J. Nelson: Free Agent

Liam turned and walked down a flight of steps. “Here.” The dingy neon sign on the door said “Froni’s” and buzzed like a giant housefly. Liam pushed it open and the scent of garlic and basil flooded out, along with the sounds of laughter.

Inside, red-and-white vinyl tablecloths covered the tables, and a jukebox in the corner blasted music from the nineties.

Liam grabbed a couple of beers from a crate by the door, and we sat down at an empty table. “Froni,” yelled Liam, “I’ll take the big bowl and a couple of brews.”

I think several of the spots on the table were spaghetti sauce, and I eyed the silverware, which had a dull white film on it. “Tell me you don’t eat here.”

He took a swig of the beer. “I love it. One of my favorite places.”

I’d always been a red wine kind of gal myself. The cook brought over a bowl of spaghetti and sauce and plopped it down on the table with a couple of plates. I held up the fork. “I’m not using this.” Truth is, I had immunizations for almost every disease known to magic or medicine, but there was no cure for nasty.

Liam squinted at it, picked it up, and touched his tongue to it. “It’s soap film. Rinse it off in your beer, it’ll be fine. That fork’s actually not bad, but you don’t need it.” He spooned out a glob of spaghetti, and to my horror, picked it up with his fingers, slurping it down.

When I came to work for Grimm, I spent three weeks learning proper manners and table etiquette. I spent more time learning to use my salad fork right than I did practicing at the firing range. One does not eat spaghetti, or anything else for that matter, with fingers. Only cannibals eat with their fingers, Grimm always said. Of course all three times I’d had lunch with the cannibals, they used forks and knives like everyone else.

“What are you doing? I thought we were going to a show, not flirting with food poisoning.”

He smiled, showing a gap in his teeth. “We’re going to loosen you up.”

“With beer?” I looked at the bottle. It was cheap light beer, with the aroma and color of hobgoblin urine. On second thought, any hobgoblin who started peeing that color would have flown straight to the free clinic immediately.

“If that’s what it takes. There’s a box of wine on the bar if you’d prefer, and Froni did time in prison, so he makes a mean Merlot with just a can of grape juice and a piece of bread.”

I closed my eyes. I’d done a lot of awful things in this job. I’d cleaned up after massacres, hunted serial killers, and dealt with the Internal Revenue Service. I figured tonight might actually displace Grimm’s five-year audit on the list of the worst things I’d ever handled. One thing, however, remained true: I always did my job, and did it right. So I took a drink. If I’d rinsed the bottle in the toilet first it wouldn’t have tasted worse: warm, stale beer. Hobgoblin urine couldn’t have been that bad.

Liam picked up another handful and shoved it into his mouth. “Good. Now take a bite.”

I shivered down inside, thinking about how Grimm would react when I told him about this tomorrow, and picked up a noodle. My arm hurt in anticipation of new immunizations as I reached into the bowl. Slimy spaghetti threatened to escape my fingers, but I eased the noodle into my mouth and swallowed. Anything to ditch the taste of the beer.

He took a long pull on his brew. “You have got to learn to relax.”

So I took another noodle, and then a few at a time. Finally, while he cheered, I picked up a meatball and took a bite out of it, smearing sauce onto my chin and my face. Liam laughed so hard he nearly choked. If he choked to death, Grimm would probably kill me, but Liam had a laugh and smile more infectious than any disease. It warmed a place in my heart I hadn’t known was cold. To hell with Grimm’s manners, at least while he wasn’t watching. It felt good to be with someone I didn’t have to act prim around, even if what I was doing here was an act too. I rolled up my sleeves and took another bite, not worrying about the stains.

“There you go,” Liam said, “I like you a lot better when you aren’t so ‘proper.’”

“Do you do anything proper?”

He raised his beer and we toasted. “Not if I can help it. I prefer relaxed.”

“I like that too, but my work requires proper.”

“You should take time off. It’s done me wonders.”

“One of these days I will,” I said, and I meant it.

When we were done with the meal, which I insisted on paying for, we left Froni’s and crossed a bridge, and headed down closer toward the water. This wasn’t such a dangerous place; it was just another neighborhood, on just another night.

“Here,” he said, and climbed over the fence. I climbed a lot more fences in my job than you’d think possible. It came with the territory. I knew from experience that “No trespassing” signs gave you a good place to put your foot when you climbed over. On the other side was a playground, and Liam swung on the kid’s swing, even though he was much too large for the seat.

“That thing will break,” I said.

He laughed and swung higher. “I promise the steel is good. It’s some of my work. All my good memories are of playing here.”

So I sat beside him and we swung. The only thing missing was moonlight, but not even a Fairy Godfather could arrange everything. “You grew up here?”

Liam kicked his legs out and went flying back and forth. “I went to school here as a kid.”

I looked at the worn brick buildings and dusty playground with tufts of weeds. “I imagined you going someplace better.” Too late I realized how it sounded.

“Me too, but life doesn’t always bring you the things you want.”

“So true,” I said. So very true.

“I believe it does bring you what you need, Marissa,” he said, flying off his seat and stumbling as he landed. He walked over and caught my swing, looking down at me. “I wanted you to know where I come from. How I live.”

I knew it was time. I stood, letting his warmth radiate out into me. I kissed him. I don’t mean I fulfilled my part of the assignment. I kissed him like I meant it, because I did, and wrapped my arms around him and put my head up against him. He smelled of wood smoke and deodorant. Grimm told me I was always supposed to say cologne, because princes didn’t sweat, but it wasn’t. I didn’t care.

I stood there for longer than I can say, imagining what it would be like to do this every night. I knew I was in trouble. It’s not that I hadn’t had that thought before. I think it crossed my mind on every second date. The problem was, my heart wasn’t asking what it would be like to have someone. It was asking what it would be like to have Liam.

Lost in the war between desire and duty, I didn’t even think as we took the train back, and he walked me home.

I stood at the door to my apartment building, not ready to go in. I shivered as clouds moved in and the air began to fill with mist. Liam took off his jacket. “I remember you were cold last time,” he said as he handed it to me. It smelled of him, and I wrapped it around me like a blanket.

“So this is good night?” he asked.

I thought about it. Something inside me wanted to open the door and invite him up to my apartment. Otherwise, I’d have stuck to the script and had him leave me at the office. The part of me that ate noodles and rode carousels and dreamed of someone of my own had plans for taking Ari’s prince and letting Grimm punish me however he wanted. Then I thought of my sister, Hope. I wasn’t actually afraid of anything Grimm might do to me. But he could take her part of the wish back. If that happened, I could never face my mother again.

I gave Liam one last kiss, long enough to make sure I’d remember, and pulled away. There wouldn’t be any more kisses, and there’d only be one more date. “I’ll call you. I pick the restaurant next time.” I went inside. The sinking feeling in my stomach wasn’t the elevator. It was the certainty that the next time I met Liam would be the last.