Punk and Zen (6 page)

“Thanks,” I told Andra, who had waited to make sure I
saw the drinks, “who’s this for?” I asked, pointing to the second cup I had
left on the ledge.

“For you,” Andra grinned, “in case you’re too busy,
um, grooving, to remember to get another.”

“That was very cool of you, thanks.” I smiled back. It
was true, that was both cool and nice of her to do.

“You’re very welcome,” she answered, “oh, and by the
way?” She stuffed a piece of paper into the hand that held the cran and orange
cup. “You can start with me, anytime.” She gave me an appraisingly smoky look,
then walked away.

Stunned, I blushed, then managed to collect myself.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I grinned and called to her back. Andra heard that
and gave me a saucy smile, then wove her way through the dancers back to the
main bar.

I shook my head. Yep, definitely flirting, I thought,
ABC bemused. Drinks in hand, I found Blue still sitting on the back
bench, and she favored me with a smile as I handed her the beer.

“Thanks for your patience.” I grinned at her, holding
my cup up in toast.

“No worries,” she answered, seeming amused. “You’ll
want to keep that.” She pointed with her beer.

“Keep what?” I asked, confused.

“That…” She reached over and plucked the paper I’d
forgotten out from between my hand and my drink. She folded it neatly and
tucked it into my sleeve, stroking my wrist as she did so. “You’ll want to keep
it.” She grinned at me. “She’s very pretty.”

I wasn’t sure of what exactly to say, so I thought it
wise to say nothing and merely gave her a little smile of my own. Sometimes,
it’s the only thing you can do.

Blue merely smiled wider, then clinked the top of her
bottle against my cup. I gratefully lifted the cup to my mouth and drank, the
juice nice and cool, soothing even, as it slid down my throat. I was thirstier
than I thought and drank rather quickly, and it was only somewhere between the
second and third swallows that I realized there was more than juice in my cup.
Ah, well, there went stopping for the rest of the night.

I finally settled back along the ledge next to Blue so
we could chat. While the mix I had on wasn’t terribly long, at least not as
long as the ones I’d had on before, it was long enough that I could take a
break if I wanted.

“So, do I detect a bit of an accent?” I asked,
remarking on the slight lilt in her voice. I’d noticed it much earlier, but
this was the first chance I’d had to ask about it. We had been rather, um,
distracted.

“Um, yes.” She glanced down. “Most don’t hear it,” she
said finally, looking at me with what I suspected were pink cheeks and a faint
grin.

“Ah, well, most don’t spend all their time listening
for inflections in sound.” I smiled at her. “I tend to hear things others
don’t. It’s charming, by the way,” I added with honest admiration. “It adds
this lovely little roll to your voice. It’s really quite musical.”

This time she was definitely blushing. “No one’s ever
told me that before. What a nice thing to say,” she finally said, and she
studied me seriously.

I let her inspect me for a moment, not sure why she
was so somber. And it was true, about her voice, I mean. The lilt underneath
her words made everything she said lyrical, so why shouldn’t I mention it? It
was lovely, even a bit sexy.

The silence grew longer. “Something wrong?” I asked
lightly. The mood was getting way too serious, and I wasn’t comfortable. I also
wouldn’t let it continue if I could help ABC it.

Blue seemed to give an inward shake and collected
herself. She shook her head.

“No, nothing.” She nodded, then took a sip of beer.
“It’s just, you’re not just trying to charm me, are you?” she stated more than
asked.

I focused my gaze on her with greater intent because
that confused me. Charm? For what? I didn’t get it—what the fuck was that all
about? All I’d said was that her voice was lovely. Oh, she meant… Well,
wouldn’t I have done that before we, um, I, uh, well, you know, before I let
someone use my microphone for distance tossing? and I said as much.

Blue sighed, almost grinning in relief. “You’ve a
point there, don’t you?” she commented, and rubbed my thigh.

I felt the strength of her fingers as they ran up and
down the muscle, then lightly took her hand in mine and twisted a bit on the
bench to face her. The flood that had risen through me before was starting to
ebb, and I was finally starting to feel a little normal again—whatever that
was.

I took a small sip of my drink and considered, then
took another. Nope, it really wasn’t just juice. Funny how you couldn’t tell
right away.

Finally, I put the drink down on the bench behind me,
then faced Blue again. “So,” I began with a smile and her hand delicate and
warm in mine, “you still haven’t told me where you’re from.”

Blue laughed, a sensual and somehow sophisticated
sound. “I’m from the UK.” The curve of her lip was undeniably attractive as she
spoke. “I’m spending the summer holiday here on the advice of a friend, well,
an ex, um, sort of.” She grinned, but seemed slightly embarrassed. I can’t tell
you why, but I found that attractive, too. “You know how these things can be.”

I nodded in polite agreement. In reality, I
didn’t—know, that is. I dated, I occasionally fooled around, but my first
girlfriend I hadn’t spoken to in quite a while, though I’d seen her at the club
from time to time, and besides, I never dated anyone long enough to become
anything other than friends, and didn’t want to, either. People, once you
trusted them? Fucked you over, and I’d been fucked enough, thanks.

“She’s an American, from here, I mean. New York,
actually,” Blue added.

“Don’t ask me if I know her.” I laughed. “New York’s a
very big place.” That was something everyone from everywhere did, and as far as
I can tell, still does, you know, the “hey, I’m from X,” followed by “oh, yeah?
I know Y in X—do you know him/her/it?” I think it’s funny and sort of cute,
even heartwarming in its own way, how we all want to reach for these connections,
bridge the gaps of time and space/place.

“How big is Staten Island?” she asked me with a small
twist of her lips and appraisal in her eyes. “Because that’s where she’s from.”

“Not nearly as big.” I answered, amused. “Sooner or
later, you find that everyone’s someone’s cousin or sibling or something like
that.”

“Well, that explains it, then.” Blue smiled. “You must
be a cousin.” She put her bottle down beside her.

That was weird. “What do you mean?” I asked. As far as
I knew, all the cousins I had in this state, and there were only two of them,
were in grammar school, and in fact, they lived with their mom in my parents’
house.

“You look so very much like her, and there could
hardly be two of you, could there? I mean, she never mentioned a twin of any
sort, especially not with the same name.”

My head started to tingle, and I could feel the skin
on the back of my neck tighten. This was more than the alcohol, this was a
sign, a part of my brain said. Have another drink and don’t be a moron, the
other part told me. Since that was the part that I thought made sense, I
listened to it and took yet another sip of my this-is-
not
-juice juice.
But still…

“What’s your friend’s name?” I asked, more than
curiosity piqued. It could be possible. I mean, maybe I did have a cousin I
hadn’t known of before. Lord knows, history, hell, the world is full of stories
like that. Some of them even true.
Okay, that’s the alcohol thinking for you
,
said the part of my brain that had just told me to have some more.

“Oh, no, not my Ann, but a girl she knew a few years
back,” Blue corrected. “She has pictures, from secondary—I’m sorry—high-school
yearbooks, and you look very much like her friend. But,” and as she paused, the
expression in her eyes softened, “sadly enough, Annie’s friend passed away
quite some time ago and you, ” she ran a finger along my cheek, “you’re quite
alive.” Blue smiled sensually and showed me her teeth as she gently stroked my
chin with her thumb. Her eyes lingered appreciatively on my lips.

My cheeks grew hot, but still I considered what she’d
said. It was possible she was talking about my high school and yearbook. I
mean, I’d been in pictures all over it for each of the four years I attended,
but I didn’t remember anyone named Ann, at least not that I’d hung out with,
and I couldn’t remember anyone who’d died, at least not recently.

I mean, there had been one girl who’d been a freshman
when I was in my sophomore year, a lovely girl named Susan who’d been born with
an incomplete heart wall—a blue baby. Sadly enough, for whatever reason, that
poor heart finally stopped one day, and the entire student body mourned the
loss of the beautiful soul that she was and the person she could have become.

But still, even with the sad death of Susan, I
couldn’t think of who it could be. Besides, she and I had looked nothing alike,
unless you subscribe to the general sentiment that all
Homo sapiens
look
alike. She’d been a ABC light ash blond to my auburn-infused brunette,
and due to her condition, Susan had been very slightly built. On the other
hand, while I wasn’t terribly tall, I had definitely been more robust. Well, I
had to be. I’d been on the swim team, after all.

It must have been simply that the DJ booth was dark,
and, clearly, Blue and I had both been drinking. Ergo, she must have made a
mistake. Just because I didn’t know or remember an Ann at school with me didn’t
mean there wasn’t one in some other school. After all, there were at least two
other all-girl ones, not to mention the almost dozen other coed and public
ones, on Staten Island.

“No.” I slowly shook my head. “I’ve never gone to
school with an Ann,” I told Blue. “Do you know what school she went to?” I
asked, thinking that if I didn’t know her, there was a good chance that I knew
someone who did.

“Oh no, Annie, Ann,” she smiled broadly and reached
out to touch my shoulder, “that’s her nickname. Her name is really—” but she
never got to finish the sentence.

The door to the booth slammed open, and as Trace
flounced up the three little steps, the force of her shove allowed the door to
bounce back shut again. She looked upset.

I jumped off from my seat in alarm, and Blue followed
suit. I stepped toward Trace. “What’s wrong?” I asked with concern as Trace’s
eyes burned. Correction. Definitely upset, very upset, and possibly angry.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” she
spat out venomously. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

My concern vanished; I knew what was going to happen.
Trace was just about to pull one of her famous jealousy scenes. I’d witnessed a
few in the past, all of them unleashed on her current boy toy. But this time,
for whatever her reasons, she’d decided to focus on me.

I quickly checked over my shoulder, ensuring Blue was
safely behind me—there was absolutely no need for her to be in the line of
fire, after all—and stepped closer to Trace.

“My job,” I answered Trace coolly, “and
nothing
that you wouldn’t do,” I ripped back at her, and pointedly studied her a bit.
Who the fuck was she to question me, anyway? She’d set me up in the box with
Blue in the first place. Fuck her if I called her bluff, and fuck her and her
jealousy. She had no right to it.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ smartass, Nina,” Trace warned. “I
mean”—she gestured at Blue, but continued to glare at me—“her.”

“I was just showing…” I paused a moment. Fuck. My
fingers still knew what it felt like to be inside her, and I didn’t even know
her name. Christ. In my head, she was Blue, but I was sure she had a name other
people used, like the one she’d been born with, perhaps? I glanced at her, and,
luckily for me, she picked up on my thoughts.

“Candace,” she whispered to me.

“Thanks,” I stage-whispered with a quick and what I
hope was a reassuring smile before I faced down Trace again. “I was showing
Candace the booth, and letting her pick out a few tracks. She’s keeping me
company,” I added blandly. Well, what else was I supposed to say?

Blue, I mean Candace, slipped beside me and slid next
to Trace by the steps.

“I can see you and your girlfriend have some things to
discuss,” she said a bit hurriedly, “so I’ll just say good-bye now,” she said.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I affirmed to Candace,
while Trace spoke at the same time.

“I’m not her girlfriend,” she ground out from the
corner of her mouth.

I watched as Candace studied Trace, and I realized for
the first time that she was more than a bit older than me, maybe mid to late
twenties. Not that I cared, that’s not a big deal or anything. It’s just that I
hadn’t noticed before.

“No, you’re not that,” she said with a thoughtful
expression as she made her own discovery of Trace, “and not quite a friend
either, I see.” Blue, um, Candace took a step back toward me while Trace mulled
that over. I tucked the statement into the back of my head to think about
later, because at this moment I agreed with Candace. I suspected she might have
spoken truer than she knew.