Chapter Thirteen

April would not rest until she’d convinced Guin to get a drink with her after work. Guin ultimately caved only to avoid being rude. The bar they chose was only blocks from her own apartment. They traded their uniforms for track suits from Guin’s locker, one of which had fit April just fine.

“This is genius,” April said, thumbing the zip-up jacket.

“Yeah, I always keep a few stashed at work. Can’t drink in uniform blues.” Guin’s eyes lit up as the bartender slid two tequilas in front of them. She chuckled. “Everyone thinks I’m such a dedicated runner.”

“Oh come on, you’re a runner.” It was clearly a compliment. April eyed the amber liquid in the shot glasses. She gave it a sniff, continued, “Where do you run?”

“Mostly to the bar,” came Guin’s monotone answer. She raised her shot, waited for April to do the same. “A salute to Australia.”

“Salute,” April chimed in. They clinked tiny glasses and tossed back the shots. Guin pushed her glass forward, indicating she was ready for another. April grimaced, even panted. “Was that tequila? Goes down like gasoline.”

“Two more gasolines, please,” Guin directed the nearby bartender, without missing a beat.

“Yikes.” April was still cringing when the second round came. “I’m glad I could convince you to get a drink with me, no matter how horrendous your choice of beverage.”

“Yeah, well I guess since I’m stuck with you I might as well make the best of it.” Guin didn’t laugh, and April eyed her warily as they clinked glasses a second time. They slugged down two more of the shots.

April slammed the shot glass down, nearly spat. “Christ, how do you drink this stuff?” She grabbed a lime wedge.

Guin tried to hide a grin.

“You think this is funny?”

“No.” But the word was wrapped inside a laugh. Guin amended her answer, “Maybe a little.”

“You’re really a brat, aren’t you?” April gently chastised her. She smiled, nodded. “Yeah, a total brat. I thought so.”

April motioned to the bartender for water and nearly drained the glass in one long drink. She wiped her lips on a cocktail napkin.

“Oh, I found a place. It’s on Chandler.”

Guin wriggled her eyebrows. “On Chandler, huh? La-di-da.”

“Well, the low-rent side of Chandler.” She drank more water.

“So, when you moving in?”

“I get the keys next week and until then I’ll spend my every spare moment packing.” She grinned. “So this little outing is my last hurrah before I’m too tired to ever move a muscle again.”

The bartender was hovering near them and Guin gave him a nod. “Well, then we better make it worth your while. If you want me to help with the move, I can.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Guin nodded. “If it’s good enough for Burnette, it’s good enough for me.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” The bartender delivered fresh shots and April slid one toward her partner. They raised glasses for another toast. “Considering I didn’t think you liked me when we first met.”

“I didn’t,” Guin said and downed her shot. April’s jaw was slightly gaping. Guin quickly smiled, allaying her partner’s fear that she was serious. “No offense. I just wasn’t ready to say hello to a new partner when I wasn’t done saying goodbye to my old one.”

“I get it. No offense taken.” April looked earnest, then injected a little silliness. “Especially if you’re going to lug my crap across town.”

A rugged looking cowboy type—boots and all—sauntered into the bar and hoisted himself onto a stool down a ways. He gave a nod their way, probably directed at April. Guin suddenly felt slighted.

The cowboy ordered a Budweiser, glanced their way a second time, clearly flirting with April.

“Take a look at that,” April said. She nudged Guin his direction. As if she could miss him.

“Sorry, not my type. He’s all yours.”

“My type?” came April’s shocked-sounding whispered reply. “No way. You kidding me?”

“Well then, what kind of guy do you go for?”

April’s expression was a hybrid of offense and humor. “The kind that are girls, as if you had to ask.”

Guin should have figured as much, thanks to her visions. Though it had crossed her mind that April might become a convert or dabbler, like Cheryl had been. Or worse, maybe April knew about Guin’s visions. Maybe she was a mind reader. Far be it from Guin to discount such abilities, given her own. All these things conspired in her head, and manifested into a strange expression.

“Oh, come on,” April said, looking at her incredulously. “That’s all the better your gay radar is?”

Guin snapped out of her daze, struck by the accent-garbled phrase. “You mean, gaydar?”

“Whatever,” she said, somewhat flustered. “But seriously, you couldn’t tell?”

Guin gave her a quick, embarrassed once-over. “Well, not by looking at you, if that’s what you mean.”

“What else would I mean? I could tell it about you right away,” April said smugly.