Unfit to Practice by Perri O'Shaughnessy Read Free Book Online

and lit the big candle on the coffee table.
    “Right here,” Bob said from the couch a few feet away. In the flickering light, another tangle of jeans and hair emerged next to him. Nina recognized Nikki, Bob's bandmate, three years older and three centuries wiser, she of the sly brown eyes. Nina knew Nikki well, well enough to distrust her. An ex-client, sixteen years old, she had the anarchy-of-spirit thing down pat. Nina did not like her sitting there on the couch, feigning innocence, or the skinny hand clasping Bob's.
    “Hi,” Nikki said, then, as if cued, disengaged her hand from Bob's. She picked up a can of cola and drank deeply. Bob watched her drink.
    To cover a spasm of alarm, Nina turned her back on them, went to the fridge, and uncorked the half bottle of Clos du Bois, forcing herself to pour a glass instead of taking the swig she so fervently desired at that moment.
    “We were trying to do homework, but the lights went out,” Bob said.
    “I see,” Nina said. She took two sips and two deep breaths, walked back into the living room, and drew the curtains shut. While Bob and Nikki sat primly on the couch, she crumpled newspapers, tossed them on the grate, and dug out some kindling from the basket.
    “I'll do that, Mom,” Bob offered. He got up.
    “Good idea. Nikki, there are more candles in the kitchen above the dryer. Would you mind getting a few? It's still too dark to see.” And unwelcoming, to say the least, she thought.
    “Cold, too,” said Bob, who had apparently not previously noticed. He took the poker from Nina, jabbing the burning sticks in the wood stove. Nina sat down on the carpet, held her glass, and waited for the fire to flare up and send warmth her way. The sleeves of her blouse were wet, her very soul was wet, but she was damned if she was going to go into her bedroom to change and leave these two alone.
    Nikki's bony knee came and went through a gaping hole in her jeans as she set candles around the room. The forlorn face and familiar defiant, ready-for-rejection expression inspired Nina's pity, exasperation, and righteous motherly fear.
    “We were just going to practice a new song I wrote,” Nikki said. “I brought my guitar. It was all very structured. But you can't play without electricity.”
    “Uh huh,” said Nina.
    “Well. I'm outta here,” Nikki said, heading for the door, reading Nina's mind. “Have a good night.”
    “It's pouring out there. Does your mother—?” Nina started.
    “I left a note, but she's not home anyway.” Nikki found her parka on the floor. With the hood pulled tight around her face, she looked like an orphan boy.
    Bob said, “I'll ride you home.” He got up.
    “Not necessary,” Nikki said.
    “Back in half an hour,” Bob told Nina.
    “I can take care of myself,” Nikki said.
    “Don't be stupid. When are you gonna get a good offer like that again?”
    “Then I'm stupid.”
    “Wait. I'll drive you,” Nina said.
    “No. It's not that far. Stay here and enjoy your supper.”
    Nina almost invited Nikki to supper right then, she looked so much like a starving hound dog who hasn't eaten for a week, but there were limits. She wanted Nikki to go home, Nikki was heading out the door, and Nina wasn't going to stop her.
    “Later,” Nikki said, strapping her guitar on her back. She flipped a hand at Bob and went out the door.
    Bob went to the window and looked out. “We should have made her stay,” he said.
    “Haven't you got homework? You're not supposed to—to—”
    “To what?”
    “Never mind. Do me a favor, honey. Just let me sit here for a second and drink my glass of wine in peace.”
    Bob shrugged, went into the kitchen, and came out with a turkey sandwich and a Gatorade. “Supper is served,” he said, then went into his room and shut the door, not too loudly.
    On an ordinary night, at this point in the course of events, she would cook, then tackle the files she had brought home, but the fire continued to burn, Bob had his