AN: Thank you to everyone who has left reviews or private messages. I wanted to let you know that I would never abandon the story; in fact, I have some future chapters already written out and am working on connecting what's going on now in the story to what I want to happen in the future.
The next day it poured. "Seems like it's raining a lot," Machiavelli commented over their chess game, late that afternoon.
"After all the droughts we've had the past few years in San Francisco, this isn't such a bad thing," Scatty replied. She took his queen and cursed when he mated her. "You sacrificed your queen," she accused him.
"Yes," he said simply, with a wane grin. "So, tell me about how the rest of your night went after I left the two of you."
Scatty paused, rearranging the pieces back into their original positions. "I guess Billie's not as bad as she was in the past." The look on her face spoke volumes, contradicting the words she'd just spoken.
"You big softy," he teased her lightly.
"I still don't like her," she said immediately. She bristled at his little grin. "I don't. But we found one thing that we agreed on last night."
He brightened. If they get along, life will be much easier. He was determined that they wouldn't leave the jazz singer on her own, despite her caustic nature. She was too much like Zelda, who had in turn, reminded him of parts of himself he'd rather distance himself from. "What did you agree on?"
"We both think that you and Billy would make a good couple."
He dropped his chess pieces and only a quick levitation charm saved them from smashing on the ground. "What? Really? I told both of you I've given up."
"And we don't think you should," Scatty said with unusual earnestness.
Machiavelli didn't know what to say, so he redirected her. "But what happened last night?" he pressed. "I was waiting up for you, but you didn't come back, at least not before I fell asleep."
"Oh, well… We ended up going to a gay bar," she admitted, grinning a little. He gave her a disbelieving look and she made a small noise off her teeth before explaining. "Well, there's no rule against going to a gay bar if you're not gay, and as a woman, you don't have to worry that you're going to get hit on at all. So we figured it'd be a nice place to go and just have fun."
"I mean, I guess. Do lots of women go to gay bars? I just assumed…"
"There was a fair number. The guys will still dance with you and they're probably dressed better than the average Joe…" She shrugged. "The place we were at before that, the one you were at, there was a lot of lowlifes around. It was a nice change to go from one place where guys expected everything of you, to one where they didn't want anything from you."
"So, you just danced there?"
"We danced and we people watched. It was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. There was this very macho guy that did a striptease around two in the morning," she said excitedly. "He left with some point dexter, never would have predicted that in a million years." She paused. "I did shots out of one guy's navel though. Turns out he goes both ways."
Machiavelli felt a little twist in his stomach. He didn't want Scatty outstripping him; he liked that they were similarly situated. "And then what happened?"
Scatty sighed. "Then I told her I was getting tired and I thought we were going to go home, but…"
"What?"
"She wanted to buy some pot. So we did."
Machiavelli opened his mouth and gestured with one hand, disbelief slowing him down to an almost comedic level. "You guys smoked pot in Billy's bedroom?"
"No, I wouldn't let her," Scatty said neutrally. She began packing away the pieces to the chessboard, fitting them into their velvet lined slots. "She smoked in the park. I sat with her, but it's not really my thing."
Machiavelli thought back to this morning at breakfast. "That's why we're missing so much food," he said slowly. He squinted at her. "Billie ate all that herself?"
"I might have had a bit of a contact high last night," Scatty said defensively.
"Billy did marijuana during the sixties," Machiavelli told her.
"That doesn't surprise me."
"I've never done recreational drugs though," he continued.
"I'm not surprised by that either."
"So, then you went home, right?" He watched her intently. He groaned when she shook her head. "Where? Where could you possibly go?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air. "Doesn't this city ever go to sleep? What's open at that hour?"
"First we stopped at that diner you told me about, then the ice cream parlor we went on our first night. You remember the one? I got you a pint of chocolate chip and a tin of sprinkles," she told him.
He was only slightly mollified. Glancing at his phone, he replaced it in his pocket again. "Well, that is nice. So then what? Swim in the river a little?"
"No," she laughed. "Then we came home. I was hoping you'd be awake… but it was like five in the morning by that point. We played rummy until the sun came up. That's when we were talking about you and the Kid."
"And then? Where'd Billie go?"
"Well, she said she'd only agreed to stay until tomorrow, which is today, so then she went home. And I was actually tired by that point, which is kind of strange for me, so…"
"You climbed in with me," he finished for her, remember how confused he was when he'd woken up that morning. "I thought I had fallen asleep in your bed again for a minute."
"No, I got in with you," she clarified. "This way, you'll be able to make Billy jealous like you planned."
"I never planned on making him jealous by pretending to be your boyfriend," he protested. He laughed a little. "Billy's the one who pointed out that you were my fake girlfriend. Why would I tell him what I was trying to do if I was doing it to him?"
"It's a really cunning move," she pointed out. "I'm just saying, you had me come over here to make that girl jealous, old what's her name, but we ran into her last night and you just avoided her."
"I kissed you!"
She shrugged. "You could have done a lot more to make your point." He felt very non-plussed. How much of what she's saying is true? he wondered.
"So, what did you do last night after you left?" she asked him.
He shrugged himself now. "Not much. I came back here. Tried to text Billy, but he never got back to me."
"Is that why you've been checking your phone all day?" she asked curiously.
"I haven't been checking it all day," he said, putting his hands up before him. "So, you climbed in bed with me. What did you do? Did you actually sleep?"
"No."
"Then what?" he asked, somewhat nervously.
She hesitated. "Nothing."
"Scatty…"
She caved. "I was texting Billy," she admitted reluctantly.
He felt like he'd been hit in the stomach. What did I do wrong that Billy isn't texting me? Our last conversation was nice. What happened? he wondered. "Oh," he said, feeling a little dizzy. "What did you talk about?" he asked nonchalantly.
She saw through his nonchalance, he knew she had. Giving him a pitying look, she downplayed it. "He just couldn't sleep and I was awake, so…"
"Yeah, that's fine. That's fine. So, did he say when he was coming back?"
"Tomorrow," she said softly. "He's going to try to come back tomorrow."
He tilted his head. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked softly, feeling strangely betrayed.
"I just forgot boo," she told him earnestly. "Really, it was early this morning and he fell asleep and I did too, kind of. You're very warm. Like a heating blanket."
He nodded distractedly. "So, Billy's coming back tomorrow?" He felt a dizzying shock.
"He said he was going to try."
"Okay." Despite his hurt feelings, Machiavelli felt a thrill of joy. He had missed the outlaw overwhelmingly. "So you did fall asleep. But you were awake when I woke up."
"I was just catnapping." She touched his arm. "I don't think it means anything, that he was texting me and not you. I just caught him at a time when he was available. You understand that, right?:
Machiavelli smiled, but didn't answer. Outside, it was getting dark. They'd spent the day inside, two friends comfortably together. "It's getting cold in here," he said lightly. Kneeling in front of the fireplace, he put one of the logs into the grate before lighting it with his aura. He shook his hand slightly, myriad sparks falling off onto the rug. "That'll be better in a minute."
"Oh, here take this. I found something when I was looking for my book this afternoon," Scatty said, getting up. She came to stand next to him. Machiavelli looked up curiously, accepting a letter from the Shadow.
"What's this?" he asked, slitting it open.
"Letter from Nicholas. Been meaning to give it to you since I got here."
"Oh, okay." Machiavelli scanned it quickly, then folded it up and put it in his pocket. "I'll have to think about it."
"Think about what?" she asked, but he just shook his head, gazing at the fire lit in the grate.
"Scatty, what did you talk about with him?" he asked desperately. "Cause you really didn't say before."
She sighed. "I can't tell you. I promised I'd keep it to myself. I do that with you too; I haven't told Billy anything you confessed to me. I wish I could…"
"It's okay, I understand. I'm just worried that he's mad at me for some reason, but I can imagine what I did to make him upset…"
"He's not mad at you," Scatty said instantly. "Trust me, he's not." Machiavelli relaxed. Sometimes he worried that he was going to lose his newfound friends; he'd been alone for so long without close companions, he worried that through some fault of his own, he'd turn them away from himself. Scatty was speaking to him. "Wait for him to come back and get him to talk to you. Things will be fine."
"Sure." He shoved his hands in his pockets, walking around. "Are you hungry?" he asked abruptly.
She nodded without much prompting. "We haven't really eaten at all today. Mostly nibbled."
He pulled her to her feet. "Come to the kitchen with me. I don't know what we have for food."
She ran a hand down the side of his face. "You're awfully handsome, Mac," she told him. "You know that don't you?" He shook his head and protested, but she nodded firmly. "You are, and you're a good guy too- who would have thought it?"
He grinned despite himself. "I'm very fond of you, Scatty."
"You still look troubled."
"I just don't understand…" He made a noise of frustration, looking at his phone again. "But he's been texting you?"
She shook her head. "Only this morning," she said, following him to the kitchen. "I haven't heard from him since."
He tapped his lips. "What if you texted him now?"
She shook her head. "Don't do that."
"Okay, this time I'll really drop it," he said surrendering. Opening the fridge, he cast a critical eye over the contents of the space. "I could make eggplant lasagna," he suggested dubiously. "We really have to go grocery shopping sometime."
"Is there any way we can half the recipe?" she asked, also snooping through their fridge. "That's a lot of food for the two of us."
"I can do that," Niccolo agreed. He pulled the vegetable out of the fridge and set to work. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scatty pull out her phone and begin typing. He wanted to ask her what was going on, but knowing that he'd already said he would stay out of it, he closed his mouth.
Outside, he could hear the gentler murmur of the rain on the ground. At least tomorrow you'll get to see Billy, he thought, though his excitement was somewhat mired by his misgivings.
Behind him, Scatty slipped her phone back in her pocket and coming to stand behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist in an atypical display of affection. He sighed.
