Part II: A Failure to Communicate...

Ω

It was odd, Duane thought. Even when Quinn got out of the house and away from her family, she didn't seem to relax much. She looked comfortable enough in his car, and if she had a problem with Cruisers she didn't bring it up. He didn't claim to understand the female mind, but there was definitely...well, something.

He didn't ask. At the moment she was busy talking about the terrible halter top Brooke (who?) was wearing, and how chartreuse was so OUT this spring, and how Val (as in, Val) was finally calling it quits with her magazine, and...

Duane lost track after that. It was kind of annoying that she didn't ask how HE was doing, but there would be time. Meanwhile, where was he going to take her?

"So Quinn," he darted in when she paused for breath. "There's this great new place I'd love to take you, but it's the next town over. Do you mind?"

"Well...okay," she playfully jabbed a finger at him. "But you're not going to kill me or anything, are you?"

" 'Scuse me?" he asked, startled.

"Never mind. Nobody dressed like THAT could get away with murder. Let's go!"

He forced a laugh, started the car and pulled out.

"So, like, where did you move here from? You don't look like you grew up in Lawndale."

Was she curious about him? Duane swelled a little. "Is that a bad thing?" they both chuckled. "I grew up, er...down south. A bunch of different places really. We're always moving." He was making this up, but it felt right somehow.

"That's SO interesting," Was she checking her eye makeup in the mirror? "How long are you here?"

He looked over at her and smiled. "A while. I hope."

She returned his gaze, and for a moment it was nice, but then she started talking again. "Well, MY family moved here from Texas a while ago. Ugh! What a fashion disaster area. But Lawndale is SO not any better. Of course the Fashion Club and I try to do our part, but some people are just beyond hope-"

"The Fashion Club?"

She gave him a 'wow, you really ARE new' look. "Like, the most popular girls at Lawndale High? Me, Sandi, Stacy and Tiffany."

"Oh, yeah. Those girls in History?"

"Right! I'm the Vice President." she said, with as little emphasis on 'vice' as possible.

All righty, Duane thought. I can play on her court. "Not the president? Heck, I can't believe that."

She blushed. "Oh, WELL..."

"I mean it. I'm no expert, but anyone can see you're the best-dressed girl in the school."

"Tell that to Sandi," she muttered. "Or my parents. They don't even care about it! Neither does my...um..."

"Sister?"

She winced. "Something like that."

"Strange. Someone who reads the paper all day, you'd think they know more about that stuff."

"TELL me about it."

They talked more about school as they watched the houses go by, and the conversation went smoother. Maybe because she knew he was listening. Most guys at Lawndale didn't care about anything fashion-related, but he could keep up a little better. It was surprising what you had to learn in building and interior design.

So far he seemed to be saying the right things, most of them totally honest. He didn't know where this sudden ability to talk to girls was coming from, but he wasn't complaining. Or maybe it wasn't girls-maybe it was just her.

Well, one out of 4 billion ain't bad. Especially if it's this one, right?

They crossed over into the Parkbury city limits, and soon Duane pulled up to a neon blue/fluorescent green building with lights all over the roof, narrow at one end and wide at the other.

Quinn perked up when she saw it. "What's this place?"

"That's the new Something Something Dine-In Theater." he said proudly. "My uncle and I did some of the work on it."

She raised an eyebrow at his pronunciation of 'thee-yater.' "You don't even know the name?"

"That IS the name." he pointed up to the sign. "And I think you're gonna like it."

Ω

The restaurant was subtly lit in shades of blue. A series of hip space-age booths stretched across the floor and along the walls, all facing the wide end of the building where a giant movie screen sat waiting. "NEXT SHOW AT 8:30," a neon sign flashed.

Duane saw the look on Quinn's face and was intrigued. Her eyes lit up for the first time that night. It was the look of someone who loved cool people and places discovering a good deal of both; a calculating eagerness. She liked it here, all right.

"Wow! You and your uncle built this place?" she exclaimed as they chose two seats in the corner.

"Not the outside, but a lot of the interior. These custom designs are really in, and my uncle is good at stuff like that, so..."

Quinn frowned a little, as though a bad memory had resurfaced. "Your uncle? So, um, what's his name?"

"Mike Falco. Falco Builders?" Duane handed her a business card. "He moved up here a few years before us. Neat guy. I've been working for him."

She relaxed. "Oh."

"You wouldn't believe how hard it was to get those wall seats just right. See, it's an indoor mini-theater. They all have to be facing the screen. If you don't put enough thought into it, it's just a mess. But with the right shapes and colors, it all comes together."

"It does, doesn't it?" Quinn said dreamily, sweeping a hand through her hair.

Uh-oh. She was distracted again, more by herself than anything.

The food was good-mostly classic Americana, not fancy but reasonably priced. He had the steak, she had the chicken salad. The atmosphere was pleasant enough, but they drifted into their own worlds. He commented on the construction; she glibly acknowledged him but showed little interest.

Duane was relieved when the lights faded and they started the movie. He didn't have to feel guilty for not saying anything. Quinn was pleasant enough so far, but she had a lot of layers to her personality. He knew he wasn't getting through. Every guy she went out with did pretty much the same things. Even if he pulled them off better than others, maybe that wasn't what she really wanted.

So what does she want?

He thought about it all through the picture, watching the scenes dance across her eyes. There was a person in there, definitely. A thinking person. Thank goodness she wasn't on her phone through the whole thing. But of course most of the people here weren't, either. This was a different time, he reminded himself.

She looked spellbound as the ending approached, but Duane got a surprise when he paid the bill and they walked outside. He was strolling across the lot with his hands in his pockets; the film wasn't what he thought and it had left him a bit unsettled. She was quiet, quiet, and then a sudden outburst of...well, he wasn't inclined to attach the word "bull****" to a girl but it wasn't far off.

"Guh-OD, Derek. Did you see what they were WEARINNNG in that movie? I thought I was going to faint. And who still listens to records? And that one girl-why was she so weird?! She just couldn't fit in with anyone, 'cause then she wouldn't be different. Like being different makes you special or something. Did Brooke's nose make her special?! I don't think soooo!"

Was she ever going to get his name right? "Quinn-"

"And people think I'm shallow. Gawd, don't even get me started on that."

"I won't, I promise. Quinn, maybe-"

"OHHH-kay, if you just have to know about it. Here's what happened. One day Brooke just waltzed in with, like, this brand new nose? And it was like, the grossest thing ever. I mean it! I thought it was gross, even though it was cute. It was like she was TOO cute. But I thought, if being TOO cute becomes the NEW cute, does that mean everybody will be hot except me? And of course Daria didn't get it at ALL. But then her nose just kind of collapsed-Brooke's, not Daria's-like Daria needs THAT on top of everything else. So then I wasn't-"

Most guys would just grit their teeth and put up with this 'till they got her home. Duane, figuring his chances were shot anyway, went for complete honesty. "QUINN. I'm sorry, but I really don't need to know about this. Do you talk to everybody the way you talk to your friends? Just fashion, gossip, fashion, gossip all the time?"

She stared at him in shock as they turned out of the parking lot. Clearly, not many guys talked to her like this.

"I mean, I won't judge you if that stuff is the love of your life, but a fella can't compete with that, know what I mean? And my name is Duane."

"That's what I said!"

"You ain't said it right one time."

She crossed her arms and stared out the window.

"I mean, I like you and all. But...you just don't know how to talk to a guy, do you?"

Quinn was goaded too far. "Yes I do! I'm popular! EVERY guy wants to go out with me!"

He sighed. "How many second dates have you had?"

"A lot! How many FIRST dates have YOU had?"

He paused.

"Well?"

"Maybe I don't remember, you...aw, hell with it." Duane bit his tongue and let an ominous silence descend over them.

He felt hurt inside. For a little while there, he had enjoyed himself, felt natural in his own skin for the first time. He should have known it was too good to last. If this what he'd admired so much from afar...maybe he was better off keeping his distance.

There were no more words on the ride back. She didn't have to say 'take me home,' he knew what was what. When they drove up to the Morgendorffers' he croaked a "good night," trying to be a gentleman in spite of everything. She nodded without looking at him and stepped out. She stood facing the house (mansion) uncertainly, like a stranger seeking shelter.

He shook his head sadly and shifted into drive, pulling back onto the street.

"Duane?"

He hit the brake. Now that was unexpected.

Before he could object, she ran up and hopped back into the car. "Drive me somewhere."

"I think we're about finished here, don't you?"

"You have to!"

"I don't think so. 'Specially not for a girl who won't even say please."

Seconds passed.

"Please." It was so quiet he barely heard it. "I just need to...um, talk."

Duane paused. This night had not gone the way he hoped, but he wasn't ready to give up. Hell, he couldn't. He wasn't about to grovel, but...what else did he have in this town but her? And if she was ready to shoot straight with him...

He dredged his conscience for one more chance.

"...All right. But no more of the act. Agreed?"

Quinn nodded slowly. For the first time, she met his gaze and held it.

The Cruiser rolled on, and they disappeared into the night.