Flirtinis with Flappers (29 page)

"I am sorry for your men," Nick said. "But this is how the scenario is supposed to play out. Someone very wise once taught me that things—even bad things—happen for a reason." He spared a glance at me. "And it'd be selfish to try to change them."

"Then why come here to me?" Bugs asked, raking a hand through his greasy hair. "I don't get it. Why do you care if I live, when you're perfectly willing to let the other guys go down? After all, I'm the one they want."

"It's a long story," Nick replied. "Just be thankful we got here on time."

"Well, technically Sam here was a little late," I interjected, not able to resist. "He has a habit of being late on Valentine's Day." I grinned at him, letting him know I was teasing.

"Yeah, well, I'm a little slow and stupid," he said with a small smile. "But eventually I catch on."

"I'm glad you do," I murmured, my heart swelling with love. I wanted to cross the room and throw myself in his arms. "Very glad."

"Uh, as touching as this scene may be, can I go back to my room now?" Bugs asked, nodding his head in the direction of his bed. "If I'm supposed to oversleep, I might as well get to it."

"Sure," Nick agreed. "But I'm coming in with you. There will be no
jumping out the window to run and warn your men
heroics on my watch."

Bugs sighed. Obviously this had been his plan. "Fine."

"And I have to get back to the hotel," I said, looking at my watch. "Before Machine Gun wakes up."

A sudden thought tickled my brain. Should I really leave Nick with Bugs? Was he really on my side? What if the second I took off he freed the gangster and sent him down to Clark Street in a hurry? He'd accomplish his original mission, history would change, and I'd have been suckered once again.

I shook my head. I had to trust him. Trust that if he wanted Bugs to go down, he'd make it happen, and he wouldn't be sneaky about it. Anyway, it wasn't like I could stop him. He was the one holding the gun. And if I didn't get back soon and McGurn woke up and found me missing, all bets were off.

"So, we'll meet up this afternoon?" I asked, peering into his face, looking for some reassurance. His clear blue-green eyes met mine, and he smiled. Suddenly I didn't have a single doubt. I trusted him. Really trusted him. With the past, the present… and even our future.

"Definitely," he said. "Meet you at seven at the—" He glanced over at Bugs, who was listening a little too intently for my liking. "At the place we went to the other day," he amended, not willing to give our whereabouts to a mob boss whom we had just informed was going to lose all his gang in a massacre. Even if we did save his life, it was up in the air how grateful he was actually going to be.

"Sounds like a plan," I said, squeezing Nick's hand. "Thanks for cooperating, Bugs. Really appreciate it."

Bugs scowled. "As if I had a choice, sweetheart."

"Hey!" Nick said, waving the gun. "That's my girl you're talking to there. You be respectful."

His girl. I beamed. I liked the sound of that.

I went back to the hotel (which was definitely five-star—and a lot nicer than the one I'd stayed in with Nick), changed into my nightgown, and slipped into bed. McGurn was still snoring in his chair, right where I'd left him. He'd probably never even woke up. I was going to have to write a big thank-you note to the sleeping pill company.

It would have been nice if I could be so restful, but there was no way I was going to be able to shut my eyes and drift out of consciousness until I was assured everything had gone off without a hitch. Until I knew for certain that history was playing out exactly as it was supposed to play out. That Bugs arrived fashionably late and didn't join his men in that inner circle of Hell reserved for mobster types.

Not to mention, I wasn't that keen on letting my guard down while sharing a room with a guy who'd threatened to kill me less than twenty-four hours ago.

So I lay in bed, wearily staring at the ceiling. My thoughts unsurprisingly wandered to Nick. How he'd showed up just in time. Saved the day. Didn't let me down again.

Insert dreamy sigh here.

I wondered what had made him change his mind. Was it something I'd said or did? Was it out of his love for me? Would he get in trouble with the FBI? And what was the deal with the two FBI groups, anyway? I felt myself frowning as I went over the two stories in my mind. They just didn't make any sense. It was as if we'd been played somehow. And somewhere someone was looking down and laughing. But who? And why? None of it made any sense.

Too many unanswered questions. But what I really needed to know was what would happen next. Whoever the group was that had sent me here, they certainly couldn't deny that I'd accomplished my mission. Okay, with Nick's help, but so what? History was safe for the moment. Yay for me. So, when would I be going back to the twenty-first century? And how?

Also, when I did get back, would I see Nick? Would he be nearby? Or was he still in LA? Should I fly up to see him or have him come down to San Diego? Would he want to? Would everything be the same once we switched our bodies back? Or would it be awkward, different? I'd assume reentry to our own lives would be pretty hard. Had time passed? Or was it like in Narnia, where a thousand years was like a day?

Ugh. That would mean I'd still have to throw together that "Too Stressed for Sex" story for the eleven P.M. newscast.

There was too much to worry about. I should be thankful that we'd accomplished my mission, concentrate on the present before worrying about the future. Hashing wouldn't help in this case. It was up to the FBI—or whoever they were—to get me back. I just had to enjoy the final moments of the ride.

McGurn snorted a few times then sat up in his chair. I closed my eyes and pretended to be fast asleep. I heard him shuffle around the hotel room for a few moments and then open and close the front door. I laid in wait, wondering where he'd gone and what I should do. But a moment later, the door squeaked open again. I peeked with one eye and saw he'd brought in the morning papers. He flipped the first one open with a crack.

"Massacre!" he cried gleefully. "Louise! Wake up! They're calling it the St. Valentine's Day Massacre! That's great!"

"Congrats, honey," I said, sitting up in bed, projecting Supportive Girlfriend role. Because in a moment I knew he wasn't going to be so happy.

"'Firing Squad Kills Seven in Big Gangland Massacre,'" he read. "'Seven of Moran's men…'" He paused, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Hang on a second," he said, staring down at the paper as if it couldn't possibly be right. Then he looked up at me, his eyes ablaze.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I asked, wide-eyed and innocent.

"They missed Moran. Those bozos missed Moran!" Machine Gun raged. "He wasn't there!"

"He wasn't?"

"That stupid Daisy. This is all her fault. I'm going to kill that girl if I ever see her again."

I cocked my head, worried for my friend. "Daisy's fault?"

"God, you'll never believe this," McGurn said, shaking his head. "I told Daisy to go spend the night with Bugs, like we planned, right? But, according to Tommy, she went and broke Sam out of my club instead! And here I stupidly thought it was you and him havin' the affair." He snorted. "Tommy says she's been flapping her gums about going to Hollywood for weeks. He thinks they went together. If that's where they went, well, they'd better never come back, that's for sure." He stared at the headlines again, then wadded up the paper in his fist and threw it across the room.

Now it was my turn to stare in disbelief. It was all I could do to not start laughing. After everything I'd gone through to make sure Daisy didn't wake Bugs up, the flapper hadn't even been there to begin with. She'd listened to me. She'd headed out west to follow her dream. I hid a small smile, imagining her getting off the train in warm, sunshiny LA, ready to make something of herself. If anyone had a chance, it was Daisy.

"I've got to go," Machine Gun said, rising to his feet. He slipped on his boots. "Al's gonna kill me when he finds out. I gotta go meet with some guys. Figure out what happened." He shook his head. "Moran. I can't believe he flew the coop. No man is that lucky."

"That's too bad, baby," I cooed.

"You, you stay here. You're still my alibi. If any cops show up, you tell 'em I've been here the whole time with you, okay?"

"Sure, baby. I'll be your blonde alibi."

He grinned. "Yeah. I like that. Blonde alibi." He ruffled my head. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go figure out what happened."

He left the hotel room, and I smooshed out the newspaper he left behind, scanning the article. Sounded like everything went off exactly as it was supposed to. Mission accomplished. Twenty-first-Century Girl had made it happen.

So, how come I was still back in time?

*   *   *

That night, I headed down to the bar, the same one where we had learned to Charleston. It was nearly empty at this early hour, just the bartender reading the papers. I found a corner table with a red-checkered cloth. This time, remembering my last experience in the joint, I ordered water.

Nick entered the bar a few minutes later, red-faced from the cold. He pulled off his jacket and scarf and hung them on a hook. I fluttered a wave from my corner and caught his eye. A big grin spread across his handsome face. He headed over and sat down across the table. He was wearing a gray flannel suit with a navy-blue tie and a snap-brim fedora. Gangster hip was a good look for him, but I couldn't wait to once again get a glimpse of his butt in Levi's.

"You did it!" he whispered, reaching across the table to take my hand and bring it to his lips.

"We did it," I corrected with a shy smile.

He grinned back, a bit ruefully. "Of course I wasn't
supposed
to do it. This is definitely the last time this reporter will be asked to moonlight as a secret spy by the FBI, that's for sure."

The thought sobered me for a moment. As much of a triumph as this was for me, for Nick it was a failure. "I'm sorry," I said, picking up the salt shaker and toying with it.

Nick shook his head. "Don't be. I gave what you said in that motel room a lot of thought, and you were right. Just because we
can
manipulate the past to change the future doesn't mean we
should."

"Right."

"I'd been so wrapped up in the idea that changing history would make things better. But you—who were hurt more than anyone by the way things played out—were the most determined that things should stay as they are. Everything happens for a reason, you said." He shrugged. "I realized you were right. Even though life can be unbearably painful, even though horrible things happen. Who are we to try to change them for our own selfish interests?" He paused, then added, "It just struck me as wrong somehow. Like, if we want to achieve a better tomorrow, we shouldn't focus on yesterday."

I nodded, so happy that he'd come to this conclusion. Not to mention that he'd come to it because of something I had said. Maybe I was more convincing than I gave myself credit for.

"Won't you get in trouble?"

He shrugged. "Probably. But it'll be worth it. We saved the world, right?" He grinned at me, and I grinned back. "Can't argue with that."

"Right," I said, offering up a high five. He smacked my hand with his. "We're practically superheroes."

We laughed for a moment, then grew silent. The tinny sounds of cheerful jazz floated through the bar as we lost ourselves in our separate thoughts. I stared down at my hands, wondering what would come next.

Nick broke the silence. "Dora, will you forgive me," he asked, "for all that happened in Iraq?"

I looked up. This wasn't the first time he'd asked me that, of course. But this was the first time I actually contemplated saying yes. Still, as much as I loved Nick, I couldn't just let him back in my life without hearing the whole story. There were so many unanswered questions.

"What happened there, Nick? I need to know the truth."

"I know," he said, his tone ultra-serious. "And I want to tell you. Badly. I want to set the record straight, if you're ready to listen."

I nodded. I was ready to listen. Finally. I felt a strength inside now that I hadn't known before. Something that would hold me fast, no matter what words came out of his mouth. I could take it. I wasn't afraid anymore.

"Uh, you have to promise not to kick me anywhere remotely near my nether region, even if you don't like my explanation."

I made a face. "Sorry about that."

"Twice in one week, Dora. There's only so much of that a man can take!"

"I know," I said, abashed. Poor Nick. I really was a beast. "I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die, all that jazz."

"Okay," he said. "I believe you." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, the reason I'd been bringing you along on the Colonel Devens negotiations was that I really wanted you to get the story. I felt like the network had been underestimating your skill as a reporter and was always passing you by when it came to the important assignments. I figured if you were able to secure the interview yourself, they'd see what a great reporter you are."

"That's so sweet," I said. "Though it still doesn't explain why you were late."

He shrugged. "Actually, I was right on time. I walked in and spotted you and the Colonel sitting at a small table across the bar. Devens seemed really relaxed. You even had him laughing. I was worried if I came over I'd disrupt your flow. So I decided to let you handle it, and I ran out to try to find you some flowers." He blushed. "It was Valentine's Day, if you remember."

"I remember." There was nothing about that day I'd ever forget.

"It took me a while to find a bouquet, but I was determined. You were always teasing me about not being romantic enough, and I wanted to prove you wrong." He laughed bitterly. "When I finally got back to the bar, you and Colonel Devens were nowhere to be found. The barmaid said you'd left five minutes before. I figured you just went back to the hotel. Not once did it cross my mind that you had taken off with him."