Cecilia found those steady, penetrating green eyes boring into hers, transmitting a weight of meaning to her words it was difficult to avoid.

I think I like her. Ceci inclined her head a trifle, acknowledging the younger woman’s statement. Even if she was raised a Christian Republican. “You really going to a party dressed like that?” She pointed a slim finger at Kerry’s outfit.

“It’s her own fault,” Dar answered, reappearing from the kitchen and settling down next to Kerry on the loveseat. “She talked me into going to this reunion.”

“Half nekkid?” Andrew neatly stepped around Ceci’s knees and dropped onto the couch.

“Uh no, actually. I sort of wanted to...” Kerry regarded Dar’s sleek form. “Anyway, we made a deal, if she went, I’d have to dress the part and go too.”

“Um.” Dar’s mother pursed her lips. “What part exactly are you dressing for?”

Kerry glanced down at herself, then up at Dar. “You picked it. You answer.”

Dar got caught napping. Her jaw opened, then closed a few times, and she sneaked a furtive glance at her mother and father, who were watching in puzzled amusement. “Ah.” Oh well. “Actually, it was Kerry’s idea.”

“It was not.”

“She wanted to see what I looked like in leather.”

“Dar!” Kerry blurted, turning an appealing shade of pink that extended all the way down to her navel.

“Jesus. Woman looks like a damn flamingo.” Andrew chuckled.

“Or like one of those squid that change color,” Dar remarked, eyeing her companion critically.

“Oh god.” Kerry just gave up and buried her face into Dar’s chest, pretending the outside world didn’t exist for a little while. At least until she stopped glowing like a bad neon sign factory. “Is it time to go yet?”

she muttered into the scent of skin and leather.

Dar chuckled and patted her back, then eyed her parents. “What are your plans? Dad said you were looking for a place to stay.” The thought occurred to her to offer hospitality, but she wasn’t sure if any of them were ready for that much close quarters so soon. However… “We’ve got some little cottages here on the island they use as a hotel. I could book you in one if you’re interested.”


Eye of the Storm 209

The older pair exchanged glances. “That would be very nice. Thank you, Dar,” Ceci finally answered. “At least until we can have a chance to look around down here a little.”

“Sure.” Dar was inwardly pleased with the solution. She picked up the phone and dialed the resident services number. “Hello? Yes. Hi, Clemente.” A pause. “No, thanks. I’m feeling much better, really.”

Another pause. “Actually, I need to book one of the cottages.” A much longer pause. “All right. That’ll have to do then.” She flashed a quick smile. “No, it’s for my parents.” Lengthy pause as she listened. “Not on vacation, no. They’re looking for a place down here.” Short pause. “Um, sure, that would be fine. Thanks, Clemente.” She hung up. “All set.

They’ll send a cart for you.”

Kerry peeked out from her hiding spot. “Everyone’s really nice here.”

They exchanged a few more words, then stood, and Dar watched as the reservations staff took charge of her parents’ luggage and transported them down the road. “They only had the big one left,” she commented.

“The one with the Cadillac sized hot tub?”

“Uh huh.”

“Ooo. I’d like to be a fly on that wall.”

Dar grinned. “Me too.” She nudged Kerry. “C’mon. Let’s get this bike revved up and get going.”

“Uh, uh. I get to accessorize you first.” The blonde woman wagged a finger. “I saw that bag of old chains and collars.”

Dar winced. “Oh boy.”


Chapter

Twenty-three

KERRY HAD ALMOST, twice now, asked Dar to simply keep on riding instead of going into the large, buff colored building she could see looming just ahead. Riding a motorcycle was way more fun than she’d anticipated, especially when it became apparent that Dar did, indeed, know how to operate one of them. She was tucked in back of her taller friend, with arms around Dar’s middle, and just having a grand old time.

“You know,” she murmured into the fairly close by ear, “it would be really cool to go up A1A on the beach, all the way to West Palm on this thing.” Dar’s head turned slightly. “I could cope with that.”

“Hmm.” Dar kept one eye on the road and peeked at her. “Am I getting the message that we need to invest in a bike?” She grinned. “How about a ride down to Key West?”

“Ooo.” Kerry squeezed her. “Now you’re talking.”

Dar chuckled and faced back around, leaning the cycle a little to turn into the parking lot of the school. There was a crowd outside the door and more people entering, and she was relieved to see most of them had entered into the spirit of the occasion and were wearing relics from bygone years. Though. She tilted her head. Wearing football pants three sizes too small and a full set of spikes was of at best, dubious intelligence. She squinted a little. That would be Barandon Pitts, she decided, the school quarterback her senior year. The homecoming king, boy voted most likely to do just about whatever he wanted, and senior class president had ended up going into the Navy, she remembered reading in the local press, and came out several years later to take over his father’s local chain of coin laundromats.

Against the odds, she’d liked Barry. He shared her dry sense of humor and refused to take any of the high school hoopla over him seriously, getting in and winning his share of games and getting out with a comfortable slate of memories and not much else. He was smarter than they gave him credit for and wiser than an eighteen-year-old boy typically was in the way of life. Dar smiled now to see him amiably stuffing himself back into his old togs and talking to what appeared to be some cheerleaders who were reliving memories.

Kerry peered around with interest as they parked, her chin resting on Dar’s shoulder and she exhaled. “This is soooo different than my Eye of the Storm 211

school was.”

“Yeah?” Dar put both booted feet on the ground.

“Private, girls only, Christian.”

“Oh.” The dark haired woman made a face. “Sorry.”

“No. It wasn’t bad, actually. It was kind of good, in a way,” Kerry said. “Everyone competed a lot, but it was never mixed up in that pseudo chivalry stuff, and no one told you to be good, or bad, in anything because you were a girl. Everyone was considered equal.”

“Mmm.” Dar thought about that as she swung her leg over the bike’s engine and stood, dusting her jeans off. “Interesting.” She offered a hand to Kerry with a hint of self consciousness. “Shall we?” After some serious debate, she and Kerry had finally decided that the blonde woman’s outfit was just a little too…well just a little too, that was all. Kerry had switched the extremely skimpy skirt for a pair of her oldest, most faded jeans, which were very snugly fitted and tucked into the tan leather boots that she’d gotten at the store. She’d kept the leather tooled belt, though. “You okay?”

“Mmm.” Kerry plucked at the soft leather jacket she’d worn while riding. “Hope it’s air conditioned in there.”

Dar chuckled. “It is.” She straightened the silver chain around her partner’s neck, holding the old fashioned, age darkened setting they’d found in Aunt May’s trunk. “Matches your eyes.” She flicked the ear cuffs dangling from Kerry’s ears. “You look very…um…”

“Post-apocalyptic retro,” Kerry decided. “But I like it. And I like that outfit on you, so let’s go get stared at.” She peered at some of the other people making their way towards the school. “At least ours fits.” She squinted. “That’s not a tube top, is it?”

Dar tilted her head, then tilted it the other way, then removed her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t want to know,” she muttered, resuming the lenses and leading the way across the heat softened tarmac.

Getting stared at wasn’t going to be a problem, she soon realized, as she used her darkened lenses to peer around unseen at the gawking faces.

Well, that certainly wasn’t any different than when she’d attended the place, that’s for sure. She kept her head faced forward and mounted the low stairs up to the door. It opened and public school scent wafted out, making her nose wrinkle in memory as she passed through into the building.

The main hallway was filled with clumps of people, some in business clothes, some casual, some in outfits more appropriate to the teenagers they had once been. Dar took a breath of the air conditioned air and released it. “Looks the same,” she commented peering around. Same oatmeal colored walls, same institutional tile floor with curves of oatmeal colored carpet liberally stained with toner, same rows, off to the left and down, of buff colored, paint chipped lockers.

Across the walls near the ceiling tiles were painted banners, welcoming the old students home and to the right hand side, the folding walls had been pulled back, exposing the round tables of the cafeteria.


212 Melissa Good

“Hey, Dar!” Barry’s voice boomed at her elbow and she turned to see the tall, heavyset man beside her. “Can’t believe ya showed up.”

“Hello, Barry.” Dar removed her sunglasses and extended a hand.

“Nice to see you again.” She half turned. “This is my friend Kerry.”

“Hey there, Kerry.” Barry released Dar’s hand and took Kerry’s.

“Well, ain’t this a pile of pretentious preppies.” He turned to Dar. “Glad to see you ain’t changed any. Still the rebel, huh?” His pale hazel eyes twinkled. “At least after business hours, anyway. Saw your picture in the paper couple months back, that was a kick, lemme tell ya.”