carly’s story: danny’s dinner with carly

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Dinner was so tense that Carly declined to have any coffee or dessert, though he was sure she was desperate for caffeine. So then, when they parted in front of the restaurant, after she defiantly told him that she was going to the protest about the pirate radio station, Danny suddenly really wanted to know where she was staying. He told himself that he wouldn't have been so curious if she hadn't made such a mystery of it. So, he waited until she got to the corner and then he started to follow her.

For a while, she just walked up one block and down the next, with no apparent destination. Was she trying to lose him? Did she know he was following her?

After some thought, he decided not. For one thing, she never sped up or slowed down, and she never looked around. No, she was just killing time. Maybe she was staying somewhere but she didn't have a key, and had to wait for the person she was staying with to get home.

He thought about this and rejected it as well. There was no pattern to this, she was just wandering.

Finally, as he began to be sure that she didn't have anyplace to stay, that she preferred living on the streets to living with him, a huge hand landed on his shoulder. He stopped and turned, looking up at a tall, handsome man wearing a dark suit and a trench coat.

"Carly Stein must be quite a dog," the man murmured, "because it looks to me like she's wagging two tails. Now, why don't we step into this convenient alley and talk this over–"

"Very entertaining, Ms. Stein," the tall man said, getting to his feet. "But this has gone on long enough. Why don't we . . ." His eyes rolled up and the tiny room seemed to shake as he thudded to the floor.

"Well, that's a relief," their host said, poking him with his toe. "I was starting to think I hadn't given him the right mug after all."

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About Anthony Lee Collins

I write.
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