Free Femme Noir by Clara Nipper Page B

could result in any outcome. So I had arranged for the wake-up service to call early so I could talk to this bookstore woman, have a nice run, eat lunch, and get to the funeral.
    I fought my way out of heavy layers of sleep to hear the phone ringing. My genitals still throbbed and twitched from last night’s spying. I derived a perverse pleasure from this teasing torture. Was Max calling? I couldn’t find the lamp switch, so I groped for the phone, knocking it from the nightstand. I had what I guessed to be a sinus headache.
    “Hello?” I croaked.
    “This is your eight a.m. wake-up call,” a computer voice said. I hung up and stretched.
    I turned on the television and saw that the local weather people were issuing dire warnings. “Don’t go out at dawn or dusk because of the mosquitoes; don’t go out in midday; check on neighbors and relatives; watch children and the elderly; make sure pets have shade and water; do not exert yourself in any way if at all possible; stay hydrated; allergens and smog are strong; use sunscreen if you must be outside, and these are the warning signs of heatstroke…” I turned it off, flopping back on the bed, yawning.
    I needed information. Sloane might know. Darcy might know. I sat up and scrubbed my eyes. I called Max’s number and the woman who answered said neither Max nor Sloane were home. Take a message? No. I hung up and rummaged through my pockets for Darcy’s number and dialed.
    “Darcy, go!” Darcy barked after half a ring.
    I laughed, still not used to the way she answered the phone. “This is Nora.”
    “Yeah, what’s up? What’s going on?”
    “Well, I don’t know anything about this city and I want to go for a run.” The thought lazily crept across my mind of just running around Swan Lake again. “In a pretty place. And then I need to eat. Know any restaurants?”
    “Going to the funeral later?”
    “Yeah.” I squinted at the clock, wanting a cigarette. The smog of smoke would cushion me from Darcy. I also needed some aspirin. This woman put me on edge. I hoped fervently that Darcy, Ava-Suzanne, and Jhoaeneyie would be busy and I could eat by myself or try Sloane again. I dreaded calling Sloane because I was so afraid of seeing her, fresh from bed and sex-rumpled, happily giddy and deeply satisfied and smelling like Max. And if anyone in the world could recognize that, it was me.
    “Well, Riverparks is the place to run. It’s miles of paved path on the riverbank. I used to run there all the time.”
    I tried and couldn’t picture Darcy’s doughy body running anywhere.
    “But I’m into isometrics now. You know what that is?” Darcy continued.
    “Yes, but where—”
    “I do it twice a day and it really shows. Ava-Suzanne can sure tell the difference.” Darcy chuckled. “I would come run with you, but I get shin splints. I really miss it, though it can be bad on your joints. Are you sure you want to run?”
    “Yeah, I’m used to it. So how—”
    “Well, suit yourself. No more of that high-impact stuff for me. I’ll be starting Pilates soon. Ever heard of it?” She pronounced it “Pie-latts.”
    I rolled my eyes. Ain’t this some shit, I wanted to say. Instead of opening the drapes onto the criminally bright, scorching day, I switched on the dim bedside lamp and studied the Tulsa map. The city was bigger than it looked. “Yeah, I’ve heard of Pilates.” I pronounced it correctly. “Now,” I said as I would to an ornery freshman on my team, “what river is that?” I scratched my stubbly head. I’d need to shave my scalp before the service.
    “Arkansas River, can you find it?”
    “Sure.”
    “Okay then, now, where to eat…you like Tex-Mex?”
    “Sure.”
    “Oh, hold on.” Darcy covered the receiver and I could hear her talking. Then she said, “Ava-Suzanne says why don’t we all meet at Café Kokopelli around one?”
    I rolled my eyes and groaned inwardly. I had asked for it, hadn’t I? “That would be fine.”
    “Then we