Matchmaker 02: February

"Great. It's settled."

We finished breakfast and shrugged into our coats. When we stepped onto the platform, I shivered. "Holy shit, it's cold!" I muttered, and this was on the loading platform of Union Station. When we entered the station proper it was much warmer, and we paused to look at my cell phone to see how we could to the Sears Tower. "Look! The Sears Tower, well, the Willis Tower now, is just across this river thing!"

"You want to walk?"

"It says it's only a half-mile."

"Walk it is."

As soon as we stepped out of the station and the cold blast of air hit me, I wondered what the hell I was thinking. My coat wasn't nearly warm enough.

"Jesus!" I muttered as I turtled down into my coat. Being at higher elevation, Santa Fe got cold in the winter, but this was cold at a whole new level.

He wrapped his arm around my waist, and while it didn't do much to compensate for the frigid air, it helped a little with the misery. We hurried across the canal, the wind making me hiss as millions of icy needles pricked at my skin.

The half-mile walk felt more like five because of the cold, but we soon arrived at Willis Tower. I craned my neck as I searched for the top of the building. Ryker might be used to tall buildings, but I was amazed. I had a bit of vertigo as I looked upward but Ryker's strong arms steadied me as I wavered.

"Thanks."

He said nothing but gave me a quick kiss in acknowledgement before we entered the building, causing me to sigh in relief with the warmth of the building's lobby. After buying a ticket, we waited our turn to ride to the observation deck.

"Want to take the stairs?" he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

"A hundred and three floors?" I asked as my right eyebrow crawled up to try to hide in my hair.

"Sure, why not?"

I smiled as I leaned in and motioned him closer. "Because I don't want you too worn out for later," I whispered into his ear.

He beamed as he straightened. "Good point."

We finally had our chance at the cab and rode to the top of the world, or as close to it as I was likely to ever get. The Skydeck was packed with visitors, and we had to slowly work our way to the windows. The view almost took my breath. Ryker stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my stomach to hold me close. I smiled, feeling his hardness pressing against my ass but said nothing. Maybe that was why he never wore jeans, the dress slacks giving him enough room so his boner wasn't always visible. I might not be able to see the bulge, but I could feel it, and I subtly worked my ass against him.

"If you don't stop that, there's going to be a terrible ruckus," he whispered into my ear, causing me to snicker.

I looked down, and again vertigo overcame me. I wasn't afraid of falling, the thick sheets of glass making me feel safe, but the world tilted at an angle and had he not been holding me, I would have stumbled.

"You okay?" he asked as he again steadied me.

I flicked my gaze back to the horizon and the world settled back into its proper orientation. "Yeah," I breathed. "I just can't look down."

After a moment we stepped away from the glass to give someone else a chance at our spot. We slowly strolled around the deck until we reached a short line for the glass box extending from the side of the building.

"Want to go?" he asked as we inched closer.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Come on, you can do it," he said, pulling gently on my hand and drawing me closer to the box. I began shaking my head. "You can do it," he encouraged.

"Ryker, I don't want to. Please."

We were next in line. "You can do it," he insisted softly. "I want to kiss you out there. It'll be like floating in the clouds. How often do you get a chance to do that?"

It did sound wonderful, but my legs began to shake. There was plenty of room for dozens of people, and none of them had fallen to their death yet. He gently pulled my hand, leading me onto the glass floored platform when it was our turn. I began to pant, my legs trembling and weak as we stepped into the box. He pulled me into his arms, and I held to him desperately, my eyes clamped tightly closed.

"Open your eyes," he whispered as he held me close and secure. I shook my head. "I've got you. Open your eyes."

"I can't!" I hissed.

"You can," he whispered, his lips so close I could feel the tickle of his breath.

I forced my eyes open and held his gaze. He kissed me slowly and gently as he held me. We kept it clean, but my passions soared. As he drew back, I looked around me and then taking a deep breath, looked down. My heart leapt into my throat, thudding so hard I was afraid it would burst from my chest. I clung to him as he held me. He was like an oak, solid and unmovable, giving me shelter from the storms of my fear. My heart still thudded, but it began to slow, and he smiled at me, sensing the tension flowing out of me.

"See? I knew you could do it."

"Yes, well, good for me. Can we go back in the building now?"

He released me and I stepped back into the tower as a man and woman with a small child squeezed into the spot we'd just vacated. Once I was a few feet back from the edge, I became almost giddy in excitement.

"I'm alive!" I gasped, unable to vanquish my smile, the excitement of overcoming my fear pumping me up.

"And beautiful."

I couldn't stop smiling, and I wasn't sure my feet touched the ground until we stepped onto the sidewalk outside the building.

"You've really never driven a car?" Deanna asked as she presented her driver's license to the rental car lady.

I shook my head. "I had no need. Taxis are everywhere in New York, and we have a driver and a helicopter for getting around." She shook her head slowly, looking away as she smiled.

In the last several days, as the Southwest Chief roared to Los Angeles, I'd gained a new appreciation for how vast a country the United States was. I'd sat, almost mesmerized, watching as the rolling fields of grain slid past the lounge car's windows. I'd seen my first tractor, and livestock, and long stretches of roads paralleling the tracks with little to no traffic.

In New York, a ride was only a hand signal way. Nobody needed a car, but as we pulled out of Chicago and began to traverse the Midwest, I realized how little I knew about life outside the city. Every stop we'd made had been in another large city. Atlanta, New Orleans, Memphis, Chicago... big cities all.

Deanna and I were from two different worlds. I'd shown her my world, such as it was, and she'd coped well. I hoped I could do as well in hers. I paid for the rental and she led us out to the lot where lines of cars were waiting. She found our Ford and we settled in.

"Lunch?" she asked.

It was a little late, but we'd skipped lunch because we were pulling into the Albuquerque station and I didn't want Michele, the chief, to have to cook as the car bumped and shuddered to a stop.

"McDonalds?" I asked hopefully. That should be enough to tide us over until dinner, and I could get that item off my to-do list.

She snickered. "McDonalds it is."

We pulled into the first 'Mickey D's,' as she called it, we saw on the interstate once we were out of Albuquerque. At her suggestion I ordered the Quarter Pounder with cheese. As we ate, I watched the people coming and going. I was stunned at the number of pickups and SUVs I saw. It seemed everyone drove one, from old men to young mothers. In the McDonalds there was a life and vibrancy that I didn't see in the typical New York restaurant, at least the ones where I normally ate. Instead of hushed conversation, there was a happy babble of voices and laughter. I liked it.

"So?" she asked as we settled back into the rented Ford. "What did you think of your first McDonalds hamburger?"

"It was good. Nothing special, but I'm glad I finally tried one. I can't wait to tell Mother. She'll be appalled."

"I hope you don't mind me saying so, but your mother sounds like a real uptight bitch."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You have no idea. Do you know how her family got their money?"

"How?"

"By shoving lumps of coal up their ass and shitting diamonds."

She giggled. "Really, how did your family get their money? I remember you said your dad expanded the family shipping business."

I nodded. "Mom's family owned a lot of timber back in the late 1800's through the 1940's. Made a shit load of money from that, and then sold out. Now they simply live off the income the money makes. You'd be surprised how much money you can make from investing a few hundreds of millions, all without ever touching the initial investment."

She nodded. "I can imagine."

I shook my head. "No, I bet you can't. How much money do you think you'd make if you invested five hundred million in U.S. Treasury bonds?"

She glanced at me. "How much?"

"Around seven hundred thousand a month."

"A month?" she asked, her tone telling me everything I needed to know about her astonishment.

"That's before tax, but yeah, a month."

"That's a lot of money," she said softly.

I nodded. "Yeah. She doesn't know what it means to have to work, and most of my friends are the same way. Dad, he ignores her and lets her do what she wants, but I don't want to be like that. I see how it affects my friends... and it bothers me. They don't care about anyone or anything because they've always had everything they wanted. That's not the way I want to go through life."

She looked at me and nodded as we purred along the interstate. "I don't know what to say to that."

"Nothing for you to say. I don't think Mom's ever happy. Dad said it's because there's nothing really important to her. Dad has the business, but Mom, she doesn't have anything."

"She has you."

"Yeah, I know, and maybe that's why she tries to run my life. I don't know. I just know Dad seems happy, and Mom doesn't. Dad worked for what he's got, and Mom didn't. As I learned in statistics, correlation doesn't prove causation, but it's something to think about."

"And that's why you wanted to take this trip?"

I nodded. "Yeah, and why I specifically said I wanted someone who didn't have a lot of money to come with me."

She smiled. "Well, I got that last part covered."

"And I know it's probably hard for you to believe, but I think you're better for it."

"Do you really?"

I nodded. "I do. Are you happy?"

She bobbed her head side to side. "Reasonably."

"Would you rather be wealthy or happy?"

"Why can't I be both?"

"You can, I suppose, but I think you have to earn it for yourself and not have it given to you."

"Which is what you want to do?"

"Yeah, I think so." She lapsed into silence and I fretted I'd upset her. "Beautiful country," I said, seeing if she would still talk to me.

She smiled. "I like it."

"You're not upset at what I said, are you?"

"No. Why would I be?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, but people get touchy about this sometimes. Some of my friends think I'm stark raving mad for wanting to crew one of our ships."

"Well, I think it's admirable that you want to make it on your own. More people need to be like you."

Her words warmed me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said as we exited the interstate.

We weaved through town before she pulled to a stop at the curb of small house set in the center of a compact yard. Like all the houses in the neighborhood, Deanna's house was made of adobe with a matching detached single car garage set farther back. Her house was a light sand brown, but as we cruised down the street I'd seen houses that ranged in color from nearly white to a deep, muddy, red. Like its neighbors, her house had no grass, only gravel and some hardy desert plants making up the landscaping of the small yard.

"Want to come in?"

"I'd love to," I said as I opened my door.

She unlocked the front door and led me into a small living room. Her house carried the southwest theme in from outside. The floors were tile and the walls were some form of stucco, with arched doorways leading into the rest of the house. The room was small but cozy, with rugs on the floor and heavy beams supporting the ceiling above.

She led me through the house. The tile floors continued throughout the home with large rugs softening the floor in select areas. I mentally slapped myself for starting to sneer at the quality of the fixtures in the bathroom and kitchen. The rooms were clean and bright, and just because they weren't marble and granite didn't make them any less functional. I reminded myself she'd earned what she had, unlike me.

"I like it." She smirked at me, clearly not believing my words. "No really, I do. It's a little smaller than I'm used to, but it fits you somehow."

"It's only about twelve hundred square feet, but it's just me, so it's plenty."

I nodded. "My house, well, my Dad's house, is over eleven thousand square feet, but nobody needs that much room. There are rooms I've never been in."

"I'd get lost in a house that big."

I looked around again. The big comfortable furniture was worn in, which gave the room a welcoming atmosphere, unlike the museum-like perfection of my house.

"Do you want to stay here tonight or go back to the railcar?" I asked. I wouldn't mind making love to her in her bed.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to go back to the car. I have the heat turned down, the water turned off, and there's no food here."

"Fair enough, but can I see your car before we leave?"

She lit up. "We can do better than that. Why don't we get it out and I'll show you around my town a little?"

"I'd really like that."

She jerked her head toward the kitchen door leading out to a patio, snagging a set of keys from a bowl on the counter before leading me out of the house and to the garage. She typed a code on a keypad mounted on the wall, and the big metal door began to rise with a soft whir. Inside, squeezed into the narrow space, was the car I'd seen in the photo.

"It's a little tight in there, so hang on and I'll back it out."

I watched as she disappeared into the car before the Chevelle barked to life. It sounded like no car I'd ever heard, a deep throbbing rumble that I could almost feel. The car slowly crept backwards out of the garage, and as I opened the passenger door and settled into the seat, the garage door began to close. I shut the door with a tinny sounding rattle. It was no Mercedes S-Class for vault like solidity, but it was far, far, more interesting. We backed down the drive and into the road before she moved the lever in the floor.

"Is that a stick shift?"

She looked at me and began to snicker. "You don't know anything about cars, do you?"

I flushed. "No, not really, but before you condemn me as a total idiot, if you want to talk about beam deflection in heavy seas, draft, screw pitch, and ballasting, we can do that."

She smiled as we rumbled down the road, the car lightly pinning me back in the seat with every gear change. "You're right. I shouldn't judge. It's just hard for me imagine a life where you don't need a car."

I shrugged. "Until the last few days, I didn't understand how hard it would be to live without a car in some places."

She took me around town. We stopped at Preston Classic Cars, the shop her Dad had owned for more than thirty years. It was already closed for the day, so we didn't go in, but it was a neat and tidy establishment, and I could tell she was proud that she'd call it hers one day.

"What about your mom?" I asked as we pulled away from the shop.

"She's not around anymore. She left as soon as I finished high school."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, placing my hand on hers.

"Yeah. I'm so over her. Apparently, she'd been cheating on Dad for years, and one day announced she was leaving him for the other man. He had no idea and begged her stay, but she walked out and never looked back. I don't know where she is now and don't care."

I wish I could say I was surprised, but cheating was rampant among my circle of friends. I didn't know, but I wouldn't be surprised if Mom and Dad weren't fucking around on each other. Apparently money, or lack of it, didn't change human nature. That was another of the things I wouldn't tolerate. I'd had more than my fair share of one-night stands and short-term relationships, but I'd never promised anyone anything, and never asked for anything in return. When I found the right person, when I made that commitment, I would either keep it or we'd go our separate ways, but I wouldn't cheat, and I wouldn't tolerate being cheated on.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice soft as I squeezed her hand.

She squeezed my hand in return. "Don't be. That was ten years ago, and like I said, I'm so over her." She smiled at me. "To be honest, it was probably the best thing ever to happen to Dad. It was tough at first, but in the last four or five years I've never seen him happier. He's got a girlfriend who adores him, unlike Mom who was never happy with anything and complained all the time."

"Dinner?" I asked, wanting to change the subject. It was uncomfortable for her and brought up memories of my own Mom and Dad screaming at each other. So much unhappiness.

"Sure. Do you trust me?"

"Implicitly."

She drove us to a restaurant that reminded me of her house in style and construction, the most obvious difference being size. Inside, she ordered a selection of dishes, enough food for five, but it allowed me to graze and sample. It was all fantastic and I gorged myself. Most amazing, even though there was enough food for five, the cost for our entire meal was less than one serving at most up-scale restaurants in New York.

I waddled out and back to her car. Good thing there was an hour drive back to the train because I was too full to do anything strenuous, even if she wanted to. As we cruised around the city, she showed me Loretto Chapel and Saint Francis Cathedral, two grand old churches, along with other historic and interesting sights. Santa Fe was a beautiful city, spacious and open, without the throngs of New York. I also liked that the city was big enough to have everything you might want or need, but not so huge that it had all problems New York did. These past three weeks with Deanna had opened my eyes in ways I'd never expected.

We rolled to a stop at a traffic light as we meandered back to her house. We were going to drop off her car, pick up the rental, and return to the railcar. My meal was beginning to digest, and I was sure by the time we returned to Albuquerque I'd be ready to provide any service she might want.

"Whoo, baby!" I looked past Deanna as a guy about my age or a little younger yelled out of passenger window of a BMW M3. "Like your car!" She gave a little wave in acknowledgement as the driver raced the engine of the BMW. "You know how to drive that thing?" I looked away, ignoring the chucklehead.

She revved the car, the machine rocking with the power of the engine. "Your seatbelt tight?" she asked softly, not looking at me.

"What?"

She revved the car again. "Hang on." She looked at the guy in the BMW and gave him an air kiss.

The moment the light turned green, her car bellowed, smoke pouring from the rear tires as the Chevelle tried to go sideways before it launched from the light like it had been fired from a cannon. I was pinned back in the seat as the car screamed, my feet pressed against the floor as I held on for my very life.

The BMW never had a chance. It got about a car length ahead before she slammed her car into second and began to gain. When she banged the Chevelle into third, it was all over. We rocketed past the BMW, steadily opening a gap before she began to slow.

She looked at me, her eyes bright as she beamed. "American muscle, baby!"