New Year's Eve was a bust…literally. Quinn recorded in her journal:
NYE is here and gone! Anthony and I survived…you'll understand once I share what happened.
Anthony called me the day before and told me to wear shoes for walking. He met me at my building and took me to dinner at a very nice bistro in my neighborhood. He was the most handsome man there…black turtleneck and leather jacket, worn-in jeans. I wore my angora sweater and black leggings and my puffy jacket. It's cold but not horribly so.
Over dinner (baked brie, filet mignon, asparagus), he told me he loved movies…all genres from all eras. He just loved watching people portray a character and tell a story. I told him that I loved music…all genres from all eras. He asked if I could sing…lol. I may have mentioned Glee Club. He said he played guitar. IDK…maybe a duet someday?
After dinner, we walked to the theater. He said that theater was where he went to see Rear Window. I finally got the nerve to ask what kind of movie that was. He pretended to be shocked that I didn't know. The theater was showing an old film, he said it was one of his faves…Casablanca. The movie was good…about WWII…and romantic. Anthony put his arm around my shoulders! Sometimes he would whisper the lines the actors were saying…my God, his voice makes me shiver!
He told me he had somewhere special to take me after the movie…it was only 10 p.m. We walked a couple blocks over from the theater to a block of 2- and 3-story buildings, mostly with shops on the first floor. He stopped at one shop, lights still on, "open" sign up. The name was Silver Screen Memories. He opened the door for me and followed me in. It looked like a shop full of movie ephemera for tourists…fake reels of film, glossy photos of movie stars, even stuffies. He told me to wander around, check it out, so I did. I was in the back row and saw Oscar statues on the bottom shelf. I bent down to pick one up, and it was HEFTY. The base of it was solid.
That's when I heard someone yell Get The Fuck Outta My Way. I've never heard anyone yell like that, not even Sue Sylvester. I stood up slowly, just enough to see where Anthony was. He stood by the doors where we came in, hands in the air, smile on his face. The guy yelling held a pistol pointed at Anthony, had a bag in his other hand. He wore all black and a black ski mask. I squished back down, still gripping the Oscar. The Gun Guy hadn't seen me…Anthony didn't looked my way.
Come on, buddy, you don't want to do that…Anthony said, calmly.
Don't fucking gimme orders…MOVE
I slipped my wet boots off…they had squeaked on the linoleum floor when we came in. I stayed bent over and moved toward the Gun Guy since I was behind him and out of his sight. I really didn't think…I just did.
Just as I stood up, Anthony said put the gun down and let's figure this out…
I hit Gun Guy on the back of the head as hard as I could with the Oscar.
As soon as I did, Anthony sprang toward him, taking him down to the floor and knocking the gun away. He yelled at me to get down, call 911. I did. The Gun Guy was quiet…I thought I killed him. Anthony had to tell me what to tell 911…I was shaking all of a sudden. I dropped the Oscar.
Gun Guy was moaning by the time the police got there. Anthony had held him down with his knee to his back and held his wrists. Anthony told the police a shop owner should be there, a Mr. Li, to find him. The police handcuffed Gun Guy. They found Mr. Li restrained in his office with a bloody head wound but awake, the safe empty.
Anthony immediately had me in his arms. He stroked my hair, whispered to me to take deep breaths, sat me down in a chair. I finally stopped shaking.
Anthony talked to the police, talked to Mr. Li, talked to me. The ambulance took Mr. Li, another one took Gun Guy, the police did their thing. Anthony brought me my boots and laced them onto my feet. He told me I did the right thing. I said I didn't know what I was doing.
When we were finally all alone in the shop, Anthony told me about the place. It was his. He bought it when the neighborhood was undergoing renovation. He knew Mr. Li from Baltimore and let him run the store and live upstairs.
Plus I needed more room for my movies…he said. He took my hand and led me upstairs to the 3rd floor. His collection of movies…the entire 3rd floor was full of DVDs. He showed me the rooms for drama, comedy, romantic flicks. Truly amazing.
One more thing to show you, Quinn…from the 3rd floor he took me to the roof. Two chairs were set up with a small table between them which held a bottle of champagne in an iced bucket and two flutes. He had carried a blanket from the 3rd floor.
Not cold enough to freeze champagne but still cool…
He popped the champagne and poured us each a glass. To us…he said.
We were sipping the champagne when a deep rumble rolled across the sky and I flinched…but then the firework exploded and lit up Anthony's face. And I knew why he brought me to the rooftop.
He set his glass down and took my face into his hands, looking deeply into my eyes. Another firework streaked across the black sky…his lips were on mine. We broke for air, long enough for me to set my glass down. And then another kiss, hungry, he hummed ever so slightly. Our lips parted and tongues touched. He backed away and picked up the blanket, wrapping it around me. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap, into his arms.
Best. NYE. Ever. (except for the Gun Guy part).
Tony walked Quinn home, then hailed a taxi to pick up his friend Mr. Li from the hospital where he was checked out and released. He knew the night could've ended much worse but was still astounded at the events. It was like he attracted the bad guys.
He was also impressed by Quinn's quick thinking, as well as the fact he didn't have to break out his own gun. He had yet to tell her he was armed outside NARA.
He took Mr. Li back to the Silver Screen Memories building and made sure he got situated in his apartment. Then, Tony cleaned up the store…he had done it before many times in his previous jobs. While cleaning, he thought of the moment he saw Ski Mask approaching from the back of the store with the gun. He immediately switched gears, moving to the entrance knowing Quinn was behind the guy. In his peripheral vision, he saw the top of her head above the racks of merchandise and then dip back down. He smiled to himself as he mopped up the small blood stain from where Quinn had cracked the guy with the Oscar statue.
When he got home, he called her to see how she was feeling. She sounded okay; he told her to take a couple Tylenol and to get some rest. He just needed to hear her voice at the end of the night…she calmed him down.
It wasn't the New Year's Eve he had envisioned, but, holding her close to him later and watching the fireworks, loving how she tasted like buttered popcorn, he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
Quinn told Tony she was going to the Library of Congress to just explore. It was on her bucket list for D.C. It was January, not much else to do in the cold. She pulled some books from the stacks about art and sat at a table to go through them. Suddenly, the chair next to her was pulled away from the table, and Tony was sitting next to her. He smiled at her and put down a copy of The New York Times, opened to the crossword.
"Thought we could have a less eventful date than New Year's Eve," he said to her. "What're you reading?"
She paused a moment, then pushed over Curatorial Challenges: Interdisciplinary Perspectives on Contemporary Curating.
"Just something I'd take to the beach. How'd you find me here?"
"Just kept looking 'til I found you."
"I would've invited you to come along…didn't think libraries were your thing," she laughed.
"We have so much to learn about each other, Quinn," he replied, nudging her gently with his shoulder. He picked up the newspaper. "What's a three-letter word for a shaggy mammal?"
He waited for her answer with a raised eyebrow. "Cat? Dog? Emu?"
She broke out into a smile and nudged him back. "Try yak."
Smiling, he pushed the newspaper away. "Text me when you're hungry…I'll take you to eat."
He started to stand, looked around the room, then pecked her on the forehead.
"They're calling it 'The End of the World Ice We Know It'," Quinn told him. "But I've heard people saying 'Ice We Know It'. I like Ice-mageddon better."
Tony had waited for her to finish up at work, and he was driving her home. "They'll probably shut down D.C."
"Maybe I should stock up on groceries," she muttered more to herself than him. And then, "Nah, I'm good."
He laughed. "Conversation with yourself?"
She laughed, too. "You learn something new about me every day, right?"
Later that night, ice began pelting her windows. NARA had closed, schools and businesses were closing, no traffic unless it was an emergency. The D.C. area was expecting snow, wind, and possibly an inch of ice. Power outages were predicted. Quinn was rethinking her "no supplies" decision after checking her cupboards, refrigerator, and batteries and finding enough for maybe one day.
Her phone buzzed with Tony's ring tone, Like I'm Gonna Lose You. Up for some company?
She had been waiting for this day…his first time in her condo. She straightened up quickly and texted back to tell him to come on over.
Tony figured it was now or never. He had been waffling about asking her to his place, but, with an ice storm threatening D.C., there was no way he was going to leave her alone. So, he loaded up on groceries, packed a backpack, and walked over to her building. He texted her from the lobby.
Quinn found Tony waiting in her lobby with two full bags of groceries and a backpack. Ice was melting in his hair and all over his jacket.
"I thought you may want dinner," he said to her.
"You walked here?"
"No driving," he replied. "If it's not okay, I'll go…"
She took a bag from him. "I'm always happy to see you, Anthony."