One Night by Marsha Qualey

whispered.
    Here, hold out your hand, just so you know there’s no hard feelings and that I’ll love you forever. This, girl, is in case baby-sitting is as boring as it sounds, quick in the pocket, we don’t want Leo to get mad. Tonight at eleven, exactly four hours from now, I’ll do mine, you do yours, and no matter where we are, it will be like we’re together.
    If I remember it right (and who’s to say that I do?), at that moment he kissed me here, touched me there. Exit Mr. Smooth.
    Oh my God. And I liked him?
    My laughter must have been louder than Etta’s singing, because when I caught my breath I saw that everyone in Leo’s was looking at me. “Sorry,” I said.
    “You okay?” Tom asked in the lowest of whispers.
    “I’m fine. Just went off on a little memory riff. Habit of mine.”
    “Are you sure you want to stay? Are you really okay?”
    “I am so fine, Mr. Buckhorn, I can’t tell you. Maybe a little bit sad, but fine. Now let’s get some pie.”
    We grabbed a table for two next to a large group of Tin Men and Dorothys. A waitress took our order and hustled away. She returned in a flash. Tom took one bite and set down his fork. “Oh, Kelly,” he said.
    “Yes?”
    “I’m in love.”
    “The pie’s that good?”
    “It’s that good. I’m in love with whoever made this pie.”
    I pointed to Leo, who was chewing a toothpick and working a crossword. Tom twisted and looked, turned back to his pie. “Maybe not,” he said.
    Not in love, but still hungry. He ordered seconds. While he was waiting, I went to the rest room. By the time I came out—it was a one-toilet bathroom and the two witches ahead of me were having trouble with their costumes—he was done with his pie, and three cops sat at the counter.
    I slid into my seat. “What took so long?” he asked.
    “The witches were having trouble with their skirts. See what’s at the counter? Maybe we should go now.”
    He didn’t look.
    “Cops, Tom.”
    “I know. I saw them come in and I knew you’d be worried and then I realized I’d had enough, this was stupid.”
    “What are you saying?”
    “I made a call. Leo’s adding it to the bill; sorry. I didn’t have change for the phone I called my uncle while you were in the bathroom. Actually, I called his valet, Andre, on his cell phone. I thought that maybe at four in the morning it would be the best way to leave a message for my uncle; he is the king, after all. I’m just learning all this, but instinct tells me that you don’t mess with an old king’s sleep.”
    My mouth went dry and my heart slowed to a funeral beat. “What did he tell you?”
    “What do you mean? I told Andre that I was fine, not to worry, I was out on the town, I was being discreet and no one would find out. I said that if they were still looking for me, they could stop because I’d be back. There’s a breakfast meeting I’m supposed to attend, and I said that I’d be there. Why do you look like that? You should be pleased. You can relax, they won’t bother us now.”
    Not on your life, I thought. Not as long as they think you’re with the ex-doper who works for the ruckus-raising one-armed radio host. “And then what did he say?” I asked slowly. Meaning, did he tell you who I was?
    “Nothing. I hung up before he could say anything at all.”
    “Did you mention where we were?”
    “Why does it matter now?” He tapped on the table. Obviously, the questions irked him. “It was the right thing to do. Maybe you should call home, too.”
    Home—there’s a thought. “I can’t.”
    His lips puckered a bit, but before he could say “Why?” I heard a familiar voice and knew immediately that it was all over. I was about to wake up from what must have been only a long, sweet dream. Stupid me. I’d been so worried about cops or bodyguards finding us. But I’d never once thought about running into someone who knew me. A loudmouthed, nosy someone.
    “Well, look who’s here!”
    I turned in the chair.