Title: Hotter Than July
Rating: PG-13, but R later on...
Disclaimer: The ER characters do not belong to me, neither do any products, song lyrics or literary quotations mentioned.
Summary: Warm weather, flirtation and a few lessons to be learned. Luby. Sort of AU, sort of not.
Reviews: Please R&R, although I introduce one of my own characters, it's still 100% Luby. Let me know what ya think!
Author's note: Song made reference to here is Sexiest Man In Jamaica by Mint Royale. BTW, seeing as I wrote this bit pre season 10, Secrets And Lies doctor criticising Abby is in full swing here :)
I shouldn't be doing this, Abby thought. Which was strange considering at that moment she was doing absolutely nothing. She sat, meticulously examining her set of keys. They were the decider. Take them with you and go out or stay here with them. Or go out without them and get locked out, she added, with a futile smile; as futile as her current passage of thought. Outside her window, Chicago was still aflame with such enchanting weather, as if somebody had taken a match to the sky. Matches. Cigarettes. The words connected in her head, she needed to calm her rushes of thought. She needed a smoke. No, she thought determinedly. She got up and moved closer to the window, watching the world pan out in front of her, still clutching on to her keys.
She was utterly preoccupied with thoughts of Luka. Not that she had seen or spoken to him today. But gossip at work, as viscous and damaging as ever, had informed her of today through his eyes. And now she was feeling as if part of him had been transplanted within her, as she toyed with her concern for him; concern that she knew he had felt a thousand times over for her. Yet she did not imagine that he had been troubled with the same uncertainties. Although she desperately wanted to be a friend, part of her, a part with experience of that man, knew she would only come home full of more questions. With Luka came complexity, complexity which was both sweetly enticing and repelling.
Rapidly, Abby ran a finger against one of the keys, its jagged edge feeling silky smooth to her touch. This finely cut silver object was a key to his apartment, one that he had never asked to have back, one that she had removed and replaced from her set a thousand times over. Something she could not let go of, even if she tried. With it came such simplicity as sunlight bounced off its glistening edges. She could just open his door and walk in. And scare the shit out of him. Maybe not. Deciding that she would feel completely ambiguous whether she stayed or went, she adopted a rapid sense of purpose. Just being there could make all the difference. She shoved the mixture of keys into her pocket then hailed the door closing behind her as an important soundtrack to her near future.
As she paced the streets peacefully, the punishing heat rapidly dissolving away around her, she went over in her head what she was going to say. She didn't think that being blunt with a "Hey, I heard you carried that dying girl in your arms today," was the best icebreaker. Warmth suddenly invaded her body, her whole consciousness infected with a rush of pleasing humidity. Perfect weather did not allow for imperfect emotions: everyone equated a good climate with a good mood. Abby speculated on what Luka's disposition would be when she arrived. Hearing what went on from him was at the very least, going to be the most accurate account of events. All the same, she expected him to be withdrawn, pacified, perhaps even brooding. Once again, she would have to coax it out gently. Battle plans firmly laid, she pushed open the main door with a rush of intention.
Immediately, she was hit by a pulsating wall of sound. Thick bass lines were elegantly mixed with a grating male vocal. Some guy going on about being the sexiest man in Jamaica. Abby rolled her eyes. Somebody's having one hell of a party, she thought, surprised she was actually able to order any thoughts in the midst of such noise. Climbing the stairs slowly, as if each one were Everest, she began to feel the doubts arising inside again. Taking a much needed moment to gather just a few ounces of composure, a few threads of understanding, she leant back against the redundantly cold wall. Grow up, she thought, you're not a teenager with a crush. That would be nice, though, she imagined, with a smile.
Now face to face with his door, she closed her eyes painfully tight, tempted to thump her fist three times against her forehead rather than the cold portal that encountered her. Ignoring this irrational notion, her hand thudded almost in time with the excruciatingly loud music that permeated from upstairs. Then came the waiting, the seconds like minutes, the minutes like hours, the hours like days. Open the damn door, she thought, impatience beginning to prevail with a frightening urgency. It was a torture that she came close to enjoying. Luka arrived reasonably swiftly, both surprised and pleased to have a visitor.
"Hi Abby, come in," he said, without questioning her motives, without asking her why she was here, as part of him already knew why. Abby noticed that in his left hand he was holding a book. Yet more reading? Seeing that she had noticed, he waved her in, closed the door firmly, then commented.
"Testing the theory," he said, indicating the Greek Tragedies book that he had been reading. "What can I do for you?" Don't answer that, she thought, mischievously. As always, he wanted to help, and in turn, she could not help but smile.
"I came to see how you are...after today. I heard about what you did." She replied succinctly, turning casually towards the wide open window. It was a wild evening. The sun had set, leaving behind eclectic streaks of copper in a caramel sky. Switching cautiously from nature to man, she observed him, waiting eagerly for his reply. Luka considered his response carefully while pouring himself a cold glass of Irn-Bru, listening to the fizz sparkling in the air. Part of him wanted to say, "I guess you heard about my freak show," to give the image that he was generally pissed off with the world. But he did not submit to the falsehood. If he said that he hadn't really thought about what he had done today then he would've been lying. It had affected him, but not in the way he had expected.
"I'm fine. Would you like some?"
Abby felt somewhat confronted by the gleaming vial of luminous fizz.
"Can I be blunt?"
"Why change the habit of a lifetime?" He asked, playfully.
She ignored his insight. "It looks like the remnants of a nuclear accident." She exhaled deeply, feeling the warm air all around. "Seriously, though, how are you feeling?"
Luka was pleased to feel her immediate concern, to see the evident eagerness in her eyes. It was nice. But if she was here attempting to unravel the depths of his consciousness, she would have to go home empty-handed. Not because he wanted to keep it all locked inside, not because he was afraid to explain what he was feeling; but because the anger, emptiness and frustration had chosen to elude him this time around. Misery had slipped through his grasp like fine sands, had escaped him like a fugitive and he was left with a refreshing sense of well-being. Even though his mind had deliberated that young woman's death for some time, his instant thoughts left him with an unclouded horizon, a thriving outlook. Too much had already eaten into the depths of his soul, wasting away so many years, poisoning so many opportunities. Not even the thudding music which grated and bounced against the ceiling, which could have sent anyone half crazy, permeated through the protective shield of tranquillity that was surrounding him.
"Fine. It was what she wanted.....to die out in the beautiful weather. I don't really blame her, I think I would have felt the same myself," he said gently, observing the sky outside. Wondrous traces of scarlet red in the stratosphere were like the traces of that young woman's soul, illuminating the sky. Never mind tomorrow, she was still here today, hours later. "She's out of the misery now." He smiled, pleased that all the conflicting thoughts once bouncing around inside his head like erratic pinballs, had been resolved. Maria no longer knew the pain, the illness, the desperate battle, now she was alive somewhere else and that was an astonishing, almost infinite comfort.
Now I really need a cigarette, Abby thought, surprised that she did not have to force a smile. But it was almost funny. Ironic, in an amusing sort of way. When she had desperately wanted Luka to be happy he was a picture of sadness, infused with despair to the core. Now, when she had expected him to need cheering up, he had a grin the size of the damned Brooklyn Bridge. She wondered if he would notice if she started to bang her head violently against the wall, which was something she really felt like doing at that particular moment. The outside world was screwed up, the weather so unnatural, why shouldn't everything else be screwed up? Back to the small talk, she decided, lost in her pursuit of some sort of deep and meaningful conversation.
"Are your neighbours having a party?" Her eyes drifted to the ceiling.
He shook his head lightly. "No, that's just Mo, the guy from upstairs. He's a DJ....Every night for half an hour he practices his set."
"What if everybody doesn't like hearing his set? Doesn't he know what headphones are? Doesn't it piss you off?" Luka was concerned by her somewhat erratic, rapid-fire questions. Something was under her skin.
"I just told him he should be grateful I don't bring my work home. Are you alright?"
God, I want to scream, she thought. Am I alright? This was unbelievable. Aware that her rapidly declining mood was becoming evident, she swallowed hard and closed her eyes momentarily. The thudding of the music stopped. She smiled, realising that what he had said was quite amusing. Well, if you can't beat 'em... Although Abby knew that it was tantamount to surrender, she suspected that there would be more chances for a deeper insight. "So, is he, like, one of your friends?" She spoke, attempting to calm herself slightly.
"I know that he has a worrying addiction to KFC, he loves movies and sings very loudly, so....I suppose I know him quite well." He replied, still attempting to analyse her mood. They were interrupted by a knock at the door, three sharp rasps. "Excuse me for a minute." He went to answer the door, leaving Abby with a precious moment to herself, to compose the amalgam of feelings that fizzled deep within.
Clenching one fist into a tight ball, she squeezed, compacting the sheer confusion, crushing it away, trying to let her puzzlement fade into insignificance. Her thoughts were gladly interrupted as her ears tuned into the dialogue that was going on over on the other side of the room. It did not take her long to ascertain that Luka's visitor was the elusive Mo from upstairs. She hoped this was not going to be just a flying visit as this guy sounded interesting.
"I got you this, I'm thinkin' Time Crisis 2 just doesn't feel right without the guns." Mo, who was clearly dressed for summer in basketball vest and huge denim shorts, eagerly emptied the PlayStation 2 accessories catalogue into Luka's hands. He flicked the pages quickly, scanning rapidly with a somewhat cautious gaze. "What makes you think I need a "Phaser Light Gun" with optical sights?" He flashed a half-smile, glad that he wasn't the one who had to think up the names for those things.
Mo shrugged. "You have the DVD remote." Nine times out of ten, if you had a question, Mo had some sort of plausible answer.
"It comes in useful when you insist on watching all your favourite movies here. Did you want anything else?" Luka asked slowly, not wanting to get rid of him, but knowing that everything with Mo was a game that you just had to play out.
Mo smiled charismatically. "Two things," he said, raising two fingers from his left hand into the air. "First, you can introduce me to your friend, then we can all sit down and watch these." He was not averse to telling things how they were, so he emptied a pile of DVDs into Luka's arms and brushed casually past him. He moved rhythmically, almost dancing across the floor towards Abby. He outstretched a large hand, flashing a warm smile, beaming like the sun.
"Hey. I'm Mo, I live upstairs. Tell me, how do you have the misfortune of knowing Luka?" She took a few moments to look at him before she replied. He was tall, reasonably muscular and his eyes had an unmissable sizzling quality, sunshine burning in his retinas. His grip was firm but soft, extremely welcoming.
"I work with him," she said, amused, thinking it was definitely not her misfortune. Mo nodded, smiled, twisted his hand, then let go.
"Any good saves today?"
Why did everybody seem to think that there was something dazzling about working in a hospital? She was tempted to tell him about her day and its harsh realities: people with sunburn in intimate places, overflowing bedpans and some poor sucker with a bullet through his earlobe. Piercing in an entirely new context. But she simply replied, "It really isn't that glamorous."
He smiled at her, unfazed. "It is to me. They spent two hours trying to bring my Dad back, so they tell me, so...I think you do a pretty special job."
Something in the tone of his voice was communicating that the attempts he was speaking of had been unsuccessful, so she said quickly, "I'm sorry," amazed that this man she barely knew had just told her something that was quite private.
"Thanks. It's been a while now. Do you sing?" He spoke slowly, but still with a potent sprinkling of vivacity wrapped around his words.
Syringe in one hand, song book in the other. I think not, she thought.
"Not if I can help it, why?"
"He's trying to get a record deal. Thinks that recording a duet is the only way to go," Luka replied, feeling strangely displaced within his own four walls.
"You don't have to record a duet with a woman," she said, gazing speculatively in Luka's direction.
"Nah, I already tried that. No joy. C'mon, man. I mean, there's Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me.."
Luka let out an audible sigh, it was his turn to feel like banging his head against the wall. "Mo. I cannot sing. So just let it go."
"We could do The Boy Is Mine in drag."
He laughed, then replied in an amused, almost disbelieving tone. "You really think that will change my mind?"
"OK. I'll give you a thousand dollars." Mo spoke in all seriousness.
Abby shook her head dismissively. "He probably earns that in an hour." Any chance for a cheap shot at the overpaid doctors, in her opinion, needed to be taken. Luka quickly covered his face with his hands, feeling as if he was in the school playground and being ganged up on. Deciding that he was stronger than that, he pushed his hands through his hair and breathed out slowly.
He turned to face Abby, and engaging her in a piercing, thoughtful stare, he responded.
"Nobody does it for the money." His tone was passionate but direct. It was effective. Regret slowly began to rise in her like the humid air, Abby returned his stare with a wilful, submissive glance which simply said "I know." She did not need to vocalise her thoughts, they were clearly emblazoned across every inch of her eyes.
Their attention was then distracted by Mo, who had slipped away unnoticed but now, as ever, his presence was seemingly in the foreground.
They both turned to watch in different shades of disbelief as he grouted in the freezer compartment, his head thrust fully into the icy nadir.
"Is he for real?" She asked, half smiling, half confused, waiting for someone, anyone, to pinch her and bring her back into reality with a violent jolt.
"I'm afraid so." Their gazes locked momentarily, a clear moment of intimacy in a spinning spectrum of insanity, an attempt perhaps to make sense of something.
"I should go home, I have to work in the morning."
"So, you're going to leave me alone with him?" Abby smiled, decoding the subtext in his words: this was a "please don't go" thinly disguised with humour.
"What is he looking for?" She decided to make him sweat a little by changing the subject.
"I don't have any chicken, so he must be looking for ice cream."
Just as Luka spoke, one arm came flying out of the freezer, tub of Ben and Jerry's firmly in hand. "I got 'cha!" Mo rapidly pulled of the top and hastily inserted three spoons into the unexpectedly soft ice cream. "What's it to be then? Horror or James Bond? I have Tomorrow Never Dies..that unforgettable stunt with the remote control BMW."
Though his tone was slightly authoritative, he was not imposing or overbearing and Mo definitely did not come across as selfish. Just enthusiastic. He loved his music, his movies and his food and the more people he could share them with, the better.
"That sounds OK to me. Abby?"
"You have ice cream. That loosely translates as I don't care." She swiftly took the ice cream out of Mo's hands and sat down.
"In that case, I'll go back up and bring down Deep Throat. Pun unintended."
After his somewhat risqué comment, which was nevertheless well received by his audience, Mo busied himself in setting up the film.
"There's one thing I'll never understand about James Bond."
"How he suddenly changed from old man to a young one again, or how he hasn't got syphilis from screwing around so much?" Mo smiled at Abby's answer, then put forward his own theory.
"Nah. The guy's meant to be a secret agent, yet he goes around tellin' everybody his name. To me, that's just stupid. Why doesn't he just tell everybody he's called Bob or somethin'?"
"One of life's mysteries." Luka replied effortlessly, with a half smile, feeling a little tired. He guessed that even a child could be exhausted by his neighbour's outward energy. Even so, he was pleased to be having such a trivial conversation, not everything had to be so life or death.
There was silence as they waited for the DVD to load. Mo claimed his seat in between Abby and Luka, grinning with a sly smile as if he knew something that everybody else had missed. Despite relaxing with his feet on the table, he tapped his fingers in slight irritation against his thigh, attempting to remember something. Abby watched with intrigue as he began to frown, an expression seemingly out of place for a man with such a sunny disposition. She toyed with the spoon in the ice cream, slightly mesmerised by her fixed, concentrated state of mind. Jesus, she had enough trouble attempting to decipher Luka, let alone this guy that she had just met. Finally, the temptation of Double Chocolate Swirl got the better of her and she turned her attention to the tub rather than trying to understand the male psyche. After all, there was nothing to understand about ice cream other than it tasted good.
Five minutes into the film and Mo suddenly remembered what he had been struggling to recall. His frown faded and he submitted to a grin. He did not like to feel his memory fading, so when he caught up with his errant thoughts, he shifted slightly in the seat and then smiled fully. Turning to Luka, he said rapidly, "Can I count you in for next week? My cousin's having another party."
"Same time and place?" He asked, adjusting the volume slightly.
"Yeah. I can drive there, you can drive back."
"OK, but we're going in your car. I don't have enough room for all your stuff." Luka hoped that didn't come across so explicitly as "You're not driving my car." "Ever." But, he was telling the truth, it was impossible to fit all Mo's things in his car.
"Fine by me. Hey, you wanna come too?" Now, Mo turned to Abby, spoon hanging upside-down in her mouth. Quickly, she dragged it out, savouring every bit of melting ice cream. Although every bone in her body, every cell in her blood was expecting to refuse politely, she shocked herself slightly by replying with a gluttonous smile. "Sure, why not? When?"
"Next Wednesday. Let's meet here, about eight." Mo was pleased, he slapped his leg contentedly and grinned. Expeditiously, Abby scanned her mental calendar, and, sure enough, she did not, to the best of her knowledge, have to work next Wednesday. She exhaled, then managed a slightly mischievous grin as she wondered just what she had got herself into. Only the future would prevail with the answer.
*****
Rating: PG-13, but R later on...
Disclaimer: The ER characters do not belong to me, neither do any products, song lyrics or literary quotations mentioned.
Summary: Warm weather, flirtation and a few lessons to be learned. Luby. Sort of AU, sort of not.
Reviews: Please R&R, although I introduce one of my own characters, it's still 100% Luby. Let me know what ya think!
Author's note: Song made reference to here is Sexiest Man In Jamaica by Mint Royale. BTW, seeing as I wrote this bit pre season 10, Secrets And Lies doctor criticising Abby is in full swing here :)
I shouldn't be doing this, Abby thought. Which was strange considering at that moment she was doing absolutely nothing. She sat, meticulously examining her set of keys. They were the decider. Take them with you and go out or stay here with them. Or go out without them and get locked out, she added, with a futile smile; as futile as her current passage of thought. Outside her window, Chicago was still aflame with such enchanting weather, as if somebody had taken a match to the sky. Matches. Cigarettes. The words connected in her head, she needed to calm her rushes of thought. She needed a smoke. No, she thought determinedly. She got up and moved closer to the window, watching the world pan out in front of her, still clutching on to her keys.
She was utterly preoccupied with thoughts of Luka. Not that she had seen or spoken to him today. But gossip at work, as viscous and damaging as ever, had informed her of today through his eyes. And now she was feeling as if part of him had been transplanted within her, as she toyed with her concern for him; concern that she knew he had felt a thousand times over for her. Yet she did not imagine that he had been troubled with the same uncertainties. Although she desperately wanted to be a friend, part of her, a part with experience of that man, knew she would only come home full of more questions. With Luka came complexity, complexity which was both sweetly enticing and repelling.
Rapidly, Abby ran a finger against one of the keys, its jagged edge feeling silky smooth to her touch. This finely cut silver object was a key to his apartment, one that he had never asked to have back, one that she had removed and replaced from her set a thousand times over. Something she could not let go of, even if she tried. With it came such simplicity as sunlight bounced off its glistening edges. She could just open his door and walk in. And scare the shit out of him. Maybe not. Deciding that she would feel completely ambiguous whether she stayed or went, she adopted a rapid sense of purpose. Just being there could make all the difference. She shoved the mixture of keys into her pocket then hailed the door closing behind her as an important soundtrack to her near future.
As she paced the streets peacefully, the punishing heat rapidly dissolving away around her, she went over in her head what she was going to say. She didn't think that being blunt with a "Hey, I heard you carried that dying girl in your arms today," was the best icebreaker. Warmth suddenly invaded her body, her whole consciousness infected with a rush of pleasing humidity. Perfect weather did not allow for imperfect emotions: everyone equated a good climate with a good mood. Abby speculated on what Luka's disposition would be when she arrived. Hearing what went on from him was at the very least, going to be the most accurate account of events. All the same, she expected him to be withdrawn, pacified, perhaps even brooding. Once again, she would have to coax it out gently. Battle plans firmly laid, she pushed open the main door with a rush of intention.
Immediately, she was hit by a pulsating wall of sound. Thick bass lines were elegantly mixed with a grating male vocal. Some guy going on about being the sexiest man in Jamaica. Abby rolled her eyes. Somebody's having one hell of a party, she thought, surprised she was actually able to order any thoughts in the midst of such noise. Climbing the stairs slowly, as if each one were Everest, she began to feel the doubts arising inside again. Taking a much needed moment to gather just a few ounces of composure, a few threads of understanding, she leant back against the redundantly cold wall. Grow up, she thought, you're not a teenager with a crush. That would be nice, though, she imagined, with a smile.
Now face to face with his door, she closed her eyes painfully tight, tempted to thump her fist three times against her forehead rather than the cold portal that encountered her. Ignoring this irrational notion, her hand thudded almost in time with the excruciatingly loud music that permeated from upstairs. Then came the waiting, the seconds like minutes, the minutes like hours, the hours like days. Open the damn door, she thought, impatience beginning to prevail with a frightening urgency. It was a torture that she came close to enjoying. Luka arrived reasonably swiftly, both surprised and pleased to have a visitor.
"Hi Abby, come in," he said, without questioning her motives, without asking her why she was here, as part of him already knew why. Abby noticed that in his left hand he was holding a book. Yet more reading? Seeing that she had noticed, he waved her in, closed the door firmly, then commented.
"Testing the theory," he said, indicating the Greek Tragedies book that he had been reading. "What can I do for you?" Don't answer that, she thought, mischievously. As always, he wanted to help, and in turn, she could not help but smile.
"I came to see how you are...after today. I heard about what you did." She replied succinctly, turning casually towards the wide open window. It was a wild evening. The sun had set, leaving behind eclectic streaks of copper in a caramel sky. Switching cautiously from nature to man, she observed him, waiting eagerly for his reply. Luka considered his response carefully while pouring himself a cold glass of Irn-Bru, listening to the fizz sparkling in the air. Part of him wanted to say, "I guess you heard about my freak show," to give the image that he was generally pissed off with the world. But he did not submit to the falsehood. If he said that he hadn't really thought about what he had done today then he would've been lying. It had affected him, but not in the way he had expected.
"I'm fine. Would you like some?"
Abby felt somewhat confronted by the gleaming vial of luminous fizz.
"Can I be blunt?"
"Why change the habit of a lifetime?" He asked, playfully.
She ignored his insight. "It looks like the remnants of a nuclear accident." She exhaled deeply, feeling the warm air all around. "Seriously, though, how are you feeling?"
Luka was pleased to feel her immediate concern, to see the evident eagerness in her eyes. It was nice. But if she was here attempting to unravel the depths of his consciousness, she would have to go home empty-handed. Not because he wanted to keep it all locked inside, not because he was afraid to explain what he was feeling; but because the anger, emptiness and frustration had chosen to elude him this time around. Misery had slipped through his grasp like fine sands, had escaped him like a fugitive and he was left with a refreshing sense of well-being. Even though his mind had deliberated that young woman's death for some time, his instant thoughts left him with an unclouded horizon, a thriving outlook. Too much had already eaten into the depths of his soul, wasting away so many years, poisoning so many opportunities. Not even the thudding music which grated and bounced against the ceiling, which could have sent anyone half crazy, permeated through the protective shield of tranquillity that was surrounding him.
"Fine. It was what she wanted.....to die out in the beautiful weather. I don't really blame her, I think I would have felt the same myself," he said gently, observing the sky outside. Wondrous traces of scarlet red in the stratosphere were like the traces of that young woman's soul, illuminating the sky. Never mind tomorrow, she was still here today, hours later. "She's out of the misery now." He smiled, pleased that all the conflicting thoughts once bouncing around inside his head like erratic pinballs, had been resolved. Maria no longer knew the pain, the illness, the desperate battle, now she was alive somewhere else and that was an astonishing, almost infinite comfort.
Now I really need a cigarette, Abby thought, surprised that she did not have to force a smile. But it was almost funny. Ironic, in an amusing sort of way. When she had desperately wanted Luka to be happy he was a picture of sadness, infused with despair to the core. Now, when she had expected him to need cheering up, he had a grin the size of the damned Brooklyn Bridge. She wondered if he would notice if she started to bang her head violently against the wall, which was something she really felt like doing at that particular moment. The outside world was screwed up, the weather so unnatural, why shouldn't everything else be screwed up? Back to the small talk, she decided, lost in her pursuit of some sort of deep and meaningful conversation.
"Are your neighbours having a party?" Her eyes drifted to the ceiling.
He shook his head lightly. "No, that's just Mo, the guy from upstairs. He's a DJ....Every night for half an hour he practices his set."
"What if everybody doesn't like hearing his set? Doesn't he know what headphones are? Doesn't it piss you off?" Luka was concerned by her somewhat erratic, rapid-fire questions. Something was under her skin.
"I just told him he should be grateful I don't bring my work home. Are you alright?"
God, I want to scream, she thought. Am I alright? This was unbelievable. Aware that her rapidly declining mood was becoming evident, she swallowed hard and closed her eyes momentarily. The thudding of the music stopped. She smiled, realising that what he had said was quite amusing. Well, if you can't beat 'em... Although Abby knew that it was tantamount to surrender, she suspected that there would be more chances for a deeper insight. "So, is he, like, one of your friends?" She spoke, attempting to calm herself slightly.
"I know that he has a worrying addiction to KFC, he loves movies and sings very loudly, so....I suppose I know him quite well." He replied, still attempting to analyse her mood. They were interrupted by a knock at the door, three sharp rasps. "Excuse me for a minute." He went to answer the door, leaving Abby with a precious moment to herself, to compose the amalgam of feelings that fizzled deep within.
Clenching one fist into a tight ball, she squeezed, compacting the sheer confusion, crushing it away, trying to let her puzzlement fade into insignificance. Her thoughts were gladly interrupted as her ears tuned into the dialogue that was going on over on the other side of the room. It did not take her long to ascertain that Luka's visitor was the elusive Mo from upstairs. She hoped this was not going to be just a flying visit as this guy sounded interesting.
"I got you this, I'm thinkin' Time Crisis 2 just doesn't feel right without the guns." Mo, who was clearly dressed for summer in basketball vest and huge denim shorts, eagerly emptied the PlayStation 2 accessories catalogue into Luka's hands. He flicked the pages quickly, scanning rapidly with a somewhat cautious gaze. "What makes you think I need a "Phaser Light Gun" with optical sights?" He flashed a half-smile, glad that he wasn't the one who had to think up the names for those things.
Mo shrugged. "You have the DVD remote." Nine times out of ten, if you had a question, Mo had some sort of plausible answer.
"It comes in useful when you insist on watching all your favourite movies here. Did you want anything else?" Luka asked slowly, not wanting to get rid of him, but knowing that everything with Mo was a game that you just had to play out.
Mo smiled charismatically. "Two things," he said, raising two fingers from his left hand into the air. "First, you can introduce me to your friend, then we can all sit down and watch these." He was not averse to telling things how they were, so he emptied a pile of DVDs into Luka's arms and brushed casually past him. He moved rhythmically, almost dancing across the floor towards Abby. He outstretched a large hand, flashing a warm smile, beaming like the sun.
"Hey. I'm Mo, I live upstairs. Tell me, how do you have the misfortune of knowing Luka?" She took a few moments to look at him before she replied. He was tall, reasonably muscular and his eyes had an unmissable sizzling quality, sunshine burning in his retinas. His grip was firm but soft, extremely welcoming.
"I work with him," she said, amused, thinking it was definitely not her misfortune. Mo nodded, smiled, twisted his hand, then let go.
"Any good saves today?"
Why did everybody seem to think that there was something dazzling about working in a hospital? She was tempted to tell him about her day and its harsh realities: people with sunburn in intimate places, overflowing bedpans and some poor sucker with a bullet through his earlobe. Piercing in an entirely new context. But she simply replied, "It really isn't that glamorous."
He smiled at her, unfazed. "It is to me. They spent two hours trying to bring my Dad back, so they tell me, so...I think you do a pretty special job."
Something in the tone of his voice was communicating that the attempts he was speaking of had been unsuccessful, so she said quickly, "I'm sorry," amazed that this man she barely knew had just told her something that was quite private.
"Thanks. It's been a while now. Do you sing?" He spoke slowly, but still with a potent sprinkling of vivacity wrapped around his words.
Syringe in one hand, song book in the other. I think not, she thought.
"Not if I can help it, why?"
"He's trying to get a record deal. Thinks that recording a duet is the only way to go," Luka replied, feeling strangely displaced within his own four walls.
"You don't have to record a duet with a woman," she said, gazing speculatively in Luka's direction.
"Nah, I already tried that. No joy. C'mon, man. I mean, there's Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me.."
Luka let out an audible sigh, it was his turn to feel like banging his head against the wall. "Mo. I cannot sing. So just let it go."
"We could do The Boy Is Mine in drag."
He laughed, then replied in an amused, almost disbelieving tone. "You really think that will change my mind?"
"OK. I'll give you a thousand dollars." Mo spoke in all seriousness.
Abby shook her head dismissively. "He probably earns that in an hour." Any chance for a cheap shot at the overpaid doctors, in her opinion, needed to be taken. Luka quickly covered his face with his hands, feeling as if he was in the school playground and being ganged up on. Deciding that he was stronger than that, he pushed his hands through his hair and breathed out slowly.
He turned to face Abby, and engaging her in a piercing, thoughtful stare, he responded.
"Nobody does it for the money." His tone was passionate but direct. It was effective. Regret slowly began to rise in her like the humid air, Abby returned his stare with a wilful, submissive glance which simply said "I know." She did not need to vocalise her thoughts, they were clearly emblazoned across every inch of her eyes.
Their attention was then distracted by Mo, who had slipped away unnoticed but now, as ever, his presence was seemingly in the foreground.
They both turned to watch in different shades of disbelief as he grouted in the freezer compartment, his head thrust fully into the icy nadir.
"Is he for real?" She asked, half smiling, half confused, waiting for someone, anyone, to pinch her and bring her back into reality with a violent jolt.
"I'm afraid so." Their gazes locked momentarily, a clear moment of intimacy in a spinning spectrum of insanity, an attempt perhaps to make sense of something.
"I should go home, I have to work in the morning."
"So, you're going to leave me alone with him?" Abby smiled, decoding the subtext in his words: this was a "please don't go" thinly disguised with humour.
"What is he looking for?" She decided to make him sweat a little by changing the subject.
"I don't have any chicken, so he must be looking for ice cream."
Just as Luka spoke, one arm came flying out of the freezer, tub of Ben and Jerry's firmly in hand. "I got 'cha!" Mo rapidly pulled of the top and hastily inserted three spoons into the unexpectedly soft ice cream. "What's it to be then? Horror or James Bond? I have Tomorrow Never Dies..that unforgettable stunt with the remote control BMW."
Though his tone was slightly authoritative, he was not imposing or overbearing and Mo definitely did not come across as selfish. Just enthusiastic. He loved his music, his movies and his food and the more people he could share them with, the better.
"That sounds OK to me. Abby?"
"You have ice cream. That loosely translates as I don't care." She swiftly took the ice cream out of Mo's hands and sat down.
"In that case, I'll go back up and bring down Deep Throat. Pun unintended."
After his somewhat risqué comment, which was nevertheless well received by his audience, Mo busied himself in setting up the film.
"There's one thing I'll never understand about James Bond."
"How he suddenly changed from old man to a young one again, or how he hasn't got syphilis from screwing around so much?" Mo smiled at Abby's answer, then put forward his own theory.
"Nah. The guy's meant to be a secret agent, yet he goes around tellin' everybody his name. To me, that's just stupid. Why doesn't he just tell everybody he's called Bob or somethin'?"
"One of life's mysteries." Luka replied effortlessly, with a half smile, feeling a little tired. He guessed that even a child could be exhausted by his neighbour's outward energy. Even so, he was pleased to be having such a trivial conversation, not everything had to be so life or death.
There was silence as they waited for the DVD to load. Mo claimed his seat in between Abby and Luka, grinning with a sly smile as if he knew something that everybody else had missed. Despite relaxing with his feet on the table, he tapped his fingers in slight irritation against his thigh, attempting to remember something. Abby watched with intrigue as he began to frown, an expression seemingly out of place for a man with such a sunny disposition. She toyed with the spoon in the ice cream, slightly mesmerised by her fixed, concentrated state of mind. Jesus, she had enough trouble attempting to decipher Luka, let alone this guy that she had just met. Finally, the temptation of Double Chocolate Swirl got the better of her and she turned her attention to the tub rather than trying to understand the male psyche. After all, there was nothing to understand about ice cream other than it tasted good.
Five minutes into the film and Mo suddenly remembered what he had been struggling to recall. His frown faded and he submitted to a grin. He did not like to feel his memory fading, so when he caught up with his errant thoughts, he shifted slightly in the seat and then smiled fully. Turning to Luka, he said rapidly, "Can I count you in for next week? My cousin's having another party."
"Same time and place?" He asked, adjusting the volume slightly.
"Yeah. I can drive there, you can drive back."
"OK, but we're going in your car. I don't have enough room for all your stuff." Luka hoped that didn't come across so explicitly as "You're not driving my car." "Ever." But, he was telling the truth, it was impossible to fit all Mo's things in his car.
"Fine by me. Hey, you wanna come too?" Now, Mo turned to Abby, spoon hanging upside-down in her mouth. Quickly, she dragged it out, savouring every bit of melting ice cream. Although every bone in her body, every cell in her blood was expecting to refuse politely, she shocked herself slightly by replying with a gluttonous smile. "Sure, why not? When?"
"Next Wednesday. Let's meet here, about eight." Mo was pleased, he slapped his leg contentedly and grinned. Expeditiously, Abby scanned her mental calendar, and, sure enough, she did not, to the best of her knowledge, have to work next Wednesday. She exhaled, then managed a slightly mischievous grin as she wondered just what she had got herself into. Only the future would prevail with the answer.
*****