“Ladylike?” I interrupted before she ABC could
finish the word. “Lazy? How about literal or, better yet, literary?” I smiled.
“Shall we discuss our favorite authors?”