Nine-tenths of the Law

Chapter Twenty

Dylan and I leaned against the box office, watching one mob of customers exit Auditorium Three while another funneled into Two. We’d had a problem with theatre hoppers recently and were determined to bust them.

“This is why we shouldn’t schedule them so fucking close together,” Dylan grumbled.

“If we add any more time between them, we’ll have to reduce showings.” I watched a couple of teenagers come out of the auditorium. They paused, eyes darting back and forth as they talked behind their hands.

One of them looked right at me, and I swore he blanched. I raised one eyebrow, and the kid elbowed his friend, then half-dragged him toward the exit. I watched them until they were gone, trying not to laugh when the kid shot me a nervous glance just before they disappeared outside. That’s right, you little bastards. I’m onto you.

“Zach, are you listening to me?”

I turned to Dylan. “Sorry, I was giving some kids the evil eye. What’s up?”

He gave a sharp, impatient huff. “What I was saying,” he said, “was that we might want to consider staggering showings by fifteen or twenty more minutes.”

“We’ve been over this,” I said. “That adds up. We’ll end up cutting showings and having employees on the clock longer for the fewer showings. I’d rather lose a few dollars to these little shits than increase payroll and lose showings.”

“Okay, fair enough, but-” Dylan suddenly stiffened. “Hoppers.”

I craned my neck. “Where?”

“Kid in the red T-shirt and the one in the Yankees cap,” he said. “Just came out of Three and are going into Two.”

“All yours,” I said.

“Thieving little bastards,” he muttered, and shouldered his way into the sea of people to throw the theatre hoppers out. I cursed under my breath and shook my head. We didn’t exactly show films that appealed to high school students, so I wondered if they just did this to get their kicks. I could certainly think of more entertaining things to do than sitting through a two-hour foreign film just for the thirty-second thrill of sneaking into another two-hour foreign film for free, but what did I know?

Either that or they just liked indulging in the somewhat less stringent restrictions on full-frontal nudity and sexual content in films from other countries. That thought made me chuckle to myself. I couldn’t blame them entirely. Some of those scenes were well worth sitting through two hours of subtitles.

Shaking my head, I started toward the office to finish some paperwork so I could leave on time and meet Nathan.

“Hey, boss,” a voice behind me said.

I turned around to see Max striding toward me. The door to the projector-room stairwell banged shut behind him and I barely kept myself from groaning. No, no, don’t say it. Don’t. Not today. Please-

He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Projector’s down again.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. He didn’t need to explain any further. Without a word-aside from the long, colorful tirade in my mind-I followed him upstairs. Fortunately, there were no more showings in Auditorium One that day, but it still needed to be fixed. We’d be relying heavily on it the next day. And my blood pressure so needs this today.

Before I went to work on it, I glanced at the clock above the window. It was almost five. I was supposed to meet Nathan at seven, so I had plenty of time.

By five thirty, the damned thing still wasn’t working.

Around five forty-five, I found a component that was as defective as it was antiquated. Since the Stone and Bronze Ages were long since over, the parts were discontinued, so I hoped to God that someone in the area had a few spares lying around. It took a half hour of calling around to other theatres in the area, but a buddy of mine on the other side of town used the same kind of projector and had a pretty good cache of parts. I sent Dean across town to get the parts.

So much for meeting Nathan on time. I scowled and speed-dialed him.

“Hey, what’s up?” he said.

“I have to bail tonight,” I said, glaring at the piece-of-shit machine that was going to be replaced soon if I had to pay for the new one in blood. “I’ve got a projector down and there’s no way I can leave until it’s running again.”

He was quiet for a second, then said, “Any idea how late you’ll be there?”

“Not a clue.” I rubbed my eyes. “I’m waiting on some parts, and God only knows if it’ll be enough to get it working before the next millennium.”

The silence lingered a moment longer this time. “Well, if you still want to come by, give me a call when you’re done.” He paused. “I’ll be up late, so, whenever.”

“I’ll call you when this thing is fixed or thrown out the window, whichever comes first.”

“Talk to you then.” He didn’t sound amused, but I couldn’t blame him. I’d just thrown a wrench in his plans for the evening.

I’ll make it up to you, Nathan, I promise, I thought after we’d hung up.

Almost two hours after Dean left, he finally came meandering in with the parts-and some fast food.

“Sorry, boss,” he said. “Got stuck in traffic.”

“At the drive-through?” I growled.

He looked a little sheepish, but not nearly repentant enough to satisfy me. Still, I didn’t have time to deal with it tonight.

“Go eat,” I snapped. “Then I need you and Max both in the projector room.” I held up the bag of parts. “If these don’t do the trick, we’re going to have to move the projector, and I need the two of you to help me.”

“Will do.”

The parts, unfortunately, did not do the trick.

“Max, go find Dean,” I said. “We’re switching One and Two.”

“But what about all the showings in Two tomorrow?”

I glared at him. “Dylan and I can figure that out. Go. Get. Dean.” He did as I asked and hurried out of the room as I unfastened the bolts on the base of the projector.

With three people, switching the projectors didn’t take too long. We tested the working machine and made sure the film was in focus on the screen, then bolted both projectors in place.

And we were done.

Finally.

I let out a breath. Tomorrow would be spent trying to get the projector back up and running, but disaster was averted for the time being. The main auditorium had a functioning projector. The showings in the smaller auditoriums could be bumped around if needed. We’d manage.

Looking up at the clock, I scowled. It was almost eleven. I hesitated to call Nathan so late, but he said he’d be up. It might be too late to get together with him, but at least I could talk to him, if only for a few minutes.

I reached for my phone, but it wasn’t on my belt.

“What the-” I looked around, trying to remember where I’d left it. “Max, have you seen my cell?”

“I think you left it in your office,” he said. “When you were calling around earlier.”

The light came on in my head. He was exactly right. “Thanks.” At least you’re good for something.

Just as he’d predicted, my phone was on my desk. There were two missed calls and a couple of text messages, all from Nathan. I couldn’t blame him. When I said I was working late, I don’t think either of us expected me to be working this late.

I speed-dialed him.

“Hey.” He sounded tired.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I was awake,” he said, his tone flat.

“Okay, good. Listen, I just wrapped things up here. Still have a few things to do before I leave, but I thought I’d at least call.”

“Still want to come by?” His tone was unreadable. There was an invitation in his words, but something else I couldn’t quite place.

“I, um, sure,” I said. “Are you sure it’s not too late?”

“Nah, it’s not too late.” There it was again. Some hidden subtext. Some hidden…something. “Assuming it’s not too late for you?”

“Not at all,” I said. “Give me about half an hour to square a few things away and get my employees out of here, then I’ll head your way.”

“See you then,” he said, though he didn’t sound overly thrilled about the idea. After I hung up, I looked at my phone and chewed the inside of my cheek. Then I shrugged. Whatever it was, he’d be easier to read in person.

I clipped my phone to my belt and went into the box office to take care of some last-minute paperwork. Hopefully I was imagining whatever I thought I heard in Nathan’s voice. All I knew for sure was that, after the day I’d had, there was nothing in the world I needed more than a night with him.

I shivered at the thought. There weren’t many things a night with Nathan couldn’t cure. And soon, that was exactly what I’d be having. Just a few more papers, a few more things to tidy up, and I could get the hell out of here and-

Someone tapped on the window. I glared at the opaque window shade. I couldn’t see the person on the other side, and fortunately, they couldn’t see me, so they didn’t know if there was someone in the box office or not.

Another tap on the window.

I rolled my eyes and whispered, “What part of ‘closed’ do you people not understand?” Any time the light was on in the box office, even when the shades were drawn and the closed sign was out, people assumed someone was here. There was a time when I’d help anyone who came up to the window, but a few nights of being here way past closing time just to explain our showings for the next few weeks had broken that habit. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to volunteer myself for anything that might keep me away from Nathan a moment longer.

I carefully moved papers so they wouldn’t hear me. Sooner or later, they’d leave. Hopefully sooner, because I needed to get the hell out of here. As long as someone was standing outside, I ran the risk of getting caught up in a conversation if I tried to leave, so I figured I’d wait them out. I couldn’t even turn the light off yet, because then they would know someone was here.

Voices murmured outside. Shoes scuffed on pavement, but it sounded more like someone shifting their weight or fidgeting than walking away. Get out of here, you’re keeping me from Nathan.

A full fifteen minutes went by before the persistent bastards gave up and left. As soon as they were out of earshot, I grabbed my jacket, turned off the light and headed for the door. It took everything I had not to sprint to my car. Not only was I in a hurry, but the entire world seemed to be conspiring to keep me away from Nathan tonight, and I intended to deny it every possible opportunity to do it again.

I was certain I’d have a flat tire, or the car wouldn’t start, or some gremlins would have stolen my key off the ring, but the tires were inflated, the key was still there and the engine turned over without hesitation.

“Thank God,” I whispered aloud. My tires squealed as I peeled out of the parking lot, and for the duration of the drive to Nathan’s, the universe didn’t put anything else in my way.

It didn’t dare.