"He should be parked out front," Molly told him, then smiled at me. "I'm going to give you a call, I have a list of very nice young men who I think you should meet. And this is the number for my hairdresser. Just a thought."
    Scott seemed to find reason to get Stevie out to the car awfully quickly.
    "I just said you seemed a little lonely," he mumbled on our way home.
    "Thanks a lot, Scott. No more poker nights for me."
    He made a sad sound.
    "What? The last thing I need is to be introduced to a list of eligible young nephews or whatever the hell they are." Granted, Molly is something of an expert on the subject, what with those three wealthy and soon-deceased husbands, all of which had been very thoroughly investigated and found to be without grounds for suspicion. There's nothing anyone on earth could do with my hair even if I wanted them to. "See, this is why I don't bother trying to have a social life."
    "Because it might possibly break you out of an endless loop of insecurity?"
    I rolled my eyes at this ridiculous assertion. "It's an organic thing, you wouldn't understand." I put the whole silly business out of my mind. It was an interesting evening in many other ways, and there was a lot to think about.
    

August 11, 1987

With three days until the kabuki performance, "Shit," I realized out loud over breakfast. "I have to find something to wear."
    "I can help with that, what do you need?" Dawn asked brightly.
    "I keep forgetting you can do that."
    She hesitated uncertainly. "Oh, no, actually, Dad told me I probably shouldn't be doing that much any more. But I have the phone number that Ms. Irish left, she said that when you were going out that you should give her a call and she'd help."
    "Maybe some other time," I muttered darkly.
    "You just said you needed a dress...."
    "I can shop perfectly fine on my own," I informed her. "I am an adult." Sort of. I headed over to Newbury Street and was addressing the usual problem of finding something that will fit me, let alone look decent, when a familiar voice hailed me from across the street.
    "Oh, Needle!"
    Oh, no. This was, I have to assume, some sort of karmic operation.
    "What a surprise, running into you here!" Molly beamed, crossing over.
    "Hello, Molly. What a surprise," I managed a smile.
    "Luck, I guess."
    "I guess." Luck of the Irish, wasn't that supposed to be one of her powers? No one ever knew how seriously to take it....
    "What are you looking for ? Come along, come along, we'll get some tea and you can tell me." She took my arm and carried me along in her wake. "I was just coming out here to meet my nephew Seamus. He's a lawyer, you'll like him."
    I'm in hell. I tried to escape. "Really, I was just running out real quick to find something to wear for a theater thing...."
    "You can't shop quick," she reproved. "It'll never work out properly if you shop quick."
    "I have very simple taste, really."
    "Simple is not in this year. It'll take you forever to find what you want if you want simple, now if you wanted gaudy.... I know perfect places to take you . When's the show?"
    "The fourteenth."
    "We have three days. Perfect."
    "Perfect," I sighed. There was no polite or dignified way out of this. Seamus was a pleasant enough young man, I suppose, if you like the type. He works for Agglomerated MegaCorp. "I'll have to introduce you to Phoenix Talon."
    "Yes, we just wrote up his employment contracts."
    I choked on my soda. "His what?"
    "His employment contracts. He just got hired on as a consultant for the television show."
    "Are you all right?" Molly asked as I kept coughing.
    "Yes, just a little bit of Coke went down the wrong way." I made a mental note to keep better tabs on Phoenix Talon. He's been avoiding me since that thing with the Blood Boards.
    "That's why you should be drinking tea, dear. Coke is not good for you. I can't understand how you keep your figure, if you keep having those sugary substances."
    "It's a knack, I guess." Not that hard when you've got a metabolism like a ferret on speed.
    I'm sure Scott meant well. I really wish there was some way to get back at him for it.

[Aside: Scott]

    "I think what you really need is a whole new outfit," Molly was saying a while later. "Because the whole black thing...."
    "It's practical," I replied firmly.
    "I know, but for day-to-day wear? When you're in the field, I understand, but what is that incessant ringing?"
    "Excuse me." I answered the phone and hoped for an emergency. "Hello, Needle here."
    "Hi Needle."
    "Scott. Hi, how are you?"
    "Oh, Mr. Silver, hi!" Molly said.
    "Hi, Molly," he replied. "I'm up in New Hampshire. Do you happen to know any paranormal coroners?" I gave it some thought. "Nothing is coming to mind."
    "I couldn't think of anything either."
    "Scott, is it an emergency? We're a little busy here," Molly informed him.
    "Truckload of walking dead guys drove off a bridge," he told me.
    "Truckload of zombies, gotcha." Thank you, I thought sincerely. "Tell you what, why don't you get them back here, I'll talk to Reilly and see what we can get prepped for this, just in case?"
    "Okay. I'll get a tow truck, and we'll tow 'em back to the city."
    "See you soon. Duty calls," I told Molly. "I'm sorry, we'll have to do this some other time."
    "He said he was in New Hampshire, that's hours away!" she protested.
    "An hour away, actually," I corrected. "And I have to go find a coroner who can deal with six zombies. And probably wave smelling salts under Reilly's nose." I tried to remember what the moon phase was. Surely this wasn't Xyrgoth again. "Nice meeting you, Mr....?"
    "Just call me Seamus."

| Top |