Another Chance

Chapter 10

Castle slams the heavy door of the commercial dryer. "This really takes me back. I used to hang around in places like this, and people watch to build characters for my first couple of books. There were the folks who carefully separated their colors and the ones who'd just jam everything in a machine. Very different personalities although I know that in my case if I only used one machine, it was because I couldn't afford a second one. Back in the college years, all those quarters could add up to a meal or two - sometimes more. Now it's credit cards. I wonder if the kids even know how much they're spending?"

Kate rolls her eyes. "Castle, that's a strange attitude for someone who would buy property on the moon and has a standing order at Comicadia."

"Kate, it's one thing to spend it when you have it. It's another to end up eating nothing but ramen at every meal because Daddy's cut you off and you can't afford anything else. That happened to one of Alexis' friends until she got an order of groceries from a mysterious benefactor. Sometimes counting your pennies can be a good exercise. Speaking of which, I wonder what M. Swinson is doing back in the manager's office if she doesn't have to count change. I was hoping she'd show up out here."

"So was I, Kate admits. "Maybe we need to do something to attract her attention."

"Hmm. We could stage a little accident. How in love are you with the jeans you brought to wash?"

Kate's eyes narrow. "Why? What did you have in mind Castle?"

"Let's say a new trend in distressed denim, via massive additions of chlorine. We could use a pair of mine, but the fight would not be as convincing as if I mess up yours - clueless male and all that. I've heard it both said and implied on more than one occasion."

"You want to throw bleach in with my jeans?" Kate hisses.

Castle winces. "Favorite pair, huh? All right, plan B. These are high-efficiency washers. An overabundance of detergent should produce effects dramatic enough to bring M. Swinson out here. Then we can start our little playlet. If it doesn't work, we can always rewash the stuff at home."

"Sure Castle. How much do you think it will take?"

"I suspect that half a bottle or so should produce a cascade of foam of suitably epic proportions. You might not want to get too close."

Castle can see the lips of the woman he assumes to be Marnie Swinson mouthing "What the fuck?" as she hurries out from the office, then scurries back to get a mop.

Kate whacks Castle on the arm. "Damn it, Babe! Now I'm going to have to wash the stuff all over again. I'm going to be late starting my work, and we won't have time to go to Rockland House tonight like you promised."

The grimace that had been twisting the angry mopper's face softens. "You two go to Rockland House?"

Kate scowls at Castle. "Not as much as I want to, but I really like the music there. And I love a guitar player. They call him the Lark. I was hoping he might be playing."

The mop stops in mid swish. "I know the Lark, but he – um – won't be playing for a while."

"See, we would have wasted our time tonight," Castle taunts Kate.

Kate's lower lip trembles. "Do you know when he's coming back?"

Castle can see the assumed Marnie begin to hyperventilate. "He just told me that he has something he's working on that he has to finish." She points to a large sign on the wall urging customers to limit the detergent they use to recommended amounts. "If you two want to finish washing your clothes could you please follow the directions. Otherwise, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Castle puts on his best hangdog expression. "Yeah, sure. My bad. I'm sorry. Could I help you clean that up?"

M. Swinson shakes her head. "Just finish your laundry and get out of here."

Kate can feel the warmth from the bag of now clean clothes she hugs against her chest, while Castle lugs another one. "That woman was way too nervous for it to have just been about a soapy floor. She's hiding something."

"Or maybe someone," Castle suggests. "Lark might be staying with her. You know the old joke?"

What old joke, Castle?"

"What do you call a guitar player who breaks up with his girlfriend? Homeless. Not very funny, I'll admit, but struggling musicians don't have the easiest time scraping up rent, especially in the city."

"Neither do most of the rest of the people who live here, including cops," Kate points out. "But you could be right. We could watch Ms. Swinson. There's a market two blocks down. Let's see if she is buying groceries for one or for two."

"We?" Castle queries. "I thought Frank didn't want me on the job with you."

"He doesn't, Babe. But we'll be doing it off the clock." She bumps against him as they walk. "What I do on my own time is my personal business."

"Chip?" Castle offers.

Leaning back in the driver's seat of Castle's car, Kate accepts the crisp triangle and crunches half of it in her mouth. "Why blue, Castle? They taste the same to me as the yellow ones, and they cost more."

"Yeah, but the shade of blue is almost like one of the colors of our wedding. That's kind of cool, right? I just can't figure out how I'd have lavender dip that doesn't taste like soap. I had to settle for the imperfect guacamole metaphor, 'lavender blue, lavender green.'"

"Castle you're not planning on serving chips and dip at our reception, are you?"

"No, strictly for a marital or at least betrothed stakeout. But on the subject of our wedding, I was thinking that while we're sitting here anyway, we could listen to some bands. I have a drive we can plug in with samplings from a selection of them."

"Babe, I thought we'd have a DJ."

Castle's eyebrows rise. "Why? I thought you love live music. You looked like you were in heaven when we went to see Marsalis."

"I do, Castle. But for me, the most romantic singer has always been Sinatra. My dad used to put him on and dance with my mom. That's actually the only time I did see him dance, and I can remember the love in his eyes as he held her. I want us to be like that. And I don't want to hear some guy in a band, no matter how good he is, imitating 'Old Blue Eyes,' while I'm gazing into my own favorite pair of deep blues. I want the real thing - on vinyl, not digital, just like I heard it then."

Castle leans over the console to frame her face in his hands. "If it is Sinatra on vinyl that the love of my life wants, it is Sinatra on vinyl she shall have. And I know just the perfect guy to spin him."

Kate grins. "Yeah, I figured you would. So where's the guacamole?"

Castle reaches into the back seat for an insulated bag. "Castle's catering at your service. Scrumptious avocado and whatever other services you may require."

She pushes back his arm. "As wonderful as that sounds, we'll have to put it on hold. I see something."