FOURTEEN

“DO YOU WANT TO GO into the restaurant?” Claire asked.

Tables were emptying out now as more flights were called. The fat guy was still there, although his companion was gone. For some reason this seemed significant to some corner of Claire’s mind.

“No, it’s pretty crappy, really,” Flyer said.

Claire smiled at him. “Crappy?”

“I mean it’s . . .” He paused. “Okay, let’s go in and have a seat. I think that would be great.”

They were given a table by the windows. Night had fallen. Colored runway lights cast long red lines across the wet tarmac. Just outside, a Delta 727 waited to take on passengers. Farther out a United jet roared down the runway and disappeared beyond the range of Claire’s vision.

“What can I get you?” Flyer asked.

“Coffee, I suppose.”

“So.” Flyer smiled gorgeously. “Shall we go on calling each other Weather Girl and Flyer, or may I use your real name?”

“I guess real names would make more sense.”

“Claire,” he said, savoring the word. “I remember that you told me it might not be your real name, that perhaps you had just made it up, but I knew instantly that it was real. It fit perfectly. As soon as I saw it show up on my screen I felt a chill of recognition. Like, yes, of course it’s Claire.”

Claire gulped and was glad for the arrival of the coffee as a distraction. Flyer was so much more than she had expected. It was almost overwhelming. The guys she’d gone out with in the past were people she’d grown up with. Handsome, yes, but familiar. This guy, this guy whose mind she knew well before she’d ever had the first sight of him, was like some vision of perfection. So smart, so charming, and so good looking?

And he liked her. Even after she had confessed so much to him.

“I’d like it if you called me Claire,” she said. “‘Weather Girl’ seems a little strange for two people sharing a cup of coffee. And can I call you Sean?”

He grinned again, and again Claire felt an answering glow.

“You remember? I’m flattered.”

“Of course I remember . . . Sean,” Claire said.

“So,” he said.

“So,” she said.

“I guess this is our first awkward pause,” Sean said.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“We never had these when we were typing to each other,” he said.

“No. I guess that’s because we . . .” She shrugged. “Well, it’s different face-to-face.”

“I suppose it is,” he agreed. “Although you always said that appearances didn’t matter.”

Claire grinned wryly. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“I mean, it’s really your mind and what you believe and think that has meaning for me,” Sean said. He raised an eyebrow as if he disapproved of what he had just said.

“Well, I feel the same,” Claire said. “I mean, really. I guess we’re friends, in a way. I don’t know; it’s confusing, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“I mean, I think of you as someone I know. We’ve had what, maybe a dozen or so conversations, and in some ways I’ve been more honest with you than I am with people I really know.” She shook her head. “But see? I say people I really know, and by that I just mean people I’ve seen in person.”

“This is something of an undiscovered country, isn’t it?” Sean said, looking thoughtful. “Friendships that are formed between people who have only met through a computer screen.”

“Like pen pals in the old days,” Claire suggested.

“Exactly. That’s right; I’d forgotten that people used to have pen pals. So all we’ve done is update things. We can interact more. Instead of me sending a letter one week and you writing back the next week and so on, we can write back and forth. Still . . . there is the same big moment when the pen pals or computer friends meet in person.”

“In the flesh,” Claire said. She instantly regretted the choice of words, especially when, as if on cue, Sean’s eyes dipped to the green silk stretched over her breasts. That was definitely new, she told herself. “Flyer” couldn’t give her looks like the one Sean had just given her.

Not that she resented it. It was just different.

“I have to, uh, run to the little boys’ room,” Sean said.

“I’ll wait,” Claire said.

He stood up, and with a last smile that had the same dazzling effect as his earlier smiles, he turned and walked away.

Claire sipped her coffee. With as much casual disinterest as she could manage, she eyed his form threading his way through the tables. Nice form. Very nice form. Yes, despite her best intentions, things were different when bodies were involved as well as minds.

She followed him till he disappeared, aware that she was smiling slightly, and not caring. Her gaze drifted away, and for a moment she caught the eye of the fat kid, still sitting, hunched over a book. Probably waiting for a delayed flight. Claire let her usual curtain of disdain settle over her face, feeling embarrassed to be caught leering openly at a guy’s tightly jeaned butt.

Now, while Sean was away, was the perfect opportunity for her to bail out if she wanted to.

Only, she definitely didn’t want to.

Jake wiped his palms on his jeans and ran his hand through his hair. He glanced over at Lara. She was standing by the pay phone outside the convenience store, smoking a cigarette and looking tough and nonchalant.

He shrugged and went inside. He blinked like a mole in the fluorescent glare, then took a quick look at the clerk. A middle-aged guy, thin, ridiculous in a too-small, stained blazer.

He passed down the candy aisle, going straight for the cooler. There was no point in pretending he was really there for chewing gum and the beer was some kind of an afterthought. That was stupid. He was there for beer, and the sooner he tried to buy it, the sooner he would know if the man in the blazer would accept his fake ID.

But just to show that he was cool and calm and it was all no big deal, he did bend down and pick up a bag of Doritos. Then he went to the beer cases at the back of the store.

He pulled out two twelve-packs of Bud, balancing the chips on top, and made his way back to the counter. A woman in front of him was buying lottery tickets and taking her time.

The rain had made his jacket damp, and now he found he was both cold and sweaty simultaneously. He adopted a blank, slightly impatient expression and stared at the National Enquirer and the Weekly World News. Apparently a chemical plant explosion in Louisiana had released a cloud of smoke that showed Elvis in mortal combat with the devil.

He reached the counter at last and hefted the beer up onto the high counter.

“Sorry, but I have to see some ID.”

Jake smiled. “Sure. No problem.” He dug out his wallet and slid out the license.

The man looked closely at the license. Then at Jake. “Wade McRoyan, huh?”

“Yes,” Jake said. “That’s me.”

“Name sounds familiar.”

Jake tried not to show any sign of panic. This guy remembered his brother? It wasn’t impossible. Wade had been a big high school football star, and high school football was one of the few sports in the area. And then, too, his death, the accident, had made the news.

“Lots of guys named Wade,” Jake said lamely.

A smile flickered on the man’s thin lips. He handed the license back to Jake and rang up the purchase.

Jake breathed a huge sigh of relief as he passed through the doors to the outside. Lara came sidling over, tossing her cigarette on the ground. She didn’t offer to help carry the beer but sauntered off, past a carload of partygoers dressed in costume and playing Metallica at ground-pounding intensity.

She led him to the four-story brick building on Independence, two blocks away. He followed her up the stairs, to the fourth floor, where she extracted her keys and unlocked the door.

It was dark inside.

“This is it,” she said.

“Looks great so far,” Jake said dryly.

She turned on the light. It was a single large room, with low windows overlooking the street and a high ceiling that sloped up sharply. A small kitchen in one corner. An unmade bed in the opposite corner. Only the bathroom was closed off separately.

The walls were bare brick. The floor was bare wood. Several unframed paintings lay stacked against the walls. Lara went to the stereo, raised on plank-and-cinder-block shelves. She pushed the power button and stared at Jake, almost apprehensively.

The music was unlike anything he’d ever heard. In fact, there was no music, at least not in the sense of instruments. Just male voices singing in an austere choir.

“What is that?” Jake asked, cracking open the first beer and taking a grateful swallow.

“Gregorian chant,” Lara said. “It’s very old.”

Jake nodded. Okay, he told himself, so the girl has strange taste in music. “Sounds like something Benjamin would like,” he said.

Lara’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked eagerly.

Jake shrugged. “I guess. I mean, he listens to everything, but mostly he’s into classical music.”

“I knew he would be,” Lara said mysteriously.

For lack of anything better to say, Jake offered her a beer. She took it and opened it with practiced ease, drinking off the first third in one swallow.

Lara took Jake’s hand and walked him to the bed. She sat down, cross-legged despite the fact that she was wearing a skirt, and pulled Jake down beside her. She leaned forward, fixing him with her moist, intense eyes. “Tell me about the blind boy.”

“Benjamin,” Jake said.

“Yes. He says he’s my half-brother.”

“Well, if Benjamin says it, I imagine it’s true,” Jake said. He finished the first beer and got up to get them each a second.

“Maybe he only believes it’s true,” Lara said, smirking knowingly.

“I guess maybe it caught you by surprise, huh?” Jake said. “I mean, did you already know that you had this other father out there somewhere?”

“I knew the man who pretended to be my father wasn’t,” she said. “I asked my mother, and she told me it had been someone else. Only, she didn’t tell me who.”

“So I guess Benjamin was the one who spilled the beans.”

“I knew before that. Benjamin doesn’t know. He thinks he knows. But my real father isn’t a person at all.”

That stopped Jake in mid-swallow as alarm bells started going off in his head. He finished the second beer quickly and wondered whether he might not be able to find a better person to get drunk with on Halloween night. There must be parties going on all over the place.

On the other hand, this apartment was dry and warm, and he’d already carried the beer up four flights of stairs. And Lara might be a little loopy, but she was also quite pretty when you got beneath the bad makeup. The truth was, from certain angles she struck chords of memory in Jake, powerful, evocative memories of Zoey. When Lara smiled, especially, there was a clear flash of Zoey.

They were half-sisters, after all, Jake reminded himself.

He cracked a third beer and handed one to Lara, who was keeping pace drink for drink. “So,” Jake asked, knowing he really shouldn’t, “who was your father?”

“Not who,” Lara said. “What.”

Aisha reached the end of the alley and stepped out into the street. It was still rain slick, though the rain itself had stopped. Her head was feeling a little better. The throbbing was still there, but reduced to more supportable levels. The numbness on her side was almost all gone, just a hint of residual weakness remaining.

“I must look like a total mess,” Aisha said to herself. “Jeff will think I’m a skank.”

Her hair had suffered somewhat from being pressed down onto the ground. It was flatter on one side, with bits of grit stuck in it. Somehow, maybe because it was wet, it seemed slightly longer than should be right, too. First her uniform got all short and tight and now her hair had gone the other way, growing too long.

And where was her purse? Surely she wouldn’t have left the house without her purse, with her brush and makeup. Had she left it back in the alley? No, she would have noticed it lying on the ground.

She started down the dark street, feeling a strange sort of anticipation, or was it nervousness? Not that she had anything to be nervous about. She was going to see Jeff. They would go up to his room and listen to music, and then his mother would go off to her night shift at the hospital. Jeff’s mother left at eight, and Aisha had to be home by ten, her curfew, but that would still give them two hours of privacy together. At least it would if Jeff’s aunts went out, too.

She thought of how much she enjoyed kissing Jeff. He was the only boy she had ever kissed, but just the same she was sure he was about the best kisser in the world. It was impossible to imagine anyone being sweeter, or more gentle, or more passionate.

He always told her how beautiful and sexy she was. And Aisha didn’t need anyone to tell her how lucky she was that he liked her. He was older, after all, already seventeen years old, which was practically grown up.

Of course, him being older, he expected her to act more grown up than just some dumb fourteen-year-old.

Aisha thought about that as she turned onto Jeff’s block. She wasn’t stupid or anything; she knew what Jeff wanted her to do. Lots of girls at school were already doing it, and lots of them were doing it with dorky guys their own age. At least Jeff was older and more experienced. Not to mention so much more handsome.

And someday Jeff was going to be a big success with his music. He had already started performing on weekends in the T station downtown.

Aisha looked up, her attention drawn by a very unusual sight in this part of town: a limousine. It was black and glistened with raindrops and was coming toward her, slowly crawling along the street.

Aisha stopped to watch it go by. Possibly some major star was inside and she might be able to get a glimpse, although the windows were opaque.

The limousine stopped, and suddenly the door opened. To her complete and utter amazement, Jeff jumped out. He ran to her, crying out her name. He put his arms around her and twirled her around.

Aisha giggled. “Stop, you’ll make me dizzy.”

“Aisha,” Jeff said happily. He held her out at arm’s length, looking her over as if it had been a long time since he had seen her last, instead of just yesterday. “Damn, you look good, girl.”

“I’m a mess,” Aisha protested. “I think I tripped back in the alley. My uniform is soaked.”

“Uniform?”

Aisha opened her coat. “See, it’s wet all up one side.”

“That your same old Girl Scout uniform?” Jeff asked, grinning delightedly. “Oh, I get it. Halloween. Well, this is my whole costume.” He stepped back and spun around. He was dressed in hugely baggy jeans and a jean jacket with no shirt on underneath.

“Halloween?” Aisha asked, repeating the word uncomprehendingly.

“Not really,” Jeff said with a self-deprecating look. “Just my stage rags. Now that I’m a big star I have to dress down.”

“How come you’re riding in that car?” Aisha asked, pointing at the limousine, as long as two normal cars.

“They sent it over for me from the Orpheum, baby. Like I say, now that I’m a big star I guess I rate a limo.”

Aisha looked closely at him. He was acting very strange, and in fact he looked a little strange. Almost as if he was older. But that might have just been because she’d never seen him looking quite this happy. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“So, me being an old friend and all, is it like cool if I give you a kiss?” he asked, smiling roguishly.

“You never asked before,” Aisha pointed out.

Jeff took her in his arms and held her close. At first he gave her a light little kiss, just brushing her lips. Then he started to release her. Then he looked at her and must have seen her half-closed eyes and parted lips, because he came back again for a more normal kiss. They had been french-kissing for a few months already, and Aisha liked it a lot. It made her feel totally incredible.

Though as he kissed her, a strange thought crossed her mind. It was like a picture of some faraway place, a dark yard, and she herself in a bathrobe and a big green parka. Then the picture was gone and she was back, reveling in the way Jeff made her feel.

“Come on, baby,” he said in a husky voice, pulling away at last. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Where are you going?” Aisha asked.

“Where are we going, you mean. Baby, we’re on our way to the big time. The Orpheum.”

“Why are we going there? What’s going on?”

Jeff looked at her queerly for a moment. Then he laughed. “I see you picked up that dry Maine sense of humor.”

“I did?”

“Okay, I get it,” Jeff said. He laughed again. “Come on, hop in. This is it, babe. The first great gig. Opening for Tiësto and Afrojack at the Orpheum.”

“No way!” Aisha exclaimed. Then, more doubtful, “What is Tiësto?”

Jeff sighed. “You never were big on music, I know, but come on. Even you must know who they are.”

Aisha felt embarrassed. Obviously she was revealing her ignorance again, something she did frequently on the subject of music. “Of course I do,” she said quickly. “I was just teasing.”

She got in, shocked by the feel of the cold leather seats on her bare legs. She had to lean way out to close the door, but the driver had gotten out to close it for her. “Wow,” Aisha said.

“You got that right,” Jeff said. “Wow.”

BENJAMIN

Well, I guess this is obvious, but my great fear is that somehow I’ll lose my hearing. I’m already blind. I think being blind and deaf would be a little too much. No music. No conversation. No talking books. That would definitely be unpleasant. I might have to check out permanently at that point. I mean, what’s left then? Taste? Smell? Touch?

I’ll admit the sense of touch has some interesting possibilities. And with taste I could become a wine connoisseur and a serious gourmet. Which means a really hot Saturday night would be a delicious dinner, accompanied by an excellent wine while I enjoy the subtle hints of my girlfriend’s perfume, and after dinner we give the sense of touch a workout . . .

Okay, so I guess I’m not afraid of anything. Unless you want to get into the whole “I’m-blind-so-any-passing-pinhead-can-beat-me-up” thing. Yeah. Well, all right, there is still this little bit of fear that someday someone, or several someones, will realize how defenseless I am. It’s a world that still wants guys to be tough and able to protect themselves. And I’m not tough, not in that way at least. And I can’t do much to defend myself. And yes, that does still scare me.

But I can put stuff like that out of my mind most of the time. The bigger fear, on a day-to-day basis, is just that I’ll make some incredible fool of myself. It’s taken a lot of work to earn people’s respect, and boy, when you can’t see, it is so easy to make an ass of yourself.