When I first read the book, I was so pissed that the main character was named Nora and had red in her hair. But I don't think my Nora's ever going to have a real story, so whatever. I'll just deal with it.
I was leaning against the wall, 7-Up in hand my hand, watching Patch play a round of pool with Rixon. Lately, I'd been spending a lot of time at Bo's Arcade, usually watching Patch earn his living, but sometimes I let them teach me trick shots. The place wasn't so scary anymore – I was getting used to it. Patch's protective presence definitely helped, though.
The sound of heavy boots coming down the stairs always made me look up. A couple was coming down. The woman had vibrant red hair – the actual color, not something you were born with – and was tall, maybe as tall as Patch. She had on dark jeans and a black tank top, her leather jacket hanging off one shoulder. The man was as young as she – physically, at least, but they were coming our way so it probably meant they were fallen angels – but his hair was silver. It matched his grey eyes, and so much of the same color on one face was oddly disconcerting. As I watched, he peeled away and headed toward the bar.
Rixon, just about to take a shot, stopped and looked up. He blinked, then straightened up and smiled. "Hey! Finally, we get someone who can beat Patch!"
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Irish Friend." It took me a moment to identify her light accent, but I was pretty sure that it was Russian. She gave him a one-armed hug anyway.
Patch's expression was a mixture of surprise and something else I couldn't identify. I got the distinct feeling that he didn't exactly welcome her visit. "Hello, Nora," he said. I couldn't help but feel a little queasy at the sound of our shared name.
"Hey, Jailbait," she said, hopping up onto the edge of the pool table. She leaned over a bit and studied me for a moment. "So, you're Jailbait's jailbait?" she asked me.
"My name is Nora," I said, my voice coming out hoarse.
Nora looked at Patch. "This is me, very politely not saying anything about your choice of girlfriends," she said slowly, scooting a few arm lengths away from him.
There was a beat of silence, and Rixon opened his mouth to say something. Nora cut him off, though, asking Patch, "Is she going to go nuts like Dabria? 'Cause we saw her last week and she's turned into a crazy bitch. Well, more of a crazy bitch than before."
"No," I said, shuddering at the memory.
The silver-haired man returned, a beer in one hand and a can of Coke in the other. "You know," he said, "she's right there, Nora. She can hear you talking and everything."
Nora turned to him and grabbed her Coke. "Be quiet," she said, scowling as she popped open the can.
"Anyway," Rixon said, "How was your trip to Russia?"
Nora perked up quickly. "It was great," she said, twisting around to face him. "They have this amazing vodka that I totally forgot about because I haven't been there since the eighteen hundreds. It was awesome. Engel didn't like it, though." She jabbed the silver-haired man in the ribs with her elbow accusingly.
Engel rolled his eyes. "That shit can be used as rocket fuel," he said. His accent was much easier for me to place – German, like Dorothea, our housekeeper.
Rixon made a face. "I have to agree with the lad here, love," he said, nodding his head in Nora's direction. She sighed and surveyed the pool table.
"You're going to lose," she said to Rixon. "Hand me that triangle thing. I want to start over – Nora and Patch versus Engel and I."
"What about me?" Rixon asked.
"You can stand in the corner or something." Nora used her Coke can to knock the balls around, effectively ruining the game. "There, now give me the triangle." It was down by my foot, so I scooped it up and tossed it at her. She caught it and began to gather all of the solid balls.
I hadn't noticed Patch backing up toward me while Nora and Rixon bantered, so it was a nice surprise when his arms slid around me, pulling me close.
"Don't worry," he murmured into my ear. His lips were so close to my skin that it made me flush, warming my entire body. "Our breakup was mutual and a long time ago – she loves Engel too much to leave him now. And for me, there's only you."
"Thanks," I said, my petty jealousy somewhat cast out. I knew Patch liked redheads, though, and we had the same name...
"Only you," he promised, turning my head so he could kiss me.