Glenn pulled the blanket around her hips, and scooted to the edge of the couch. She closed her eyes, took a slow steady breath, then hazarded another peek. She shuffled to the door wearing her skit-blanket. As Mel headed for the bathroom, she said, "Give me Louie," and took the bat from him. "Somebody's about to get a whoopin'."

How Mel knew the tall figure in the hallway was a white dude she'd never know. Glenn flicked the switch inside her apartment, which made it bright in there, but just as dark outside. She opened the door as wide as the security chain allowed.

"Get the hell outta here, Phil. Phil? Answer me. What do you want?"

"No. I'm not Phil."

"Well, who the hell are you?"

"Geoff."

"I don't know any Geoff." She pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples. "Go away."

"Duncan, Geoff Duncan...remember?"

"No. Can you come back later? I'm not feeling very well."

"You were at my house last night...in Hagerstown." He put his face close to the door. "Bobby's brother."

"Oh. What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?"

A small white card came through the opening. Glenn leaned on the bat. The last time she saw that card he was slipping it into his shirt pocket. She'd taken it as a sign of disinterest. But, he was putting it aside in case he needed it. For what?

"What do you want?"

"Let me in, and I'll tell you."

"Minute." She slammed the door, and unlatched the chain. "Sorry, but I'm not even sure of my own name before my first cup of coffee." She shuffled back to the sofa. "Besides, can't be too careful in this neighborhood."

Mel came out of the bathroom, and stared at Geoff. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Glenn said.

Mel continued staring. "You sure?"

"Yes, Jacqmel, this guy is harmless," she said. "Now, hurry up, you're already late for school."

Mel walked to the bedroom, turned, and said, "I'll be right inside getting dressed, if you need me."

Glenn turned her trained eye on Geoff. He was wearing a brown leather jacket over a berry red T-shirt. His fingers were shoved into the front pockets of jeans that were the same shade of black as his Nikes, and his eyes were on Jacqmel. What did he think about her having an African-American adolescent in her apartment in the morning, in his underwear?

She sat on the sofa in a heap of blankets. "You had something to tell me?"

Geoff sat in the corner of the couch. "Now that I'm here, it seems kind of stupid."

"You won't get an argument from me. You may have noticed, I'm not a morning person."

The bedroom door opened, and Mel came through the living room. "I can stay. If you want."

"Go to school, Jacqmel. Oh, let me get you some money," Glenn said.

"I already got it."

"Your books?" she asked.

"I'll pick 'em up next door." Mel shot one more look at Geoff. "See ya," he said, opening the front door. "Wouldn't wanna be ya."

"See ya," she said. "Have a good one."

Geoff asked, "How old is he?"

"Fifteen. Shocked?"

"A little."

"Let me guess. You're a redneck bigot? What a surprise."

"Obviously there's nothing sexual going on since you're sleeping out here," Geoff said.

"Maybe I got kicked out of bed for snoring."

Geoff shook his head. "No, but he is protective of you. But, it has more of a friend feel to it, or a son protecting his mom, except his schoolbooks are next door. So, you're being a good neighbor, and that means you're probably a decent human being. That's what shocks me."

"Didn't think I had it in me?"

"Frankly, no. Especially after what you did last night."

"I thought we had called a truce," she said.

"I thought so, too. Until my mom was making breakfast for you, but you weren't there. Imagine our surprise. More to the point, imagine my mother's disappointment."

"And, that's what you came here to tell me? That breakfast is ready?"

He stuck out his bottom lip. "I came to tell you're a selfish brat. I don't know why you went sneaking off like that. But, I figure you probably do that sort of thing all the time. Then I thought, maybe nobody ever called you on it. How are you supposed to know better if nobody ever calls you on it? My mom would never be so rude."

"Fortunately, she has you for that: the 'manners police'. You know, you spend a lot of time hiding behind your mother."

Glenn got to her feet, and scowled down at him. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving prominence to his basset hound eyes as he looked up at her. They were soft and kind, and Glenn had the sudden sensation she was drowning in chocolate. She took a deep breath.

"Why don't you stand up to me like a man?"

"What is that supposed to mean? I don't even know what that means," he said, rising.

"I mean, stop saying this is for your mom, and just have the gonads to speak for your own self."

"That's what I'm doing."

"Well, speak up. Loud, and clear so there aren't any further 'miscommunications'."

Geoff's brow puckered. "I don't know why you did such a deceitful thing as slinking off in the middle of the night without leaving a note thanking Mom for her hospitality. My mom-yes, Mom-was hurt and confused. She just assumed it was somethingshe had done wrong."

"That's ridiculous."

"I should have trusted my instincts about you. You probably don't even have any intention of using the photographs you took. It was just an excuse to get into the house. I know that's crazy. I know you were there to take pictures, I know that."

"That's where I went," Glenn said. "To develop the pictures. I told you, I got the shots I needed last night. I told you that."

"But, you didn't say you were leaving," Geoff said. "Nor did you have the common decency to leave a note."

"I figured you'd be glad to see me gone."

"Nobody is more surprised to find me here, than me. I just had to ask why you flew the coop. Now that I'm here, and I see how you had to get back for personal reasons."

"You don't know anything more about me, or my personal reasons, than you did last night."

"Sure, I do. I know about what's-his-name. Jack."

"Jacqmel."

"That's the last thing I expected from you," he said.

"That's the trouble with making snap judgments. That's why photographers take more than one shot. It's the only way to get thewhole picture."

"Yeah, yeah, and you can't tell a book by the cover." He sat down.

"How did you find me? I know my card has the address on it, but it doesn't have the apartment number."

"I found your name on the mailbox," he said.

"I forgot to get my mail last night. Now where did he put those keys? It's too early to play hide and seek."

"There they are, on the end table. But, you're not dressed to go out." His eyes moved up and down her torso, lingering on her legs. "I'll fetch the mail for you."

She tugged the blanket around her a little tighter. "I've got to have a shower. Just put the mail on the coffee table...oh, and you can have a cup of instant coffee if you want to make it. To go, for the trip back."

Glenn's close-cropped hair was washed, and toweled dry in minutes. She pulled on a pair of black Lycra bicycle pants, dropped a large sweatshirt over her hips, and dragged a brush through her hair. The whole ritual took less than fifteen minutes. She found Geoff looking through some prints she'd framed, but hadn't found time to hang. He squatted beside her worktable, and sifted through them. She fished her heavy socks out from under the sofa, and put them on.

"See anything you like? Everything's for sale."

"I like them all," Geoff said.

"Will that be cash or charge?"

"I don't want to buy them."

"You like them, just not enough to spend money on them. Story of my life."

"Of course, if you wanted to make of gift of one of them to me," Geoff said.

"Everybody wants something for free," she said.

"Hey, itis Christmas. Time for giving gifts."

"Also time for commerce. How come everybody else can make a buck at Christmas, but me?"

"Because you're anartiste ? You're above that sort of crass commercialism."

"Yeah, that must be it." She looked through the stack of mail on the table. "Just what I need. More bills."

Geoff wandered around the apartment. "It's halfway nice here."

"It's an armpit. You don't have to be kind. It's a crime-ridden slum, but it's all I can afford. If it wasn't for places like this, I wouldn't have no place at all. Hey, I know, I could live in my car like the more fashionable bums. But, darn it," she snapped her fingers, "I can't afford one of those either."

"It has possibilities," Geoff said. "Better than my dorm."

"Oh, yes, it's quite the little fixer-upper...a real handyman special."

"Now see, this is interesting. In the middle of these chic second-hand-store furnishings is a fax machine. It's out-of-place. It's expensive, hi-tech, brand new."

"That was a gift. My friend, Shane, who was my boss, got it for me so we can keep in touch. Sometimes I need to send a reproduction, a facsimile, which is after all how the fax machine got its name. Are you hanging around for some reason?"

"You promised me coffee. Do you know you have no food in the house?"

"Not even coffee? Too bad. Well, better luck next time."

"Tell you what. I'll go to the store for you," he said.

"I haven't gotten to the cash machine. I'm not sure I have more than a dollar, oh, and Mel took that this morning."

"My treat, okay? No strings attached. Oh, maybe one."

"Figures," she said.

"You write a note to my mom, and I'll make like a hunter-gatherer and bring some grub to your cave."

"You don't have to bribe me, I'll write the stupid note."

Geoff leaned toward her. "I've looked through your cupboards, Ole Mother Hubbard. You havegot to be hungry. When was the last time you ate?"

She tried to remember. "Why do you want to be nice to me? I thought you didn't like me."