“So where’s home?”
“Leesburg Inn,” she said.
“I hope the company is paying for some of that until you find a place.”
“What do you think?”
“My guess would be no because they are cheap bastards.”
“Good guess,” she said.
It was not a far drive. Quinn was more than a little disappointed about that.
“So what’s up with you and Summer?” Kate asked.
Quinn practically choked and had to will himself not to stray from the road.
“I deeply hope I misunderstood that question,” Quinn replied.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. If I hit a nerve or something.”
“Well… I… No… I… just.”
Quinn looked over at her to see her smiling slyly back at him.
“You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?” he asked.
“If you mean making fun of you, yes,” she replied.
“Sorry-I’ve been around Janus too long. For the record, there is nothing between Summer and I, nor has there ever been, nor will there ever be.”
“Don’t worry, it seemed pretty obvious she wasn’t your favorite person.”
“Kate, I’ve met many people in my life,” he said melodramatically. “A lot of politicians, lobbyists, heads of trade groups. Some are great, but others are the most self-important people you could ever meet. And Summer beats them all with room to spare. She is the most effortlessly self-involved person I’ve ever met.”
“Sounds charming.”
“Also, she has a persecution complex a mile wide. She thinks everybody is out to get her.”
“Is she right?”
“Well, some of the time. In terms of her reporting though, Summer’s intense and definitely no slouch. She’s desperate to make it to The Washington Post — absolutely consumed by the idea.”
“She already works there,” Kate said.
“Yes and no. The Loudoun Extra is very segregated from the main paper. So around here she can say she works for the Post, but it isn’t like she can escape Loudoun exactly. They view her as belonging to a satellite-and slightly inferior-office. So she works her butt off to try and get stories into the main paper. Something that will help her prove to them she’s ready for the big time.”
“Hard to do, I’ll bet.”
“Sure. My point is she’s tough. If you want to beat her, believe me when I tell you I would like nothing better. But she’ll give you a run for your money. You might be able to charm people to tell you the truth, but she will beat them over the head with a stick until they give her what she wants.”
“Don’t worry, I can be plenty aggressive when I need to be,” Kate said.
Quinn looked at her. For a moment, she looked so serious that he was worried he had offended her. But she smiled back at him.
“Here we are,” she said.
They pulled into the Leesburg Inn. Quinn pulled up to the door hoping she might stay in the car a while longer, but she thanked him for the ride and was almost out of earshot before he thought to stop her.
“Hey wait,” he called.
She turned around.
“I meant to tell you this earlier. Some of us go to this bar on Saturday nights. It would be cool if you could join us.”
Kate paused and appeared to consider the offer. Quinn hurried on as if he wasn’t nervous, but casual.
“It’s the Leesburg Tavern-right off Market Street.”
“All right,” she replied. “What time?”
“Around seven. We have dinner and there is usually a good band there for an hour or two.”
Kate nodded. “Sounds good,” she said. And she was through the lobby doors before he could say another word.
Quinn saw her stride through the lobby and lost sight of her.
He felt strangely pleased with himself. He hadn’t asked her out, but it was a beginning. Things are looking up, he thought.
He enjoyed the moment, not knowing just how short it would be.
Saturday, Oct. 7
Kate walked over to the Leesburg Tavern with some measure of dread. A part of her wanted to stay inside. Since she had been back, she had fought the urge many times to just pack her bags and head home. In her anonymous hotel room, she could convince herself she was safe. But out in the night air like this, a terrible thought kept popping up.
I’m going to die in this town.
She shook her head. It was nonsense. Understandable, given her history, but stupid. Besides, faced with another night watching terrible cable in a hotel room, what choice did she have? If she was going to live in this town, she would have to put aside her fears and at least try to be social. Otherwise, she worried she would go crazy.
When she pushed open the door and stepped inside, she was immediately hit by a gigantic waft of smoke and the smell of stale beer. Despite the dim lights, she could see the place was outfitted like a kind of hillbilly version of T.G.I. Friday’s-there were signs, photos and knick-knacks covering the wall. Most of them, Kate noted, were off- color in taste. “Big Butts welcome, so sit your ass down,” said one near the door.
She sighed. Maybe this was not such a good idea.
It took her only a moment to see Quinn, Bill and Janus sitting at a table near the front. Bill waved frantically at her and she moved toward them through the haze of smoke.
“Hey Kate,” Janus and Quinn both said when she sat down.
“How are you?” Quinn asked right after.
“Good,” she said, and smiled at him.
She didn’t know quite what to make of Quinn. The first time she had seen him she had wondered if he was some type of stalker-staring at her from across the Starbucks like that. But by now, he seemed like one of the few people she really knew in the town. She had thought about their conversation in the graveyard and at the Phillips Farm meeting a lot during the day. She didn’t know quite what to make of him yet, but she liked him. That much she knew.
“You got here just in time,” Quinn said. “The band is just about to show up. As soon as they do, they’ll be a line out front.”
She nodded. “What band is it?”
“A group called Eddie from Ohio,” he answered. “They’re local-well, sort of local, at any rate.”
“They’re brilliant,” Janus said, and looked around the table as if daring anyone to disagree. “Kind of a folk- rock thing, like a mix of Janis Joplin and Pearl Jam.”
“Pearl Jam?” Bill asked, and snorted. “Did you pull that out of a hat? More like a cross between Janis Joplin and Sheryl Crow.”
“Yes, guys, let’s do have this debate again,” Quinn said, and glared at them.
“Anyway,” Janus said, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lighting it with a silver lighter he fished out of his jacket. “They are one of the best bands that plays here. Second only to the Urban Hillbilly Quartet. Now that’s an incredible band. Like a mixture of Bob Dylan and Pink Floyd.”
“Okay, now you are just trying to piss me off,” Bill said. “Neither one of those is right. They’re more free form than that, like a mix of…”
“Please drop this,” Quinn said. “Kate has been here for five minutes and you guys are already degenerating into the same argument you have all the time. They’re like a bitter married couple.”
“Fuck off,” the two said in unison.
Kate laughed.
