“Hellno,”he said, looking on with interest.
Atrio of cops got out and entered the lobby.
“Whatdid we miss?” I said.
Sadietouched my arm. “I’ll go find out.” She ran off, back to the ballroom.
Afternot too much longer, the cops returned, dragging two men in handcuffswith them. The men were clearly drunk, belligerent, shouting curses ateach other, seemingly oblivious to the fact they were in the process ofbeing arrested. One of them had a bleeding cut over his eye, the othera split lip. A pair of women, likely wives, trailed after them, crying,also yelling curses—at their husbands.
“Ifyou’ll excuse me for just a minute,” Ben said, drawing business cardsout of his pocket. He made a beeline for the women.
“Ohman, he isn’t just a lawyer, he’s an ambulance-chasing lawyer! Ididn’t know that about him!” I exclaimed. I might have wiped a proudlittle tear from my eye.
“Hetake good care of you?” Jesse nodded after Ben.
Thissounded more like the Jesse I remembered. He’d been kind and fun and .. . directionless, back then. He’d just wanted to get away. I’d gottenmad at him for not being satisfied with being here, with me. I wonderedif he’d ever be satisfied with anything.
“Yes,”I said. “He takes good care of me.” “Good.” He smiled.
Sadieran up then, eyes wide and full of glee. “Drunken brawl! Chris Hancockand Pete Kirkland, hitting on each others’ wives. This is why you don’tmarry someone else’s high school sweetheart, amiright? Talk about yourTubthumping.”
“Well,I have to admit, I’m glad I came after all,” Trevor said. “Just to seewhat it’s like.”
“Andnow we never have to do it again,” Jesse said.
Benreturned to join us after distributing business cards, and we all endedup sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against the wall, watching theproceedings. A crowd, the entire reunion it looked like, had spilledonto the sidewalk to gawk. We had a pretty good view.
So,that was the class reunion, one for the books, disintegrating intochaos and it wasn’t even any of our faults.
Benlooked the row of us over and scowled. “This is so John Hughes I kindof want to gag.”
Fiveof us, all lined up. Looking thoughtful, disheveled, and disaffected.Yeah, even a little John Hughes. “Which one are you, honey?” I asked.
“Thebrain, clearly.”
“Andthat would make me the basket case.”
Hereached out, and I snuggled under his arm as he pulled me close andkissed the top of my head.
Sadiesaid, “Would you guys do me a favor and keep in touch this time? Likeeven a Christmas card or something. Or a text message every six months.And don’t kill each other?”
“Monthlycoffee date?” I suggested.
“You’reon.”
“Ido miss coffee,” Jesse sighed. “The trick is finding someone who’s justhad a double venti latte, then drink their blood—”
Ilooked at him. “I didn’t need to know that.”
Trevorlaughed.
Icould almost hear music coming from the ballroom, over the chatter ofthe crowd. With so few people left inside, the sound echoed andcarried. “That poor DJ isn’t still trying to keep things going, is he?”I said.
“‘MyHeart Will Go On’ was on when I ducked in,” Sadie said.
Andwasn’t thatjust terrible? “What’s playing now?”
Weall got quiet, trying to make out the hint of a chorus. Jesse, whoprobably had the best hearing of any of us, leaned forward, headtilted. Then, he laughed.
“Oh,it isn’t,” I said. Then we all heard it.
Don’tyou forget about me . . .
It’sStill the Same Old Story
RICKAWOKE AT SUNSET and found a phone message from an old friend waitingfor him. Helen sounded unhappy, but she didn’t give details. Shewouldn’t even say that she was afraid and needed help, but the hushedtone of her voice made her sound like she was looking over hershoulder. He grabbed his coat, went upstairs to the back of the shopwhere he parked his silver BMW, and drove tosee her.
Thesummer night was still, ordinary. Downtown Denver blazed. To his eyes,the skyscrapers seemed like glowing mushrooms; they’d sprung up soquickly, overwhelming everything that had come before. Only in thelast forty years or so had Denver begun to shed its cow town image tobecome another typical metropolis. He sometimes missed the cow town,though he could still catch glimpses of it. Union Station still stood,the State Capitol of course, and the Victorian mansions in thesurrounding neighborhoods. If he squinted, he could remember them intheir glory days. Some of the fire from the mining boom era remained.That was why Rick stayed.
Helenlived a few miles south along the grid of streets around the Universityof Denver, in a house not quite as old or large as those Victorianmansions, but still an antique in the context of the restof the city. She’d lived there since the 1950s, when Rick bought herthe place. Even then, Denver had been booming. The city was anever-shifting collage, its landmarks rising and falling, the pointsaround which he navigated subtly changing over the decades.
Pointslike Helen.
Heparked on the street in front of her house, a single-story squarecottage, pale blue with white trim, shutters framing the windows, witha front porch and hanging planters filled with multicolored petunias.The lights were off.
Fora moment, he stood on the concrete walkway in front and let hismore-than-human senses press outward: sight, sound, and taste. Thestreet, the lawn, the house itself were undisturbed. The neighborswere watching television. A block away, an older man walked a largedog. It was all very normal, except that the house in front of him wassilent. No one living was inside—he’d have smelled the blood, heard theheartbeat.
Whenhe and Helen became friends, he’d known this day would come. This dayalways came. But the circumstances here were unnatural. He walked upthe stairs to the front door, which was unlocked. Carefully, hepushed inside, stepping around the places on the hardwood floor thatcreaked, reaching the area rug in the living room. Nothing—furniture,photographs, bookcase, small upright piano in the corner—was out ofplace. The modernist coffee table, a cone-shaped lamp by a blockyarmchair, silk lilies in a cut-crystal vase. They were the decorationsof an old woman—out of place, out of time, seemingly preserved. But toRick it was just Helen, the way she’d always been.
Hissteps muffled on the rug, he progressed to the kitchen in back. Hefound her there, lying on
