Will McIntosh - Love Minus Eighty

“I got it from Idris Badini, one of Winter’s friends. And I am a friend of hers, not was.”

Nathan looked Rob up and down, not missing a beat. “You’ve got a rented system and out-of-style boots, but you’ve got the juice to be friends with a dead girl at eighteen hundred a minute? Okay, suddenly you got interesting. Give me some context.”

If he told Nathan the truth straight-out, would Nathan punch him? Rob wasn’t sure. Nathan wasn’t a thick-browed hyper-masculine orc, but he had a restless, high-energy style that might translate into violence under the right circumstances. Rob opened his mouth to tell some credible lie, but couldn’t think of a damned thing. What would explain his situation, besides the truth? He took a subtle half step back from Nathan.

“I’m the one who hit her.”

Rob watched Nathan take this in, his face slack with surprise, his other conversations dropped. It was strange to have someone’s full attention (someone other than his dad, anyway).

“Hold on,” Nathan finally said. “Let me get this straight: you killed Winter? You ran her over?”

Rob looked Nathan right in the eye, fighting the urge to look at his shoes. “That’s right.”

“And then you thawed her out for a visit?” He was shaking his head, incredulous. “Did you tell her who you were?”

“Yes, of course. Why else would I go there?”

“I don’t know. I can’t believe you went there, period.” His fingers were flying again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he resumed his secondary conversations, probably encouraging his friends to listen in. Fortunately, they couldn’t simply pop open screens and gawk because of the cover charge.

“You went there, too,” Rob pointed out.

“She told you that?” Nathan seemed surprised.

“She mentioned it, yeah.”

He studied Rob for a moment. “I want to hear the whole story. You’ve got beach balls, Cousin.” He put his arm across Rob’s shoulders, turned him toward the bar. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Rob began at the beginning, with Lorelei. He wanted Nathan to have the full context for the accident. If he was going to convince Nathan to commit to visiting Winter, and hopefully coordinate with Rob to spread out their visits, he needed Nathan to like him. When he mentioned he’d been living with Lorelei, Nathan’s already animated features lit up further. “Lorelei Van Kampen?”

“You know her?”

“Indirectly. Three degrees.” It took Rob a second to get it, that Nathan knew someone who knew someone who knew Lorelei. Three degrees of separation. “She’s got a trillionaire grandfather, but she’s mostly cut off, right?”

“Right. So, she’s throwing everything I own out the window with three hundred screens looking on. My photo files. Recordings of songs I composed—”

“Yeah, I can see what you mean about all the eyes—she’s got quite a following. She’s one rare bird, though. Gorgeous.”

Rob’s stomach lurched. “Are you watching her right now? Live?”

Nathan nodded, his attention clearly compromised.

“Please don’t do that. I don’t want any connection to her, not even once-removed.”

Nathan flashed a wide smile, nodded. “No problem, I get it. I take it there’s no chance of me getting an introduction, then?”

Rob laughed. “No, we’re not on speaking terms.” This guy was something.

Rob went on with the story, careful to avoid foisting responsibility for Winter’s death onto Lorelei, or onto Winter herself. From the start it had been tempting to claim Winter came out of nowhere. Given Winter’s breakup with Nathan that day, Rob could have weaved a convincing story of a heartbroken and careless woman not watching where she was going. Maybe he could have even convinced himself. But Rob had been the one who came out of nowhere, drunk, driving too fast. He skipped the part about being drunk.

When he told Nathan about the promise he’d made to Winter, and how he planned to keep it, Nathan stopped him. “Wait a minute. You’re giving up everything, including your dream of becoming a famous musician, just so you can visit Winter?”

“That’s right.”

“For how long?”

Rob shrugged. “Until she’s out of there.”

Nathan tilted his head, as if maybe he hadn’t heard Rob correctly. “Cousin, she’s not ever getting out of there. She’s a cutie, no doubt, but there are many, many cuties on ice in that place.”

“Then I’ll visit her for the rest of my life.”

Rob looked at Nathan, daring him to question his commitment.

Nathan groaned, rolled his eyes. “Shit. We’re about to have company. One of my coworkers just touched base and she’s completely unglued, babbling about someone jumping from a bridge. Hey, I’m sorry about this.”

Rob waved off the apology, quickly got to the point. “The reason I’m here is because Winter said you were planning to visit occasionally as well—”

Nathan’s smile vanished. Suddenly he looked grim, pained. “I see where this is going. Not a chance, Cousin.”

Someone in the bar pinged Rob; Rob sent a quick decline, wondering who would be interested in talking to a guy with a rented system, a guy who was so scrawny he looked like bait for stray cats. “But you promised her you’d visit.”

“Of course I promised her. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hell, no, Winter. I can’t afford it? I can’t imagine anything more depressing than visiting my dead ex-girlfriend every couple of months?’” He craned his neck to look around Rob, maybe at a woman who had pinged him. “I’m sorry I went there in the first place.”

A dark-haired woman appeared in the entrance, her eyes red, her lower lip trembling. She looked utterly out of place, her baggy, multipocket pants and red sweatshirt not intended to show off her figure. It had to be Nathan’s friend.

Rob talked faster. “I understand what you’re saying, but these visits mean the world to her; she clings to them like a lifeline. I thought if you—”

“They’re not a lifeline, because she’s not alive.” Nathan put a hand on Rob’s shoulder, lowered his voice as the woman approached. “I don’t mean to be cruel, but Cousin, you snipped her lifeline.”

The woman rushed into Nathan’s arms, sobbing. “Give me a sec, Veronika,” he said, prying her off far enough to offer Rob his hand. “I admire what you’re doing. No—‘admire’ isn’t strong enough. I’m in awe.” The woman clinging to Nathan turned to look at Rob, her eyes wet, but curious. She was on the chunky side, her brown hair a great unkempt tornado, her eyes squinty. Despite all of that, she was cute, in a shy, intellectual sort of way. Rob wasn’t sure if he should introduce himself, or if that would seem insensitive, given her agitated state.

“I just sent you nine hundred toward your next visit,” Nathan said. “I’ll help when I can. That’s the best I can do.” He gave Rob’s hand a final squeeze and let it go.

“Thanks. That helps more than I can say.”

“Yeah, well, it’s guilt money. I figure I’m ten percent responsible for what happened.”

Nathan turned his attention toward Veronika, and Rob headed for the exit. He was disappointed, but with an extra nine hundred in his account it hadn’t been a total loss.

“And Cousin?” Nathan called. Rob turned back. “Let me buy you a drink sometime. I’d like to see if some of whatever it is you have rubs off.”

“I’d like that,” Rob said.

Nathan nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

As he left, Rob heard the woman breaking into sobs. Nathan had said it was about someone jumping off a bridge. Rob wondered if he’d meant it figuratively, or literally. It would be rude to linger, so he’d probably never find out.