God, she missed him. Suddenly she felt short of breath, flushed, frightened by the intensity of her reaction; she wasn't even sure what she was feeling, really. Sadness, and longing, and a need that just cut the strength out of her.
The tide carried her right, left, finally back to the centre, and she was within striking distance of the door, finally. She had to wiggle her way between incoming patrons, some of whom were high-fiving their buddies, and finally gained the free air on the other side.
The bouncer looked at her, checked his watch, and said, 'Had a good time?'
'Fantastic,' she said. 'Thanks.'
He gave her a wolfish grin, and went back to checking IDs.
Claire made sure he wasn't watching before she turned the corner and headed through the narrow, not very pleasant little walkway between Florey's and its east-side neighbouring building; it was deserted, but it felt ancient and oppressive, and the bricks looked as if they were probably at least as old as the Civil War, if not older. Cambridge, and Boston, had an impressive amount of history that she was only just starting to appreciate.
She wasn't so trusting that she just assumed Brian Taylor (of the Boston Taylors) was willing to help her out of the goodness of his heart, so she loitered in the angle at the edge of that narrow walkway and the wider alley, where the back door of Florey's was, next to a big industrial dumpster that stank even from here of old booze and rotting food. Nobody was there. She waited, and waited, and checked her watch: fifteen minutes, and still no sign of Jesse.
Maybe Brian had blown the whole thing off. Or maybe Jesse just didn't care.
It was another fifteen minutes, and Claire was preparing to try her luck with the bouncer again, when finally, the back door banged open, and Jesse stepped outside. She stretched, all sinuous curves and long legs and arms, and then pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shook one out, and put it in her mouth as she flicked a portable lighter.
'That's a bad habit,' Claire said, stepping out. Jesse took a deep drag, let out a cloud of smoke, and smiled.
'I know,' she said. 'So. What was so urgent I have to spend my precious break time on it? Please don't tell me it's that guy watching your house. I don't have the time right now.'
'Dr Anderson got a visit from some government types while I was still there,' Claire said. 'She wanted you to know about it.'
'Huh.' Jesse frowned and took another long pull on the cigarette, held the smoke, and then let it slowly trickle out in a grey fog. 'Anything particular they seemed to be looking for? Did they ask what she was working on?'
'What do you work with her on? Because no offence, a bartender doesn't seem to be the world's most likely team-up with a physics professor.'
'Hey, I have depth,' Jesse said. 'We have things in common.'
'Yeah, I get it, you're friends, but why would she call you about a visit from the CIA, or whatever they are? She also didn't specifically ask for you. She told me to call Dr Florey. Which means you, or Pete. Right?'
Jesse took her time answering. She took one last drag and stubbed out the cigarette on the brick and finally said, 'It means one of us, yeah. Look, this is really none of your business, Claire, you get that, right? So why are you in it?'
'Because I work with Dr Anderson, and if there's one thing I've learnt about working for scary scientists, it's that you'd better stay aware of exactly what they're into if you want to avoid troubles of your own,' Claire shot back. 'I'm not saying I'm doing it out of general altruism. It's selfish.'
That earned her a glance that was, at least partially, admiring. 'Okay, then. Consider your ass covered. Now. Tell me exactly what she said. Word for word. Can you do that?'
'She said, Call Dr Florey and let him know. That was all.'
'It's a general heads-up,' Jesse said. 'Not run-for-cover DEFCON 4 phrasing. So we're still good. I'll break Pete loose to go over and make sure she's okay.'
'I thought you'd go.'
'It's easier for Pete to cut out than it is me. People notice when I'm gone. Speaking of' - Jesse checked her watch - 'time to water the stampede again. God, I hate game nights, except that my tip jar runneth over.'
Claire nodded. 'Okay. Is there anything you want me to do?'
'Go home,' Jesse said, and winked at her. 'Unless the hot boy you had giving me the message is waiting for you. In that case, hop on that. He was polite.'
'He was just doing me a favour,' Claire said, and felt her cheeks growing a little warm. 'I'm going home.'
'Your loss. Watch your back,' Jesse said. 'If Anderson's got eyes on her, you probably will too, not that they really expect to see anything. You're an eighteen-year-old from Podunk, Texas, after all. They don't know you're secretly a badass.'
'Am I?' Claire asked. Jesse didn't know anything about her - or at least, she'd assumed that to be true.
'Oh, yeah,' Jesse said, and smiled off into the darkness. 'You couldn't possibly have survived Myrnin if you weren't.'
With that stunning comment, she went back inside, and the back door slammed shut behind her. Claire stared after her, thoughts tumbling around in chaos, but what finally stuck was she knows about Myrnin. And Morganville.
Just who was she, anyway?
It was a mystery Claire knew she was going to have to solve ... but not tonight. It was dark, and the alley was creepy, and she suddenly wanted, very badly, to retreat to the safety of their little row house, lock the doors, and call Shane.
She needed to hear his voice.
Feeling safe, as it turned out, wasn't in the cards for her, because when she got home there was an official-looking card stuck to the front door, and when Claire pulled it off she saw that it was from the police department. The note with it said that there had been an attempted break-in reported by a passer-by, and to double-check all interior spaces and locks to ensure that no one had entered.
Fabulous.
Derrick wasn't at his usual post, which was nice, because the note made Claire feel even more paranoid, and she rushed in, locked the door, and yelled for Liz. Useless, because of course Liz wasn't home; she would have gotten the note if she had been. It was still and dark inside, and Claire methodically made the rounds, checked all the windows, and finally ended up in her top-floor room with the door shut and all the lights burning brightly. She made an effort to unpack a few more boxes (she was rapidly running out of space for what she'd brought) and finally called it quits, fired up her laptop, and tried to reach Shane on Skype. No answer. After she'd tried his phone and gotten the same nonresponse, she instead tried Eve.
And Eve answered so quickly it was as if she'd been sitting there waiting. Her image came on the screen, face turned pale blue by the computer's reflected glow, and the sight of her was enough to make Claire feel a rush of tears. 'Hey,' Claire managed to choke out. 'Thought I'd check in and see how it was going.'
'Claire Bear!' Eve bounced up and down in her chair, twisted around, and yelled, 'Michael! Get your undead ass in here, guess who's calling?'
'I don't have to guess, and you don't have to yell,' Michael said. Claire hadn't seen him approach, but all of a sudden he was there, leaning over Eve's shoulder to give her a light, sweet kiss. 'Hey, Claire, how's your new place? Are you settling in?'
'Not so much, and it's-' She couldn't think how to describe it, so she picked up the computer and panned it around. 'It's like that.'
'Yow,' Eve said. 'Who picked that paint, a drunk colour-blind frat boy? Because a drunk colour-blind sorority girl would have better sense.'
'I know.' Claire sighed. 'This whole thing ... it's - a lot to take in. I started meeting with my new professor. I like her, I guess. But it looks like it's going to be complicated.'
'Oh, we are so not going to waste time talking about dusty professors and boring classes, unless they're sexy, sexy classes. Let's get to the important info. Do you hate it enough to come running back here to us yet? And yes, I'm actually kind of hoping that will happen, sorry, but we miss you loads, Claire.' Eve, always quick to cry, had a glimmer of tears in her eyes. 'It's not the same around here with you gone.'
'She's right,' Michael said. He would have probably gone on, but Eve put her hand up in front of his mouth.
'Sorry, just need to clarify ... what was that you said?'
'That you were right.'
'Ah. I thought you said that. Just wanted to be sure. Although I think you left out the word always, there, and I know you meant to add it in,' Eve said. 'Just trying to be helpful.'
He managed to hold back his sigh, but only just, and leant forward into the camera. 'Hey,' he said, 'could you please tell my lady here that she doesn't have to harass me all the time?'
'Sorry, I do have to. It's part of the marriage vows. Didn't you read the fine print? To have and to harass.'