Page 4 of Midnight Oil

"Sorry, it was an accident." Tate put on what he considered his seductive expression, only after a lot of beers it just looked silly. "Look, babe, I'll drive you to work. I'm not drunk." He moved in for a kiss but I jammed my palms against his chest to keep him back.

"No, not in the mood for this, Tate. I need the keys so I can go to work." I held out my palm.

Shunning the kiss had sparked him right out of his apologetic mood and back into angry, drunk Tate. "Well, I need your fucking car because I'm going to a poker game." He swept past me and headed toward the kitchen. He flung open the pantry door, nearly snapping it off its already weak hinges. "Guess, I'll make my own fucking sandwich."

"Tate, you can't drive drunk." I toned down my rage and added a motherly edge. "Why don't you just skip the game tonight?" Then a thought occurred to me. I'd been so wrapped up in the argument about the keys, I hadn't even thought about money. "Wait a minute, what are you using for poker? We've been broke as field mice waiting for my next paycheck. I barely have enough change at the bottom of my purse for a bus ride across town but you've got a wallet fat with enough cash to play poker?"

Tate was avoiding eye contact, pretending to be absorbed in making his sandwich. "I've got enough for a few games."

"From where?" I laughed dryly. "Did you sell a kidney or something?"

He slathered so much mayo on his bread, bits of it were splattering all over the counter. He stayed focused on his task and far away from my questioning gaze.

"Tate, where did you get the money?" The answer to the question was slowly dawning on me. Suddenly, it felt as if someone had just dropped rocks into my gut. "Tate?"

He piled the last bits of ham onto his sandwich.

I walked toward the kitchen. "My grandmother's platinum watch," I said with a waver in my voice. "The one I've been looking for all month." My words grew quiet as I absorbed the reality of the situation. The man, who had on many occasions declared his undying love to me, had taken my watch, the one left to me by a beloved grandmother and my most prized possession, and sold it to a pawn shop so he could buy beer and play poker.

I stared at him in cold silence waiting for him to finish the charade of making a sandwich. He didn't look up from the bread as he laid the knife next to the plate. He finally found the courage to lift his face to me. "I was only planning to hawk it for one day. I needed enough for a few games of poker. I won enough and headed straight back to the shop. I swear I did, babe." He spoke faster as my tears fell. "But when I got back to the pawn shop, someone had already bought the watch."

Tate circled around the kitchen counter and neared me. He reached up with his thumb to wipe away a tear but I swatted his hand down. "Stay the hell away from me. I've got to go to work," I muttered between sniffles. "I'm off at eleven. Don't forget to pick me up." I stormed out and slammed the door behind me.

Three

Quinn

It was that crazy half hour before the dinner and theater show started. The crowd was lined up around the massive building to find their seats for tonight's medieval meal and jousting competition. Not that it was truly a competition since the scenarios were planned out in advance. But the audience didn't know that or at least they chose to believe that anything could happen. The coliseum shaped theater was filled with risers so that the entire audience could see the center of the arena where all the action would take place. Thestagewas as big as a football field which gave us knights plenty of room to run our horses straight toward each other for our well choreographed jousts. Not that it was so well choreographed that we avoided all injuries. Mistakes happened and if timing was off just a tiny bit or if a horse spooked or did one of the many silly things a hyped up horse is capable of, then injuries were inevitable. Even when one of us got hurt, the rest of the actors were trained to make it all seem like it was part of the show. The audience could go right on lifting their pewter tins of ale and gnawing on their roasted turkey legs while we quickly moved an injured actor off the jousting field.

Billy, one of the dressing assistants, finished tying off the last of my shoulder plates. The owners had spent a fortune hiring costume designers to create elaborate and functional costumes for each member of the theater. It took a good hour and two assistants to transform me from plain old, everyday Quinn into the Red Knight. The armor was both for show and safety. It made movement and riding a horse a chore but our modern made armor was much lighter and more efficient than the cumbersome crap the real medieval knights had to wear.

I took one last glance in the full length mirror. Kyla, the stylist, had pulled the top half of my long hair back with a strip of leather, a look that went with the whole knight thing and had the bonus of keeping my hair out of my eyes when I was under the full face helmet.

My armor made me so wide, I had to turn sideways down the narrow hallway leading from the dressing area to the center of the behind the scenes activity. The groomers would have the horses ready and waiting in all their medieval regalia. I was on Archer tonight. He tended to ride hot when there was a big, boisterous crowd. And from the hum of noise outside the building walls, it was going to be one of those nights.

I passed the corridor opening that led to the kitchens and food service area. Suzy, the server I'd been admiring from afar, was lifting a tray of glasses onto her hip. Her pretty face scrunched as she winced in pain. She quickly shifted the tray to the other hip. I dashed down the hall to help her. I was, after all, a knight.

"Fair lady, doth thou need help with thy tray?" I asked in my deep knight's voice.

She shook her head and that smile of hers, the one that could light a thousand candles, brightened her face. "If it isn't my favorite knight to the rescue," she said lightly

I took the tray of glasses from her. "Where to, milady?"

"The red section. I'm one of your serving wenches tonight." Her pale blue eyes always knocked me momentarily senseless.

"If only that were true in every sense, milady. For you have already captured every inch of my soul with those powder blue eyes and that heart melting smile."

She rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't you be saving that mush for the fair Princess Gwendolyn? I've heard that she was your latest conquest, both on and off the jousting field."

I feigned outrage and followed her to the corridor that led to the dining arena. "Those scandalous rumors are—well, mostly true." I popped out of my knightly character. "Gwen and I had a thing for about a month, but it's over. I've definitely learned my lesson about dating women I work with." My big boots thundered in the corridor. We reached the dining area door. Suzy held it open for me as I shambled past in my unwieldy costume with the tray of glasses.

She had just enough dimple in her right cheek to make a man crazy. "I'm proud of you, Quinn. It only took you—what—fifteen women to finally learn your lesson? Or maybe you just ran out of prospects."

I followed her to her station in the red section and put the tray down. "I haven't run out of prospects," I said with all seriousness as I gazed down at her. I had been crushing on Suzy Riley since I started working at the Medieval Joust Theater but she was in a relationship. And I'd already convinced myself she was way too good for me. Just like she was way too good for the job and the asshole she was dating. I'd only met him twice, once at a holiday party and once at a company picnic. I'd instantly sized him up as a complete fucking jerk who had no business with a girl like Suzy. Of course, that could have just been the jealousy talking but still, it would have been satisfying as fuck to throw my fist in the guy's face just once.

There was an edge of sadness in her laugh. "Trust me the last thing I need in my already screwed up life is Quinn Armstrong, otherwise known in this building and I'm sure everywhere past these walls, as the tall, dark player."

I took lightly hold of her hand. "Not true. Just waiting for the right wench to own my heart. Actually, she already does, but she doesn't seem to want to own it. Just remember, Suzy Q, when you're tired of being a serving wench, this knight is waiting to make you his fair maiden."

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