Vulcan glanced around the fifties-style room. “Cute little diner. If you didn’t know where it was tucked away, you’d never find it. And the food…”
“Don’t try to change the subject.” Bliss leaned back against the padded booth and crossed her arms. “I mean it. I want to know.”
Vulcan leaned in and lowered his voice. “There are certain things I’m not at liberty to tell you and, fortunately, I never promised you total transparency.”
Bliss snorted. “Are you really upset with Drake for promising to be honest with me? That seems like an important part of a successful relationship.”
He smirked. “Sure, honey. Tell yourself that. You’ll learn.”
“What?” Outraged, she was about to toss her napkin onto the table and storm out, but she’d promised Drake to let the maddening Vulcan watch over her, so she was stuck with him. Well, Drake didn’t say I had to be pleasant company, did he? She was tempted to toss a snark bomb at Vulcan, but again her mother’s warning chimed in the back of her head. Honey, not vinegar, Bliss.
“Fine. We can agree to disagree on that, but I really want to know what you can tell me.”
He cleared his throat. “You already know too much.”
“Why? Are you in the Mafia? Do I have to worry about getting whacked?”
Everyone in the North End diner immediately fell silent and turned to stare at them. Bliss wanted to slink down until she disappeared under the table.
Vulcan did what anyone in that situation would do. He laughed out loud. Pounding the table might have been overplaying it a bit, but at least the rest of the patrons relaxed and went back to their own conversations.
Bliss tried to think of another tactic to get the information she wanted. Realizing it might be fruitless, the only thing she could come up with was hammering at him until she wore him down.
“Seriously, there must be something you can tell me—just a morsel of information.”
He sighed. “Well, you already know about Drake. That must tell you something…”
“Like what? That there are certain legends that might be true after all?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Ah. So you’re something of a legend yourself.”
He smiled. “Something like that.”
Bliss racked her brain for what legendary creature could materialize through solid walls and transport a person from one place to another in seconds. All she could come up with were her memories of Star Trek and the Vulcans with pointy ears using their transport pad—or whatever they called that thing that turned them into a column of bubbles. But does a TV show qualify as legend? Maybe if it’s in reruns…
“Why don’t we finish up here, and I’ll walk you back to your apartment,” he said.
“Why walk? Why don’t you just transport us there instantly?”
He raised one eyebrow. Suddenly, he looked just like the Vulcan on TV who used to do that. Pointy ears, severe haircut, the works.
“Oh, come on. Now you’re just messing with me.”
He chuckled and returned to his former countenance. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“Believe me, I understand not being able to resist a good joke… but it was a joke, right?”
“Yes.”
She balled up her napkin and gave her fingers a final wipe. “Weren’t you afraid others in the diner would see you change your appearance like that?”
“Like what?” He tipped his head as if he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Like Dr. Spock.”
“I think you mean Mr. Spock. Dr. Spock was a pediatrician and authority on parenting.”
“Hmmm… I imagine you’d have to have a doctorate in something to run a spaceship.”
Vulcan looked like he was about to burst out laughing. He covered his mouth as if to hold it in, but his eyes danced with mischief.
When he seemed more composed, he said, “I understand why Drake likes you. You’re very… entertaining.”
She didn’t know if that was a compliment or not. At any rate, she was ready to get out of there. She waved the waitress over. “Check, please.”
The bubble-gum-popping waitress said, “Sure thing, honey,” and produced an order pad from her apron pocket, much like the one Bliss used herself.
“Are you getting the check or am I?” Vulcan asked.
Bliss thought he might not have any money, so she was prepared to pay with her credit card, but the idea of his treating her to breakfast held a certain appeal. It might make up for the frustrating company.
She leaned back. “You can pay, if you want to.”
“Okay.” He retrieved a wallet from his back pocket. “What do you use for currency here?” Opening his wallet revealed money in all sizes and colors.
“Uh… forget it. I’ll pay with plastic.”
“I was just kidding. I know how the dollar works.” He plunked down enough American cash to cover the tab and a generous tip. “Let’s get you home.”
“Please. At least there I can hide in my room while you watch TV or something.”
“Awww… am I not good company?”
Bite your tongue, Bliss… If he can transport you through walls, he could probably drop you off in the middle of a bridge abutment.
Bliss talked Vulcan into dropping her off at home and then going on his merry way. She said she’d use Drake’s code word and yell, “Taxi,” if she needed him.
Wondering where Angie was, she strolled to her bedroom. Maybe she could find a good book and spend her day wrapped up in someone else’s problems for a change. Her door was partially open. That’s weird. I usually close it.
Upon walking in, she spotted Angie reading her journal.
“What the hell?”
Angie dropped the pad of paper and her face flushed. “I—um… I’m sorry. I just came in to see if you had any laundry I might put in with mine.”
“And you just happened to find my diary and decided to read it?”
“I thought it might be a grocery list. I’m going shopping afterward.”
Bliss couldn’t tell if Angie was being sincere or not. How long had she been reading? If she’d followed her nutty thoughts about Drake being a dragon… Oh, shit. How do I explain that?
“I’m really sorry, but who has a diary with no cover? It’s just a pad of paper.”
“That’s because it’s not a regular diary. It’s just a bunch of crazy thoughts that go through my head. Sometimes I get ideas for cards and I need to jot them down.”
Angie worried her lip. “Those were thoughts for a card?”
Think fast, Bliss. Try to remember what you wrote. Oh shit. I started with “dear damn diary.” “Or not. Sometimes I write down weird dreams first thing in the morning so I don’t forget them. We all have weird dreams, right?”
“I guess…” Angie pointed to the floor where the damning evidence lay. “But this is so detailed. That must have one helluva dream.”
“It was.”
“I thought dreams only lasted a few seconds.”
Damn it, Angie. Can’t you just drop it? “I have a very creative mind.”
Angie stared at the pad of paper. “I’ll say…”
Bliss moved toward her roommate, intent on guiding her out of the room. “Look, why don’t you—” As she reached for Angie, the frightened girl’s eyes widened. She flinched and took a step back.
“What’s the matter? I was just going to say that if you’ll wait in the living room, I’ll get whatever laundry I have together.”
“Oh. Sure.” Angie scooted around her and practically fled from Bliss’s room.
Crap, crap, crap. She picked up her “damn diary” and scanned the contents.