CHAPTER NINETEEN - PEP TALK

"Well, that wasn't the disaster I expected," Francine said, pushing open the door to the firing range and waving Amanda through. "You're fine once you open your eyes."

Amanda let out a long breath. Her knees were knocking together hard enough she was sure Francine could see, and she felt so queasy she knew the dinner her mother was making would have to sit in the refrigerator until later that night.

"I don't feel like I'm fine."

"Amanda." Francine stopped walking and turned to face her. "You are going to do this. All you have to do is make up your hours and pass the test, and you can avoid guns as much as you like. But the thing is, you have to pass or none of this is going to matter. You're going to spend your life filing Lee's reports. Do you want that?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you have to get over this… whatever it is."

"Aversion," Amanda supplied. She knew her hands were shaking and she shoved them deep into the pockets of her sweater.

"Aversion." Francine nodded. She looked at her watch. "It's almost four. Want to come get a glass of wine? I'm buying."

"Oh, I really —" She had a ton of things to do, if she let herself think about them — her pitch, and she had some paperwork to do for Phillip's basketball tournament, and Beaman had assigned reading for the next day that she hadn't even touched. And she'd never been with Francine for a drink before, just the two of them. "All right," she said. "I think I could use one."

They had a strange relationship, she and Francine. They weren't friends, exactly, but they weren't adversaries, either. Amanda had spent a long time reaching out to the other agent, trying to create some kind of bridge between them, only to have her efforts rebuffed again and again. But since Stemwinder, she'd noticed a change, and she couldn't quite explain it. Francine seemed much kinder, in general — Amanda wondered if it was because she felt guilty about doubting Lee. She could still be catty but Amanda had decided to give as good as she got, and it didn't seem to bother Francine at all. In fact, Francine seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth.

"It comes with a pep talk," Francine said, as they sat in a booth at Nedlingers. The pub was only half-full of happy-hour die-hards, and blissfully free of smoke. Periodically the door would open and let in a shaft of daylight, reminding Amanda it was still early.

"All right, fine," Amanda said, though she was groaning inwardly. Lee had laughed at her when she'd gone upstairs to pick up her purse, and promised to stop by in an hour to ferry her home. She sipped at her glass of chardonnay, grimacing a little. It was cheap and sour and very cold.

Francine sipped her wine, cleared her throat, and muttered that she should have ordered a bourbon. "Look," she said, "I said it in Warren's earlier and I mean it. You're a good agent. But you can't be a good agent if you don't pass that test."

"You already gave me this pep talk," Amanda said.

Francine turned her blue eyes toward the ceiling. "What terrifies you so much?"

"I don't know," Amanda said, slowly. "Guns kill people."

"Yeah, okay, fair. They do. But the point is you take the test so you know how to handle one." Francine sipped her wine again. "You can't control what other people do with their guns, Amanda. They're going to use them to kill people. But imagine if you got over this… aversion… and you could know for certain that if you needed to, you could hit anything you wanted. Even a rope on a pulley."

"You're saying don't aim at people?"

"I don't know. You're different. You're… you have your own thing, and it seems to work. So maybe you need to go with that instead of trying to force yourself to shoot someone between the eyes."

Amanda nodded, thoughtful. She studied Francine for a moment. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're being awfully supportive right now. And I appreciate it, I really do. But it's not the Francine Desmond I'm used to, and it's… frankly, it's freaking me out a little."

Francine laughed. "I was trying to be nice."

"I know you are, and I appreciate it. But…"

"But it's weird." Francine shrugged. "I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, I guess. I mean, you're not going anywhere, that's obvious. You've more than proven yourself with that whole Stemwinder business and Zhmed Dorlov and a thousand other things."

"I'm not complaining," Amanda said, sipping her wine. "Gosh, this stuff really is awful."

Francine laughed, and so did she.

"Anyway." Francine sighed. "We women have to stick together."

Amanda nodded. Francine had said that the day before, and Amanda wondered what made her land on it again. She hadn't been so keen on sticking together in the past. But maybe Amanda had passed some kind of test, a test she hadn't known she was even taking.

"And look I know you and Lee are… whatever you are. Just… you know. Watch out for him."

Amanda blinked. "Watch out for him?" she repeated. She wanted to laugh but didn't dare, so she took a gulp of her wine.

Francine opened her mouth to answer, then sighed. "Well, anyway."

"Anyway," Amanda said, picking up the appetizer menu. Her queasiness was gone now, leaving ravenous hunger in its wake. "I'll try your suggestion. The aiming. Who knows? Maybe it'll work."

"It can't hurt to try," Francine said. "And anyway, you're going to win that pitch contest and you'll have time to psych yourself up."

"I might not," Amanda said.

"Oh, come on, Amanda. You don't actually believe Lee has a better idea than you do."

"He might," Amanda said. "He's good at thinking on his feet. He's always reading something. I think people don't give him credit for things like that but he's probably going to surprise us."

"You're right," Francine said. She peered at the menu. "Want to share a basket of fries?"

Amanda set down the menu. "Yes," she said, and drained her glass.