After the Rain

She chewed a lip, shook her glass so the ice at the bottom made a chilly rattle. Then she looked away. “And then one day he was really gone.

“Missing, they called it. Twenty years later, the Vietnamese turned over his remains: 1995.” She held up her empty glass until she had the bartender’s attention, then she turned her smoky eyes back on Ace. “So those are my two choices?”

“Or you could try something different.” Ace said, trying his best to look reasonable and helpful.

“I just tried something different.” She looked him over like a piece of merchandise when she said that, and Ace couldn’t tell if she was deciding to buy or walk away.

Then, after a few seconds, she said, “You’re staring.”

“Tell me what happened with your ear.”

She shook her head. “Nah, not yet. Maybe when I know you better. Try again.”

“Okay. Pryce, is that your husband’s name?”

“Uh-uh. His name’s Broker.”

“So you didn’t take his name.”

“And he didn’t take mine.”

“O-kay. What about your pal Jane? That hatchet thing around her neck,” he said, exploring.

Nina smiled. “You ever hear anybody call a woman a battle ax?”

Ace thought about it. “Sure, my Aunt Bea.”

“Was Aunt Bea a sweet soft thing, dependent on a man?”

“More like leather braid soaked in vinegar. Outlived two husbands.”

“Uh-huh. See, Jane says it’s one of those clues buried in the language. That ax is called a labrys. In ancient Greek paintings, like on vases, there’s pictures of the Amazons carrying them in battle. A lot of lesbians and feminists are into the symbolism.”

“I can dig it,” Ace said, warming to the gin and the conversation. “I’m sort of into Greek mythology myself. You ever read The Myth of Sisyphus?”

She squinted, thought; decided how to play it. “The guy chained to the rock. The birds come every day to tear out his guts.”

Ace shook his head. “That’s Prometheus.”

“Okay, then Sisyphus is the other guy with the rock. He pushes it up a hill over and over as punishment.”

“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.”