Клэр Донелли - Last Licks

Will nodded. “Now they talk about light pollution. When I was a kid, I remember lying on the grass in the backyard with my dad, watching the sky.”

“I think we’re a little too well dressed to try that,” Sunny told him.

But Will moved his chair beside hers so she could rest her head on his shoulder, her eyes on the heavens.

It may not be moonlight, but I guess shooting starlight will do, she thought.

“One in seventy-five million,” Will murmured.

“What?” Sunny said.

“The odds of being killed by a meteorite.” Will turned to look her in the eyes. “I read it somewhere. “You’ve got a better chance of being killed by fireworks—or a bee sting.”

“I know it goes along with your job, but I really think you should work on your sweet nothings,” she told him.

“Maybe this is a case of do, not speak.” His lips came toward hers.

But the kiss was interrupted, not by a falling heavenly body but by a yowling furry one that landed on their heads.

*

Shadow heard muffledvoices outside the house, but no one came in. Climbing on the couch, he saw a big car at the end of the driveway . . . no people, though. He went down the hall to the rear of the house, and the voices got louder. One of them seemed to be Sunny!

He boosted himself up onto the kitchen table and peered outside. Yes, it was definitely Sunny and her He, sitting on the deck. Why are they keeping away and leaving me out? Shadow wondered. It was probably the He, still angry about the boxes and the papers. Shadow stretched forward, one paw against the glass of the kitchen window. If he wanted to get out and join them, he couldn’t get through here.

Shadow set off on a determined march to the stairway, climbing up to the second floor, down the hall, and into the Old One’s room, worming his way through a door that was almost closed. He knew Sunny’s father wasn’t in there, and the window was open. Leaping up to the sill, he raised a paw, trying to catch his claws on the corner of the screen without getting them stuck in the screen itself. That’s all he needed, to be trapped in here when the Old One came back.

At last the screen moved and Shadow hooked a paw outside, budging the screen a little more until his head and then his shoulders fit through. The roof slanted under his feet, but he could manage that. The problem was finding a way down. Shadow knew the tree wouldn’t work. A cat’s claws worked fine on the bark going up, but they weren’t built for sliding down. That’s why he’d seen some friends trapped on branches, calling for help. Maybe he could jump down into one of the chairs or land on the table. It was still a long leap.

As he carefully made his way down to the edge of the roof, it got very quiet down below. Had they gone inside after all? He leaned out to see, his paw slipped, and all of a sudden he was flying through the air.

It could have been worse. He landed on their heads, not as far a fall as it could have been, and quickly bounced over to the table.

But from the noise Sunny and her He made, you’d think he’d dropped on them with his claws out and ready.

*

Sunny screamed, Willyelled, and they both jumped up. It took them a moment to realize that the Unidentified Furry Object was actually Shadow, who now sat on the table, grooming himself. But while he tried to keep up the nonchalant act, Sunny noticed that the cat kept shooting worried glances at her.

“I think this is the first time I’ve heard of a game called on account of cat. Maybe we are stuck in a seventies mystery show,” Will groused, trying to recover some sense of humor. “One of the dopey comedy ones.”

They left Shadow and walked around to the driveway, where Will’s pickup was parked. “I don’t know if I should apologize or what,” Sunny said.

“Definitely not your fault,” Will replied. “Or mine. When this craziness is over, we’ll try for a little more shooting star watching—a private viewing, though, far away from that menace.” He leaned down, she raised her lips, and they kissed, but it didn’t hold the same promise as the one that got interrupted. After all, they were in front of the house, in public. Not the place for a clinch.

Will climbed into his pickup. “Till tomorrow,” he said. Then he drove off. Sunny waved until he was out of sight, then turned to walk to the front door. Shadow stood ready to greet her in the hallway. “Hey, spoilsport,” she told him. “Just because you don’t get to see your dream girl, you shouldn’t go around ruining other people’s fun.”

She went upstairs to put on something more comfortable, then came back to the living room to make up with Shadow over an exciting game of catch-the-string. By the time the house phone rang, Shadow was tired out and comfortably curled up on her lap. Sunny had to evict him to get up and answer the phone. “Hello?”

“’S Luke,” the voice on the other end of the line announced a little mushily. “Luke Daconto.”

“Luke?” Sunny said in surprise. “How did you get this number?”

“White pages,” Luke replied. “Remembered you lived with your father. Only one M. Coolidge in Kittery Harbor.” A crinkling of paper came over the line. “Is there really such a place as Wild Goose Drive?”

Of course, Sunny thought, feeling a little foolish. Why would Mike have any use for an unlisted number?

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You sound a little funny.”

“Not funny. Drunk,” Luke corrected. “I decided to act like Alfred. But now I need to talk to someone, and I hope I can ask a favor.”

“To talk?” Sunny said.

“Face-to-face,” Luke explained. “See, that’s a problem. I can’t drive out to While Gootch Drive. I’ll probably hit a tree trying.”

Sunny sighed, shooing Shadow out of her lap again. “Give me your address,” she said. “I’ll drive right over.”

Scribbling down the address on the notepad beside the phone, she hung up and rose to her feet. “Sorry, Shadow, no more alone time. I’ve got to go.” She looked down at the worn sweatshirt she was wearing. “And I probably should put on some better clothes.”

When she came back downstairs, Sunny had on jeans and a less disreputable T-shirt. She left a note for her dad in case he came home before she got back, gave Shadow a quick pet, and headed out to her Wrangler. Luke lived in Levett, in a much more built-up area than Sunny’s neighborhood. The buildings and the people were much more crowded there. So were the cars. Sunny circled around several blocks before she found a parking space. She got out of her SUV and walked the rest of the way to her destination, a modest three-story apartment house. As a nod to the old colonial architecture, some of the windows were surrounded by make-believe plastic clapboards. The rest of the walls seemed to be made of rough-cast concrete. She got buzzed in through the front door and mounted the steps to the third floor.

Seems like a neat, clean enough place, she thought, looking around. Is this what a music therapist’s salary gets? Luke stood in the doorway to his place, looking a little shaggier and more disheveled than usual. He’d ditched the corduroy jacket and mismatched tie, but he still had the pants—pretty wrinkled now—and the shirt, which looked as if he’d sweated right through it.

“I’m sorry,” he said when he saw her. “This was probably a stupid idea.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Sunny replied. “Let’s talk.” Luke held the door open for her, and she went into his place. It was a studio, on the small side and sparsely furnished. She saw a couch that looked as if it had been put together from a kit, and a spindly sort of modern chair, arranged on what looked like a piece of remnant carpet. One wall was the kitchen, with a sort of counter arrangement and a couple of stools. Around a corner was the sleeping nook, where Sunny could see the foot of Luke’s bed—it seemed to be made—with his jacket hanging precariously off the edge. She saw some very nice sound equipment and a lot of CDs but no television, and some low chests that probably held his clothes. A floor lamp and a spindly table lamp on an end table provided dim light.