1
A door swung open down the hall. Jack opened his eyes in the dark and listened.
Earlier he’d walked down to Roosevelt for some Chinese takeout. He called Gia along the way and told her he’d be out all night. That was enough for her. Most times she preferred not to know what he was into, and that tended to work out well for both of them—she worried less, and he wasn’t distracted by concern that she was worried. He didn’t want to get into the details on the phone; he’d tell her tomorrow.
He and Weezy had talked late into the night about old times, and he revealed some of the schemes he’d worked as a teen in addition to Carson Toliver’s locker, culminating with saving Mr. Canelli’s lawn.
“That was you?” she’d said, wide-eyed. “I never guessed.”
“Good. No one was supposed to.”
His first official fix. Up till then they’d all been personal. Mr. Canelli was the first ever to hire him.
The talk faded and they called it a night. After making sure all the locks were engaged, Jack moved the newspapers off the double bed in the spare bedroom and helped Weezy make it up for him. They hugged good night and went to their separate beds.
Jack lay under the sheet, facing the window, fully dressed except for his work boots. The stolen Tokarev lay on the nightstand, his Glock was a hard lump beneath his pillow. Overkill, perhaps, since whoever was after Weezy didn’t know where she lived. The first floor was secure—steel doors, iron grilles on the windows—and the second accessible only via ladder, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Overkill had its charms.
He heard bare feet on the floorboards, heading for the bathroom, no doubt. But they stopped outside his door. After a few heartbeats he heard it swing open. A weight settled on the mattress behind him and a warm body pressed against his back.
“Weez?”
“You’ve got all your clothes on?”
“Weez, what are you doing?”
“I need to snuggle,” she whispered. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck. “Is it okay if we snuggle? I’ve gotten used to sleeping alone, but after today . . . I think I need to snuggle. Do you mind?”
How could he refuse her? Anyway, it was just Weezy.
“No. Snuggle away.”
“Thanks.”
She spooned against him and snaked an arm around his chest, pulling herself closer.
She sighed. “This is nice. I needed this.”
Jack agreed it was nice, and if it gave her some comfort, even better. He was just drifting off into slumber when he felt her hand begin to move against his chest in a gentle circular motion. He waited for her to stop but she didn’t. Then she began sliding her palm down along his abdomen.
He grabbed her wrist.
“Weezy, what are you doing?”
“Just feeling a little needy.”
“With me? This is Jack, remember?”
“I know. And maybe that’s why. I mean, Jack . . . after all the years we spent together, all the growing up we did together, don’t you think we owe each other one time? Just once? That once probably would be ancient history by now if all those meds they tried on me hadn’t messed up my already messed-up head, but I’m clearheaded now and we’re here together in the same bed . . .”
“Yeah, but I’m taken.”
“We predate her.”
“Weez . . .”
“It’s because I got fat, isn’t it.”
How to let her down easy? No way this was going to happen, but he didn’t want to stomp on her feelings.
“Cool the fat talk. You’re not. And if I was in a different situation, I might think it was a great idea. But with things as they are, we’ll both regret it. Besides, you’re vulnerable right now—”
“Of course I’m vulnerable. I’ve been scared every day and every night. Then my worst fear is realized—someone kidnaps me. Or tries to. But a figure from the past, my tried-and-true friend Jack rides in with six-guns blazing and rescues me. And after we spend some time together I realize I want him—I want him reeeeeal bad.”
“I thought you said I was scary and not the Jack you knew.”
“I was upset then, but as we talked later I realized the Jack I knew as a kid would do anything, whatever it took, to help a friend. And that’s what you did this afternoon.”
“Okay, but not to sound like a broken record, Weez, I’m taken.”
“I’m not talking an affair here. I’m talking one time for ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ a moment, a lightning flash, and then we’ll have fulfilled a mutual destiny and it will be over. We’ll never speak of it again and she never has to know.”
“But I’ll know.”
Weezy wriggled her wrist free of his grasp and pulled her arm back. But she stayed spooned against him. She didn’t move and neither did Jack.
Had he hurt her?
She sobbed.
Damn, he had. He turned toward her.
“You’re taking this all wrong, Weez. I—”
“No, you are. I’m glad you turned me down.”
What? She’d always been unpredictable but . . .
“I’m not following.”
“It means you haven’t changed. The whole world is going to hell and nobody knows what’s up or what’s down, but here you are in the middle of it all, just as steady and true as you were when you were a kid.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that . . .”
“I do. And I’m just so damn happy there’s still someone I can count on in this world.” She pulled the sheet off and started to get up. Jack saw she was wearing a long, oversized T-shirt. “I’m sorry I put you on the spot like this. I’ll—”
He placed his hand against her back.
“Stay.”
She froze. “What?”
“You said you needed to snuggle, so let’s snuggle. Just . . . snuggle.”
After an instant’s hesitation, she lay back down and rested her head on his shoulder.
“That’s all I really wanted to do anyway. I was just kidding about the other stuff.”
“Just testing me, huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
Jack doubted that, but with Weezy, you could never be one hundred percent sure. That was what made her Weezy.
“All right, now,” she said, settling against him. “Quit your incessant chatter and let me get some sleep.”
Jack smiled and stared at the ceiling until her breathing settled into a rhythmic pattern, then he closed his eyes.