“Bingo. The original uphill battle. I got this theory that Sisyphus is really a German-Norwegian farmer who’s trying to make a go on eight hundred acres up on the border by Hannah,” Ace said as his best grin spread over his face.
“You’re turning out different than I first expected,” she said frankly.
“Yep. I’m not like the others.” He held her gaze for a moment. “So Jane’s an Amazon, huh?”
Nina sniffed, retreated back into her foul mood, and sounded irritated. “Jane wants to be a lot of things. Since I’ve known her she’s wanted to a poet and a caterer but what she really does is wait on tables in this restaurant in Minneapolis.”
Ace squinted, thoughts revolving just behind his eyes. “So how’d you two…”
Nina jerked the corner of her lip up in a sort of smile. “That turns you on, huh? The two of us…”
Ace shrugged.
Nina laughed. “Men don’t mind the idea of two women in bed together. You know why?”
Ace couldn’t help smiling. The way she rolled over you like a wheel, mostly hard parts but now and then enough of the soft showing through to keep you interested. “I got a feeling you’re going to tell me,” he said.
“Damn straight. It’s ’cause you can see yourself sandwiched in there with them, huh?”
Ace felt his face get hot. “I guess.”
She leaned across the table, her face softening, lips going mobile, probably from the whiskey. “But if I told you it turned me on to think of you and a guy naked together…”
The way Ace sat up straight, narrowing his eyes, put Nina on guard. Hit a nerve. But she pushed on, wagged her finger and said, “Double standard, Ace.” The joke withered in his cold stare and she was more careful now, signaling that she read the palpable heft of danger in his body language. She sat up primly. “Moving right along,” she said.
He studied her for several beats. “So what you gonna do, Nina Pryce?”
She tipped her eyes toward the bar. “Maybe I’ll go back to tending bar right here. I could talk about you with the sun-fried sisters.”
“I don’t think you’re up to all the sky, wind, wheat, barley, canola, and flax,” Ace said.
“You ever read that play Streetcar Named Desire? Tennessee Williams?”
Ace shook his head. “I read a lot of Louis L’Amour once.”
“Well, in Streetcar there’s this woman named Blanche who winds up alone, and she says how she’s always relied on the kindness of strangers.”
“So that’s me, huh? The kind stranger?”
Nina raised her shoulders and let them drop. “Maybe kind isn’t the right word. I just hope you’re not mean…Your friend with all the hair…”
“Gordy.”
“Yeah, Gordy, he strikes me as being on the mean side. I get the feeling he doesn’t like women.”
Ace watched her carefully; the way she cast it out there like a lure. Was this where she set the hook? Gordy probably had her pegged right. Some kind of cop. “Maybe he just don’t like you,” he said.
“But he doesn’t even know me.”
“You ready for another drink?” Ace said as he swirled the ice in the bottom of his glass.
“Yeah. Something stronger.”
They drank together and began the slow dance, bold with their eyes, less and less cautious with their words as one drink followed another and the tabletop became a field of interlocking water rings. They were coming up on the moment of truth.
“So what are we doing here? You and me?” Ace said.
The smoky eyes came up. “You can buy me drinks all night, Ace Shuster; don’t mean I’m going to give it up to you or anybody else for a long time.”
“I ain’t that ambitious. I mean, like where you planning to spend the night?”
“Motel, I guess.”
“Only one good motel in town and Jane’s in that. Course, so is your kid.”
“Let me tell you something. My kid could use a break. And Jane’s good with her.” Real direct.
“Speaking of Jane. I remember what she said back at my place about you needing to get loaded to be with a guy. Did that bother your husband? You drinking?” Just as direct.
Nina couldn’t stop the flush creeping up her neck. She lowered her eyes. “Not like I had to get falling down…”
Ace held up his glass of scotch and peered into it. “I don’t need the details. And sure, I’d like to fool around but I’d kind of like you to be sober. How’s that?”
Nina’s grin was wary and amused. “If that’s the wager then it looks like nobody’s getting laid.”
Ace shrugged, drained his glass, and signaled for another round. “You can stay at my place tonight. Got an apartment over the bar. No games, no bullshit, no hidden agenda. I already made up my mind to sleep on the couch. But tomorrow,” he winked, “we’re going to sober up, you and me.”
The drinks arrived and Nina raised her glass in a toast.
“To tomorrow.”
Nina fished her cell phone from her purse. “I’m going to call Jane, tell her I won’t be back tonight, and explain things to my daughter.” She looked around. “And I gotta use the john.”
Ace nodded, pointed toward the rear of the place. “Door in the hall on the right.”
Nina got up, walked down the bar, and went into the women’s john. She took a seat in the stall, latched the door and flipped open her cell phone, thumbed down through the phonebook, selected Jane’s number, and pushed “send.”
“This is Jane.”
“Nina.”
“How’s it going, Mata Hari? You catch that four-pound walleye yet?”
“Very funny. So far so good. I’m invited to his pad for the night. He says he’ll sleep on the couch. And I sort of believe him. He’s this odd mix of Eagle Scout and the Sundance Kid. I can’t tell if he’s going for it or going along with it.”
“We gotta try, right? Hollywood wants to know how you assess your security.”
“My first impression, he’s got some dangerous baggage but it takes a while to get down to it. The other guy in the bar was more edgy. But this Ace, he’s…”
“He’s a tricky guy, Nina; and he’s got some social skills and maybe even some depth of character. But so did Darth Vader.”
“I hear you. So far he hasn’t discussed his business.”
Hollywood came on the phone. “We can’t cover you all the time, Nina. Not in a small town. We talked about this. If you go forward you’re on your own.”
“Understood.”
“We need some idea of his pattern, his contacts, any sign he’s anticipating something big.”
“I got it, Holly.”
“Okay. And we set the ball rolling. Jane has the local cop hunting down your husband.”
Great, Nina thought, but said nothing.
“I said…”
“I heard you.”
“Okay. Here’s Kit.”
Nina shut her eyes. The bathroom smelled of cheap disinfectant on monotonous yellow linoleum. The walls and floor closed in; claustrophobic. She was quick to fight it off. It’s not a question of one kid; thousands of kids out there could be potential victims… Still, she had used her daughter, like a private soldier, to gain position.
“Hi, Mom.”
“You did great, honey. Thanks.”
“Are you done working yet?”
“No, I got to keep going a little while longer. But, hey, Dad’s on his way to pick you up and take you home. What are you and Auntie Jane going to do tomorrow?”
“She said there’s an outside pool, in a park.”
“Remember, you need lots of lotion even if it’s cloudy.”
“I know.” Then Kit’s voice quavered. “Are you going to come home, too?”
“C’mon, honey, we talked about this.” Nina tapped her teeth together.
“Fine,” Kit said sharply. “I know-don’t quit, don’t cry unless you’re bleeding.” Kit had obviously mastered Jane’s cell phone because suddenly the call was over. The connection went dead: she had hung up on her mother. Nina couldn’t afford the luxury of remorse when she was working, but she couldn’t stop a memory. Eight years old, about Kit’s age. An elementary school in Ann Arbor. A one-page story assignment: What I did this weekend. “My mom and I went to the VA Medical Center to help the wounded soldiers…” The teacher, in beads and a peasant skirt, had said, “That’s okay, Nina, it doesn’t mean you’re for the war…”