Aphrodite's War (11 page)

“You’re a really good friend for coming here after the way I acted.”
Jenny looked down again and picked up her tea. The fresh green grass
smell of it wafted over to Poetry, reminding her of old times hanging out,
watching movies, and talking about guys. She could almost taste buttered
popcorn.

What I am is a sentimental mush.

A variety of comforting platitudes came to mind but Poetry couldn’t
push any of them past her teeth. She didn’t want to tell Jenny it didn’t
matter now, that all was forgiven. Jenny would not do the same for her.

Instead she said, “Tell me what happened.”
Jenny put her cup down, pressed her tissue back to her cheek as fresh
tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.
“It’s Gary.” A dramatic torrent of sobs and moisture gushed forth, and
Poetry peered around to see if anyone gawked.
Other than a young woman on a laptop, they were the only customers.
A furrow appeared between the girl’s brows as she typed.
“Whoa, whoa,” Poetry said, her hands going out to squeeze Jenny’s.
“What did he do?”

Terrible thoughts surfaced. She pictured the biceps on Gary, what they
could do to a woman of Jenny’s petite stature. “He didn’t hurt you did
he?”

“What?” Jenny stopped wheezing long enough to scowl at Poetry.
“No. It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it?” Poetry asked as she took her hand back. What else
could a new boyfriend do to upset her so much?
Jenny exhaled, a weary sound that suggested reluctance. “We got into
an argument about money.”
Poetry’s shoulders slumped. Of course. What else would it be?
“Wow, that was quick,” Poetry said. “Don’t waste any time, do you?
Most people don’t fight about money until they’re married.”

“He wanted me to help pay rent,” Jenny said. Her gaze drifted away
from Poetry, past the parking lot to the traffic along Jasper Avenue. Her
lips tightened into a stiff line of resentment.

“Oh, is that all?” Poetry couldn’t help the sarcasm that oozed from her
lips. “How dare he.”
“Why should I pay rent?” Jenny’s slicing glare prevented Poetry from
smiling. “Gary makes four times as much as I do.”
Poetry fumbled for words. “That’s not the point.”
“The point is I can’t afford a place like that on my wage,” Jenny said.
“Why should I pay for it when he can?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do. Because you don’t want him to
think you’re with him for his wallet. Besides, I’m sure he doesn’t expect
you to cough up half.”

“Hello?” Jenny smacked herself in the forehead. “I’m a waitress?
He’s a lawyer? He drives a BMW? He can afford his own rent.”
“Whatever.” Poetry wanted to smack Jenny in the forehead too. Not
everything was about money. “So what happened?”
Jenny drained her mug. “I left. Then I called you.”
“I see,” Poetry said. She sipped at her water, wishing for a stiff drink.
“So what are you going to do?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking.” Jenny began wringing her hands.
Not a good sign. Whenever Jenny did that it meant she was working
up to something.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go…”
Oh no. No.
Poetry’s stomach rolled.
Not that.

“Could I stay with you?”

Hell no. “Jenny, my new place is way too small.”
“I could sleep on the couch.”
“No, you don’t understand…”

“No, you don’t understand.” Jenny’s fingers knotted over and over
themselves, squirming like vipers in a nest. “I have no place else to go.
And besides,” she peered at Poetry from under her eyelashes, “you did
get me evicted.”

Poetry swallowed her anger. It didn’t want to stay down.
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Of all the obnoxious…
“Please?” Poetry made the mistake of making eye contact.

Jenny had changed tactics. She leaned forward, resorting to the doeeyes Poetry had seen her use on countless people. “It’ll be fun.”
Fun? I’m going to puke. That would be more fun.
An ear-shredding blast cracked the windows of the coffee shop,
chasing the thought from Poetry’s head and replacing it with confusion.
“What the hell?” Poetry could hear screeching brakes and car alarms.
The girl with the laptop stood with one hand covering her open mouth.

“Oh my God!” She jabbed a finger eastward. “Buddy’s is on fire!”
“What?”
“Where? What’s going on?”

Poetry shot to her feet and pressed against the spider-webbed glass.
Jenny did the same, mashing her nose into it as though it would help her
see.

A barista abandoned the counter and ran outside. Poetry followed. She
needed a better view.
“Poetry?” Behind her, Jenny shuffled around chairs. “Where are you
going?”

Poetry ignored her and bolted for the parking lot, nearly bowling into
an employee with the nametag labeled ‘James’. He halted near the corner
and stared wide-eyed at the charred remains of the bar across the street.

Blackened bits of plastic and rainbow-colored cloth floated through
the air. Pepper lights dangled. Shards of glass and broken stools littered
the street. The air smelled like smoke; noxious with the taint of fertilizer.
When it burned her senses, Poetry slapped a hand over her mouth and
nose.

“Oh shit, Poetry.” She became aware of Jenny standing next to her, as
well as the odor of scorched flesh. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she said, squinting her eyes. Through the smoke she
could make out the gaping holes where a row of windows used to be.
Flames clawed for the sky, blocking the entrance. Screams of the dying
grew fainter by the minute.

A crowd had gathered and they were…cheering? For what? The
destruction of the well known gay hang out wasn’t something to be
happy about. She’d thought Edmontonians were more enlightened than
that.

Fire engines appeared, their sirens drowning out the conflicted noise.

Neon yellow coats leaped from the massive vehicle. Poetry watched
in horror as bystanders dragged the firemen away from the explosion,
kicking and pummeling. Others scattered the hoses, or used them to
vandalize the grocery store across the street. Looters charged through
broken glass.

A chant reached Poetry’s ears. Burn. Burn. Burn. It churned her
stomach.
Poetry heard a shriek from behind. The other customer hugged her
laptop like a security blanket. “What are they doing?”

“They’re attacking the firefighters,” James said. His voice held
incredulous anger. “They’re attacking the fucking firefighters. Hey!” He
broke into a run, straight for the melee. “Leave them alone!”

Another howl, this time from the other patron. She raced to join him,
brandishing her computer over her head with lethal intent.

Poetry turned toward Jenny. “This is surreal, I…” Jenny had her
dilated gaze fixated on the violence. She tried to pass Poetry with a lunge
but they both tumbled to the asphalt.

“Ow! Jenny, what’s wrong with you?”

Jenny rolled off, tearing her hands across the ground in her struggle to
rise. She growled and grunted, snarling like a beast as she tried to break
Poetry’s grip.

“Has everyone gone insane?” Poetry had to stop Jenny. Even as she
fought with her friend she heard running footsteps and shouts.
The only thing missing is the din of swordplay, she thought.
Gunshots rang out.
“Jenny, we gotta go,” she said. Jenny didn’t seem to hear her. With
singular intent she groped the ground, trying to free herself.
“Let me go!” The frightening snarls coming from Jenny’s throat made
Poetry tighten her grip. . “I want…I need to…”
“Need to what?” Poetry asked. She managed to crawl over Jenny,
turning her over and straddling her.
“I have to…”

“Get a hold of yourself!” Poetry delivered a slap so hard it stung her
palm. Jenny went still. Her body unwound beneath Poetry, her pupils
shrank to their normal size.

“That hurt,” she said, raising a hand to the welt on her cheek.
“Thanks. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Poetry got off Jenny and helped her stand. “Me neither, but it seems to
be affecting everyone.”

They glanced around. People were tearing at each other. Or racing
aimlessly in full-blown hysteria. Bellowing intermingled with screeching
tires and crunching metal as cars plowed into buildings, parked vehicles,
and pedestrians.

“We have to get away from here,” Jenny said.

“Yeah,” Poetry nodded. “But where?” They began to back away from
the riot. More men and women were swarming to the vortex of frenzied
humanity in front of the damaged drinking establishment.

“Can we go to Gary’s? Doesn’t he live on Jasper Ave?”

Jenny shook her head. “No. I’m not going there. It’s too far to run
anyway.” She bit her lip and glanced around at the skyscrapers. “But you
gave me an idea.”

Jenny pointed northwest, to a tall building with red balconies. “We
need to go there.”

A second explosion rocked the block, superheating the already
sweltering air and frightening situation. Poetry guessed it came from the
basement dance bar, Woody’s.

“Let’s go. Now,” Poetry shoved Jenny in the opposite direction.
“Run.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Alright, alright.” Adrian hurried at the sound of insistent knocking.
“I’m coming.” So much for coming home early to get some practice in.
What did he have to do to get some time to himself these days?

He disengaged the deadbolts and the alarm system with quick fingers.
Adrian yanked the door open and Jenny tumbled into his arms.
“Oh God, thanks so much for letting us in, Adrian,” she said,
squeezing him tight. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Us?

When he’d buzzed the intercom, Jenny hadn’t mentioned company.
Adrian glanced past the tangle of Jenny’s hair to the other woman
waiting in the hall.

The one with the crazy ex. She looked frazzled. He could smell fear
and the city’s smog radiating from her, even over Jenny’s fruity perfume.
Shit. Now what? Was the boyfriend back or something? Why were
they here?

Instead of voicing those thoughts he said, “No problem. Come in.” He
released Jenny and swept his arm wide in welcome. “Me casa, es su
casa.”

Jenny flounced in as though she lived there, the other girl…Pamela?
No, that wasn’t right… entered with obvious reluctance.
“What’s going on?” Adrian asked. He inclined his head toward…
Patricia? “Hi.”

“Hi.” She wrapped her arms around herself and stood perfectly still
inside the foyer. Her discomfort and wariness reminded him of a city
rabbit; perhaps she thought she might be safe if she didn’t move. Of
course, Edmonton rabbits bolted when you looked directly at them.

“Where’s your ‘mote?” Jenny asked. “Maybe it’s on the news already.
Geez, if I had a TV this size, I’d actually use it.”
“What? I like it off when I practice.”

“Is that why you’re wearing pajamas?”Jenny busied herself by
pawing through the issues of Home Builder and Canadian Homes and
Cottages on the coffee table. He fumed inwardly when she knocked his
shinai to the floor without even noticing.

Adrian’s face flushed in irritation. “This is my gi. It’s a uniform for
martial arts.”
Jenny ignored him. “I can’t find the remote.”

Adrian strolled past her, snatched up the bamboo sword and leaned it
against a corner of the room far away from her, biting down a snarling
comment about disrespect. He plucked the controller off the plasma
television stand.

“Right here,” he said, and pressed the power button.
“…Aren’t sure what motivated the attack, but it is believed to be an
act of violence directed at the gay community specifically…”

Adrian squinted at the screen as images of smoke and fire danced with
a throbbing crowd. He couldn’t make out the ranting but he recognized a
riot when he saw one.

“Police are saying little at this time, except to stay indoors.“
He became aware of the dark-haired girl beside him. “It was so
weird,” she said. “Everyone lost their minds all at once.”
“What do you mean?” Adrian asked.

“Like someone threw a switch. One minute everyone’s normal and
going on with their day, and suddenly Buddy’s blows up and they’re all
intent on maiming each other.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper.
“Even Jenny went kind of insane.”

They studied her back as she sat riveted to the broadcast. Jenny
showed no outward signs to suggest violence.
“She seems normal now,” Adrian said.
She pushed her garish bangs from her forehead. “Well, as normal as
Jenny ever is.”

“Do you think she’s a danger to us?” he asked. “Or herself?”
The goth girl shook her head. “No. I think the worst is over.”
“Mew.”
The girl’s head snapped toward the sound in the kitchen.

“Amir?” She nearly shoved Adrian over in her desperation to get to
the adjacent room. “Amir!”
Speaking of losing your mind.

Not that he could blame her. Cat had grown on him as well. Even if he
did have a chewing fetish. And he couldn’t deny that the expression of
joy radiating from her face warmed him in a way he didn’t see coming.

“Oops.” Jenny palmed her forehead and gave Adrian an absentminded smile. “I didn’t know you still had Poe’s kitty.”

He watched an angry shadow pass over tattooed girl’s face before she
bent to collect her cat. Poetry…That was her name. No wonder he
couldn’t remember it.

“Careful, little guy’s got some deep bruising.” Even as he said it
Adrian judged the warning to be unnecessary.
Poetry gathered the purring ball of fur in slow motion it seemed,
tender as a mother.
“Hey, sweetie.” Loving coos accompanied a nose nuzzle that made
Adrian want to retch. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me?”
Chicks and their animals. But he had to admit, it was kind of cute in
an Ihazcheezeburger kind of way. Yuck.

Poetry turned and Adrian’s heart lurched. Her eyes gleamed. He
couldn’t mistake the gratitude shining there. It poured straight from her
soul to her face. He wouldn’t be surprised to hear harps in the
background.

He couldn’t help thinking how striking she looked. Vibrant. Alive.
Sexy. Whoa. Where did that come from?

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “I am just so grateful for
everything…”
No, no. Don’t cry.

“Yeah.” That was smooth. But he didn’t know what to say. He’d just
done what was right. Anyone else would have done the same…“Hey, I
need a beer. You girls want one?”