Page 11 of Two Marlboros

“I can tell you’re heartbroken, though,” I ventured, hoping the conversation would take the turn I wanted.

She thought about it for a moment, after which she smiled and lowered her gaze. I could tell it was a fake smile and that different emotions were stirring inside her, but maybe that ticket office was not the best place to talk about it.

You went for a burton, Nathan.

“It’s a really, very complicated story indeed,” she replied.

I curled my lips thoughtfully, but there wasn’t much to think about, because you couldn’t ask too many questions about really very complicated stories.

“And anyway, he will never love me back,” she whispered, perhaps saying it more to herself than to me, but it was enough for my mind to start working out some theories. Maybe she was the mistress of a married man? That would have been acomplicatedsituation at best, though, and somehow I had to frame thereallyand theveryas well. It could have been a married man of some prominence, or a dangerous man. That would have beenreally, verycomplicated.

I felt sorry for her, she was a great gal, but you could see in her face that there was something nagging at her.

Meanwhile, the line went down. Seven people still before us.

My hopes of seeing Nick Carter live, however microscopic and in the middle of a crowd of screaming teenage girls, vanished after just ten minutes, when the box-office clerk announced to us that the Backstreet Boys concert had already been sold out for at least a couple of weeks.

“And I bought my beloved Marlboros every three days in order to have this money saved up,” I whined, in a seat nextto that queue where, until a few minutes earlier, I had been hatching the dream of seeing my favorite band live.

Nelly was sitting next to me and trying to comfort me with a few back rubs. I was aware that she could not understand my drama, but deep down, she also did not know that those five guys had been the first ones I had had certain thoughts about without feeling that there was something wrong.

“Well, it’s not their last tour, is it?”

I sighed. All the time when I was sixteen, with walkman in hand and music blaring, their songs had given me hope that there was a better world outside the four walls of my home, and I had lost count of the nights I had fantasized about seeing them live. Nelly laid her head on my shoulder for a moment, after which she left a peck on my cheek. I felt so bitter.

Someone passed before our eyes and stopped in front of us, but I did not pay much attention to them. I had to look up, however, because they had no intention of budging from there.

“Nathan Hayworth?” the person asked.

It took me a moment to recognize him. “Officer Stoner?”

I stood up, and Nelly did likewise.

“Just call me Ashton. And who would this pretty young lady be?”

Nelly’s look went from surprised to bewildered, ending in an embarrassed expression like the one I had seen on her just before. The two introduced themselves, and from Officer Stoner’s glances I got a pretty good idea of what he was thinking.

“This is the policeman I was telling you about,” I said, turning to Nelly. “The nice one.”

They both laughed, and once again I wondered why I couldn’t just think twice before speaking.

“This happens at the right time,” she retorted, taking me by the arm and turning her gaze toward the agent. “Nathan wastelling me that he would like to go back to the station and make some statements about the robbery.”

I put on a knowing smile that I hoped hid the killer instinct I had toward Nelly. Yes, justice was serious stuff, but so was my safety.

“Great,” he replied. “You can come as early as tomorrow morning if you want.”

“Only if your partner isn’t there.”

He laughed outright and tried to maintain some demeanor by covering his mouth with one hand, in which he clutched two tickets. His embarrassment at having once again been inappropriate was supplanted by curiosity about which concert he was going to.

“I’m sorry, we work in pairs,” he said with a half-smile. “But I’ll try to be there if you come by.”

I broke out my fake smile again. At the very least, I had hopes of not having Agent Scottfield ruin my day.

“What tickets did you buy?” I asked, pointing with my chin to what he held in his hand.

He displayed them with some pride. “Wit Matrix. The ones I told you about, remember? I’m trying to take my girlfriend there for our second month anniversary.”

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