Every Which Way But Dead. Ким Харрисон

had gotten myself turned around and back over the Ohio River and into the Hollows, and still Jenks hadn’t said anything. The starstruck pixy had parked himself on his usual spot atop the rearview mirror, watching the encroaching snow clouds turn the bright afternoon dark and depressive. I didn’t think it was the cold that had turned his wings blue, as I had the heater cranked. It was embarrassment. “Jenks?” I questioned, and his wings blurred to nothing. “Don’t say anything,” he muttered, barely audible. “Jenks, it wasn’t that bad.”

      He turned, a look of self-disgust on him. “I forgot my name, Rache.”

      I couldn’t help my smile. “I won’t tell anyone.”

      The pink returned to his wings. “Really?” he asked, and I nodded. It didn’t take a genius to realize it was important to the ego-driven pixy to be self-assured and in control. I was sure that’s where his bad mouth and short temper came from.

      “Don’t tell Ivy,” I said, “but the first time I met him, I fawned all over him. He could have taken advantage of me; used me like a tissue and thrown me away. He didn’t. He made me feel interesting and important, even though I was working peon runs at the I.S. at the time. He’s cool, you know? A real person. I bet he didn’t think twice about you forgetting your name.”

      Jenks sighed, his entire body moving as he exhaled. “You missed your turn.”

      I shook my head, breaking at a red light behind an obnoxious SUV I couldn’t see around. The salt-stained bumper sticker read, some of my best friends are humans, yum, and I smiled. Only in the Hollows. “I want to see if Nick is awake yet, as long as we’re out,” I explained. My eyes went to Jenks. “You’ll be all right for a little longer?”

      “Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay, but you’re making a mistake.”

      The light changed, and I almost stalled my car. We lurched through the intersection, slipping on the slush when I gunned it. “We talked today at the zoo,” I said, feeling warm inside. “I think we’re going to be okay. And-I want to show him the backstage passes.”

      His wings made an audible hum. “You sure, Rachel? I mean, that was a big scare when you pulled that ley line through him. Maybe you shouldn’t push it. Give him some space.”

      “I’ve given him three months,” I muttered, not caring that the guy in the car behind me thought I was flirting with him as my eyes were on the rearview mirror. “Any more space and he’d be on the moon. I’m not going to rearrange his furniture, just show him the passes.”

      Jenks said nothing, his silence making me nervous. My worry shifted to puzzlement when I turned into Nick’s parking lot and stopped beside his beat-up blue truck. There was a suitcase in the passenger seat. It hadn’t been there this morning.

      Lips parted, I glanced at Jenks, and he shrugged, looking unhappy. A cold feeling slipped into me. My thoughts flitted over our conversation at the zoo. We were going to the movies tonight. And he was packed? He was going somewhere?

      “Get in my bag,” I said softly, refusing to believe the worst. This wasn’t the first time I had come over to find Nick gone or leaving. He had been in and out of Cincinnati a lot the last three months, me usually being unaware of it until he returned. And now his phone was disconnected and there was a packed bag in his truck? Had I misread him? If tonight was supposed to be a dump date, I was going to just die. “Rachel …”

      “I’m opening the door,” I said as I stiffly put my keys into my bag. “You want to stay here and wait and hope it doesn’t get too cold?”

      Jenks flitted to hover before me. He looked worried despite his hands being on his hips. “Let me out as soon as we’re inside,” he demanded.

      My throat tightened as I nodded, and he dropped down with a reluctant slowness. I carefully snugged the ties shut on my bag and got out, but a swelling feeling of hurt made me slam the door, and my little red car shook. Glancing into the bed of the truck, I realized it was dry and empty of snow. It seemed likely that Nick hadn’t been in Cincinnati the last few days, either. No wonder I hadn’t seen him last week.

      Thoughts spinning, I paced up the slippery walk to the common door, yanking it open and taking the stairs, to leave successively smaller chunks of snow on the gray carpet. I remembered to let Jenks out at the top of the third-floor landing, and he hovered silently as he took in my anger.

      “We were going out tonight,” I said as I pulled my gloves off and jammed them in a pocket. “It’s been staring at me in the face for weeks, Jenks. The hurried phone calls, the trips out of town without telling me, the lack of any intimate contact for God knows how long.”

      “Ten weeks,” Jenks said, easily keeping up with me.

      “Oh, really,” I said bitterly, “thank you so much for that update.”

      “Easy, Rache,” he said, spilling a trace of pixy dust in his wake from worry. “It might not be what you think.”

      I’d been dumped before. I wasn’t stupid. But it hurt. Damn it, it still hurt.

      There was nowhere for Jenks to land in the barren hallway, and he reluctantly lighted on my shoulder. Jaw clenched so hard it hurt, I made a fist to hammer on Nick’s door. He had to be home—he didn’t go anywhere without his truck—but before I could, the door swung open.

      My arm dropped and I stared at Nick, my surprise mirrored on his long face. His coat was unzipped and a homemade hat of soft blue yarn was pulled tight to his ears. He took it off as I watched, shifting it and the keys in his grip to his other hand, which held a slick-looking briefcase at odds with his otherwise ragtag attire. His hair was tousled, and he smoothed it with a deft hand while he regained his composure. There was snow on his boots. Unlike his truck.

      Keys jingling, he set the briefcase down. He took a breath, then let it slowly out. The guilt in his eyes told me I was right. “Hi, Ray-ray.”

      “Hi, Nick,” I said, hitting the k with an excessive force. “I guess our date is off.”

      Jenks buzzed a greeting, and I hated the apologetic look he gave Nick. Four inches or six-foot-four, they were all in the same club. Nick didn’t move to invite me in.

      “Was tonight a dump dinner?” I asked abruptly, just wanting to be done with it.

      His eyes widened. “No!” he protested, but his gaze flicked to the briefcase.

      “Is it someone else, Nick? ‘Cause I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

      “No,” he repeated, his voice softer. He shifted, looking frustrated. He reached out, stopping just shy of my shoulder. His hand fell. “No.”

      I wanted to believe him. I really did. “Then what?” I demanded. Why didn’t he invite me in? Why did we have to do this in the freaking hallway?

      “Ray-ray,” he whispered, his brow furrowed. “It’s not you.”

      My eyes closed as I gathered my strength. How many times had I heard that?

      His foot shoved the expensive briefcase into the hall, and my eyes flew open at the scraping sound. I stepped aside as he came out, shutting the door behind him. “It’s not you,” he said, his voice suddenly hard. “And it wasn’t a dump dinner. I don’t want to call it quits between us. But something came up, and frankly it’s none of your business.”

      Surprised, my lips parted. Jenks’s words flashed through me. “You’re still afraid of me,” I said, pissed that he didn’t trust me to not pull a line through him again.

      “I am not,” he offered angrily. Motions stiff, he locked his door from the outside, turning to hold the key up between us. “Here,” he said belligerently. “Take my key. I’ll be out of town for a while. I was going to give it to you tonight, but since you’re here, it will save me the trouble. I’ve stopped my mail, and the rent is paid up through August.”

      “August!”