Finn Fancy Necromancy (23 page)

“I know. But Dawn is a mundy, Pete, and this is part of my cover story. If I could tell her the truth, you know I would.”

Pete drove in silence for a minute, turning onto Water Street, the main tourist drag that ran along Port Townsend's waterfront.

“Okay,” he said at last. “But I don't like it.”

“Me either, bro. Me either.”

We parked a couple blocks away and walked to the Belmont. It felt good but strange to be walking along Water Street again, past the windows displaying local arts and crafts, funky clothing, antiques, and books. Many of the shops and restaurants were familiar, my favorite being Elevated Ice Cream, where the entire family had often gone for treats. But the place where I used to buy toys and comics was now an art gallery with glass and wood sculptures. Lame.

The Belmont Restaurant and Hotel stood unchanged as a fine representative of old Port Townsend, a building of exposed timber and mossy brick. Dawn waited for us in front wearing a striped dress. Small white ribbons like butterflies danced in her lavender afro. “You're here!” she said. “And it's barely six. Count me surprised.”

“You thought we'd be late?” I asked.

“I thought you'd ditch. Now come here and give me some love.”

Dawn pulled me into a hug. She smelled like exotic candy. As we stepped apart, she squeezed my arm. “Damn, Phinaeus, you've been working out.” I felt myself blush. Dawn just smiled and opened the door to the restaurant, waving us in. “Ready to woo me, boys?”

I couldn't help but notice Waterfront Pizza just a couple doors down. I gave it a sad, longing look, then entered the Belmont.

The Belmont lobby was small, with a couple of lounge chairs, a rack of tourist brochures, and sepia pictures of the restaurant in its early days. The smell of something cooking in oil and garlic made my mouth water so much I had to swallow before speaking.

“So, Dawn,” I said as we stood there, waiting to be seated. “What have you been up to?”

“About a seven, I'd say,” Dawn said.

“She plays music,” Pete said. “She's really good too.”

“My biggest fan,” Dawn said, giving Pete a side hug. “I play gigs around town some weekends. I also volunteer at the animal shelter, and do tarot readings during the day at the Phoenix or wherever. But that's all just to support my exciting hobby of being a waitress.”

“That's awesome,” I said. “The music I mean, not—anyway, uh, how's your dad? What does he think about your music now?”

“Wow, you really have been in your own little world, haven't you?” Dawn sounded angry, maybe a little hurt. “My dad died almost fifteen years ago, Finn.”

“Oh. Man. I'm sorry, Dawn, I didn't—I'm sorry I wasn't here.”

“Yeah, about that—” Dawn said, and then a redheaded woman dressed in black slacks and a vest approached. She looked familiar, but I couldn't place her. Maybe someone I'd gone to school with? “Three for dinner?” she asked. I nodded, and she guided us back through a tunnel-like passage between booths and up a flight of stairs to the main restaurant area, a cozy space of tables with lit candles, original brick walls to either side, and large windows overlooking the water. We sat at a table near the windows, Dawn on one side, me and Pete on the other. An older couple sat outside on the deck, and a husband-wife-child trio sat several tables away in a corner; nobody close enough to worry about being overheard.

“Can I bring you anything to drink?” the waitress asked.

“Goddess, yes,” Dawn said. “Bloody Mary, and make it as spicy as Shakira shaking her hips in a jalapeño field, please.”

The waitress blinked, then turned to me. “And you, sir?”

“Iced tea,” I said and looked at Dawn. “Make it sweet as Debbie Gibson sharing Pixy Stix with an Ewok.”

“Well played,” Dawn said. “If we were twelve. Your powers are weak, old man.”

I shrugged. “You can't win, Dawn. If you strike me down, I shall become more eloquent than you can possibly imagine.”

“Maybe I should strike you down, then, so you don't bore me during the dinner conversation.”

“Ouch.”

The waitress appeared unamused. She turned to Pete. “Did you want anything, sir?”

Pete looked between me and Dawn. “Um, can I have a vanilla milkshake, and make it as vanilla as vanilla ice cream in a vanilla envelope?”

I exchanged smiles with Dawn and slapped Pete lightly on the arm. “Good one, bro.”

“Damn,” Dawn said. “I wish they really would make vanilla envelopes. Stamps too. I swear I can still taste the horse in whatever glue they use.”

Petey beamed proudly.

The waitress had already inched several steps from the table. “I'll be right back with your drinks.” She didn't sound excited at the prospect. As she walked away, I realized she hadn't even left us with menus and appeared to be ignoring the attempts of the family in the corner to get her attention. She was either new or just a really lousy waitress.

“So,” Dawn said, slamming her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands. “I'll start, and you finish. Once upon a time, my best friend disappeared on me, and everyone in his family acted all weird every time I asked about it, saying he had, like, a breakdown and needed to go live with one of his uncles. Now, since this friend of mine had never said much good about his uncles, I found this pretty hard to believe. But what really sucked Donkey Kong was that he didn't even bother to say good-bye, or write, or call, or anything. Then one day he shows up, acting like nothing's changed in over twenty years, with a wonderful explanation that goes like…?”

“I had amnesia.”

“Sure. And I'm Dawn's evil twin, pregnant with the child of the power-hungry mayor.”

“No, really. I lost all memory of who I was. They said it was a reaction to finding Felicity dead. Then, a few days ago, I remembered my past. It was like waking up. Except now I can't remember anything from the past twenty-five years.”

“Come on, seriously? That's the story you're going with?”

“It's the truth.”

“Pete?” Dawn asked.

Pete fretted with his cloth napkin and glanced up at me sideways. “Yeah, it's true.”

Dawn watched Pete for a second, then smiled at me. “Well, damn. That's rough, man. But I won't have to beat you up for being a jerk, so, you know, that's good. Huh, I guess this means you don't know if you're married, or have a girlfriend, or maybe a boyfriend?”

“I'm pretty sure I don't have any of those,” I said.

“I don't know. Twenty-five years, surely Other You dated. For all you know, you have a raging case of herpes right now, and a meth-head of a girlfriend waiting somewhere with your five juvenile delinquent offspring.”

“I don't have herpes!” I realized I'd said that rather loud, and I glanced at the dining family. The parents looked away from our table. Great. I couldn't tell if Dawn was testing me, or teasing me, or honestly curious, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I was trapped by my own lie, and would just have to take it.

“How do you know you're not all sexually diseasified?” she asked. “Did you get a medical exam in the last few days?”

“No. I just know, okay?”

“Come to think of it, my friend Dallas said he saw someone who looked just like you turning tricks over in Bremerton for drug money. You're not feeling crack withdrawals or anything, are you?”

“Gods, Dawn, I said I lost my memory, not my brains.”

“Okay. Well, amnesia, that's pretty tricky stuff. Best to be sure. So I'm guessing if you think you're still, what, fifteen, sixteen years old—”

“I don't think I'm fifteen, Dawn. I know I'm older now, I just can't remember anything that happened since I was fifteen.”

“Still, I'm guessing you're wanting to pretty much pick up where you left off? Well, FYI, Heather is a forty-year-old divorced teacher now. If you're still going to act all stupid over her, it would be like having a crush on Ms. Fabbershaw, our old English teacher. Just sayin'.”

The waitress brought our drinks. “Menus?” I asked, grateful for the interruption. The waitress grunted something and left.

“So, uh, Dawn, I just wanted to say thanks for being such a good friend to Petey all these years. And I was hoping maybe you could help him out.”

“How's that?” Dawn asked.

“Well, he's asked me to help him find a girlfriend. But with my memory issue and all, I'm not sure I'd be much help. So I was thinking, maybe you could, like, coach him. Help him pick out a good wardrobe, teach him the right way to talk with a girl so she'll like him, maybe how to dance or cook or something?” The montage played in my head. This always worked in the movies—she would help him become the perfect date, and they would have lots of fun and laughs doing so, and then the first time he actually went out with someone she'd realize that he was
her
perfect date. 'Twas a good plan.

So why did it make me unhappy to picture it working?

Pete didn't look too comfortable about it either. He had a good blush going.

Dawn snorted. That, and loud burps, were two of her trademark noises. “You have the wrong lady, and the wrong plan, my friend. It's not like there's a lot of competition in the nice single guy department 'round these parts. Pete'll find the right girl just being himself. I wouldn't want to screw that up the way I've screwed up my own love life. Besides, I'm more interested in
your
dating plans.”

“What? Dating plans? Why?”

“Look, Finn. Here's the thing. I know we need to get to know each other again, and we've both changed and all, but I don't want to play the stupid game we did before, like some fricking teenage romantic comedy. So let's just get to the part where you realize I'm some kind of wonderful and ask me out already.”

“What?” Pete and I said together.

Dawn took a long, long drink of her Bloody Mary, and burped into her napkin.

“Okay,” she said. “Here goes. I know you like me. Or at least you did. And I'm way more awesome now than I was then. Well, okay, I'm a mess in a lot of ways, but mostly in fun ways, or ways that shouldn't change how you feel. I'm not saying let's just jump into bed or anything here. I'm just saying you should ask me out. For reals. Now.”

“Wow. Dawn, I—”

“Hey, guys,” Heather said as she approached the table. “Sorry I'm late. I wasn't sure I could make it.”

Dawn stared at Heather a second, then looked up at the ceiling. “Are you frickin' kidding me?”

16

Love Plus One

Heather looked between me and Dawn. “Is everything okay?”

She looked amazing, wearing an asymmetrical black dress that exposed a left leg covered in lacy stocking. Her hair was up in some kind of fancy bun with jeweled pins that matched her jeweled black glasses, reflecting candlelight from the tables and the gold evening light coming in through the restaurant's windows.

I could feel Dawn's eyes on me, and hoped the heat radiating from my neck and ears didn't compete with the evening sunlight. “Everything's fine,” I said.

“Dawn just—” Pete began.

I felt the swift passage of Dawn's foot on the way to Pete's shin. He jumped, and she said, “Finn, is there anything you wanted to say?”

I looked between Dawn and Heather. “Uh, I don't know. I think I need to, ah, think about what you said.”

Dawn gave me a sad look. Heather took the empty chair, and said, “You're sure I'm not interrupting?”

“It's fine,” Dawn said. “Finn probably won't remember anything tomorrow anyway. He has amnesia.”

“
Had
amnesia,” I said.

“Amnesia?” Heather raised her eyebrows. “Really? You mean you weren't shipwrecked on a deserted island? Or maybe abducted by aliens?”

“I know, right?” Dawn said.

I gave Heather a tight smile, and said while barely moving my lips, “Not helping.”

“So, Heather.” Dawn played with her butter knife on the table. “How's your kid? Seems like a while since I've heard talk of him being arrested for anything.”

Heather's eyes narrowed at Dawn, then she smiled at me. “Orion's twenty now, and he's doing well. He just needed to find his purpose in the world, something bigger than himself and his immediate wants. That's a struggle Dawn can probably relate to, right, Dawn?”

“Oh,” I said, hoping to steer the conversation onto a less rocky path. “What does he—”

“Wow, twenty,” Dawn said over me. “It must be weird to have a kid who's the same age you were when you had him, huh? But I guess the nice thing about having them young is you can still have a life after they move out, right?”

“Actually—” Heather began.

“You know, Finn,” Dawn continued, “you'd have been amazed to see Heather back in the day. She really came out of her shell after high school. I don't think I played a single gig where I didn't see her dancing with some new guy—”

“That's right,” Heather said. “I forgot you were going to be a musician.”

“I am a musician.”

Petey nodded. “She's really good.”

“Of course,” Heather said. “Sorry. I meant like a musician who makes money. Didn't you run off with that boyfriend of yours to do the homeless thing for a while? What was his name?”

“Phoenix. And we weren't homeless.” Dawn looked at me. “We were exploring the world, you know? We worked our way from small town to small town, and I'd play music and he'd do his art. It was a better education than any college could've given me, that's for sure.”

“Wow,” I said. “That sounds great. I always wanted to—”

“He made things out of garbage, right?” Heather asked. “I always thought that was brave of you, supporting him all those years while he tried to make that art thing work. Whatever happened to him?”