Read Online Unforced Error by Michael Bowen - Free Book Online Page B

look over at Quinlan, who had slipped back into his car either to re-stow his pot or perhaps to take a few calming tokes.
    â€œLet’s go,” she said briskly.
    She led Rep through the back door and up the stairs. Seeing Peter pacing anxious circles at the far end of the second floor hallway, she figured the restrooms must be there as well. She scurried down the hall and pushed into the ladies’ room, offering Peter a hurriedly reassuring pat in transit. She found Linda on her knees, embracing the bowl of the nearest commode and vigorously engaged in reverse peristalsis.
    â€œOkay, bunky, it’s going to be all right,” Melissa said, dropping to her haunches beside Linda. She pulled Linda’s luxuriant chestnut hair back and laid a calming palm on her forehead. She rolled with the motion as Linda heaved again, then gentled her friend back and flushed the toilet.
    â€œI think that’s it,” Linda panted.
    â€œJust sit still in case it’s not,” Melissa said.
    â€œGod, I shouldn’t drink,” Linda said. “I don’t drink.”
    â€œI can see that,” Melissa said. “Hang on a minute.”
    â€œDon’t leave me!” Linda pleaded with frantic urgency.
    â€œI’ll be right back. Just sit tight.”
    Rising, Melissa moved first to the restroom door. Linda vomiting wasn’t that big a deal—certainly not for someone who’d made it through four years of undergraduate life at the University of Michigan. Far more alarming was the prospect of Quinlan marching up the stairs at any moment. The one thing that absolutely must not happen was for Quinlan to run into Peter in the next fifteen minutes or so. As she opened the door, she hoped desperately that Rep would pick up winks and nudges with his usual facility.
    â€œOkay,” Melissa said with a no-details-right-now-please exhalation. “It’s going to be a few minutes yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Something a little off in the salad dressing this afternoon would be my guess, but everything is absolutely fine now. We just need a little while to freshen up and then we’ll find you fellas downstairs.”
    â€œFreshen up?” Peter asked, his expression suggesting that that flippancy strained even his credulity.
    â€œChick thing,” Rep said, popping Peter on the bicep. “Don’t try to figure it out. Let’s get back to the guys ’ til these two are through.”
    Rep began walking toward the stairs. Nodding as if Rep had just shared an insight of Kantian profundity, Peter followed him, uncertainly at first and then with apparently growing confidence. By the time they had gotten back into the parlor Peter was leading the way, steering Rep toward the anteroom.
    â€œWas Melissa just trying to humor me or does she really mean everything is all right?” Peter asked urgently as, to Rep’s surprise, he clapped his forage cap on his head and began to fit his saber back into his belt.
    â€œI don’t know what’s going on,” Rep said, “but if Melissa says things are fine then things are fine. Chick-time has nothing to do with clock-time, so it may take awhile. But eventually Linda will be down here as good as new.”
    â€œI was thinking of driving her home,” Peter said, “but a long road trip in the next hour is probably the last thing she needs.”
    â€œI thought we were sleeping under canvas tonight,” Rep said, blinking with surprise. “I thought that was the whole idea.”
    â€œRight, we were and it was. But something I need to take care of has come up all of a sudden, and I can’t wait around much longer. If you’re sure Linda’s all right, I’m going to take off. I’ll try to be back before morning if I can, but don’t count on it. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you’d hunt up Charlie Rutherford and have him play
reveille
.”
    â€œOne-eighties make