“Light pink or bright blue?”

“Neither,” I said. “I don’t like nail polish.”

Especially not blue!

Vanessa sighed. “Fine. But at least let me do a clear coat. Otherwise it’s not a proper beauty weekend.”

“Come on. I’ve already had a hair treatment, a facial mask, ad a manicure. Presumably I’m the most beautiful person on the planet.”

I know someone more beautiful!

Good God, didn’t that hateful little voice ever shut up?

I gave in and held my hands out to Vanessa.

“Jessica.” My mother knocked and then opened the bedroom door. “Package came for you.”

I stared at the small box in confusion. “I didn’t order anything.”

“Maybe a follow-up delivery?” My mother held the package out to me.

I blew on my now-clear-coated fingernails. “Just set it here. I’ll open it in a minute.”

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” my mother said as she went out.

“Who could that be from?” I murmured. “Open it, will you, Nessa?”

Vanessa labored away at the tape with a nail file until it finally broke. She pulled out a smaller box wrapped in paper. “It’s a CB radio,” she said. “Oh my God, a Midland Alan 80-channel!” Her eyes widened in wonder. “Crazy. How can you afford that?”

“I can’t!” I said, thinking of the cheap contraption Nessa and I had been using. “They must have sent this to the wrong address.”

“There’s a note in here.”

“Let me see.” I plucked the letter from her hand. A suspicion was already beginning to come over me as I unfolded the sheet of lined notebook paper. “It’s from Danny.”

“What’s he say? You mean he’s sending you this as a gift? I thought you guys got in a fight!” She rocked back and forth impatiently. “Jess! Answer me!”

“It’s an apology,” I said and read the letter a second time. My heart was pounding wildly. “And a poem I don’t really get.”

“What’s it say?”

I read the note aloud:

 

Jessica,

I wanted to apologize for how I acted that Sunday morning. It was wrong of me. Sorry.

You just read too much into the night before, way too much.

I’m sorry about that, and I wanted to give you something—by way of apology, or maybe just because I like you.

We still have to go our separate ways, though. It would never work between us. You see something in me that I’m not.

Sorry,

Danny

 

Pain is a feeling

Cold moment at the pond

No one is watching

The flight of a knife

The death of a snake

I know the sea of lies

When the dogs bark

No one is listening

I am the bird of death

The death-bringing bird of the night

 

“He apologized for his behavior. That’s good.” Vanessa nodded thoughtfully.

Weeks later, after I’d already come to terms with the idea of never seeing him again. Wonderful. “What’s he trying to say with this poem?”

Vanessa shrugged. “Let me see,” she said, reaching out for the letter.

While she read, I inspected the radio, marveling. This would really increase my range. Eighty channels! Finally, enough options that I’d be able to get around signal problems. It had noise-suppression controls, a port for an amplifier, and even an automatic channel search.

“It’s a warning,” Nessa said.

I was only half-listening. “You think? What’s he warning me about?”

“About him, I think.”

“Huh?” Most of my attention was on disconnecting the old CB unit and hooking up the new one.

“Jess, you’ve gotta send that back to him, preferably along with that T-shirt of his you still have, and then tell him to go jump in a lake!”

“Are you nuts?” I exclaimed. “He’s not getting the Midland back!” I’m keeping the shirt too, I added in my head.

“Dude’s a few ants short of a picnic, that much is obvious.”

I suppressed a grin. “So what? He looks good, and he’s generous. Let him be a little crazy.”

Vanessa stared at me, aghast, before taking away my new toy and pressing the note back into my hand. “Jessica, seriously! This guy isn’t playing with a full deck. He takes you home with him and then throws you out of the car…and then sends you presents weeks later?”

That was the problem with having a best friend: she always knew everything. I read the poem a fourth time, trying to read between the lines.

Vanessa stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I think he sounds like a serial killer. He probably makes shoes out of women’s skin.”

“He doesn’t look like a serial killer,” I said.

“Oh?” She scoffed. “What would you say they look like?”

“Muscular, lots of tattoos, balding. And they chain-smoke and have 70s mustaches and crazy eyes, of course. Everyone knows that.”

She knitted her brow in disapproval. “Can you please be serious about this?”

I was beginning to understand some of what Danny had written. Or at least I liked to think so. “He sounds pretty hopeless in this note,” I remarked.

“Could be. He’s probably a hopeless case.”

All of a sudden, I didn’t even care. Vanessa could say what she wanted. It didn’t make a difference what the letter said. He could have told me he was Freddy Krueger himself and liked to eat small children, and it wouldn’t have been enough to scare me off.

“I’m going to write him back,” I said resolutely.

“Oh, for God’s sake, now you’ve lost your mind, too.” Vanessa threw up her hands.

My mother called us for dinner, but I told her I’d eat later and sat down to write a reply.

 

Dear Mr. Taylor,

Thank you very much for your letter. Regretfully, however, I must inform you that you are corresponding with an junior architectural drafter and not a scholar. Poetry and philosophy are above my pay grade.

And, to be honest, that’s all right with me. I’m perfectly fine without them!

But I did manage to figure out that you were trying to warn me. Thank you for that, as well, though I have to add that it was an unnecessary effort on your part—I have survived perfectly well for nearly eighteen years now without your help.

In other words, I can take care of myself.

Let’s get to the point, shall we? I like you, but I’m not in the market for a cryptic pen pal, so here are three response options for you. Mark your choice below:

A) Let’s go to a movie. I’ll pick you up on Saturday evening.

B) I’ll go jump in a lake.

C) I will continue to send completely indecipherable letters in the knowledge that they will go unanswered.

Sincerely,

Jessica

PS: Thank you SO MUCH for the radio. It’s really great!!

 

After dinner, I took the bus to Ludwigsburg and bought two tickets for The Blair Witch Project, Saturday, at 8 p.m. When I got home again, I stuck the tickets into an envelope with trembling fingers, added my letter, and quickly sealed it. That same evening, I took Leika for a walk to the mailbox and sent the letter on its way before I could change my mind.

 

The alley is so narrow. Fortunately, the blue light isn’t as harsh anymore. It’s diffuse now, like it’s coming from weak bulbs. I’m out of breath, running much too fast. I want to stop, but I can’t.

I have to get away. But am I even running in the right direction? Which way is ‘away’? Am I running away, or am I running toward the very thing I’m trying to escape?

 

***

 

I heard my phone beep while I was in the shower and reached for it with wet hands.

The message said only:

Response A

My heart leapt for joy. I was instantly wide awake, adrenaline shooting through my veins. I wanted to write back immediately and tell him how happy I was, but I forced myself to keep my message as short as his. Nothing good came to me, so I just sent a smiley.

His next message arrived less than a minute later:

Dinner before the movie?

I’ll pick you up at 5 PM, in the parking lot where I threw you out last time.

I slapped my thighs and let out a shriek of joy.

Even my inner voice was cheering and applauding thunderously.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. “Jessica? Can you hurry up? Other people want to shower, too!”

“Be right out!” I called to my dad. Two more days until Saturday! I just had to make it through two more days.

 

***

 

I scrutinized my reflection in the mirror. The results were worth seeing. I was wearing tight jeans, a short, carmine pullover with batwing sleeves, and black, knee-high stiletto boots. My long, wavy hair fell down around my shoulders. My makeup was very subtle, but I’d taken forever getting it right.

My mother regarded me curiously. “Are you going over to Alexander’s tonight?” she asked hopefully.

“No, I’m going to a movie with Nessa,” I lied. By that point, my parents had found out I’d broken up with Alexander, but Mom still held out unfounded hope that we might get back together. She liked him, and more than anything, she liked his mom. Alexander and I had been together for nearly three years, and our mothers had become best friends—which had meant plenty of freedom for me. Alexander’s parents had let us do basically whatever we wanted. Even when we’d stayed out at the club until the wee hours of the morning, nobody had ever asked any questions.

My mother looked disappointed.

“Maybe I’ll go to Alexander’s afterward,” I said to placate her.

“I’d be so happy if you two got back together,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.

I shrugged. “We’ll see. I gotta go, Mom, see you!” My stomach fluttered nervously as I grabbed my purse and coat and left the house. The fifty-foot walk to the parking lot felt like miles. What if he didn’t show?

 

As soon as I turned the corner, I saw him. In jeans and a royal-blue hoodie, he was leaning casually against a gleaming, black, thirty-foot limousine—a Lincoln Town Car—his arms folded. As always, his hair was sticking out in every direction. When he saw me, his face broke out into a radiant smile. A man dressed in black was standing at the front of the car, eyes downcast.

Chauffeur and everything? This is crazy…

My knees were threatening to give out, and my brain switched into offline mode again.

As I walked toward Danny, gaping in astonishment, he straightened and held out his hands. I took them, and his fingers closed briefly around mine. Once again, it was like he’d hit me with an electric shock.

“W-wow,” I stammered. “What’s all this for?”

“Because I’m falling in love,” he said quietly.

For a moment, the world stood still.

In love?

I was too stunned to react.

The chauffeur opened the car door, revealing an interior bathed in dim violet light. Still reeling a little, I settled onto the cream-colored leather upholstery that stretched across the entire length of the limousine, and Danny climbed in after me. The long marble-topped table in the center held a chilled bottle of champagne and two flutes already filled.

Danny handed me one of them, and we clinked our glasses together.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” I said shyly.

“Exceptions prove the rule,” Danny replied and took the first sip as the vehicle began rolling slowly out of the parking lot.

“How can you afford this kind of thing as a personal trainer?” I had no idea what it actually cost, but it surely wasn’t cheap.

He suppressed a grin. “I earn good money in my side job.”

“I knew it! You steal cars and sell them in other countries.”

“Um, no.” He looked genuinely perplexed.

“So you do the grandson scam? Knock on confused old ladies’ doors and make big eyes at them, and cry about how the Mafia is after you, and beg for money?”

He stared at me in surprise. Apparently, he hadn’t pegged me as someone with that much imagination. “It’s a lot less spectacular than that. Pretty boring by comparison, really. I just pose.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“For photos,” he clarified. “For a fashion label.”

“You model?” I shrieked at him. So he didn’t just look like a glossy-magazine model, he actually was one.

What the hell did this guy want with me?

In love, he said…

“Yeah,” he replied easily. “It’s nothing to scream about. They’re just photos. Ads, clothes, the usual. The pay’s good.”

“So that’s why you didn’t go to college?”

His expression turned grim. “No. That was for other reasons. Personal reasons.”

There it was again, that darkness in his eyes.

“Aren’t you afraid the modeling work will dry up someday when you’re old and ugly?” My curiosity knew no bounds.

“No, I’m not worried about that.” Then why did his voice sound so melancholy?

My champagne glass was empty by that point, but I felt awkward about refilling it, since Danny hadn’t taken his eyes off me. “There’s something I really don’t understand,” I began, emboldened by the champagne. “Why did you try to warn me away from you? Do you chop little girls up into pieces and bury them in the forest?”

The violet light gleamed in his hair as he tilted his head and regarded me. “I make drugs in my basement,” he said. “I have to be careful. Can’t let anyone find out.”

I regarded him skeptically. The problem with Danny’s dry humor was that you never knew whether he was joking.

He laughed quietly to himself when he realized I was trying to decide whether to believe him.

“Sarcasm is the sword of the intellectual,” he finally said. But then, all at once, his relaxed demeanor shifted again. “Seriously,” he said, “the fact is my life is one giant catastrophe. I don’t want anyone else to get sucked into it.”

Half relieved drugs weren’t involved, I shook my head. “Hey, I’ve never met a catastrophe I couldn’t handle!”

“I’m not joking,” he insisted. “If you have an ounce of sense in your head, you’ll walk away and never look back.”

“Sense was never my strong suit. I’m told teenagers aren’t sensible people.”

He sighed deeply. “Okay,” he said theatrically. “I’ll give you three choices, since you were kind enough to do so for me. All right?”

I nodded, a smile creeping onto my face.

“Then come on down, you’re the next contestant!” he said in his best TV-announcer voice. “Here are your options! One: A happy, worry-free life as a single woman. Two: Me. Three: You find a guy who’s right for you and live happily ever after. Pick a door, any door!”

“Door number two, please,” I announced, playing along.

“I’m serious!” Danny protested.

“So am I!” But I couldn’t help giggling. “It’s just hard not to laugh. You’re really funny!”

He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Funny ha-ha or funny strange?”

“Both.”

“Is it at least an equal mix?”

“No. One more so than the other.” I turned to look out the window, at the pedestrians watching with interest as our limo pulled into the movie theater parking lot.

The driver stopped at the entrance of the restaurant beside the movie theater and then hastened out of the vehicle to open the door for us with a demonstrative bow. Danny got out and extended a hand to me. Everyone in the area was looking at us, and suddenly I felt completely out of place. He could easily pass for a film star, but me?

The feeling of inferiority lingered as we stepped into the classy restaurant. We followed a black-tuxedoed host to an elaborately decorated table, complete with lit candles. After inviting us to sit with an elegant gesture, he handed us our menus, and we spent a moment looking them over.

“I think I’ll have the pork medallions with mushrooms and vegetables,” I proclaimed. “You?”

Danny quirked an accusing eyebrow. “I don’t eat dead animals.” Instead, he picked a vegetarian Asian dish and placed both of our orders with our waiter, who also sported a fine black tuxedo.

“So why’d you leave home so young?” I asked spontaneously.

“Young?” His eyes darkened again. “I’m twenty.”

“That’s young!” I insisted.

“My parents died in a car accident when I was fifteen. After that, I was in a home for a while, and then I got my own place,” he explained rather curtly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I could certainly understand that he wouldn’t want to talk about that.

“It was a long time ago. I wasn’t in the car when they had the accident.” His eyes roamed the room, and it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it any longer.

The waiter brought us our drinks, and I searched for a less tumultuous topic.

“Where are you from originally?” I asked. “Your name doesn’t sound German…”

“I was born and raised near Atlanta,” he said.

“Really?” For some reason, that surprised me, even though I’d considered the possibility of him being American. “You can’t tell from your German. How come you don’t have an accent?”

“I’m only half American—my mother was German. I grew up bilingual. So, technically, German is my mother tongue.” His gaze shifted into the distance. “When I was in elementary school, we had a little wooden house out in the countryside. Georgia’s a gorgeous place. And we had a pool in the backyard, and the weather was always nice. And I had a sheepdog.”

I smiled. “I have a dog, too. A black-and-white hound mix named Leika.” I took a sip of my Coke. “So why did you move to Germany?”

Our appetizers arrived, and just as I was starting to think my question would go unanswered, Danny said, “My mother had a miscarriage when I was ten. It really hit her hard. She, uh, just needed to come back home. To be with her family.”

“And you didn’t like it here.” It was meant to be a question, but it didn’t come out that way because his tone said it all.

“No, not really.”

“But your grandparents live here? Don’t you get along with them?”

“I do,” Danny said without looking up. “But my dad fought with them constantly. Just, all the time. Until we finally lost all contact.”

After finishing my appetizer in silence, I put my silverware down on my unused napkin and sat there for a moment, trying to screw up enough courage to ask my next question: “Why didn’t you like it here? Because of the fighting? Or was it later, when you were in the children’s home?”

“There have been worse periods in my life,” he murmured. But he was closing up before my eyes. I could practically feel the walls he was erecting to hide his feelings from me. I wouldn’t be getting any more information out of him.

“Enough about me,” he said, as if on cue. “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

A young waitress with a blond ponytail and a very short skirt brought our entrees. I saw Danny regarding her curiously. She blushed. When she set Danny’s plate in front of him, her fingers lingered at the table a moment longer than necessary. Her eyes sought his.

Where was the waiter we had before?

“I have an older brother,” I said, eyeing the waitress critically. “He’s an office clerk.”

“So you ride dressage, you’re studying to become an architectural drafter, and you get along great with your parents,” he said. “And you enjoy a lot of freedom.” Apparently, it was his turn to make assumptions.

Not that this one was wrong.

“Yeah,” I said. “My parents trust me completely. But reliability is also my middle name.”

He smiled. “You really have the picture-perfect family, don’t you?”

I never would have thought to call my family “picture-perfect.” We had our share of problems, too. But my parents were still alive, which was a lot more than he had.

“The food here’s really good,” I remarked, and for a while our conversation veered into banal territory, like wondering what was in the salad dressing, even though I didn’t know the first thing about cooking.

At last, we pushed our plates aside, and Danny signaled for the check.

“We should get over to the theater,” he said. “The movie’s starting soon.”

To my relief, it was the tuxedoed waiter who returned with the bill. Danny paid it and then took my hand, and we strolled next door. We stopped to get popcorn and drinks, and Danny didn’t let go of my hand until it became unavoidable as we squeezed down a narrow row of seats.

Once we were seated, I noticed several female members of the audience turned to look at him. One nudged her friend and pointed at him, and they both giggled and turned red. If Danny was aware of the commotion he was causing, he didn’t let on. My face grew hot, and I shifted in my chair. Only when the lights finally went down did I breathe a sigh of relief and settle back into my seat.

Danny looked at me attentively. “Everything all right?” he asked.

“Everything’s great.”

He took a sip of his drink and then held the cup out to me as though it were the most natural thing in the world. My heart did another somersault. I was going to have to be careful before I ended up with a heart murmur or something. Hastily, I accepted the cup and took a drink, even though I had one of my own. I liked the thought of sharing with him.

“Hey, how are we getting home afterwards?” I asked quietly.

“Same way we got here, of course.”

“Do you pick girls up in limousines a lot?”

“No, you’re the first.” He winked at me.

The theater fell silent as the movie started.

I let my head sink onto Danny’s shoulder. I barely paid attention to the movie—I was too intoxicated by his presence. His sweater smelled like fresh fabric softener, and he himself smelled like shower gel and aftershave, with maybe a hint of musk. Beneath my cheek, I felt his quiet, even breathing.

I snuck a glance at him. He had a perfectly straight nose and soft features. His blue eyes were framed by the longest lashes I had ever seen. His slender hand rested on his knee. I don’t know how long I stared at it, tracing his long fingers with my eyes, before I finally worked up the courage to put my hand on his.

He flinched at the unexpected contact and jerked his hand away reflexively.

“Sorry,” I whispered, concerned. My gut told me his violent reaction had nothing to do with me—or the horror movie.

“No worries,” he murmured and held out his hand, palm up.

As soon as the credits began to roll, Danny pulled me out of my seat. “Come on, let’s get going and beat the rush.” He dragged me down the row, ignoring the protests of the other moviegoers. Just before we reached the exit, I stumbled over someone’s foot and nearly fell down. Laughing stupidly, I used Danny’s hand to pull myself up again and nudged him onward. The woman cursed at us and waved an umbrella threateningly in our direction.

“Run,” I told Danny, pushing him forward.

He actually started running, dragging me along behind him. For reasons likely evident to us alone, we ran like maniacs until we got outside, where we stopped, gasping for breath and laughing giddily. Danny’s laugh was so infectious that I couldn’t stop.

“Come on!” He grabbed my hand again and took off running through the parking lot.

“Why are we in such a hurry?” I wheezed.

“We aren’t!” he said, but he didn’t slow down until we were nearly to the limousine. When the driver saw us, he got out to open the door, probably assuming we were drunk.

Of course, we weren’t. Yet. Two full champagne glasses were waiting for us inside.

“To you,” Danny said, raising his glass.

“To both of us!” I cried. Running through the movie theater like that had made me boisterous, almost euphoric.

“We could really give this a shot,” Danny said quietly, looking into my eyes. Then he drained his glass.

My heart tried its damnedest to get back into a normal rhythm. “What about the whole catastrophe thing?”

If you don’t shut up, you’ll ruin everything! My inner voice was frantically waving its hands, trying to get me to zip it. But it was too late.

I bit my lip. The words were already out there. But I had to know. I was too afraid he might act friendly and approachable for a while and then just coldly brush me off again.

He raised his eyes and gave me a penetrating look. “I’m hoping you’re sick of me before the catastrophe starts.”

“You’re hoping for that?” I repeated. He shrugged apologetically. I polished off my champagne.

This stuff is really good, I thought. I wasn’t used to champagne, and it was going to my head. “I’ll never be sick of you,” I promised.

“We’ll see,” he said. “I’ll make every effort to prove otherwise.”

I stared into my empty glass, shaking my head. “What kind of catastrophe could we be talking about here?” I was speaking more to myself than to Danny.

Gently, he lifted my chin with his index finger so he could look into my eyes. I saw blue, dark blue, like water, and even then I knew I was in danger of drowning in it.

His sigh made me uneasy—he definitely had a flair for drama. “If I could explain the problem to you that easily, I wouldn’t have tried to keep you away from me. If you’re still with me when things have the potential to get dangerous, I’ll let you know well in advance.”

Danny squared his shoulders and set his chin resolutely. It nearly hypnotized me all over again. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

Don’t forget to breathe, Jessica!

I nodded. “Yeah, I trust you.” It came out as no more than a whisper.

“Thank you. I promise I’ll watch out for you.”

How much had he had to drink? Three glasses? Was he just drunk?

My chin was still in his hand, and his eyes still held me fast. I had to focus on taking deep breaths from my abdomen to keep myself halfway calm. He tilted his head and parted his lips slightly. The tip of his tongue touched his sharp canine tooth for a moment, and I could not and would not hold back any longer. I leaned toward him. He hesitated briefly before leaning in to me and pressing his lips to mine.

His scent enveloped me, and his fingers found mine. His breathing accelerated, and my heart leapt into my throat as my tongue brushed against his…

Abruptly, he pulled away.

“Jessica,” he whispered. His chest was rising and falling heavily.

“Yeah?”

But he only closed his eyes for a moment, leaving the sentence unfinished. Whatever he’d been about to say, I would never know. He cursed under his breath, poured himself another glass of champagne, and drained it.

The limousine stopped in the guest parking lot in front of my parents’ building, and the driver opened the door. We didn’t move, so he retreated discreetly.

“What have I done?” Danny gave me a look of despair.

Fear suddenly welled up within me.

Not again, no, please, not again!

I leaned in and touched his cheek. “Everything’s okay, Danny. Door number two. With all the consequences. It’s my decision and mine alone. I don’t care what the other options are. It will always be door number two!”

He nodded.

“See you next weekend?”

He nodded again, and I let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” I said, meaning both for this evening and for the fact that he wanted to see me again.

“See you next weekend. I’ll be in touch.” His voice sounded less self-assured than usual.

We both got out of the limousine and stood there for a moment, looking at each other in silence.

“Everything’s okay, Danny,” I assured him as I turned to go. “Everything’s okay,” I whispered, not knowing that I was repeating what would one day be our code word.

A code word that symbolized our trust in one another, one that would nip all uncertainty in the bud.