F. Paul Wilson - Ground Zero

Jack grabbed his beer and finished it. “Gotsta go.”

“Oh, no.” Her smiled vanished. “You can’t. It’s been so many years and we’ve just reconnected and there’s so much to talk about and . . . and I don’t want to be alone here tonight.”

“You mean, stay the night?”

“Sure. I’ve got a spare bedroom.”

“Not filled with papers?”

“We can move them. Please?”

He understood her fright, and felt obliged to ease it, but still . . .

“I guess I should ask,” she said, peering at him as he hesitated. “Are you married?”

“Not officially.”

“Then what?”

“Functionally.”

“Monogamous?”

He nodded. “Very.”

She frowned. “Odd. From what I gathered about you, I figured you’d be more the lone-wolf type.”

“Used to be. Spent a lot of years that way after leaving home. It was a blast at first.”

“I imagine so. I sense you became a bad boy, and all the bad girls love a bad boy.”

He experienced a brief torrent of memories, a flash flood of faces.

“Yeah, they do. But then you find a good woman, and she makes you want to become a good man, or at least a better one. And so you try to be.”

She was staring at him. “What’s her name?”

“Gia.”

“You say it like a prayer.”

“I don’t pray. But if I ever did, she’d be an answer.”

Silence lingered briefly, then, “To feel that way about someone . . . to have someone feel that way about you . . . Steve and I had a bond like that. At least I thought we did. I miss it. You’re both lucky. I’d like to meet her someday.”

“No reason why you shouldn’t.”

“So you’ll stay the night?”

Another spasm of hesitation, then . . . why not?

This was Weezy asking. How could he say no?

“Okay, but I’ll have to make some calls.”

WEDNESDAY

1

A door swung open down the hall. Jack opened his eyes in the dark and listened.

Earlier he’d walked down to Roosevelt for some Chinese takeout. He called Gia along the way and told her he’d be out all night. That was enough for her. Most times she preferred not to know what he was into, and that tended to work out well for both of them—she worried less, and he wasn’t distracted by concern that she was worried. He didn’t want to get into the details on the phone; he’d tell her tomorrow.

He and Weezy had talked late into the night about old times, and he revealed some of the schemes he’d worked as a teen in addition to Carson Toliver’s locker, culminating with saving Mr. Canelli’s lawn.

“That was you?” she’d said, wide-eyed. “I never guessed.”

“Good. No one was supposed to.”

His first official fix. Up till then they’d all been personal. Mr. Canelli was the first ever to hire him.

The talk faded and they called it a night. After making sure all the locks were engaged, Jack moved the newspapers off the double bed in the spare bedroom and helped Weezy make it up for him. They hugged good night and went to their separate beds.

Jack lay under the sheet, facing the window, fully dressed except for his work boots. The stolen Tokarev lay on the nightstand, his Glock was a hard lump beneath his pillow. Overkill, perhaps, since whoever was after Weezy didn’t know where she lived. The first floor was secure—steel doors, iron grilles on the windows—and the second accessible only via ladder, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Overkill had its charms.

He heard bare feet on the floorboards, heading for the bathroom, no doubt. But they stopped outside his door. After a few heartbeats he heard it swing open. A weight settled on the mattress behind him and a warm body pressed against his back.

“Weez?”

“You’ve got all your clothes on?”

“Weez, what are you doing?”

“I need to snuggle,” she whispered. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck. “Is it okay if we snuggle? I’ve gotten used to sleeping alone, but after today . . . I think I need to snuggle. Do you mind?”

How could he refuse her? Anyway, it was just Weezy.

“No. Snuggle away.”

“Thanks.”

She spooned against him and snaked an arm around his chest, pulling herself closer.

She sighed. “This is nice. I needed this.”

Jack agreed it was nice, and if it gave her some comfort, even better. He was just drifting off into slumber when he felt her hand begin to move against his chest in a gentle circular motion. He waited for her to stop but she didn’t. Then she began sliding her palm down along his abdomen.

He grabbed her wrist.

“Weezy, what are you doing?”

“Just feeling a little needy.”

“With me? This is Jack, remember?”

“I know. And maybe that’s why. I mean, Jack . . . after all the years we spent together, all the growing up we did together, don’t you think we owe each other one time? Just once? That once probably would be ancient history by now if all those meds they tried on me hadn’t messed up my already messed-up head, but I’m clearheaded now and we’re here together in the same bed . . .”

“Yeah, but I’m taken.”

“We predate her.”

“Weez . . .”

“It’s because I got fat, isn’t it.”

How to let her down easy? No way this was going to happen, but he didn’t want to stomp on her feelings.

“Cool the fat talk. You’re not. And if I was in a different situation, I might think it was a great idea. But with things as they are, we’ll both regret it. Besides, you’re vulnerable right now—”

“Of course I’m vulnerable. I’ve been scared every day and every night. Then my worst fear is realized—someone kidnaps me. Or tries to. But a figure from the past, my tried-and-true friend Jack rides in with six-guns blazing and rescues me. And after we spend some time together I realize I want him—I want him reeeeeal bad.”

“I thought you said I was scary and not the Jack you knew.”

“I was upset then, but as we talked later I realized the Jack I knew as a kid would do anything, whatever it took, to help a friend. And that’s what you did this afternoon.”

“Okay, but not to sound like a broken record, Weez, I’m taken.”

“I’m not talking an affair here. I’m talking one time for ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ a moment, a lightning flash, and then we’ll have fulfilled a mutual destiny and it will be over. We’ll never speak of it again and she never has to know.”

“But I’ll know.”

Weezy wriggled her wrist free of his grasp and pulled her arm back. But she stayed spooned against him. She didn’t move and neither did Jack.

Had he hurt her?

She sobbed.

Damn, he had. He turned toward her.

“You’re taking this all wrong, Weez. I—”

“No, you are. I’m glad you turned me down.”

What? She’d always been unpredictable but . . .

“I’m not following.”

“It means you haven’t changed. The whole world is going to hell and nobody knows what’s up or what’s down, but here you are in the middle of it all, just as steady and true as you were when you were a kid.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that . . .”

“ I do. And I’m just so damn happy there’s still someone I can count on in this world.” She pulled the sheet off and started to get up. Jack saw she was wearing a long, oversized T-shirt. “I’m sorry I put you on the spot like this. I’ll—”

He placed his hand against her back.

“Stay.”

She froze. “What?”

“You said you needed to snuggle, so let’s snuggle. Just . . . snuggle.”

After an instant’s hesitation, she lay back down and rested her head on his shoulder.