Punk and Zen (40 page)

Stephie and Jerkster unstrung their ticket garlands
and went through them together as Dee Dee read out the numbers. I’d never
noticed she had such a flair for the dramatic before, I thought as I waited
with a dry mouth.

A muffled buzz went through the room as everyone
checked their numbers, and Stephie and Jerkster were throwing the rejected ones
at Paulie-Boy.

Finally, Samantha stood there with a strange look on
her face, holding a little ticket in her hand.

Graham pushed her forward.

“Well, you won her fair and square,” Fran said, and
quickly took a drink of her beer.

I stepped down from the stage, took the little red
stub from her hand, and handed it back to Dee Dee. “Well,” I said as I stood
before the three of them, “if this is the thing you guys have been playing hot
potato with all night, then Graham won.” I smiled at them, a stage smile.

I dramatically put my arm around his neck and got a
very good look at his face as he bent me over backward. When his lips met mine,
our kiss confirmed what my eyes had seen, and something I had suspected for a
while—he was a she.

It was a very sweet and somewhat chaste kiss, and the
room applauded when he stood me back up.

“Now you know.” Graham smiled at me with a twinkle in
his eyes.

“Now I know.” I smiled back. “Does the band?”

Before we got onstage to play, I’d left the board
programmed with a cycling set so Dee Dee could just flick a switch and have
music for the rest of the night. She did as Graham pulled me into a hug. “The
rest of the Microwaves do,” he whispered, as we danced.

“I won’t say anything,” I promised as he took me
through a quick two-step twirl.

“I wasn’t worried about it.” Graham grinned and put
his mouth close to my ear. “What I
am
worried about,” he said in a low
voice, “is you.”

“Me? Why are you worried about me?”

Graham gave me another little spin before answering.

“You’re a great performer, Nina, a real natural.
Paulie-Boy was right, we’re gonna have a great tour,” he began.

“So what are you worried about?” I questioned. I mean,
if the music was good and the tour was on, then what was the problem?

“I’m betting…you’ve never been away for so long, have
you?”

“No,” I answered slowly, wondering what he was getting
at.

“Things change—faster than you think.” He tapped my
nose lightly. “She’s outside the bar—go talk with her.” He spun me gently to
face the door. “Go!”

I don’t know why I did it, but I did, slipping through
the dancers and other attendees. I stepped out through the door, walked past
the vestibule, and saw her, standing a few feet away like she had that first
night that felt as close as yesterday and as untouchable as tomorrow.

Tears shone in her eyes, and she merely watched me as
I neared her under the streetlight, and I couldn’t help myself—my hands reached
out and gently cradled her face. I kissed that perfect mouth softly, my chest
burning as I felt her respond.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever made love with,” I
told her as I traced her cheeks lightly with my thumbs.

Fran blinked and looked down.

I put my arms around her. “Baby, please…don’t do this
to us,” I asked into her ear. She wound her arms around my waist and buried her
head into my shoulder, her cheek way too warm against my skin. I could feel her
shoulders shake as she cried, could feel her tears slide down my chest.

“Nina, you hardly let me touch you,” she said thickly,
then grazed her lips against my collarbone as her hands dug into my shoulders.

I didn’t know what to say to that, because it hurt,
because it wasn’t true, not really anyway, and her lips on my skin and her
hands on my shoulders burned with memory, a fire that left me breathless,
caught between hurting and wanting.

Finally, I found a way to speak through this
paralyzing feeling, the cage that constricted my chest and throat, the words
that had meaning for me, anyway. “You’re the only one I’ve ever let touch me,
love,” I said, the words scratching their way out.

“No, baby, no,” she corrected as she drew her lips
along my neck. She kissed my jawline, then touched my face, her thumb drawing
against my chin. “I’m your first.”

She kissed me, deeply, desperately, those splendid
lips against mine, maddening given her words, inflaming despite them.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” I broke off and said,
breathing heavily. I leaned my head against hers. “Tell me you don’t.”

She kissed the spot right next to me ear. “I’ve always
loved you,” she whispered, and clutched me to her fiercely. “I love you right
now, more than you can possibly know, and I will love you tomorrow.”

“Then why…?” I asked helplessly as I held her to me
just as tightly. The light breeze that blew over from the Hudson River felt
cold on my face as I let the tears run freely down before I buried it in her
mane. I breathed in her scent and felt her tremble against me, or maybe it was
me trembling against her—I couldn’t tell at all, it didn’t matter.

“You’re about to go see the world, baby,” she said
softly, “and it’s a whole lot bigger than I am.”

That didn’t make any sense to me at all. “Kitt…do you
want me to stay?” I asked quietly, prepared to do ABC anything.

She laughed softly. “Yes…no…I wouldn’t do that to
you,” she smiled at me, “and I wouldn’t want you to do that to yourself.”

Finally, I let her go and stood back a step. “What can
I do?” I asked her. “Does it have to be like this?”

Fran smiled at me. “Come back. We’ll see where things
stand then.”

I nodded and swallowed painfully. “You let me think
this was about Samantha,” I said, pain burning through me in strings that
wiggled and twisted under my skin.

Fran nodded. “I know I did—and I’m sorry about that. I
was…um…I overreacted,” she explained, waving a hand in the air. “But…it’s not
going to change anything. The fact is,” and she reached into her pocket,
“you’ve been in love with her since we were kids—and it’s not fair for you not
to find out where that stands now.”

She pulled her hand out of her pocket. “This…is for
you,” she told me, opening her hand to reveal an old-style silver chain with an
ankh pendant—similar to the one I used to wear. There was something about the
way it shone in the light that it made it look old, too.

She put it on me, fastening the clasp. She placed her
hand over where it lay on my throat and gazed at me.

“Wear this,” she asked, her eyes deep with meaning as
they burned into mine. “Don’t take it off—promise me that.”

I didn’t know why she asked, but the energy that
emanated from her told me there were intentions behind this that were stronger
than I knew.

I folded my hand over hers. “I promise. I won’t take
it off.”

Prompted by instinct, I bent my head to hers, to kiss
that mouth I could never resist.

“Oi there!” Graham’s voice called out. “They want one
more song before closing!”

The moment cracked in two.

“I’ll be right there!” I called back as I faced her.

“Go, they’re waiting for you.” She smiled and waved me
on.

I nervously swallowed and agreed. Graham was, in a
strange way, about to be my new boss—and I didn’t want to muff it up.

I started back to the door and had even taken a few
steps when my brain snapped back to normal. Fuck it—he wasn’t the boss yet.

I ran back, caught her up in my arms, and kissed her,
one last beautiful kiss that would tell her more than my words would. “You’ll
always be my Kitt,” I murmured into her ear, holding her close before I had to
let go, “nothing will ever change that.” I’d never spoken truer words in my
life.

I let her go and didn’t look back as I went to the
door where Graham waited. He raised his eyebrows at me, but my expression told
him nothing as our eyes met. He dropped his gaze and focused on the ground as I
passed.

The place was crowded, and I bumped into Samantha as I
moved through the human press to the stage. Caught short, I stopped to look at
her, and her blue eyes, almost black in the light, widened as they rested on
the ankh that hung around my neck.

Stretched between rage at the unfairness of everything
and the absolute tearing that threatened to rip me down until I was nothing,
when her eyes met mine again, I wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her to
me as she closed me against her chest, the thrum of the music I’d programmed
bouncing through us.

“Do you want me to come home with you?” she asked, her
voice low and throaty in my ear.

“Go to Fran—she’s outside. She needs you,” I whispered
back as I let her go. I walked to the stage, feeling absolutely nothing.

I got home after six in the morning, the sunlight
beaming. It was the last day, last chance before I left to straighten things
out. I looked around my neatly packed stuff. That was good. I’d prepaid my
rent, so that was taken care of. I walked out to the train station and hung out
with Nico for a while. We stopped by my parents’ for a few minutes because I
wanted to see them before I left—well, that, and Nico insisted. It was a little
less strained than usual—but not by much. I got an awkward hug from my mom and
a vague “Be careful about the water” from my father. Nanny admired my ankh and
didn’t say much else.

My aunt, my mother’s sister, embraced me warmly and
told me to “show them what a Del Castillo’s got,” and I let my cousins, who
shared my and Nanny’s old bedroom, monopolize the rest of my time: little Elena
and her doll collection and Victoria, who, even though she was too big for it,
sat on my lap or rode piggyback while enthusiastically sharing her bug
collection and took me through the little infirmary she’d created for Elena’s
dolls—they were really sweet kids.

I spent another hour at the comic book store with Nico
before I went home. I knew at least he’d miss me, well him and Victoria,
anyway.

A car would come to pick me up in the morning. I took
a shower. With nothing left but to pick out my clothes for the next day and to
sleep, I flipped on the lower light, lay down in my bed, and forced myself to
think about absolutely nothing—the future was a complete unknown. I must have
ABC dozed off because the phone rang.

“Nina,” I answered sleepily.

“I need to see you before you go,” Samantha’s voice
said urgently in my ear.

I looked at the little travel clock by the side of the
bed. “I’ll never make it to you and get back here in time to get some sleep for
tomorrow,” I said, thinking for some reason that she was at the bar. Funny how
it never occurred to me to say no.

“No need, I’m right on the corner.”

I swung my legs off the bed, walked to the window, and
there she was—same overcoat, hair gleaming under the streetlight. I didn’t
think about being naked until I felt a chill cross my skin.

I hung up the phone and grabbed my robe—a new one I’d
bought for the trip. Belting it around me, I padded on bare feet out of my
bedroom to the door. She was waiting when I got there.

Her face was pale, making her eyes stand out even
more, dark burning holes that pulled me ever deeper into them. “I can’t just
let you go again,” her voice was ragged, “I can’t.” She reached for me and I
took her hands, pulling her inside.

“Fran—” I whispered to her as we walked backward
toward my room.

“Has set you free,” Samantha interrupted, and her
voice burned with her intensity. She took a hand back and cupped my cheek, her
eyes as intense as her words. “I know you love her, but I know,
I know,
you love me, too—you can’t tell me you don’t.”

She was right. I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t.
God forgive me, but when I looked into her eyes to speak, to say something,
anything, the words died in my throat.

I let myself experience what I really felt for her,
all the things I’d closed myself off from, the things I’d told myself,
convinced myself, would never be. The reality of Samantha’s closeness flooded
through me, the loss and the need, the stark fear of losing this moment, of
losing her again, of never having this chance, despite the rawness that I felt
to my bones over Fran, the desperate, desperate ache just to be next to my
Samantha.

This was so much more than sexual, deeper, stronger
somehow, leaping through my blood and setting icy fire to my belly.

I kissed her, I finally had her lips on mine, the
memory and the promise merging into the beauty of the now, the real, creating
an emotional landscape I could read without a single spoken world. I put my
hands to her shoulders and slid her coat off her and onto the floor, and I felt
her body shift as she kicked her boots off. Her hands were under my robe,
caressing the skin of my back, graphing lines of heat that drew me even ABC
closer. I fumbled almost frantically for the belt at her waist and the
button underneath. She gently grabbed my hand and guided it down her jeans.