"You guys going with me?" Michael asked, juggling his car keys. "If so, the bus is leaving."
They were, of course; with Eve MIA, they had no other car, and walking in the dark was still not the best idea in the world, even in the new, calmer Morganville. It wasn't a long trip, and Michael drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as if he were practicing fingerings for his guitar; nobody said much. Claire leaned against Shane in the back, her head on his shoulder, and his presence went a long way toward making her forget about how bad her day had been.
At least, until she remembered that he'd once sat like this with Kim, back in undefined olden times. "Hey," she said. "About Kim - "
"Oh man, I knew it. You're not letting it go, are you?"
"I just want to know - did you guys date, or - "
"No," Shane said, and looked away. He'd have been staring out the window, except that the dark tinting prevented him from actually seeing anything out there. "Okay, I took her bowling once. She was pretty good at it. Does that count as a date?"
"It does if you hooked up after."
He hesitated, and finally sighed. "Yes," he said. "Guilty. Dated. Hooked up. She moved on to the next guy. Anything else?"
Claire was totally unprepared for how awful that made her feel. "Did you - did you really like her?"
"Do we need to have this talk now, with witnesses?" Michael held up his hand. "I want it on the record that I'm not paying attention."
"And . . . yet."
"Dude, you got yourself into this; don't blame me." Michael sounded definitely amused, which didn't make Claire feel any better.
"I'm sorry," Claire said miserably. "I guess - we can talk about it later. It doesn't matter, anyway." Except it did. A lot.
Shane turned back to look into her eyes. His pupils were huge in the faint glow of the dashboard. "I was looking for a girl," he said. "Kim wasn't it. You are, so stop worrying about that. But to answer the question, yeah, I liked her. Really liked her? Probably not. I wasn't exactly brokenhearted when she moved on. More like relieved."
Claire blinked. "Oh." She didn't know what to do with that. It made her feel better, and also, a little confused and childish and ashamed. Being jealous of a girl he'd been happy to let go? It seemed wrong, somehow.
"Hey," he said, and carefully traced the line of her cheek, avoiding the burned spots. "I like that you care. I do."
She pulled in a deep breath. "I just don't want to share you," she said. "Not ever. Even before I met you. I know that doesn't make sense, but - "
"It does," he said, and kissed her. "It really does." Michael was smiling, she could see it in the rearview mirror. He caught her watching him, and shook his head.
"What?" she challenged.
"It's a good thing I've got to live with the two of you," he said, "or I'd be putting this on YouTube later. And mocking you."
"Ass."
"Don't forget bloodsucking ass."
"Also, undead bloodsucking ass," Shane said. "That's kind of critical, too."
Michael stopped the car. "We're here." He grabbed his guitar case and got out, looked in on them, and flashed them a knowing grin. "Lock it when you leave. Oh, and remember - vampires can see through the tinting. I'm just saying."
"Ugh," Claire sighed. "And there goes the mood."
Michael disappeared into the artists' entrance, walking as if he owned the stage already; Claire and Shane walked, hand in hand, through the parking garage toward the front. There were a lot of other people parking, talking, walking in groups toward the entrance to the theater. Like most of TPU's buildings, it wasn't exactly pretty - a product of the blocky 1970s, glass and concrete, solid and plain and functional, at least on the outside.
The lobby was warmer, with dark red carpet and side drapes that looked only about ten years out of fashion. Claire saw people staring at her and wished she'd worn her cap, but since she hadn't, she held her chin up and clasped Shane's hand more tightly as he checked their tickets and led her up to the balcony. On the way, Claire spotted a lot of familiar faces - Father Joe, from the church, standing out in his black shirt, white collar, and red hair. People she recognized from classes, who probably had no idea they were coming to hear a vampire play guitar. Oh, and a ton of vamps, blending in except for the glitter in their eyes and the slightly hungry way they scanned the crowd. Some of them even dressed pretty well.
She didn't see Amelie anywhere, or Myrnin, or Oliver, and they were all pretty notable by their absence. She did see the unpleasant Mr. Pennywell, though, looking smug and remote and sexless in his plain black jacket and pants. He was sitting at a small table near the stairs, watching everyone pass. She had the strong feeling he was like those people who stood in front of the lobster tank to choose what was going on their plate.
Ugh.
"Everything okay?" Shane asked her, and she realized that he wasn't talking about the vampires or anything else like that. He quickly amended, "You know, between us?"
"Oh. Uh - yeah. I guess so." She must not have seemed too confident, because he stopped climbing the stairs, looked around, and headed her toward a small group of chairs off to the side at the landing. Nobody near them. It was a darker corner, kind of intimate in the glow of the light on the wall. People moved past in a stream, but nobody seemed to look.
"I need to be sure," he said. "Because I don't want you to think Kim is competition. She's not. Until today, I hadn't thought about her twice."