Day of the Dead by Lisa Brackman Page A

safe.
    â€˜So what do you think?’ he asked, his breath warm against her ear.
    It was what Gary wanted her to do, wasn’t it?
Spend some time with him
– this was really what he had in mind.
    â€˜Look, no pressure,’ Daniel said. ‘I know things got off to a really bad start, and if you, you know …’ He shrugged a little. ‘Whatever you want to do.’
    Here was her out. She could say good-bye to him now, and that would be the end of it. There wouldn’t be another date. You couldn’t go backward, in her experience. It never worked.
    What would happen if she ended it here?
    She felt his body against hers, the stubble of his beard brush her cheek, the scent of him that filled her intake of breath.
    She thought about the jail. The airless heat, the hard cement, the reeking toilet.
    Silver or lead?
    â€˜Do you want to come up?’ she asked. ‘Just for a while?’
    It wasn’t really dangerous, she told herself. He couldn’t actually hurt her, not here, in her own hotel. People would see him. People would know.
    â€˜Yeah,’ he said. ‘That sounds good.’
    The lights were off in the little office behind the counter, the courtyard was deserted. There has to be someone up, she thought. It’s only … What time was it?
    A sudden blur of movement at her feet – the cat, racing up the stairs that led to her room.
    â€˜Cute place,’ he said in a low voice.
    â€˜Yes.’ Her voice caught. ‘It’s … it’s quiet, mostly.’
    I shouldn’t have said that, she thought. He’ll think we’re alone here. That he can do what he wants and no one will know.
    â€˜There’s usually people in the courtyard. It’s not the most private. You can hear people in the next room.’
    â€˜I’ll be vewwwwy quiet,’ he said with a grin.
    They climbed up the stairs. The cat waited there, on the low wall. Arched its back and then stretched down like it was doing yoga. Downward-Facing Cat.
    â€˜Hey, cat,’ Daniel said, holding out his hand for it to sniff.
    Her hand shook as she fumbled for the key.
    It was hot inside.
    She turned on the fans, the air conditioner that didn’t exactly work. ‘There’s wine in the fridge,’ she said. ‘A white. Do you want some? Or … ?’
    He crossed the room in a few steps, put his hands on her shoulders, and pressed up against her back. She flinched.
    â€˜Hey,’ he said, stepping away. His hands guided her, gently, to face him. ‘Are you okay?’
    â€˜I …’ She swallowed hard. ‘Yeah. I’m just …’
    â€˜Look.’ He stood there, hands at his sides. ‘We don’t have to do this.’
    Was that true? Did she still have a choice?
    She’d thought she’d already crossed that line.
    She had to get a hold of herself, right now. Take control. Or … or what?
    She didn’t know.
    Fake it, she thought. You know how to do that.
    â€˜Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just had, you know …’ She touched her forehead and tried to smile. ‘I thought about that night we met, and those guys, and …’ She shuddered. ‘It’s stupid.’
    He stared at her, his eyes narrowed, and then he seemed to relax. She could see the change in his face.
    â€˜It’s not stupid. That was pretty messed up.’
    He went over to the fridge and retrieved the bottle of wine. ‘So how do we open this?’
    â€˜There’s a corkscrew by the sink. In the drawer.’
    â€˜Sit,’ he said.
    She did, on the side of the bed, her legs trembling.
    He came back with a couple of tumblers and the open bottle, and sat down next to her.
    â€˜Not like I need any more wine,’ he said, pouring them each a glass.
    â€˜Me neither.’ She clutched the tumbler he gave her and smiled shakily.
    He lifted up his glass, and after a moment she raised hers.
    â€˜What are we