[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Nick walked slowly back along the dock to the Lenore.  What the fuck was going on?  Why couldn’t he make up his mind who was the bad guy?  Was there even one?  Was it just Jo’s imagination?  Because Nick had not seen one shred of evidence that Pete had done anything wrong.  And the guy just didn’t seem guilty of anything beyond a few little lies. 

Nick paused when he got to the Lenore.  He stood for a moment on the dock.  What would Jo be like now?  Calm?  Hysterical?  Nick wondered if he should just keep walking right off the end of the dock and swim to Florida.  A sudden mental glimpse of an alligator made him decide against that particular piece of whimsy.

Nick sighed and stepped onto the boat.

Below deck, Jo tilted her head up as she felt Nick come back aboard.  She took a deep breath.  Her fate was in Nick’s hands for the moment, and Jo did not have the first idea what to expect when Nick came down the stairs.

When Nick had sent her below and walked off with Pete, Jo’s first reaction was relief.  She thought Nick was trying to keep her safe, to move Pete off.  But then she started to wonder if maybe Nick was just moving Pete out of earshot, wanting to tell the other man something that he didn’t want Jo to hear.

Jo tried to fight that feeling by keeping herself busy.  She looked through the cupboards and the small freezer compartment of the fridge.  It wouldn’t be a culinary masterpiece, but she thought she could throw together a casserole from the ingredients she found.  She put some water in a pot and threw a frozen chicken breast into the microwave to defrost.

Jo looked at her watch.  Whatever they were talking about, it seemed to be taking a while.  Jo wondered what lies Pete was telling now and whether Nick would believe them.  She hoped Nick would get back soon.  What if Bernie called?  Nick’s cell phone was on the table in the dining nook.  What if it rang?  Should she answer it?  Would Bernie talk to her or insist on speaking with Nick?

Jo shook her head to clear it.  C’mon, get it together, she told herself.  She opened a can of mushroom soup and dumped it into a bowl.  She opened a drawer to get out a large spoon and her eye was caught by the picture in the living room.  It was kind of ugly, she thought.  It didn’t seem to have any artistic value except to blend in with the navy blue and white theme that went throughout the boat.  A couple of times today, during her enforced sojourn below decks, Jo had been tempted to take it off the wall.  But she considered that Nick thought she was crazy enough!

Jo’s mind wandered to other things that had taken place earlier that afternoon.  She could feel herself starting to blush at the memory of Nick’s hands on her.  She opened the oven door and peered inside.  This was a gas oven.  She wondered if you had to light something to turn it on.  She squinted and looked at the back, searching for the pale blue flame of a pilot light.  She heard Nick step onto the boat, and she looked up.

Nick descended the stairs to find Jo with her head in the oven.  He stopped and stared at her.  Her face was red, and she had a look in her eyes…

“Have you turned this oven on yet?” asked Jo, straightening up.

Nick focused on the stove.  “Uh…no…I…I’m not much into cooking.  It’s a gas stove, though, I’m pretty sure about that.”

“Probably propane,” said Jo.  “Do you have manuals for all this stuff?”

“Uh, yeah, somewhere,” said Nick, moving past her.  “What’s all this?”

“I was going to make a casserole.  Chicken.  Is that okay?”

“Sure,” said Nick.  Chicken casserole was the most normal sounding thing he’d heard all day.  That was reality.  Yeah.  Chicken casserole.  You didn’t see any of that in thriller movies with homicides and suicides all over the place.

Jo picked a knife out of a drawer and whacked the end off a bunch of celery.  Nick jumped.

“Um…I’ll just get those manuals,” he said and moved to an overhead cupboard in the living room.  He pulled down a plastic zip-lock bag that held a bunch of pamphlets.  He went through them until he found the one with a picture of the stove on it.  It was in Spanish.  Nick turned the booklet over and was relieved to find the English half. 

Nick ran his finger down the Table of Contents.  Welcome.  Nick didn’t really think he needed to be welcomed to a stove.  Next was Safety Instructions.  Nick figured that would read, Don’t blow up the boat.  He moved through the list of contents, past instructions on how to take off the door, how to clean and care for the stove, limited warranty information, special warranty information for outside the U.S., and finally, how to operate the damn thing.

“Okay, I got it,” he said, turning back to Jo, who had a neatly chopped pile of celery in her hand.  She sprinkled it over the mushroom soup and the chicken in the bowl.  “There should be some safety matches in the drawer beside the stove.

Jo opened the drawer and held up the box.  “Yes.”

She turned on the front burner and struck a match.  She held it by the burner and the hissing sound was replaced by a soft woomp and a blue flame.  Jo blew out the match and set it in the sink.  Then she put the pot of water on the burner. 

“Okay,” she said.  "I’ll just boil some pasta and we’ll mix it all together.  Do you have any cheese?”

Together, they assembled the casserole and figured out the oven.  They both talked too much about nothing because they didn’t really know how to talk about the things they needed to. 

“I’ll set the table,” said Jo, after they’d put the casserole in the oven and set the timer on the microwave. 

Jo picked up Nick’s cell phone to move it, and it rang in her hand.  She uttered a small shriek and dropped the phone.  Nick picked it up and flipped it open.

“It’s Bernie,” he said, looking at the number displayed on the screen. 

Jo backed up against the wall and crossed her arms protectively.

“Hey, Bernie,” said Nick, and then for thirty long seconds, he said nothing.

Jo could feel her heart beating in her throat.  She tried to read Nick’s face, but his expression gave nothing away.

Finally, he said, “Okay then.  I guess we need to do something…maybe file a missing persons report.” 

Nick reached out his hand to Jo.  She moved slowly forward and into the circle of his arm.  He held her tight against his chest, feeling her body trembling.

“And…um…while you’re at it,” said Nick, coming to a decision he hoped he didn’t regret later.  “Could you please check out a man named Peter Crofton?  He’s from Florida, but he’s been living in Fayetteville.  Um…just a sec…”

Nick looked down at Jo’s pale face.  “Do you know his address or anything?”

Jo told Nick Pete’s address and cell phone number,and Nick repeated them to Bernie.  “But he’s not missing, we know where he is,” said Nick, “so don’t call the number.  Just check and see what you can find out about him.”

Nick listened a little more and then said, “Okay, then.  Yeah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.  Bye, Bernie.”

Nick flipped the phone shut.  He didn’t move but just held Jo in his arm.

She moved away first.  “Tell me,” she said, in a whisper.

“Sit down,” said Nick, moving her to the sofa.  He sat down beside her and picked up her hand.

Jo squeezed his hand and prayed. 

“Now there’s nothing definite,” began Nick.  “Bernie had a guy check, and as far as anyone in Fayetteville knows, she’s on vacation on a boat.  The guy checked her apartment.  The super let him in, and she’s not there.  The apartment was neat, and her personal effects were missing…like her makeup and stuff.  Her car’s not in the garage, but that doesn’t prove anything.”

Nick paused and looked carefully at Jo.  She seemed to be taking in the words, but she wasn’t reacting.  Nick continued his report, “So you heard me tell Bernie to file a missing persons report. He’ll do that and get back to me tomorrow as soon as he has any information.”

“And you asked him to check out Pete,” said Jo, in a dull voice.  “Does that mean you believe me now?”

Nick took a deep breath.  “I don’t know what I believe, to tell you the truth, Jo.  But I know that Mickey’s not here, and if she’s not back home, then…well, she must be somewhere.  Do you think it’s maybe possible that she…?”

Jo’s head came up.  “That she what?”

“Well, you said she was going to dump Pete after you got back from the trip.  Right?  Do you think maybe she dumped him…like…before you left?” 

“What are you saying, Nick?  That Mickey decided not to come on the trip after all?  That she went somewhere else?”

“Yeah, like maybe she said she’d come and planned on it but then changed her mind…you know, after she called…”  Nick’s voice trailed off.  The look on Jo’s face truly scared him.

“I can’t believe this.  He got to you again.  He told you some kind of story, didn’t he?”  Jo’s voice got louder and more hysterical with each sentence.  “What did he say, that Mickey dumped him over the phone?  That he knew all along she wasn’t coming?  That he didn’t tell me because…because…because I might eat a side of beef and then throw it up over the railing.”

“Calm down, Jo,” said Nick and instantly regretted it.  He had said that sentence to many women in his life and not once had it ever had the effect it was supposed to.

“Calm down?  Give me one good reason why I should.  Mickey’s missing.  You know that for a fact now.  She’s missing.  And you’re still believing his bullshit story.”  Jo leapt to her feet and started pacing the floor.  “Omigod, how can I make you believe me?”

Then she stopped suddenly and turned to him.  She tented her fingers at her lips and tapped them several times as she looked at him.  Then, she nodded.

“Okay, I can do this.  I can prove it.  I can prove that Mickey didn’t do what you said…that she didn’t tell Pete that she wasn’t coming after we left Calabash.”  Jo started to grin.  She pointed at Nick.  “Yeah, I can prove it.  With you.  You’re my proof.” 

“What?”  Nick wasn’t following this at all.

“I know that Mickey would never have left me here with him, but I can’t make you believe that.  Because you didn’t know her like I do.  But I think you will understand this.”  Jo paused and took a breath.  She hoped this didn’t sound too crazy.  “Mickey has been in love with you for years.  Even still, now when we’re all grown up and supposed to be over boy bands…”

Nick’s eyes narrowed.  Jo waved off his unspoken objection.

“You know what I mean.  I know you’re not a boy band…you’re a vocal group…you know what I mean.  Mickey and I are almost as old as you are.  We’re supposed to be beyond knowing everything about our favorite group and…you know, tracking its every move and…and…and downloading all the music clips we can find and talking about the new album and looking forward to the tour…Shit!  Every email Mickey ever sent me had a picture of you attached and some kind of news about you or the group.”

Jo laughed.  “I can’t tell you how hysterical she was when you took up with…oh, what did Mickey call her?…oh yeah, the Hotel Ho!”

Nick blushed and pursed his lips.  He guessed he’d be hearing about that particular slice of his life until he was dead.

Jo went on.  “And lately, the clips of the new album.  She loved it so much.  She practically wore out her computer listening to Color My World.”

“That’s not on the album,” said Nick, absently.

“What do you mean it’s not on the album?” replied Jo.  “That’s a great song.”

They stared at each other for a few moments.

“Anyway,” said Jo, dragging herself back to the topic at hand.  “Here’s the important part.  Mickey loved you.  If she really talked to Pete on the phone, like he said, and she knew that you were sitting right there, she would not have passed on an opportunity to meet you.  She just would not have done it.  She was a fan, a big fan…Can you understand that?”  Jo was crying by the time she finished the story.

Nick nodded.  He guessed he could understand.  He knew the effect they had on some fans.  He didn’t understand why, but he knew that it was true.  At every fan conference, at every meet-and-greet, even during random encounters on the streets…fans didn’t just say, “We love the music.”  They said things like, “You changed my life”, “You helped me through some tough times” and even “You saved my life”.  It was humbling and also a little scary.

“If I can’t make you believe that she wouldn’t have left me,” whispered Jo, “can I at least make you believe that she wouldn’t have left you?”

The beeping of the microwave timer saved Nick from having to answer.