- Minnesota, the middle of nowhere -
Kip couldn't do anything but stare. Finally her mouth started to work again. "Joe. This is your big idea to attract more business?"
"Yep." He patted the contraption that took up a corner of the café.
"Well . . . are you sure you won't end up . . . scaring them away?" Liz voiced the thought that everyone had, but they did not feel it their place to criticize him in such a way.
"'Course not. We've the perfect songbird here to attract them." Joe pointed at their youngest employee. "What do you say, Kip? Be the first to try it out?"
Kip barely stopped herself from shaking her head. "Joe, really. A karaoke machine is not the sort of thing truckers want. They want food, fast, now, and perhaps the scores of the most recent football game."
"And we're expanding." Joe hitched his pants up on his narrow hips. "We're catering to other tastes, not just truckers anymore. And you'll be the one to start us off, kid."
"Joe - "
"Because it'll be counted in your work hours." He raised an eyebrow. "Eh? Now I'm talking, huh?" He was already turning it on, making the screen glow blue and the microphone hot. "All I have to do is type in the number of the song -" there was a notebook in front of him with titles "- and you're set."
It was making her nervous, all of them standing around her as she held the mic in her hand, cool against her palm. "Then I'll just choose one - "
But the music was already playing. He had taken the liberty of selecting one, yelled at the cooks to get back to work and for Liz to seat the people coming in - God, why did he have to do this just as the dinner rush was starting? - but the words were already scrolling across the screen. Not that she needed them. Backstreet Boys, "As Long As You Love Me." Joe's idea of a joke, most likely.
"Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine
I'm leaving my life in your hands
People say I'm crazy and that I am blind
Risking it all in a glance
How you got me blind is still a mystery
I can't get you out of my head
Don't care what is written in you history
As long as you're here with me"
Right, and this was just what she needed: Artemis and Butler, seated in a booth just across the way. There must be a reason they gave you a screen with the lyrics: you could always look there, like you didn't know them already, and pretend you didn't see anybody staring at you.
* * *
"Every little thing
That you have said and done
Feels like it's deep within me
Doesn't really matter
If you're on the run
It seems like we're meant to be"
Her voice was beautiful; it didn't take any sort of musical genius to figure that out, and Artemis really had no say in that field. Both his parents were tone deaf. But, when Kip was singing - it just blew him away. What was it, three nights since they had spoken? Four? And she was always on his mind. What was happening to him?
Butler smiled, amused at his young master's distress. He had to end up discovering girls sooner or later, and now seemed like the right time.
* * *
Kip was ready to surrender both the mic and her position when the song was over, but Joe had already conjured up a trucker who was willing to do a duet with her on "I Got You Babe." Then it was an older man and "I Remember it Well," then someone requested another Backstreet Boys song, and . . . she was willing to be she would not be serving tables that night, as she was only working until seven anyway. And her throat hurt; she was not going to be able to keep this up.
"One more," Joe told her when it was 6:58. "And then you can go."
Kip started to agree when she realized who he was pushing to the other mic. "You sing?" She could not help having it come out as disbelief.
"Apparently he thinks I do." Artemis gestured to Joe. "That, and I'll take you out for desert."
"What? I haven't even eaten yet!"
"Then I'll buy you dinner."
"But I -"
But Joe had started the music, and she almost cringed when she heard it. Besides the boy band songs and the love duets, Joe must have picked up some Broadway: "The Phantom of the Opera" was blaring in tinny organ music around them. Kip took a deep breath:
"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came
that voice which calls to me, and speaks my name
and do I dream again, for now I find
the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind"
And then Artemis took over with
"Sing once again with me, our strange duet
my power over you is stronger yet
and though you turn from me to glance behind
the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside you mind"
Kip had to admit he had a rather nice voice, though he seemed not to realize it; he practically threw the mic at Joe when he was done, turning to Kip. "So. Dinner?"
She hesitated slightly. "With or without Butler?" Though she had really already made up her mind.
He rolled his eyes. "Without."
"Where, then?" She stopped at the coat rack to pick up her windbreaker.
Artemis held the door for her. "What sounds good?"
She smiled. "Something hot and greasy. There's a McDonald's around the corner."
He frowned slightly; she seemed to be suggesting the cheapest thing he could buy her. Then again, if it was what she wanted . . . "Sure. Let's go there, then."
She smiled.
* * *
Artemis sipped his Coke - diet - and studied the girl sitting across from him. She was wonderful, as a person, when not talking about her history. "Penny for your thoughts," he said lazily; she had been silent a while.
Kip smiled at her fries. "I was just thinking . . . you're really nice when you're not intent on making me go to them."
"Not otherwise?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Artemis, with all the stories I've heard about you . . . God, you actually seem human." She winced. "I meant that in a nice way."
"I know you did."
"Oh. Right." She took a sip of her Coke - regular. "Just, sometimes I say something and people take it the wrong way. I guess I just don't use the right words to begin with."
"Do you write poetry?"
"What?" She gave him a quizzical look over her Big Mac. For a moment he was distracted by wondering how she stayed so thin, if this was her normal appetite.
"I, uh, asked if you write poetry. Because poets have to choose all the proper words to get their points across." He stuck his straw in his mouth in order to keep himself from saying anything else that sounded stupid.
Kip laughed. "Yes, but poets are able to have second drafts and editors. When you say something, you can't always take it back and rephrase it so it comes out the way you really meant it. People say 'I take that back,' but you can't, really. If it was really hurtful, someone's going to remember it a long time."
Artemis wasn't sure what to say to that. He had usually been the one saying the words, not the one hurt by them.
She studied him. His hair had a bit of curl to it, where it was getting long, and there was no maniacal glint in his eye that all the stories seemed to put there automatically. His eyes were a dark blue, almost a black in the right light. Artemis Fowl was definitely handsome, she decided. And then she caught herself wondering if he had a girlfriend back home.
* * *
The evening had stretched longer than Artemis had dared hope. After McDonald's they had walked back to the apartment and played half a million rounds of double solitaire, talking and laughing as if they had known each other for a long time. Finally, when neither of them could stifle yawns, he made one last try: "Could you at least come back with me and tell them you want nothing to do with them?"
Kip paused a moment, cards half back in their boxes. "I might have the money for a ticket, but not for a place to stay."
"And I really don't want to use the chutes to go back." Artemis made a face. "We'll fly together and you can stay with me. Not like we don't have extra rooms."
Kip quirked an eyebrow. "Your parent's won't mind?"
He shrugged. "I don't think so. I'll call them tomorrow and let them know you're coming. That is, you are coming, correct?"
He looked hopeful, something Kip found very endearing. "I'll see how much time I can get off work and when I can leave."
"Good." The smile came all too easily to his face, though he didn't bother to notice. "Tell me tomorrow so I can get the tickets."
"I will." She caught herself with a stupid grin on her face after he left and immediately tried to wipe it off. Except, she wasn't completely successful. At least Mulch had had the sense to stay in the kitchen and keep his mouth shut. Shaking her head in amusement, Kip went to her room and was assured of happy dreams.
Kip couldn't do anything but stare. Finally her mouth started to work again. "Joe. This is your big idea to attract more business?"
"Yep." He patted the contraption that took up a corner of the café.
"Well . . . are you sure you won't end up . . . scaring them away?" Liz voiced the thought that everyone had, but they did not feel it their place to criticize him in such a way.
"'Course not. We've the perfect songbird here to attract them." Joe pointed at their youngest employee. "What do you say, Kip? Be the first to try it out?"
Kip barely stopped herself from shaking her head. "Joe, really. A karaoke machine is not the sort of thing truckers want. They want food, fast, now, and perhaps the scores of the most recent football game."
"And we're expanding." Joe hitched his pants up on his narrow hips. "We're catering to other tastes, not just truckers anymore. And you'll be the one to start us off, kid."
"Joe - "
"Because it'll be counted in your work hours." He raised an eyebrow. "Eh? Now I'm talking, huh?" He was already turning it on, making the screen glow blue and the microphone hot. "All I have to do is type in the number of the song -" there was a notebook in front of him with titles "- and you're set."
It was making her nervous, all of them standing around her as she held the mic in her hand, cool against her palm. "Then I'll just choose one - "
But the music was already playing. He had taken the liberty of selecting one, yelled at the cooks to get back to work and for Liz to seat the people coming in - God, why did he have to do this just as the dinner rush was starting? - but the words were already scrolling across the screen. Not that she needed them. Backstreet Boys, "As Long As You Love Me." Joe's idea of a joke, most likely.
"Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine
I'm leaving my life in your hands
People say I'm crazy and that I am blind
Risking it all in a glance
How you got me blind is still a mystery
I can't get you out of my head
Don't care what is written in you history
As long as you're here with me"
Right, and this was just what she needed: Artemis and Butler, seated in a booth just across the way. There must be a reason they gave you a screen with the lyrics: you could always look there, like you didn't know them already, and pretend you didn't see anybody staring at you.
* * *
"Every little thing
That you have said and done
Feels like it's deep within me
Doesn't really matter
If you're on the run
It seems like we're meant to be"
Her voice was beautiful; it didn't take any sort of musical genius to figure that out, and Artemis really had no say in that field. Both his parents were tone deaf. But, when Kip was singing - it just blew him away. What was it, three nights since they had spoken? Four? And she was always on his mind. What was happening to him?
Butler smiled, amused at his young master's distress. He had to end up discovering girls sooner or later, and now seemed like the right time.
* * *
Kip was ready to surrender both the mic and her position when the song was over, but Joe had already conjured up a trucker who was willing to do a duet with her on "I Got You Babe." Then it was an older man and "I Remember it Well," then someone requested another Backstreet Boys song, and . . . she was willing to be she would not be serving tables that night, as she was only working until seven anyway. And her throat hurt; she was not going to be able to keep this up.
"One more," Joe told her when it was 6:58. "And then you can go."
Kip started to agree when she realized who he was pushing to the other mic. "You sing?" She could not help having it come out as disbelief.
"Apparently he thinks I do." Artemis gestured to Joe. "That, and I'll take you out for desert."
"What? I haven't even eaten yet!"
"Then I'll buy you dinner."
"But I -"
But Joe had started the music, and she almost cringed when she heard it. Besides the boy band songs and the love duets, Joe must have picked up some Broadway: "The Phantom of the Opera" was blaring in tinny organ music around them. Kip took a deep breath:
"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came
that voice which calls to me, and speaks my name
and do I dream again, for now I find
the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind"
And then Artemis took over with
"Sing once again with me, our strange duet
my power over you is stronger yet
and though you turn from me to glance behind
the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside you mind"
Kip had to admit he had a rather nice voice, though he seemed not to realize it; he practically threw the mic at Joe when he was done, turning to Kip. "So. Dinner?"
She hesitated slightly. "With or without Butler?" Though she had really already made up her mind.
He rolled his eyes. "Without."
"Where, then?" She stopped at the coat rack to pick up her windbreaker.
Artemis held the door for her. "What sounds good?"
She smiled. "Something hot and greasy. There's a McDonald's around the corner."
He frowned slightly; she seemed to be suggesting the cheapest thing he could buy her. Then again, if it was what she wanted . . . "Sure. Let's go there, then."
She smiled.
* * *
Artemis sipped his Coke - diet - and studied the girl sitting across from him. She was wonderful, as a person, when not talking about her history. "Penny for your thoughts," he said lazily; she had been silent a while.
Kip smiled at her fries. "I was just thinking . . . you're really nice when you're not intent on making me go to them."
"Not otherwise?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Artemis, with all the stories I've heard about you . . . God, you actually seem human." She winced. "I meant that in a nice way."
"I know you did."
"Oh. Right." She took a sip of her Coke - regular. "Just, sometimes I say something and people take it the wrong way. I guess I just don't use the right words to begin with."
"Do you write poetry?"
"What?" She gave him a quizzical look over her Big Mac. For a moment he was distracted by wondering how she stayed so thin, if this was her normal appetite.
"I, uh, asked if you write poetry. Because poets have to choose all the proper words to get their points across." He stuck his straw in his mouth in order to keep himself from saying anything else that sounded stupid.
Kip laughed. "Yes, but poets are able to have second drafts and editors. When you say something, you can't always take it back and rephrase it so it comes out the way you really meant it. People say 'I take that back,' but you can't, really. If it was really hurtful, someone's going to remember it a long time."
Artemis wasn't sure what to say to that. He had usually been the one saying the words, not the one hurt by them.
She studied him. His hair had a bit of curl to it, where it was getting long, and there was no maniacal glint in his eye that all the stories seemed to put there automatically. His eyes were a dark blue, almost a black in the right light. Artemis Fowl was definitely handsome, she decided. And then she caught herself wondering if he had a girlfriend back home.
* * *
The evening had stretched longer than Artemis had dared hope. After McDonald's they had walked back to the apartment and played half a million rounds of double solitaire, talking and laughing as if they had known each other for a long time. Finally, when neither of them could stifle yawns, he made one last try: "Could you at least come back with me and tell them you want nothing to do with them?"
Kip paused a moment, cards half back in their boxes. "I might have the money for a ticket, but not for a place to stay."
"And I really don't want to use the chutes to go back." Artemis made a face. "We'll fly together and you can stay with me. Not like we don't have extra rooms."
Kip quirked an eyebrow. "Your parent's won't mind?"
He shrugged. "I don't think so. I'll call them tomorrow and let them know you're coming. That is, you are coming, correct?"
He looked hopeful, something Kip found very endearing. "I'll see how much time I can get off work and when I can leave."
"Good." The smile came all too easily to his face, though he didn't bother to notice. "Tell me tomorrow so I can get the tickets."
"I will." She caught herself with a stupid grin on her face after he left and immediately tried to wipe it off. Except, she wasn't completely successful. At least Mulch had had the sense to stay in the kitchen and keep his mouth shut. Shaking her head in amusement, Kip went to her room and was assured of happy dreams.