I opened my purse and out of habit, checked to make sure my knife was inside. My knife had never failed me; it protected me from evil.

After that, I lifted my mattress up to get the coke I kept hidden there. It had been a while since I’d snorted it, but I didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to remember that awful night. Yet, I knew if I truly wanted to be bad, then I needed to commit myself to it, and if cocaine made me forget, then what was I waiting for? I picked up the flat silver case and opened it, peering at the bag of white powder and tiny spoon that rested innocently inside. Finn had said this was the best. Expensive and guaranteed to get you happy.

Yes, this was coming with me tonight.

Before walking out the door, I gave the bottle of vodka a considering look, but in the end I left it there. I might want it later when I came back to this cold house and celebrated my birthday alone.

“Destiny is a cruel bitch.”

–Leo Tate

LIFE IS CRAZY, and sometimes it totally veers off course. Seriously, sometimes it flows by nice and smooth and then wham! you get bitch-slapped out of nowhere by events and coincidences that seem nigh unbelievable. Is this what the poets call fate or destiny or karma? Maybe. I didn’t know because I never read poetry, but I do write lyrics, so maybe that counts.

But as I looked across that movie lobby and saw Nora, I had to stop and ask myself why she kept popping up in my life. First it was at the restaurant and now here at this small theater, which shouldn’t even be on her grid since it only played classics or movies that were already on DVD. I’d think the mall would be where she’d watch movies; the same place Sebastian did.

She’d walked in with that flaming red hair, and my eyes had followed her as she’d sashayed over to the concession counter. And when she’d bent over to look inside the candy case, I’d sucked in a sharp breath, taking in her sweet ass in a cherry-covered skirt. My hands tightened into fists, remembering how she’d wanted me to fuck her in the bathroom at Ricardo’s. It had taken every shred of self-control I had to walk away from her and not give her what she’d wanted. She didn’t know it, but I’d hung around outside the restaurant until she left, making sure she didn’t end up with one of those sleazy fucks from the bar.

I fingered the ticket stub in my hand, fully intending to head into my movie, but instead, I turned back around, and like an idiot, I found myself walking over to her.

“Don’t get the Milk Duds,” I said, sliding in to stand beside her.

She jumped a little when I spoke, but then looked me over coolly. “Really. Why not?”

“Because they’re called duds, so they can’t be good, right? Think about it, you know the milk part means chocolate, but what exactly is a dud? They should have called it Milk Loser. Means the same thing.”

“You’d prefer Milk Winner?”

I laughed. “Sounds better to me.”

“You should call Hershey’s and give them some consumer input,” she said with a small mouth twitch.

I chuckled and stared into her green eyes, and dammit, I didn’t want to, but I ended up naming all the flecks of colors I saw there: blue, brown, and aqua. I cringed inwardly . . . what guy thinks aqua?

“You’re pretty opinioned about candy, Leo.”

“That’s what happens when you own a fitness club.”

Her eyes widened. “If you brought raw nuts and celery, I’m never speaking to you again.”

I leaned in conspiratorially, feeling playful with her. “Shhh, it’s against the rules to sneak in food.”

She shook her head at me, her smile tilting up just a little bit more, and I found myself wanting to put a full grin on her face.

“Okay, what should I get?” she asked.

“Popcorn, of course, it’s a movie classic.”

“Butter?” she asked.

“It’s got about three days worth of artery clogging fat, plus trans fat and salt. I wouldn’t recommend it,” I said, chuckling at her dismayed face. I loved buttered popcorn, but I liked bantering with her.

She grimaced. “Okay, Dr. Oz, but what about the movie experience? Popcorn without butter is weird. And if I say something is weird, it really is.”

I laughed. “I would avoid the Raisinets, too.”

“This should be interesting,” she said, her eyes sparkling with glee. Ah, she liked my teasing.

I pointed at the raisin on the box we could see through the glass case. “Think about it. Underneath that chocolate is a small, dark, shriveled up food thing that used to be fat and juicy. But they fiddled with it. Tweaked it. Makes you wonder what else they did.”

“You know, you’re really starting to be a dud here,” she said, snickering.

“You guys are so cute. How long have you been dating?” asked the girl working the concessions, who’d been watching the back and forth between us.

Nora shot me a grin. “Him? Nah. He’s too old for me.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “There’s only seven years between us.”

“Six,” she said softly, looking shy all of a sudden.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Today’s my birthday,” she said, shrugging. “I’m nineteen now.”

I stared at her blankly. Damn. Buttercup was a whole year older than I’d thought.

Nora turned to the counter girl. “I’ll take the extra large combo with a Diet Coke. Make it buttered, please.”

“Are you seeing Casablanca or O Brother, Where Art Thou?” I asked as the girl turned to make her soda.

“O Brother. What’s not to love about bluegrass and Homer? And George Clooney? Only one of the sexiest guys ever.”

I looked at her in surprise.

“What? You don’t think Clooney is hot? He is kinda old, I guess,” she chuckled, shooting me a little smirk.

“Just never took you for a Cohen Brothers fan . . . and, no, I do not think Clooney is hot.”

She laughed.

The counter girl put the huge tray down on the counter. “That’ll be twenty-six dollars.”

“We’ll take another soda, please,” I said, pulling out my wallet. I paid the new total and picked up the tray.

She looked at me with wide eyes. “Thanks for paying for mine, but you didn’t have to. It’s not like we’re on a date,” she said, following me as we turned around to head for the theaters.