if not Chloe Pinter, Broker of Babies? Could she be Chloe Pinter, Maui Waitress?
“What’s the first thing people ask when they meet you—‘What do you do?’” Dan continues.
“But I thought you didn’t care about that sort of thing.”
“I didn’t use to.” There is something hard in his tone.
“Then what…” She studies his face, the muscles moving in his jaw that mean he is grinding his teeth, something he does in his sleep.
“You.”
And before he has to turn his attention back to the road, their eyes lock.
“Me? I don’t care what you do!”
“I do.” He squeezes her knee. “You make me want to be better. God, I want this Maui thing to be a success, for us. You have no idea how badly.”
She looks out the window; palm trees dancing in the wind.
“I’m never going to be a doctor,” he warns.
“I don’t want a doctor.”
They are both thinking of Anson Park, the intern who works in her father’s practice. Dr. Pinter never misses a chance to work his career accomplishments or single status into their phone calls. “I don’t want a doctor,” Chloe says again, emphatically. “I want you.”
“Well, you’ve got me, babe. I’m not going anywhere.” Dan smiles over at her as they pull up to Departures.
26
First of the Year
PENNY
She’s got two good legs, Penny thinks. Good enough to get her out, taking matters into her own hands. Her legs still pain her, first thing in the damp mornings ten years later, but they’re good enough to get her to the MAX line. She looks down at them, the scars covered in black slacks, haven’t seen the light of day since what happened outside the Flying J back in Denver when she was fifteen.
Penny tilts her head against the bus window. She’s having one of her firecracker headaches, the kind where it feels like someone’s mowing down the center of her brain with a circular saw. Seven operations and therapies and then, when she was finally let out, her legs were good enough to get her the fuck out of Denver, because after something like that you can’t exactly go back to smoking under the bleachers and quizzes on Christopher Columbus. Got her on the first bus and then a job at Stuckey’s in Wyoming, serving the Truckers Luv It breakfast to Jason eight years ago when he first jackknifed his rig and was laid over in Casper for a week.
NOW JAY’S HOME SLEEPING one off, New Year’s Eve last night, and he and Lisle and Brandi got lit up—won’t even notice she’s gone.
No idea what time it is, gray sky, no sun, she got up and left without peeing even. She can go when she gets there, maybe. Threaten to go on the floor if Chloe Pinter doesn’t do what she wants, and this makes her snicker to herself all the way to Troutdale.
Except when she gets there, the windows are dark, and the little street that runs in front of the shops is empty. Does the whole city have a hangover? Penny wonders. Is she the only one in Portland smart enough to know what drinking gets you?
Just for the hell of it, she tries the door handle and is amazed when it turns, gives, and swings open. It’s a sign, a miracle. Now she won’t have to beg; she’ll just take. For too long she’s been taken from, but now—
“Hell-o?” Singsong, from the office to her right. The woman flicks on a little lamp on her desk, puts her purse down by the computer.
Shit. There’s a tall skinny redhead secretary wriggling out of her raincoat, looks every bit like a Muppet.
“Hi.” Penny’s voice comes out strangled; when was the last time she used it? She coughs, tries again. “Chloe. I’m looking for Chloe Pinter.”
“And you are?”
“Penny.”
“Oh, right. Chloe’s in Hawaii. We’re not open today; I’m just here to do some legals. We have a birth mother in labor.”
Hawaii. Bitch takes their baby and vacations in Hawaii. Penny’s headache is starting to make a sound, a roaring. She stumbles to a chair by the desk to sit down, pushes against the pain with the pads of her fingers.
“Are you all right? Can I help you with something?”
Just then the front door clicks open again. A woman comes in carrying a baby in an infant seat, hood up against the rain.
“Sorry, I really should have locked the door,” the secretary calls out. “We’re not open today. Oh, hi, Angie!”
“Hey, Beverly.” Doubled over in the shadows, the woman doesn’t see