The Raft

  Chapter 19

  They had a silent dinner as the evening sun streamed in through the window to the west. Maggie ate, Rachael picked at her share of the noodles. Maggie ordered a third carafe of wine and they quickly put it to bed. With the pasta and meat finished, the waiter cleared the plates and Maggie ordered gelato and coffee. Finally, she got her ice cream.

  After dessert, the bill came and Rachael produced her Times Visa. Maggie choked when she caught a glimpse of the upside-down receipt Rachael was signing: twelve hundred dollars for dinner. The rapidity of dryfoot inflation always took her by shock, but the bill was almost triple what she expected.

  “Let me get that,” Maggie said, reaching out for the receipt.

  “No, no, business expense,” Rachael said, slightly slurring her speech.

  “No, the paper shouldn't have to pay for my wine,” Maggie insisted.

  “And you have money?” Rachael looked up from the bill, raising an eyebrow.

  “I have Sum,” Maggie said.

  “They don't take that onshore, Maggie.”

  “Of course they do,” Maggie corrected.

  “No -” Rachael began, but Maggie didn't wait for her to protest.

  She waved down the waiter. Quietly she asked, “Do you take alternative forms of payment?”

  For a moment, the waiter looked suspicious, then his scowl turned into a smile. “Of course, I'll just be a moment,” he said, taking the bill away from Rachael.

  “See?” Maggie said, self-satisfied.

  “You'll get them arrested,” Rachael shook her head in bewilderment.

  “You're just sore because my money is better than your money.” Maggie laughed. She finished off the last of her coffee.

  The waiter returned with another bill, this one on shiny printer paper from Gandalf's Exchange. It was for almost five hours. Maggie coughed. Now she regretted trying to make a point. She signed the paper with her user ID and tipped the receipt, folding the copy quietly in half.

  “Thank you,” Rachael said honestly. After all, now she wouldn't have to fight with the paper's accountant, trying to explain how dinner for two could possibly cost so much.

  Maggie and Rachael climbed from their seats, moving unsteadily on their legs. They headed for the exit, hanging on to each other's arms for mutual support.

  There was no denying it now that they were up and about, they were both drunk. There was no excuse. Three carafes of wine and it was as if their knees were jelly. In front of DiJulio's, they tripped and giggled like schoolgirls down the last step to the sidewalk. They kept their eyes firmly fixed on their feet, carefully attempting to navigate the uneven sidewalk as they climbed up the steep slope. After a few yards, Rachael reared back and gasped, almost tumbling back down the hill.

  Maggie reached out and caught her by the arm.

  “Shoes!” Rachael exclaimed drunkenly. She pointed down at the pavement, at Maggie's feet.

  “Yes, like them?” Maggie lifted her left foot, modeling the loafer on it. Her bare feet were no longer bare. Until that moment, Rachael hadn't noticed. She'd been so self-absorbed, angry. But ever since the Senator's Queen Anne mansion... Maggie had been comfortably walking around town.

  The... bitch! Rachael doubled over as a wave of laughter rocked her body. “You... you stole his shoes!” Rachael guffawed, howling. “Penny loafers!” Rachael's eyes began to stream with tears. Between the wine and the shoes, Rachael collapsed into a heap on the sidewalk. She clung to Maggie's hand for dear life. The shoes... they were absolutely the funniest thing she'd ever seen in her life.

  Maggie chuckled along. But it wasn't really that funny. “Yeah, I saw them there by the doorway, and I knew I'd need something on my feet, so...”

  “You stole Senator Hadian's shoes?” Rachael howled, pointing down at Maggie's feet. People on the street were starting to give them looks. Maggie picked Rachael up, bodily lifting her back to her feet.

  She had her arms around her waist, holding Rachael's weight. Their bodies were close, dangerously touching, Rachael's cheeks stained with tears.

  “You stole that son of a bitch's shoes, Maggie,” Rachael said, no longer laughing. Then, suddenly she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Maggie's neck and hungrily kissing her.

  Their lips intertwined. Maggie stood frozen to the spot, shocked in wide-eyed panic. Only after Rachael removed her arms from around her neck did Maggie fully understand what was going on. Then she moaned and pushed back hard, letting her tongue dance between Rachael's lips. They kissed for a long, exquisite minute.

  Then Rachael was stumbling away, tripping on her own feet. She fell and hit the sidewalk, quickly springing back up. Before Maggie could say a word, Rachael was sprinting away, back down James towards Pioneer Square, her limbs flying wildly around her, tripping and stumbling.

  “Rachael, wait!” Maggie called out as she began to give chase. But Rachael had already reached the corner of James and Yesler. She held up a hand, and a green hybrid taxi slowed. With a sudden burst of remarkable agility, Rachael threw herself into the back of the cab. Before Maggie had even reached the front door of DiJulio's, the cab was gone. Maggie paused, looking up and down the street.

  “Shit,” Maggie cursed. She stood on the sidewalk all alone and shielded her eyes to the setting sun.

  Shit was right, indeed.

  Now how the hell was she going to get back to the Soft Cell?

  After a long, pointless period of indecision, Maggie remembered the business card in her pocket. She fished it out and blinked incomprehensibly at Detective Sargent Yi's name and number on the card. The door of DiJulio's was right beside her, so she stepped back up into the restaurant.

  Maybe they had a phone she could use. Maybe they had a full bar. Maggie was going to need another drink. A strong one.