Emerald Flight: Wildest Dreams (continued)

He lingered over the remainder of the sandwich, chiefly because he really had nowhere else to be except for home—and because Jenna had made no motions of leaving him the check. At some point, a fresh glass of beer appeared before him almost before he realized that the first one was empty. Jenna just smiled at him as she exchanged the glasses, but said nothing.

That’s it, Scott decided with amusement. She’s trying to get me drunk. He took a small sip from the new glass. I’d better keep an eye on my kidneys and other transplantable organs.

As it was, the large portion of the meatball sandwich seemed to do a commendable job of soaking up the alcohol. Scott considered for a moment that maybe the Hefen-whatever was not as potent as other brews. He knew, though, what a slippery slope that was. There had been that incident during college when he and his brother had found that bottle of authentic Romanian vodka . . .

His plate eventually became empty, except for a few scattered crumbs of bread crust. Leaning back against the cushioned booth, Scott decided that the less-than-sensible choice had been the right one. It did not always work out that way for him, unlike for his brother—who somehow always managed to dodge his way out of the consequences of unwise decisions, usually with Scott’s help—but this one definitely seemed to.

His stomach was happily content and he had a very slight buzz on from the beer, and a cute waitress was taking care of his every need.

As if that thought had summoned her, Jenna appeared and slid a cappuccino in front of him. She gathered his plate and silverware and then gave him another one of those smiles.

“I’ll be back in a minute with your check,” she said. “I get off in a few minutes.”

Scott nodded. “Thank you.”

Her smile brightened and she departed.

Scott sipped at the cappuccino, finding it still too hot to drink comfortably. He leaned back again, trying to remember the last time that he had truly allowed himself to relax. Not to just not care about what was going on, but relax into it and not worry?

A while, I think, he considered. Dr. Bohl did say the meds would mess me up if I didn’t ease off of them properly.

In retrospect, he realized with only mild glumness, dumping the bottle down the sink had probably not been the best move. Was he suddenly going to crash again tomorrow? Or the next day? How long did the aftereffects last anyway? He would have to check again when he got home, he decided. He remembered researching it once, but none of that knowledge came back to him immediately.

Jenna returned and slipped the check next to saucer where his coffee rested.

“Anything else?” Her dark eyes seemed to search his.

“That depends,” Scott said, only half of his own volition. “Is there anything else6 you think I should have?”

Her smile almost glowed now. “Not this time.”

Scott felt himself smile widely, but felt incredibly unselfconscious about it.

“Be back in a minute,” she said, and wandered off again.

Scott picked up the check, finally wondering if he had enough cash with him to cover it.

The sandwich couldn’t have been that much . . .

He checked the receipt and performed some quick mental calculations. There was enough cash in his wallet to cover the check, but not enough to include the tip that he felt that Jenna deserved. Biting anxiously at his lower lip, he placed his credit card down with the check and prayed that his brother had not managed, once again, to run it over its limit.

Jenna glided by a moment later and gathered them both, flashing Scott a quick smile. Scott waited nervously, testing out possible excuses in his mind for when she returned to inform him that his card had been declined.

That’ll definitely make a good impression . . .

He tried to remain impassive as she approached, but she just smiled at him and placed his card and the charge down for his signature. Again, it bore a hand-drawn smiley-face and her first initial.

At least now I know what it stands for . . .

He signed the slip, returned the card to his wallet, and removed a ten-dollar bill. It was a bit more than was necessary, but she had earned it.

Scott drained the last of his coffee and rose from the table. He looked toward the kitchen area, hoping to get one last glance at her, but she was engaged in conversation with someone out of his view and did not turn his way. He gave a disappointed mental shrug and headed toward the door.

Once outside, he paused, considering whether or not to stop at the supermarket a short walk away. He knew that they were out of a few items, and it might keep him from having to make a separate trip tomorrow. Although he was starting to fill the chill again, he decided to anyway. It would only take a few minutes and also allow him to walk off a few of the calories he had just consumed.

Exiting the store a few minutes later, the handle of a bag gripped in each hand, he headed for his car. He was just working to unlock it when a voice sounded from behind him. His keys clattered to the ground and he felt more embarrassed than angry when he recognized the owner of the voice.

“Are you stalking me now?”

Scott looked up from where he knelt after scrabbling to retrieve his keys. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

Her face took on an expression of mock disappointment, but her eyes sparkled merrily. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

Scott straightened. “It’s not really my style.”

He looked down at her, feeling suddenly very warm. She was dressed in a long dark coat, with a darkly pattern backpack dangling from one hand and a plastic bottle in the other one.

“Too bad,” she grinned mischievously.

“However,” Scott said, placing his two bags on the floor behind the driver’s seat. “It is dark out here and I’d be happy to walk you to your car.”

Jenna shrugged. “It’s not big deal. I do it almost every night,” she said, looking around. “And it’s not that dark out here.”

Scott followed her eyes. It really was not all that dark in this area of the parking.

“But if you insist,” she added playfully, and handed him her backpack.

Scott stared down at it, surprised at its weight.

“Dead bodies?”

Her eyebrows rose in mock deviousness before she answered more seriously.

“School books,” she explained. “I’m studying Psych.”

Scott nodded, his estimation of her rising by several notches.

She led him to a car parked just a few spaces further away from where his own was parked. It was a darkly-painted, older-model coupe that looked as if it had seen better days, but had been lovingly cared for. The car chirped twice as she unlocked it.

“You can just toss that on the other seat,” she said, nodding toward the passenger side of the car.

Scott told as he was told and then waited after closing the door.

“Anything else?” he asked with genuine bemusement.

“Nah,” she said, grinning back at him as she worked open the top from the bottle. “I’m good.”

Her statement was rendered untrue a moment later when the liquid inside suddenly sprayed across her, dousing her coat and the shirt underneath. Her subsequent outburst of profanity was colorful, but nothing Scott had not heard before. In fact, he had heard other women use terms much more vulgar—often in descriptions of his brother.

“I’m sorry,” Scott offered sincerely, while trying hard at the same time not to laugh.

Jenna stood there somewhat forlornly, holding out the bottle at arm’s length while it continued to dribble its contents to the ground.

“I think I have a towel in my car,” Scott said, hoping that it was true.

“Thanks,” she sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly.

Scott found the towel in the gym bag left in trunk. He sniffed it tentatively before removing it from the trunk, but it did not smell as if it had been used. He returned to Jenna with it a few moments and handed it over to her.

She gave him a grateful smile and handed him the bottle while she took the towel and began dabbing at her clothing. Scott held the bottle away from him as she had done, feeling its sticky contents begin to congeal under his fingers.

At least I know she wasn’t drinking and driving, he thought, although that really had not been his primary concern.

Jenna gave a loud sigh and passed him back the towel.

“Thanks,” she said again, brushing at her jacket. “That’ll have to do for now.” She then stared at the bottle that Scott still held in his outstretched hand. “I don’t think it’s going to explode,” she suggested hollowly.

“I think it already did.”

Jenna stared at him.

Shut up, Scott, he warned himself. Now.

He wiped the bottle off on the towel and handed it back to her. She held it up into the light and examined it. From what Scott could see, it still appeared to be more than three-quarters full.

“I wasn’t planning on doing laundry tonight,” she muttered grumpily.

She looked back toward and smiled, although it now carried much less wattage than it had earlier in the evening. Scott tried very hard not to take it personally.

“Thanks again,” she said, and slid into the car.

She closed the door and rolled down the window, which Scott that was odd, considering the cool weather.

Maybe she’s one of those girls who like to drive with the windows open and the music blaring, he considered. I could see that.

The sound he heard next, though, did not come from the vehicle’s stereo system.

“Shit.”

It was not loud, but it was definitely a heartfelt exclamation.

Scott looked down at Jenna, who was glaring at the still dark dashboard of her car.

“It won’t start,” she reported, each word enunciated as a complete statement.

Oh great, now I’ve become a curse on automobiles in this parking lot.

“Uh,” Scott began. “Do you need a jump start?”

“No,” she replied with an emphatic sigh, smacking her hand against the steering wheel. “It needs a whole new freakin’ electrical system.”

Scott tried not to look helpless. Cars were just not in his area of expertise.

“Can I call a tow truck for you?” he offered. “I can wait with you until it gets here.”

Jenna looked up at from the dark interior of the car. He could not completely read the expression in her eyes, but he could tell that she was far from being happy.

‘Look,” she said with a renewed sigh. “Could you give me a ride home? It’s just a few blocks from here.”

“Sure,” Scott agreed quickly. “But what about your car?”

“I’ll deal with it in the morning,” she told him. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Eduardo will keep an eye on it.”

She answered Scott’s questioning look.

“He’s on the night patrol here.”

Scott nodded his understanding. He found himself feeling surprisingly relieved by that explanation, and not solely, he discovered, because it sounded as if Jenna might be safe when she left the restaurant late at night.

“That’s assuming your car will start,” Jenna jibed at him playfully.

Scott shook his head and snatched her backpack off the passenger seat. As he closed the door and watched her lock it again, he asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Why?” she asked him. Her dark eyes shone with reflected light. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t I trust you?”

I can think of a few . . . but Scott managed to shove most of them from his thoughts.

“I was talking about your car,” he explained. He smiled despite his best efforts and laughed quietly.

“It’ll be fine,” she insisted, and headed off in the direction of his car.

Scott gave one more look at Jenna’s car, shrugged, and then followed her.