A/N: If you don't immediately like this, skip to chapter 5. If you want action, there's plenty for you. Skip to chapter 12, 13, 15 or 8.

Then, please let me know what you think. I'd sure love to hear it.

"It is no accident that the photographer becomes a photographer any more than the lion tamer becomes a lion tamer."—Dorothea Lange

"Guess."

First word Odin thought of when he awoke.

4:37 pm Wednesday – 11 April 2007

After that he sat up and wondered how the fuck he might've fallen there – some room in some building. A Red Cross blood drive set-up.

"You okay?"

Three people were around him—he didn't look at the other two—she being one of them. She looked about 50, maybe older or younger, too-curly-for-her-face ash-blonde hair dangling in front of her eyes like a spider web on a freezing day, her withdrawn, beady black-brown eyes examining his face like there was something written on it.

"I feel kinda dizzy." First words out of Odin's mouth.

Beady-eye Lady smiled.

Somebody pulled on his arm with "Stand up NOW!" urgency. He got the urge to steal his arm—steal his arm back?—but didn't. Same thing for his right arm, but somebody else was holding that.

"Thanks," he said, to one of the two people who helped him stand. Pretty, about 22, taller than him, big, soft brown eyes looking into his like she was a Woman now, dammit, but she'd bend to his will if he imposed it upon her. Some sport team's name on the sky blue ringer she was wearing (its rings were dark blue). Brunette, a little curly—like she did that—amazingly soft-looking too, but constrained to a ponytail wastefully. It would be a little past shoulder-length if she freed it.

"You're welcome." Voice could've been more pleasant, and with lips and a subtly perfectly-shaped face like hers, he expected it to be.

Odin turned to the other person. A guy, his face a little small for his build, short spiky brown hair. Almost shorter than Odin. Eyes completely unremarkable, tight grip.

"Thanks to you too."

If Odin realized that was the second thing he said that he'd remember, and that one of the words was basically the same as the one word in his last statement, at the time, he would've said something else. Even something as unreasonable as "Fuck yourself, muffin tosser!" would've been better than a second, mirrorlike "thank you."

"No problem, buddy."

Then Odin would've regretted saying the meaner thing, but not completely. First Guy Odin Saw was not only sincere but familiar, like they knew each other.

"My memory's a little . . . fuzzy. Did I just pass out or something?"

As he spoke Odin felt something clawing for life on his right elbow. Medical tape, a pad on the inside.

"You just gave blood," Second, Prettier, Female said.

"And then yeah, ya passed out," First Guy said.

"I'm disappointed in myself."

Beady-eye Lady was gone, back to the blood-drawing area, but Odin didn't notice that until now. She and a few other—nurses? They were all wearing white lab coats. Supposed to indicate authority or that they're RNs? LPNs?—had a setup wherein people would lay on their backs on massage table things, give blood.

Not that that was really important. All Odin could think about was Second, Prettier Female's smile, and even First Guy's, as the two people next to him laughed. They were laughing at what he said. Odin smiled, maybe because now that he was a little more familiar with Second, Prettier Girl, she was a little more beautiful.

Vibration?

In his pocket. Cellphone. Neither of the people with him seemed to notice. He'd ignore it. One vibration. Text message. Probably didn't matter. Do I text with anybody needy?

Maybe he did. Result:

"Thanks for helping me up, y'all. I, uh . . . that was really weird."

"You're welcome," First Guy said.

"Yeah," Second Female said.

"How much blood'd they take? I think I mean 'collect.'"

More laughs.

"I don't know, man, I didn't give any."

Odin looked at him as if to say "Why are you here?"

Second Female took the floor, though, with "I have no idea. I got pretty dizzy on my way over here, though."

The smile meant he was supposed to laugh, but it was too late. He grinned slowly, turned it into the most-"you're funny" response he could. God damn.

"I assume I did too," Odin said.

"Here" was a table—no, two tables—joined together with a few chairs by it for people to snack on chocolate chip cookies and drink either some lame kind of juice or apple juice. Lame meaning that its current container was full whereas apple juice's was almost empty.

Second Female laughed.

"I gotta go help out with somethin,'" First Guy said, slapping Odin on the back lightly. "I'll see you later." He walked, heading for where the room they were in became some kind of hall.

"Yeah," Odin said. He looked to First Guy to say it but he felt Second Female behind him like she was waiting for him. Like she wanted to talk with him more.

"Don't pass out again." First Guy said.

Odin force-laughed. That's so goddamn funny I'm going to die. Why do I like swearing so much?

"I won't."

"Good," First Guy concluded. Disappeared.

Looked to Second Female.

"Did we already snack on something?"

"No," she said, with a giggle. Headed to the table.

Odin got the impression he was supposed to sit next to her by the way she walked, suggesting "Walk by me, fella." So he did.

Sit next to her, that is. When he realized she wanted him close whilst she walked, it was too late to.

"Have you given blood before?" he asked.

"Yeah. Five times, actually."

"Five times?" Odd inflection—like perhaps it should be "'FIVE times?'" "Five" like he's in shock, "times?" normally. Perhaps it was weird and hard-to-punctuate, but whatever Odin did, it made Second Female laugh. The only thing Odin thought when she laughed was "You're beautiful."

"Yeah, that many," she said, taking an apple juice packet. She grabbed a second and motioned at Odin with it. Just before he could ask what she was doing he reached out for and took it.

"Thanks," Odin said.

"Stop thanking me." Flatly, but like it kind of flattered her that she could say such a thing.

Sarcastic: "Fine, I will. I'll be a jerk. I don't even care."

Second Female laughed again, just as beautifully as before. "I was kidding." Opening her apple juice packet.

"I know. I just like to pretend I'm responding unreasonably to stuff." Like he was saying something more normal. And like it was true. Did I mean that? Do I?

"Oh, that makes sense."

"I hope it does."

He took a Famous Amos cookie bag to try to avoid staring at Second Female while she laughed. The kind filled 1/3 of the way, if that, and the kind that—of that 1/3—was only about ¾ filled with whole cookies, the rest crumbs, chocolate chips, dust, somebody's life playing out in cellophane.

"What's your poison?" he asked.

"I dunno. I have a weakness for the M&M kind."

She was looking off to his left. Odin looked off to his left. There: the only M&M cookie bag on the whole table. Was it a test, or was it genuine? Didn't sound genuine.

"Oh no." Taking the bag, handing it to her.

"Thank you," she said, digging in.

"'tain't a problem," he said, remembering he hadn't opened his cookiebag, opening it.

"That's good," Second Female . . . fooded, cookie on her slickly-shiny cocaine-white teeth already. Eats fast. "Cuz I didn't want you to thank me again."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"You're right. I'm so sorry," she said. With a trace of sincerity in it. Feels bad for making fun of my showing gratitude?

Touching her shoulder. "It's okay. This time."

She responded well. Leaned in. A rush of warmth in Odin that he would've called "electricity" if she'd asked how it felt.

"I'm so glad," she said, her voice intermittently coming through. Between cookie-bites. In the wall.

Short silence. Odin sure as hell wanted to keep talking to her. Nothing to say, which kind of sucked. She kept glancing at him like she wanted to keep talking to him.

"What's your blood type?" Odin asked. Any conversation to tangent to any other topic they could find common ground in.

"I really don't know. I think it's O neg."

"Are you sure? It's important."

Eyes like "I know whatever you're going to say is going to be funny, so I'm gonna help as I can, but I really don't know:" "I'm not sure."

"It doesn't matter," Odin dismissed, "because I have AB negative blood."

"You have AB negative blood." Shock and awe.

"That's right."

"You are surely the coolest guy ever." Like if they were positioned differently she'd bow to him.

"I know." It was obvious, wasn't it? Then he had to play playing humble. He made sure to wait about a second longer than he should have. "No, wait, no. I'm pretty cool, but not that great. I haven't cured many fatal diseases."

"You m—"

He interrupted. "Yet."

She just started laughing. Like she wanted to go on with the joke, but no longer could without laughing. Cookie came out her mouth and not only into the air but onto his face, onto the table, probably, and then her hand darted out. Maybe she saw some of it hit him, or just felt it coming out.

"I'm so sorry!" she said, taking a napkin from the closest napkin pile. Odin did not mean to look, but looked, at how her t-shirt didn't cover the skin between the bottom of it and her jeans, tight ones, with what looked suspiciously like a thong between her ass and him. Color of red, the bloody kind of red. Crimson wouldn't fit. I just described it as an ass, didn't I? Is that vulgar? My cock shifted. Second Female came back less than a second later, on the tail end of licking the napkin. Not like she was trying to excite him, showing off her dark long tongue, but businesslike.

Facing Odin. He didn't flinch, didn't react, but he definitely didn't expect her to face him for a while. Much more relevant than that, he didn't expect her to lean into him and softly wipe his mouth-area with the napkin.

"I'm really sorry. Does that make it up to you at all?"

He turned away and she treated it like a slap in the face with a small, pathetic girly whimper-gasp. "No."

"What if I licked it?"

He glanced back to her, eyes slightly open, keeping his body twisted away from her as much as possible. He raised an eyebrow. She giggled. He snapped back to his previous position. "No. Not nearly enough."

"Whatever can I do?"

Quickly, like "Why am I even talking to you?," in a snotty tone he didn't know he was capable of speaking in: "Declare me king."

"You're my king." Similar tone, but like she was an underling.

He sighed.

"Good enough. Hug me and we're friends again."

A second or two.

She giggled.

"You have to turn back first. My king."

"Do I?"

She laughed.

"Yes."

"Common mistake."

He turned. He probably could have prolonged the turn further, but he didn't have any idea how he could've done it in a manner as funny as his ending note, so, "common mistake" and the turn.

Second Female hugged O

that felt suspiciously like a kiss

"Are we friends again, my king?" she asked.

A sigh. Partially just to make his heart beat slow down. "Okay."

"Can I finish my cookies now?"

"You don't really have to eat, do you?" Their first breaking-character moment since they started. He felt like he was supposed to be the first there, being the king and all.

"I do."

He made a noise that sounded a little like "but!" and

"I do, my king."

"That's right." Firmly, folding his arms over his chest and acting like he was taller than her.

Odin saw First Guy walking around by the blood-drawing tables. red Not until now did Odin notice he was pigeon-toed. Do not come over here. If you fuck this up for me…

"Thank you," she said, sipping on her orange juice.

"Whatever."

Obviously, he was too cool to accept anybody's fucking apologies.

4:43 pm Wednesday – 11 April 2007

She had to finish sometime, didn't she? Not that Odin didn't.

Their talking had dropped off a little. They wanted to talk more. He wasn't sure what to say, she wouldn't tell him what she wanted him to ask, he couldn't tell what she wanted him to ask anyway.

"Do you have class after this?"

He didn't realize what he was saying until he got to "after," but by then it was entirely too late to stop. It was too late to stop once the "D" started coming out, because if he stopped then, she'd know he almost said it, look at him and then he would blush and explode and die feeling stupid that she looked at him when he probably had cookie on his teeth. He almost tripped on the "this" but got through it fine.

"No, I don't," she said. It wasn't very obviously some kind of door-open invitation. "I finished at like 3 o'clock, but I said I was gonna go to this, so I just studied in the library for like an hour and a half."

"Do you have a test tomorrow or something?"

She giggled, and he wasn't sure why. He might never be. "No, I don't."

That was a hint, wasn't it?

"Cool. I don't either, and we've just got to see Grindhouse together." How'd I know about that?

"What's that?"

She knew. She definitely knew.

"Before I answer it directly, do you know who Quentin Tarantino or Robert Rodriguez are?"

"No. Did that Tarantino guy make Hostel?"

"Good question, but no, he didn't. He executive-produced. The guy who made Hostel's named Eli Roth. He also directed Cabin Fever. He has a cameo in Grindhouse, coincidentally."

He couldn't tell how forced her surprise-giggle was but it wasn't genuine. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Tarantino's kinda friends with him. He also directed a fake ad in Grindhouse." Where's this shit coming from?

"Okay: What is Grindhouse?"

"It's a double-feature those two guys I asked you about directed. Quentin Tarantino made Death Proof."

"Double feature like . . . what?"

"I'm not real sure. They're both supposed to be like 85 minutes long."

"How long is it, three hours?"

"That's what I heard, but I don't know."

A "Hmm." Then she asked, "What's Death Proof about?"

She's about as fast as Odin. So fast that when he thought about that, he left an awkward silence. "It's a slasher movie, but the weapon's a car."

"And it'd normally be, like, a knife?"

"Good guess."

A nice laugh. Not that real, but still pretty nice to hear, nice to see that smile.

"The other movie's called Planet Terror. It's about zombies."

"Not zombies!"

"Yes! Zombies!"

She laughed. He wanted to think it was at his inflection, but by the way she looked at him, it was his crazy-eyes expression. He tried to sound like the guy in a disaster movie who warns everybody about what, specifically, The Bad Guy is—a twister, global warming, climate change—once it's clearly established that something is The Bad Guy. A real laugh, too. You're beautiful. You make me want to believe in God.

"I'm so horrified! You're gonna have to come, cuz I'm gonna need my king to hold me."

"Don't worry. I'll be there." With a touch of gruff action hero in his voice she smiled at.

"Awesome."

He remembered: That last cookie . . . that last part-cookie—was going to taste really great, because he'd forgotten about his cookie bag for the last minute or two.

It tasted really good, but not great. He might've just distorted that memory, though, because as he bit in, he almost didn't hear Second, Prettier, Girl saying, "I was gonna go see The Hills Have Eyes 2 with some friends'a mine. Do you wanna go?"

"Sure." He tried to shrug it off like "I don't care whether I see more of and/or make out with you today or ever" and it came out okay. She hadn't entirely hidden how she felt about him so maybe it was okay. Or maybe she just saw the weak point in his armor. Fuck. "When are you gonna see it?"

How many text messages have I gotten since I started talking with her?

"I dunno, like, now." She didn't react, but he was going to react his way anyway. His way was to display SHOCK on his face as if he should've said "You're seeing it when?!" At that, Second Female laughed, a lot harder than he expected her to. Real laughter, again. "No, we're gonna see it at like six. We don't have anything to do today. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." He wanted to suggest that either he knew exactly what he had to do or he was going to blow off whatever he had to do, with "for her" strongly not implied at the end.

4:52 pm Wednesday – 11 April 2007

Not outside. It was a little cold there. Instead, they were heading through the math building—parallel the mostly commonly-used parking lot—to then, later, head outside.

"Do you have a car?" Second Female asked.

He checked his pockets pretty sure he did. He almost said yes, but then it occurred to him that he didn't know. Then he almost said yes anyway, like he'd say it, then dive his hands into his pockets.

Didn't entirely matter. Second Female started laughing anyway, after a second or two of his search.

Keys in fingers. His hand came out. He had a few keys, one of them to something Honda, a new one. "Yes," Odin said, "but I thought I had a Ford."

She laughed more. "Why would you want Ford? Ugh."

"I don't know! Why wouldn't I? I don't know anything about Ford."

She waited two seconds longer than she needed to, then she kind-of blushed.

"I don't know." She let the laughter out, and although he didn't think the admission was that funny, Odin laughed too. "I just hear people say that a lot."

"Jeez. You shoulda seen the last place I lived."

Where the hell did that come from? Where was the last place he lived? Odin wouldn't be able to name it, that's for sure.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was . . . a warzone. Ford was kind of a white flag, but a white flag to get shot."

She laughed. "You're a really funny guy."

"Thank you. I think you're a really funny gal, too." He wanted strongly to call her by her name. He did not know her name.

He looked at Second, Prettier, Female, projecting that.

"I don't know your name!" she ejaculated, kind of pointing at him like she was accusing him of something.

"I don't know yours either."

"I was just gonna ask that! I was so sure you told me, but I was thinking about it–"

"And I didn't!"

"I know, right?" she said, then held her hand out. "My name's Molly."

He shook her hand.

"That's a beautiful name."

"Thank you."

She was about to say something but he stepped in. "My name's Odin. I wasn't stalling." He had to speak a little more quickly than normal so she wouldn't accuse him of stalling or react, which her eyes told him she was going to do.

"Good!" she said, in a completely silly, eyes-wide-open-as-part-of-this-massive-grin way.

"That's exactly what I was gonna say!" Odin said. Both of them laughing.

"Can we hug again? I know we shook hands, but I won't get any closure if we don't."

"Sure."

He went in first. About 60 percent. I shouldn't think of hugging that way, should I? What the fuck?!

She didn't seem like she'd let go anytime soon. Something about that made Odin nervous and he made motions to let go first. He almost patted her back at first, uncomfortable then, too, but held back. She probably felt him almost-pat her back. She didn't pat his.

"Great," she said, having accomplished whatever.

A trashcan was up ahead, as Odin saw. They went by it. As they did, he threw his wallet into it. He didn't even know what it looked like before then. It was big, brown and said "BAD ASS MOTHERFUCKER," in two lines, with "MOTHERFUCKER" in much smaller print than "BAD" and "ASS" were in. Odin giggled. I should want a wallet that funny back, shouldn't I?

But he didn't.

"Did you just throw your wallet away?"

"I think so." He replaced that with yes, not wanting to say "yes," and not uncertain.\

She laughed. "Did you keep your money?"

I can use it.

"Yes," he said.

A second. He stared straight into Molly's eyes and she stared straight back into his.

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

She laughed, hard, looking away, putting her hand over her mouth. That Odin didn't understand, but he got the feeling he'd do it too.

Money. A card. He checked that—driver's license. He's 18. And I look like that? . . . I guess this sounds like a guy-looking-into-mirrors-a-lot-to-reaffirm-something-untrue thing, but I'm not ugly. I'm kinda good-lookin'. Maybe I'm not that funny. Of course I'm not. That's how it works.

"Yeah," he said. "I kept my ID too."

"Lemme see." Reaching her hand out. Knowing he'd do it.

"Are you gonna give it back?"

"Yes, I am."

He handed it to her.

She took it in both hands and held it close to her eyes. He wanted to be that close to her. Feel her lips against his.

"Awww!" Empathetic noise. "Lookit how cute you are!"

"Thanks."

"Your name really is Odin! I thought you were being melodramatic or something."

"I wasn't."

She studied it more. He felt silly not doing anything.

He asked, "What's my last name?"

"Don't you know?"

"Nope."

She laughed. Odin felt awesome for getting to be so funny being so honest. He didn't even have a vague guess, a "ends with –son."

"Odin, your last name is Strong."

"You're kidding."

Molly stared at him seriously for a second. And then broke down—"I am"—laughing. "Your last name's Owen. It'd sound good with 'Molly' in front of it."

"That's not funny."

She handed him the card. Her fingers touched one of his a little and he liked it, but he ignored that.

As Odin's license said, "ODIN SHAUN OWEN."

"That's not funny."

Molly laughed.

"My parents are ridiculous. Why would anybody's name be so repetitive?"

"How would I know?" Opening her arms to say she didn't know.

"That's what I was gonna say!"

They laughed more.

"Lemme see yours, Molly."

She just said "Owen" would sound good after "Molly." Her name's Molly. "Molly Owen." She was suggesting "Molly Owen." Marriage. Why'd I break it d—This girl's crazy!

And I like it.

She reached into her purse, reached into a smaller pink changepurse. Two seconds later:

MOLLY SARA HARPER

"No jokes, okay? I know I don't talk that fast or that much."

"I wasn't gonna say anything about 'Harper.'"

" . . . What were you gonna say?"

"Nope. Now you don't get to know."

"But Odin! . . . " said Molly, like he was her brother or a relative or a teacher or her dad, like she could just as easily have said, "But Dad! . . . ", which was probably bad for Odin. Should I grab her tits now or something?

"Shut up, woman. I do whatever I want."

"You're like a Viking warrior, aren't you?" Like it excited her. Body language: While they were indeed walking, she veered closer to him. She'd been getting closer anyway.

"Before I answer that, in the interest of full disclosure, I don't remember what the name Odin might be from or in reference to." She giggled. "To answer your question . . . yes. I pillage shit as I please."

Maybe I shouldn't have sworn.

She laughed.

Fuck that, nevermind.

"I think you're gonna like Hills Have Eyes. It looks like there's gonna be lotsa violence in it."

"I hope there will be. I'm getting' my bloodlust just thinking about pillagin'."

God damn. That better not be too forward.

"Oh my. I'd better help contain you. I don't wanna get in any legal trouble today!" Like some hopeless woman fighting King Kong, as Kong climbed a building in mid-1920s New York City. Odin didn't know why he thought of it being in the 1920s, but he did know he had a mental image of a flopper who looked pretty hot.

"Today?" Odin asked. It was the only response he could think of.

Defensively, Molly said, "Yeah, today. What of it?"

"Nothin'. But to establish this, if there's something I want outta you, I'm gonna get it."

"Are you? By force if necessary?"

"You bet your ass I am."

"Maybe I will."

Grins.

4:58 pm Wednesday – 11 April 2007

"Oh my GOD it's cold! Carry me!"

"Okay!"

It took way too long to find her Sunfire, but they definitely found it. Her black in a crowd of white, green and other light colors was easy to spot once they got out far enough. Once Odin did, that is—Molly rested comfortably in his arms the entire time. They bounced around plenty – he jogged whenever he could, telling himself that he wasn't doing it to show off for the pretty girl carried The Classic Way in his arms—but she enjoyed the ride, and a few times, looked like she kind of wanted him to kiss her, or like she wanted to lean forward somehow and kiss him.

Molly announced, "We're here."

"You're sure. If I set you down I might not be able to pick you up again."

"My king, I would never lie to you."

He put her down. "That's good." He stood up.

She said "Aww" in disappointment.

"What?" he asked.

"I thought you were gonna grab my ass."

"I should have?"

"Yep."

They were facing each other now. Maybe it would be too much. Maybe it wouldn't be. He grabbed both cheeks and pulled her into him slowly, one half-step at a time. He arced an eyebrow as if to ask if what he was doing was okay with her. She was a little surprised, but not to the point at which she'd say "I didn't mean grab that much of it!" She looked like she kind of liked it.

He familiarized himself with the contours of her ass. It wasn't the kind that, if he saw it walking away from him in a hallway, he'd stare at until it disappeared, but he'd enjoy glancing at it. He might glance twice. He'd love to touch it during any one of those glances, too.

After a second or two—this on the driver's side of her black Sunfire—of his ass-feeling, she went in, like to kiss him. He suspected foul play, went in about 10 percent.

Good thing, too. She only went about 80 percent, then arced backward, let her lips graze his. Hardly. His lips tingled, but that was somewhat okay because he knew hers did too. It was then that he noticed her breasts squishing into him. Her shirt was so loose he never thought of them, but she definitely had a pair. "C" jumped out at him, so out-of-context and disconnected from what he was thinking about, what it meant wouldn't occur to him for some time.

"I was just gonna hang out with my friends for a little while. Do you wanna come?"

"Okay. Should I meet you . . . wherever you're going?"

"No. I want you with me." A little too serious, leaving her a little too vulnerable. "I can't feel safe without mine king." As if that would dial it back.

"Good. I'm totally into protecting my subjects." Odin started walking for the passenger's side. He kind of wished he went the front way so he could slide over some of the hood. "Who I am much cooler than."

"I know, honey," she said, unlocking the doors. The click was a lot more reassuring than he thought it would be.