Dark Night

Settling in

The next day, John and I worked together for the first time. He came in right after we opened and we chatted as we did the checklist. With the summer, public hours were extended because the elite skaters didn't practice nearly as much. They were still up at the complex, though, keeping up their cardio and weight training, and there were enough skaters who wanted to take ballet, so a ballet teacher from town came up twice a week. Today was one of those days, and I waved at my brother as he sped past, anxious not to be late. I laughed, then turned to John.

"How is it to be back but not as a skater?" I asked quietly as I changed the laces in a pair of rental skates.

"Weird," he admitted, also quietly. "I still miss it some, but college has gone a long way to easing that ache. I'm more concerned about grades and catching up on my sleep and spending time with my family and goofing off with my friends." He smiled at me. "Of course, that's when everything is pretty calm, nobody's started training for next season. I'm a little more worried about how I'll feel when that comes around, but I want to face it from a better footing this year. A stronger footing." I nodded, but before I could say anything, he grinned. "And if I have trouble, I'll let you know." He picked up the screwdriver and expertly tightened some blades that were a little loose on a few skates and we started talking about other things.

I looked up when somebody stopped at the desk and smiled to see that it was Marc. I went up and he grinned. "I'm going to St Louis for a few days to talk to some skaters," he said. "But I'll be back in time for Sunday."

"Thanks for letting me know," I said. "Have a good trip."

"I hope so," he said. "I'll pick you up at eight, is that all right?"

"Sounds great," I said. "I love the beach in the morning."

"Excellent," he said. "I have a lot to look forward to." He waved as he left.

John was looking at the door that Marc had just gone through when I turned back to work. "The beach, huh? Is that just for fun, or a date or something?"

"I always hope that a date's going to be fun," I said placidly. "Will you pass me that box of laces?"

"Do you think you'll start surfing up here?"

"I' m not sure, I've heard it's pretty rocky out there and that there aren't that many places for beginners. Maybe I'll be able to find out more. I'd love to keep it up." Our conversation was broken off by the first wave of skaters for the day, and the facility manager came out in case we needed help, but we were ok. Among the skaters were Paul and his friends.

"My gosh, you guys have gotten so tall!" I said, amazed, as John brought skates over for them. They smiled. "Paul, I swear you've grown at least a foot."

"Thirteen inches." he said with pride.

"I almost didn't recognize you, you've all gotten so cute. How did you guys like being sophomores?" I asked as I made change for them.

"Better than being freshmen," Paul said. 'Hey, John, did you ask her?"

"Dude, I haven't even been here an hour," John said a little testily. "I was getting around to it." Paul rolled his eyes.

"Look, General, my folks are having a cookout for my birthday tonight. You're invited."

"Oh, thank you, Paul, that would be fun," I said. "I've got your present, I was going to drop it off after work."

"Aw, you didn't have to get me anything, Leia," he said, and I just stared at him. "But I'm glad you did."

"Go skate," I directed him. "Have fun. Happy birthday." Grinning, the boys took their skates and went over to the benches on the side to put them on before clomping to the gate and going out onto the ice.

John started to laugh. "His friends didn't think you'd want to come to a birthday party for a high school kid."

I looked at him blankly. "But it's Paul." He laughed harder.

"But you're a college woman now and there's going to be a bunch of high school kids there."

"It's his sixteenth birthday," I said. Then I winked. "I don't have to stay all night. Besides, you'll be there too."

"Yeah. but I have to be. Don't worry, I'll save you when puppy-like high school boys get to be too much for you." He started to laugh again.

"You're a real prince, John," I said, shaking my head but also smiling.

"Hey, John, your brother's sixteen now? Does he have a job?" Don, our manager asked. He looked harassed.

"No, he's going to be getting applications, though. Mom and Dad think he could use some responsibility."

"Have him put one in here," he said. "Joe just quit with no notice and I think Carlie's flaking out too. High school kids. We're understaffed as it is," he muttered, turning around for his office.

"Where else is he applying?" I asked John, who was smirking.

"He hasn't, he's dragging his feet. Doesn't want to interrupt his time on his board. Mom and Dad are insistent, though." His smirk became an evil grin. "I can have him under my thumb if he comes to work here, though, I'll have more seniority on the job." I burst out laughing.

"By, like, a week."

"A week's a week," he told me loftily. "He's got a couple of friends who are also unemployed. He's more likely to work here if he has company, and these jobs will continue into the school year." At that point some girls came in to skate and we got them sorted efficiently but in a friendly manner.

"Point out that girls come here a lot," I directed John, and he saluted.

We were too efficient, and our work was done before too long. We were chatting, leaning on the checkout counter, when my brother reappeared after his lesson and I was struck.

"Hey, Stan, wait a sec," I said, and rummaged in my purse for a thumb drive. "Last I heard, you were still looking for music."

"Yeah, nothing seems fresh." He frowned. I smiled.

"This guy I dated, Arthur, he's a composer. He played me this piece once and it made me think of you," I said, handing it across the counter. "Have a listen. I asked him before finals if I could play it for you to consider using and he recorded this."

"Didn't he dump you," my brother reminded me, not taking the drive.

"Yeah, but we've stayed friendly. Come on," I said, poking his finger with the drive. "You don't have to use it but you're going to like it."

"What does he want if I use it?" he asked flatly, still not taking it.

"Credit, not money. The name of the piece and the composer are often put in banners on the tv when the skate begins and it would be exposure for him. Just listen to it, it doesn't obligate you."

"Fine," he said, sounding put-upon. "Can your computer play it?" I slipped the drive in and soon a catchy drumbeat was playing; it wasn't jazzy, like "Sing Sing Sing", so there'd be no direct comparison with John's fantastic routine. This was heavily influenced by world music and combined elements from all over, with some Western classical music themes to make it kind of traditional but still fresh and exciting.

Stan scowled. "Oh, fuck," he said. "I don't want to like it, but you're right. Let me see if Mikhal's free." He stomped off.