poured Melissa a glass of water.
Melissa raised head. “His face? What’d he look like?” Captor interest subdued throat pain as she struggled to verbalize words. She sipped water through straw in glass held by Carol.
“Couldn’t see it.” Alice grinned. “Lady’s bouncing butt in the way.”
Disappointed, Melissa regrouped. “That’s okay. You had your own pain.”
“Melissa,” Carol interrupted, “I have to go.” She set Melissa’s water glass on the nightstand. “I’ll take Fluffy to my house if she doesn’t nip at me.” She waved to Sarah and Alice.
A determined Melissa tried to fully lift her left hand, but couldn’t. “Thanks, Sis,” she mouthed, as Carol walked out of sight. “Alice, think harder. A fireman?” Melissa exhaled a deep breath.
“Think hard,” Sarah suggested. “Could be Melissa’s Prince Charming.”
Not risking further throat pain, Melissa stared at Sarah. Let her tease. I haven’t divulged I sought out Rob Campbell at the gala. I can still do that. Omigawd. His reservation table was near the kitchen. Why can’t I think straight? Why is Alice looking at me? She gazed at Alice. “Sorry. Without warning migraines scramble my mind. You notice anything? A tattoo?”
“Don’t remember anything out-of-the-ordinary. He wasn’t, you know, a uniformed fireman. He moved fast. Oh, don’t know. Could’ve used, you know, a hunk to carry me to safety … or beat up those jerks who knocked me down.”
“Right on, Alice,” Sarah interjected, stretching her slim, five-foot-eleven. “This town’s got more then its share of jerks. Point them out to me sometime so I can avoid dating them.
Melissa started coughing again.
“You okay?” Alice asked.
Melissa swallowed. “Hadn’t expected this unscheduled past-thirty, lonesome sisterhood meeting would bring up dating.” She glanced at the bedside stand. “Sarah, pour me a half glass of water. Leave the straw in.”
While Melissa sipped, Sarah retrieved the card on a holder inside the bouquet next to the water pitcher. ”I see Mark brought flowers.”
“Yesterday.”
“What?” Alice exclaimed. “Thought he outlived, you know, his welcome. That the billowy clouds and songbirds of love either floated or been driven away.” Alice wiggled four left hand fingers as she lifted it slowly upward.
“Yeah,” Sarah said. “Isn’t that what you said to me? Can I remind you he’s no Lancelot? Also saw a card signed New York on wired flowers. Didn’t know you have relatives or friends that far away?”
“Don’t...” Breaths struggled to be completed. Melissa labored to cough twice. Closed her eyes until she heard the tramp of footsteps.
“You know when you might be leaving?” Alice tugged Sarah’s arm.
“Overheard nurse say a week. Depends how lungs heal. I get really tired.”
“Time to adjourn,” Sarah whispered, leading Alice toward the door.
* * *
The basketball bounced high off the rim, snagged by six-foot, two-inch Rob Campbell. He stumbled into Bull, a nickname for Andrew Angus McCloud. Steve Roomer signaled timeout and wiped a sweaty brow with a red bandana complementing the red, orange, and yellow blazing rays of the soon-to-be-absent sun. “Got to go. Lisa will be upset.”
Rob forever praised Steve and Bull, graduating high school classmates who remained friends fifteen years thereafter. Both drove multiple times to the Chicago VA Hospital, where he recuperated for months from bullet wounds suffered in Iraq. Standing on a concrete driveway facing the alley, Rob waved farewell to Steve and then collapsed on his home’s rear yard grass.
“Store customers this morning couldn’t stop talking about The Abbey fire Friday night,” Bull said, sitting cross-legged next to Rob. “Noon TV news today continued to replay fire scenes and scroll the names of deceased and injured. Isn’t that where Nancy and you were married?”
“Yeah. It seems so long ago. Mayor sent me Saturday to The Abbey. Nothing left, absolutely nothing.” Rob smoothed an eye patch. “Let’s say you give me an hour to rest and shower and we can visit the Artist’s Plaza.”
“Fine by me.”
* * *
“Plaza’s sure dead tonight?” Rob’s city planning position made him privy to Boulder Isle’s grandiose plans to revitalize the six block downtown by creating a destination arts and entertainment venue. Named Artist’s Plaza, the major art from Rob’s observation continued to be the art of beer pouring. In Rob’s vision the city needed low-cost housing, not honky-tonks.
“Don’t know why I let you drag me to the CBC,” Bull complained using the initials of the Crystal Brewing Company. “The deep-dish pizza’s okay, but the ladies our age don’t do Mondays. They’re probably home washing their weekend party dresses.”
Rob watched a server lifting a tray a foot above her head to squeeze past the six-couple group seated between them and the bar.
“Hey, Rob,” Victoria’s voice echoed in the rafters. “Didn’t see you come in. Who’s your hunky table partner?”
Bull winked, holding it until Victoria smiled.
“Why do you embarrass Bull like that? He’ll just get a big head. Give you all his money as a tip and won’t be able to buy the next round.” She blushed.
“Hi, Victoria,” Bull said with a big grin. “Didn’t remember you worked Monday nights. Nice costume.”
“Got to pay the rent. What can I say?”
“We’ll take another pitcher and a bowl of popcorn,” Rob said. She grabbed the empty pitcher and left. Rob liked Victoria. He fully realized the absurdity of her silly rent comment. The only child of the most successful Boulder Isle retail store/mall operator, she worked in and, given time, would inherit the family’s three area malls. She graduated high school two years after him, but she’d been a high school basketball cheerleader while Rob and his buddies earned back-to-back varsity letters. And later, on birthday number eighteen; Rob couldn’t forget the fancy red Chrysler convertible Victoria's parents bought for her summer evening cruising.
When Victoria reappeared with a full beer pitcher and popcorn, he asked, “When will the band begin playing?” Her miniskirt hem tickled the right forearm as she placed the pitcher table center. He couldn’t see Bull’s reaction but didn’t think service required Victoria to bend forward as far as she did, especially considering the uniform’s low-cut bodice.
“Bad luck,” Victoria said as she straightened up and turned toward him. “Band cancelled at last minute and boss couldn’t find replacement. You’ll have to listen to CDs.” A second bend handed Bull a coaster. “Want to run a tab?”
“No, here’s a ten.” Bull shifted his eyes from Victoria to stare across the room as he quite often did. She hurried off with a two-dollar tip.
“What’s
