Chapter Thirty-Three: The Rubicon
NIKKI checked her phone, wondering if Daniel was going to respond. There had been a final burst of late diners, then things at Harry’s had settled. Her shift was almost over -- the clock reading close to 10 pm. A furtive glance over her shoulder revealed Tommy still sitting at the bar, patiently waiting. With a sigh, she pulled her phone out of its slot in the podium, heart sinking in disappointment when she saw Daniel hadn’t responded. Tommy glanced her way as she approached, smiling enigmatically at her from beneath his hat, “What’s doing?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing about you, Tommy.”
His smile widened, “Heard you had a strange weekend -- ‘bout other weird things happening...as if the club wasn’t weird enough.”
He glanced down at the bandage on her right hand, concealed as it was by the white lace covering her arm almost to the elbow. He gave it a meaningful glance, then asked, “How’s the hand?”
Nicolette frowned, sensing some deeper meaning buried in his question, but unable to tease it out, “A lot better than I thought it would be, at this point.”
Tommy nodded, his expression thoughtful but unsurprised. His nonchalance made her nervous, giving rise to the inexplicable feeling that she was approaching some previously unsuspected rubicon. She fought the sudden absurd temptation to thrust her hand behind her back, as though halting the conversation would halt her headlong rush toward that dimly sensed precipice.
“Is your shift over, yet?”
Her gaze fell on the clock in the corner of the big screen, then reluctantly nodded, “Let me change and then you can explain why you’ve been surveilling me at my job.”
He grinned at her, completely unperturbed by the implicit accusation, “Done.”
Ten minutes later, she stepped out of the staff room into the restaurant, coming to a halt as she realized that Tommy had been joined by Daniel. After her last text had gone unanswered she thought he was going to ignore her. Their eyes met from across the restaurant, his brows lowering as he stared past Tommy’s shoulder. Grimly, she forced herself forward, feeling as though she had been summoned into the principal’s office. She was still dressed in the summery white and blue sheath dress she had found earlier in the week in a thrift store.
She had abandoned the sheer black cardigan, instead opting to put on her puffy pink jacket and a comfortable pair of sneakers. She approached the men at the bar, mildly surprised to see Chris chatting with Daniel and Tommy. She fought to suppress a sigh as she guessed they were all probably talking about sports -- a guess which was proven correct when she heard Chris mention the Sharks. An awkward, uncomfortable silence fell as she sidled up to them.
She felt a little malicious prickle in her mind as she watched them, deciding not to say anything, letting the silence draw out.
Chris, sensing the mood, discretely pulled back to the other end of the bar, pausing to flirt with a pair of middle aged women sipping martinis. Finally Daniel broke the silence, “You texted me; I’m here.”
Inwardly, he winced, annoyed at himself for sounding so overtly hostile and challenging as he watched her stiffen. She hesitated, then pointedly spoke to Tommy, “You said you’d wanted to speak with me?”
She was aware of a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he finally nodded, “Yeah. It’s good that Daniel's here, too. Let’s step outside.”
Nicolette waved to Chris, offering him a reassuring smile as his eyebrows rose in an exaggerated manner, implicitly asking, “Everything okay?”
At her answering smile and offhanded dismissive gesture, he reluctantly nodded then returned to his work, following her with one last puzzled glance.
Nikki, Daniel, and Tommy stood on the sidewalk half a block down the street from Harry’s. Nikki was relieved they were willing to move away from her place of business, reluctant to risk a loud argument which she’d have to explain to Mr. Solis at her next shift. He was already looking for excuses to fire her or punish her in an effort to make her quit, no need to make it easier for him. The night had turned chilly, a strong breeze coming in off the ocean. For once, the sky was almost clear, the breeze helping to keep the coastal fog at bay. She shivered slightly in her jacket, wishing she’d brought jeans or a warm pair of sweat pants.
She turned to face Tommy, conspicuously ignoring Daniel, though she couldn’t help watching him out of the corner of her eye, “So -- what brings you to Harry’s, Tommy? You’ve been waiting there for almost two hours, but haven’t told me anything other than ‘we should talk’. So...talk.”
He grinned, aware that the exposition was aimed at Daniel, “I was hoping Daniel would stop by.”
She snorted in irritation, “If you wanted him here, why didn’t you just call him?”
The corners of Tommy’s eyes crinkled with amusement, “He’d have just blown me off.”
Daniel suppressed his annoyance. He was annoyed partially because Tommy had guessed Daniel's mood, deducing that Daniel would have likely blown off anything but a 911 page, but partly because he felt as though Tommy had played them both a little bit.
Nikki gave no sign of sharing Daniel's annoyance, though he could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was fighting hard for patience, “Well?”
Tommy nodded, refocusing on Nikki as he explained, “I’ve heard about your strange weekend, about the shelter and some other things I’ve heard in a roundabout way.”
He hesitated, but Nikki schooled her expression to stillness, patiently waiting him out. Concern momentarily overpowered Daniel’s annoyance as he turned to Nicolette, troubled, “Something happened at the shelter...?”
Nicolette ignored him, never taking her eyes off Tommy. He said, “I heard from a friend of mine about some of the things that have been going on. I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, Nikki, but...can you do something brave for me?”
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. This was a Tommy she didn’t recognize at all; over the years she had grown accustomed to his laconic nature, preferring silence when he could get away with it, monosyllabic responses when he couldn’t. She was aware of his intelligence, having observed his ability to completely derail an argument or a train of thought with a perfectly timed one or two word jab, using context and delivery like a sword thrust into someone’s rhetorical vitals. Hearing him give such a relatively lengthy explanation, coupled with his hesitancy left Nikki completely off balance.
He’s almost pleading with me, she thought, studying his expression.
Daniel answered almost immediately, “Not a chance, Tommy. Not without some--“
“What do you want me to do?”
Daniel rounded on Nicolette, surprise etched across his features, “Nikki--“
“Can’t explain now,” Tommy cut in, “don’t want to bias you.”
Something in his tone sounded apologetic to Daniel. Tommy had been a loyal friend over the years, but he wasn’t one given to making apologies or other expressions of regret. For all his laconic demeanor, Daniel had generally found Tommy to think several moves ahead as a matter of course; sometimes it could be a little scary when Daniel reviewed some of their conversations, how earlier conversations often primed later ones without ever giving Daniel the sense of being led. While having him at your side when things got dodgy was a huge comfort, he could sometimes be unnerving as Hell despite his unwavering loyalty.
Daniel glanced at Nikki, his annoyance with her resurgent as she studiously ignored him, pointedly focusing entirely on Tommy. He realized part of her willingness to trust Tommy at face value was partly a jab aimed at him, though his instincts warned him her injured spite was making her reckless.
Fair enough, he thought, maybe I deserve some of it. But...
Tommy nodded back up the street, “My jeep.”
Nikki nodded, worry briefly crossing her countenance as she hugged herself, turning to follow in Tommy’s wake. Fighting to suppress a snarl, Daniel called after them, “Hey. Hey! If we’re going to do this...wh
atever it is,” he added, his emphasis an implied rebuke aimed at Tommy, “let’s take my truck. At least it’ll be warmer than that sad, ventilated World War II era antique of yours.”
Tommy turned, smirking, “Good plan.”
Is that what you were angling for?, he wondered.