“Not my type.” Serge found an entry in the deed book and marked it with Brenda’s index card. “You wouldn’t know it to look at her, but she’s a real party animal.” He stuck the volume under his arm and headed for the Xerox. “Appears ultimately conventional in the library setting, reserved clothes and demeanor. But run into her on the weekend and all bets are off. Hangs out at the clothing-optional Atlantic Shores and gets absolutely wasted. She’s got a clit ring, which she’s always losing, along with her cell phone and purse…. Coleman, where’d you go?”
Coleman was grabbing a bookcase for equilibrium. “Jesus, Serge. If you don’t want her, I do.”
“She’d rip you apart.”
“Hopefully.”
Serge raised the Xerox’s cover and flattened the deed book on the glass.
Coleman finished his beer and threw it in the trash. He pulled another off the plastic ring. “Ever Xerox your balls?”
“Let me think a second,” said Serge. “Uh… no.”
He turned the deed book over and reached in his pocket. “I’m out of change.”
“I’ll be at the computers,” said Coleman.
Serge went to the research desk and pulled a one from his wallet. “Excuse me…”
He hadn’t noticed her before. The demure little woman. Thick glasses, hair pulled back, wrong clothes buttoned to the neck.
“What is it?” — not looking up from the novel she was reading.
“Uh… Xerox… dollar…”
She made change with one hand, never taking her eyes off the book.
Serge floated back across the library to the main desk, little cartoon hearts in a conga line around his head.
“Brenda…”
“Hellllloooo there, stranger.” She leaned practically close enough to kiss.
“Who’s that over there?”
Brenda tilted her head to look around Serge’s. “Molly? She’s new. Just started this week.”
“What do you know about her?”
“As much as you.”
“Think she’d go out with me?”
Brenda involuntarily giggled. She covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I just don’t see the two of you…”
“She’s the one.”
Brenda covered her mouth again.
“No, really. I think she’s crazy about me.”
Brenda composed herself. “Did she even look at you?”
“Not exactly.”
“She doesn’t look at anyone. Barely talks.”
“I sense something. A soul-mate connection.”
Coleman came over from the computers. “They blocked the porn on those things.”
Brenda pointed across the room. “Coleman, what do you think of her?”
“Who? That goofy chick?”
“Serge thinks he’s found his soul mate.”
“I’m going to ask her out.”
Brenda and Coleman watched Serge stiffly approach the reference desk. Coleman popped another beer. Brenda checked her watch. Ten minutes till closing. “Can I have one of those?”
It was a short, one-sided conversation on the other side of the room. Molly kept reading her book. The discussion ended without her ever making eye contact. Serge came back to the front desk.
They were prepared to console him.
“She said yes.”
“You’re kidding,” said Brenda.
“I pick her up Saturday at seven.”
Serge and Coleman left the library and headed toward the Buick. Coleman stopped and whispered something to Serge.
Brenda flicked off the lights and went to lock up the front. Serge and Coleman were waiting outside. She opened one of the doors. “Yes?”
“Coleman has something he’d like to ask.” Serge poked him in the ribs.
Brenda waited.
Coleman looked at the ground and played with his belt buckle. “I was sort of wondering if you maybe, you know, might want to go on kind of a” — his voice dropped to inaudible — “double date?”
“I couldn’t hear you,” said Brenda.
“He wants to double-date,” said Serge.
Brenda suppressed the gag reflex. Then she thought quickly. It was one step closer to Serge. “Sure.”
“Really?” said Coleman. “I mean, great! Pick you up at seven!”
19
The courtroom was hushed. The jury foreman stood.
“As to the single count of negligent homicide in the first degree, we find the defendants…
Yahoo!
People jumped up from the defense table. Hugs and high-fives. Prosecutors quietly filled briefcases with papers. Someone jumped up in the audience.
