Nothing to Lose (7 page)

“I have a few suggestions, if you're interested,” Nick said.

I let him order, which turned out to be a good decision. Within twenty minutes we were sampling our first dish. The restaurant started to fill around us. All of the other customers appeared to be Chinese.

“That tells you something about the place,” Nick said. “If Chinese people eat here, you know you're getting authentic Chinese food.”

“What does that say about the cuisine at McDonald's?” I said.“That it's authentic North American food?”

Nick laughed. “They have McDonald's in Europe and in Russia now. I think they even have McDonald's in China. Do you think that means it's authentic
global
food?” He poured me another cup of tea from the pot the woman had left on the table. We dug into a platter of shrimp, another of chicken in black bean sauce, and a dish of stir-fried vegetables. I couldn't believe how hungry I was.

“You want the last of the chicken?” Nick said finally.

“Are you kidding? If I eat another bite, I'll explode.”

“Me too,” Nick said. But that didn't stop him from polishing off the remains of the chicken and the last of the shrimp. When he had cleaned all of the platters, he raised a hand and signaled the woman. She brought our bill and a couple of fortune cookies. Nick took one, broke it open, and grinned at me.

“‘Love will bless your day,'” he said. Maybe he didn't think I believed him because he handed me the little slip of paper so I could read it myself. “What does yours say?”

I cracked open my fortune cookie and pulled out a slip of paper. “‘Be careful who you trust.'” I glanced across the table at him. “Good thing I don't believe in fortunes.”

Nick popped his cookie into his mouth and was chewing happily when I noticed an older Chinese man staring at him from the door to the kitchen.

Nick must have caught my expression. “Something wrong?” he said.

I nodded at the kitchen door. Nick turned. The Chinese man met Nick's eyes and held them a moment before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“What do you think that was about?” I said.

Nick shrugged. He took out his wallet.

“Lunch is on me,” I said.

“No way, Robyn. I invited you.”

I'd been going to argue, but he was already shaking his head. He put some money down on top of the bill and slipped his hoodie on. “Why don't you think about what you want to do next?” he said, standing up. “I'll be right back.”

“Where are you. . .”

He nodded to a sign for the restrooms. As he left the main dining room, I decided I should also probably go. I'd had a lot of tea. I got up and walked toward the signs. The restrooms were down a long corridor off the dining room. But as I turned into that corridor, I saw Nick leaving the restaurant through the emergency exit at the far end.

“Hey!” I said. But the door had already clanged shut behind him. I ran after him—but stopped when I heard someone shouting behind me. A man ran toward me. “Do not use,” he said, pushing past me and blocking my exit. “Fire door only.”

“But—”

He shook his head no.

I hurried back to the main room, pulled on my jacket, and dashed outside. A narrow alley ran along the side of the restaurant. I followed it to the rear of the building where Nick had exited. I didn't see him anywhere. I went to the door that I was pretty sure he had come out of and tried it, but it wouldn't open from the outside— he couldn't have gone back that way.

I glanced around. The alley continued for a couple of blocks between the backs of stores on one side and the backs of houses on the other. But where was Nick? Why had he ducked out on me like that?

Then I heard a voice. It was low, but I was pretty sure it was Nick's. It sounded like he was just up the alley somewhere. I headed toward the sound. It was coming from the other side of a high, gated fence. I crept toward it. No way to peek through—it was a privacy fence—but the gate was partially open. I squinted through the small crack and saw Nick. He was in a tiny yard that was laid out as a garden—a vegetable garden, I guessed, from the stakes that stood in rows in the cold early November soil. Nick was standing on the path, taking something—a white envelope—from the old man I had seen in the restaurant. He tucked the envelope into a hoodie pocket. The old man said something to him. Nick nodded. He began to turn, probably to make his way back to the restaurant.

I darted away from the gate, suddenly ashamed that I had been spying on him, and ran back toward the restaurant. Just as I got there, two men stepped out of the kitchen and into the alley. They were both wearing sunglasses and dark suit jackets. They stared at me and then started up the alley toward me. I slowed my pace and told myself not to be nervous. It was broad daylight. What could possibly happen?

The two men blocked my way. Neither stepped aside to let me pass.

“Excuse me,” I said.

They looked around, as if they were expecting to see someone else in the alley with me.

“What are you doing back here?” one of them said.

“I'm meeting someone,” I said. Not that it was any of their business.

The man who had spoken glanced around. “I don't see anyone,” he said. He took a long, hard look at me. “What were you doing up there?” he said, stepping closer, crowding me the way bullies do. I felt like jelly inside. Whoever these guys were, they were scary.

“I really have to go,” I said. I hoped they didn't hear the tremor in my voice. What were
they
doing back here? I was getting ready to run—maybe even scream if I had to—when someone behind them said something in Chinese. It was the same old man who had been in the yard with Nick just a few minutes before. He had somehow managed to get back into the restaurant without passing me. He must have gone out through the front of the yard and circled the block. But why?

The two men turned to look at the old man. The guy who had been doing all the talking said something to him. Then I heard someone call my name. I turned and saw Nick standing on the sidewalk near the front of the restaurant. He and the old man must have come back together.

The two men looked at Nick. They must have decided that I was telling the truth because they stepped aside to let me pass. Then one of them said something to the old man. The old man shook his head. The guy who had been doing all the talking moved closer to the old man, trying to bully him the same way he had bullied me. The old man stayed exactly where he was. Finally the two guys muscled past him into the restaurant. The old man remained in the doorway, looking at me.

A moment later, Nick was by my side.

“What are you doing out here, Robyn?” he said. He didn't even look at the old man. You would never have guessed that they had been talking together just a few minutes ago. He took my hand and led me out to the sidewalk, away from the restaurant. “When I went back to the table, you were gone.Why didn't you wait for me?”

“I was looking for you,” I said.

“Looking for me? You knew where I was going. I told you I'd be right back.”

I was trying to decide whether I should confront him with what I had just seen when: “Hey!”

No sooner had we stepped out onto the sidewalk than he yanked me back into the alley, pressed me up against the wall, and kissed me. At first I was so startled that I resisted. But I couldn't help it—I kissed him back. My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn't think of anywhere else I'd rather be, anything else I'd rather be doing, or anyone else I'd rather be with. When Nick finally pulled away, he said, “I've been thinking about doing that all day.” He smiled down at me. His hoodie was half unzipped, leaving part of his neck bare. I reached up and touched the black and blue bruise on the side of it. He winced. For a moment I forgot about him slipping out of the restaurant.

“What happened, Nick?”

He brought his face down close to mine and kissed me again.

“I don't want to talk about that,” he murmured.

I
wanted to talk about it. I also wanted to talk about what had just happened. But if I pushed him, the mood would be ruined. I told myself it could wait. We had all weekend.

We snuggled for a few more minutes. Finally Nick said, “So, did you decide what you want to do?”

“How about a movie?” I said. “My treat.” I was tired. It would be nice to be able to sit down for a few hours and maybe rest my head on Nick's shoulder. “We can get a paper and see what's playing.”

“Sounds good,” he said. We were holding hands again when we stepped back out onto the street.“There's a box of those free weeklies over there,” Nick said, nodding toward the main intersection. When we reached the corner, he said, “You get check the listings. Pick something you want to see. I'll meet you back here in a couple of minutes.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to do something. I'll be right back. I promise.” The walk sign had switched to an orange hand. Nick jogged into the intersection before I could say another word.

I started to follow him but the light turned red. I stood on the edge of the sidewalk and watched him. When he reached the other side, he stopped in front of the first store on the block. A man was standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He threw it down and crushed it under his heel when Nick pushed the door open. The man followed Nick inside.

I watched them through the store's plate-glass window. Nick was standing at the front of the store, picking things up and putting them back down again. The other man circled around behind the counter.
He must be the owner
, I thought,
or maybe a store clerk
.

Nick disappeared from sight for a moment. When he came back, he put something on the counter. The man went to the cash register and Nick paid him. The man put Nick's purchase in a small bag, then reached for something else under the counter. Nick's back was blocking the man from view, but I was pretty sure that the man was giving Nick whatever he had reached for.

As Nick turned away, I saw him put something in his pocket. I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach. Whatever Nick was up to, he didn't want me to know about. I wondered if it had anything to do with the way he had reacted when Stan Rogers had showed up at my father's place. Despite what Nick had said, I was pretty sure that he hadn't just seen Stan around. Nick knew him. Maybe he had even had a run-in with him, which would explain the way Stan had looked at Nick.

I also wondered what my father knew—whether he had a reason he hadn't told me for wanting me to stay at Henri's. I waited impatiently for the light to change. Maybe Nick didn't want to talk about what was going on. Maybe forcing him to talk was going to ruin the whole day. But I didn't care about that anymore. I wanted answers.

Nick came out of the store and walked back to the corner. A steady stream of cars whizzed by him while he waited for the light to change. When he spotted me waiting on the other side of the street, he smiled and waved a hand. People gathered around him—other pedestrians, waiting for the light to change. I saw a couple of them frown as a tall, blond-haired guy suddenly started to shove his way through them toward the curb.
Some people are so rude
, I thought. Then, just like that, it happened.

I gasped. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Nick lurched forward. I couldn't figure out why. What was he doing? Then I saw the startled look on his face. He turned his head, even as he was staggering forward, his arms pinwheeling frantically in the air. He was falling out into the street.

I heard the squeal of brakes. Then—
ohmygod!
I wanted to close my eyes but I couldn't look away. Nick must have seen the same thing I saw—a car was almost on top of him. Then came the impact and a sickening thud. Nick flew up onto the hood just as the car rocked to a stop. When he rolled back down again, I heard the
bang, bang, bang
of a chain reaction as another car crashed into the first car, then a third car hit the second one and another one hit that car. Traffic stopped in all directions. People crowded into the street. I ran toward Nick.

When I reached him, he wasn't moving.

A
s far as I could tell, Nick wasn't even breathing. The driver of the car, a tense, terrified-looking middle-aged woman, had struggled out from behind the wheel and was staring down at him, her face white. She was shaking all over.

“He jumped out in front of me,” she said.

I sank to my knees beside Nick. Tears were running down my cheeks and there was nothing I could do to stop them. He was so still. I couldn't see any movement in his chest, not even the smallest up and down from the shallowest of breathing. I forced myself to think.
What do you do in an emergency?
I was supposed to know. I had taken a first aid course when I was twelve years old. It had been my mother's idea—of course.
Think, Robyn
.