The Original Sinners: The Red Years

Wesley spit the highlighter out.

“Yeah. I’ve got three days of make-up work. I know what I’ll be doing this weekend.”

“Don’t work too hard. I want to see nothing but decadent laziness on your part.”

“I think I can handle that. Where are you going?” he asked as she pulled her coat on.

“Across the street. Zach’s coming over. When you’re done laughing at him, just send him over. Tell him to go in and look up.”

Wesley eyed her suspiciously.

“Why would I laugh at Zach?”

She bent down and kissed him on the forehead.

“You’ll see.”

* * *

Zach hopped the train and headed north to Nora’s. But when he knocked on the door it was Wesley who answered.

“Feeling better?” Zach asked.

“Much. Puking your guts out then fainting in a library bathroom is no way to spend a Monday night.”

“Agreed. Nora seems quite pleased to have you back. You gave her quite the scare.”

“It’s only fair. She scares me half to death at least once a week.” Zach laughed but Wesley’s eyes showed no mirth.

“You’re looking mostly restored.” Zach envied the boy his youth. Three days in the hospital and Wesley still looked hearty and hale.

“Nora said I looked ‘fit to be tied up.’ I’m hoping she didn’t mean it literally.”

“Apparently someone meant it literally with me,” Zach said, pulling his hand out of his pocket and showing Wesley the handcuffs dangling from his wrist.

Wesley laughed at him and Zach couldn’t help but join in. It really was quite embarrassing and ridiculous.

“Don’t feel bad, Zach,” Wesley said when he was done laughing. “Nora made me help her with a scene once. I ended up hog-tied on the living-room floor for half an hour.”

Now it was Zach’s turn to laugh. Was there any woman in the world quite like Nora? He was so glad she existed; even more glad there was only one of her.

“Where is Nora, by the way? She’s going to try to help get these things off me.”

“If anyone can, it’s her. She wants you to meet her at church.”

“Church?”

Wesley stood on the threshold of Nora’s house with his arms crossed over his chest. He reached out and pointed to a building on the corner of the block.

“There. Go in. Look up. You’ll find her.”

Wesley shut the door and Zach crossed the street and reached the end of the block. Zach read the sign out in front of the church. St. Luke’s Catholic Church, it said with the mass schedule underneath.

With trepidation, Zach slipped through the front doors of the small neo-Renaissance church. Apart from attending the weddings of a few friends he’d rarely stepped inside a church before. And he was certain this was his first time in a Catholic sanctuary. He glanced at the dripping candles and the stained-glass scenes of violence. In this setting the imagery in Nora’s books made more sense.

Go in, look up, Wesley had instructed.

Zach strode to the center of the sanctuary and looked up.

“I’m up here, Zach.”

Zach glanced up and found Nora at the back of the church leaning over the ledge of a small balcony section.

“What are you doing up there?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low. The acoustics were so good he felt as if he shouted every word.

“Choir practice. Show me the damage.” Zach pulled his hand out of his pocket and held up his wrist to show her the dangling handcuffs.

“My, my, my…” She sighed, affecting a Southern drawl she no doubt stole from Wesley. “I see temptation has come a knockin’ and you have answered the door…”

“Hardly, Blanche DuBois. I have a rather irksome prankster at my office. This was his pathetic attempt at a joke.”

“Well, come on up. Let’s see what we can do.”

Zach found the tiny stairwell that led to the loft. In the loft he found smaller versions of the church’s pews and an ancient-looking sound system. Nora sat on the balcony ledge and pointed to the pew in front of her.

“Come here, Kinky Easton.” She beckoned. “Amateur. You know you should always do an equipment check before you play.”

Today Nora wore jeans and a white blouse. With her hair down and loose about her shoulders, Zach was drawn to her despite himself. She reached for his hand and he felt a current go through him when her fingers touched his wrist.

“So what do you think?” he asked, trying to ignore the pleasant sensation of his hand in hers. “Some sort of wire cutters? Or can you pick the lock?”

“I can pick it. But I don’t have to.”

Nora reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her keys. She flipped through a couple of them, stuck one in the lock and turned it. The cuffs popped open and fell off his wrist.

“Wonderful,” he breathed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She stuffed the keys back in her pocket and picked up the cuffs. “These are police issue cuffs. The key on them should have worked.”

“It didn’t. Both Mary and I tried.”

“Your prankster was really trying to cause trouble then. Handcuffs are mostly standardized in America and Canada. He wanted one or both of you to get stuck.”

“You know your stuff, don’t you?” he asked, impressed despite himself.

“I strive for authenticity in my work.”

“So that’s why you keep a handcuff key with you?”