Street Smart by Tara Taylor Quinn

Author:Tara Taylor Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2004-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

“So, Arnold, what do you like to do in your spare time?”

The older man had been back for fifteen minutes and Francesca knew more about his life story than most of the people who’d been working with him for years. Luke had known of the older man’s divorce, but not that his ex-wife had been the one to leave.

He watched his friend as Arnold considered the question. The older man was engaged in a way he’d never seen. More alive and relaxed.

“These days not as much as I’d like to.” When Arnold finally replied he gave the kind of nonanswer Luke was used to hearing. “But when I get a chance I still go out for a jump now and then.”

Luke started. “A jump?”

“Hey, man, I might be old, but I’m not dead and it doesn’t take much to throw yourself out of a plane.”

Tell me about it. “You never told me you jump!”

“You never asked.”

Well, no, he hadn’t, but… “Did you know I—”

“—hold every record in the state? Yeah, I knew.”

Luke wasn’t often nonplussed.

“You both jump from planes?” Francesca looked from one to the other, eyes troubled, though whether from the current conversation, too much drink or the thoughts she was keeping to herself, he didn’t know. “Why would you want to do that? There are any number of perfectly reasonable things you can do right here on earth to get yourselves killed.”

“You’d have to—”

“Little lady, until you’ve…”

He and Arnold spent the next ten minutes tripping over each other as they extolled the virtues of a passion Luke hadn’t even known they shared. They might as well have kept still for all the effect on Francesca.

“So, why didn’t you say something?” Luke asked his friend. “We can go up together sometime.”

Arnold shrugged in that noncommittal way he had. “I’m nowhere near as good as you, for one thing. My longest free fall is probably about half of what you do on a bad day.”

“And for another thing?”

“You’re management, Luke. Having drinks now and then is one thing, but I wouldn’t presume to impinge upon your life away from here.”

“Crap. How’s next Saturday sound?”

Arnold opened his mouth to reply, glancing over at Francesca. When no sound came out of the other man’s mouth, Luke’s gaze followed his.

Francesca had tears streaming slowly down her face.

“You ready to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, forgetting for that second that Arnold was sitting there.

He’d only ever seen her cry once. The night they’d checked out the escort Web sites. She’d made it through every single site, forcing herself to look at things that must have been ripping her up inside, and when they were done, when they turned off the computer having seen no sign of her sister, she’d cried just like that.

And refused the comfort he’d needed to offer.

Francesca Witting was one tough bird.

And a beautiful one.

“Nothing,” she said again. And added, “I mean it,” when his look obviously conveyed his disbelief. “I heard a story at the bar tonight and I can’t seem to get it out of my head.

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