It took several raps to the door before Jim answered looking somewhat disheveled. "Chelle, oh, no," he said smacking himself in the forehead. "I'm sorry. Come in."
"It was tonight?" Michelle asked as she entered puzzled.
Jim closed the door. "Yes. Yes. It WAS," he joked. "I should have called you. It's just... Well, Blair came home from Rainier pretty sick..."
"Sick?" Michelle interrupted.
Jim rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Yeah. Fever, sore throat...I was so caught up with..."
Michelle silenced him. "I get it. Look, I have a mediocre idea," she said shrugging out of her coat. "The weather is getting nasty out there. You tend to Blair and I'll see what I can fix for dinner. I'm starving and maybe after a few hours they'll have salted or something."
"Good deal," Jim told her. He was relieved she didn't whack him upside the head especially after having boasted about the wonderful meal he was going to prepare.
Jim headed for Blair's room as Michelle made her way to the kitchen. Opening a cabinet she sucked in her cheeks. 'It figures. The pasta is alphabetized.'
Jim sat on the edge of the futon and for the umpteenth time placed his hand on Blair's forehead. Blair stirred and let out a whimper. Jim tenderly slid his hand down his friend's face. "Shh... easy..."
"Jim?" This time Blair made a moaning sound.
Stroking Blair's cheek with his thumb Jim implored, "Don't talk. Just rest."
"But, Jim." the young man swallowed hard and tried to sit up.
"Don't get up."
"Jim, man..." He swallowed hard again. "I need to..." Too late. The contents of his stomach were now making a come-back appearance.
"Aw geez, Chief.”
Blair finished heaving and fell back. “I tried to warn you,” he moaned.
Jim nodded and sought assistance from Michelle who as least pretended she was not about to blow her stack.
It was just a few minutes after everything and everyone was cleaned up that Blair again sat quickly and wretched.
This time when he fell back to the pillow Michelle approached with a can of Dr. Pepper. Edging Jim aside she sat on the bed. “I want you to sip this,” she instructed.
“It won’t stay down,” Blair protested weakly.
“That’s fine,” Michelle informed him. “But it will prevent dry heaves and help aid whatever is trying to get out of your system to get out.”
“Listen to the lady, Chief. You know she’s never wrong.”
Blair used what little strength he had to roll his eyes but complied with her request then said, “Do you always have to be so bossy.”
Michelle set the pop can on the night table. “As a matter of fact I do,” she informed him accompanied by Jim’s laughter.
Blair glared in Jim’s direction. “You won’t think it’s so funny when she starts in on you.”
Jim held his hands up in mock surrender.
“Besides,” Blair continued, “I don’t want help throwing up. Do something to help me stop.”
Michelle entered lecture mode. “Look, I know it isn’t pleasant but your body is trying to purge something it doesn’t want. You’re not doing yourself any favor by interfering with its natural mechanism for ridding itself...”
“I can get you a suppository,” Jim offered interrupting Michelle’s dissertation.
Blair’s eyes went wide and he stammered, “ Uh...No thanks, Big Guy. Um.... you know, Michelle is right. I really should let my system purge itself.” He quickly snagged the Dr. Pepper can and took a swig as if to say ‘See I’m drinking... I’m drinking.”
Jim leaned over and whispered to Michelle. “Knew that would get him.”
This time Michelle chuckled.
Michelle returned to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner while Jim tended to his friend. By the time the meal was on the table Blair, drained had fallen asleep. Jim enjoyed the food even though there wasn’t an ounce of meat or shred of dairy anywhere to be found. Together they cleaned up and checked on Blair again. Then Jim checked the conditions outside.
“Bad news,” Jim told her not so convincingly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“What?” Michelle went to the balcony window to check for herself. They had been so focused on their ill friend and dinner neither had noticed that the winds and precipitation had picked up. “Damn. I’m snowed in.” She turned to face Jim. “You’re happy about this aren’t you?”
Jim caressed her arms. “Not happy per se. But I’m certainly not disappointed.”
“So you intend to take full advantage of this situation,” Michelle joked.
“Not ‘take advantage’”, Jim reassured her. “Let just say I think we should make the best of it.”
Now to Michelle, making the best of it had something to do with a cup of hot tea, a hand crocheted afghan and a good book. Somehow she knew that did not match Jim’s interpretation. What was it about too cold weather, too much precipitation, and a roaring fake fire that turned an ordinary man into some kind of Casanova wannabe. Of course, there in lay the problem. Jim was no ordinary man. Jim was a sentinel.
Jim watched Michelle as she sat gazing at the dancing flames. He slipped up behind her and handed her a mug of hot apple cider. They sat quietly sipping for several minutes. Then something happened. Jim’s hand came up to gently massage Michelle’s shoulder. He leaned in and kissed the side of her head, sniffing her hair and then.... something took over. He kissed her repeatedly and his hands were finding every part of her. Michelle felt as though she was fending off an octopus.
“Jim, what’s with you? Come on. That’s enough now.”
Unfortunately, he seemed to become more amorous. He leaned into her. “What’s the matter,” Jim cooed.
“Jim, I don’t want to do this,” she implored.
“Why not?” Jim asked between kisses.
“Because, I’m saving myself for Gary Gilmore,” Michelle responded in full sarcastic mode. When sarcasm didn’t work her voice rose, “Jim, cut it out!” She pulled away only for him to advance. She was rescued by the sudden downpour of cold water falling over Jim’s head splashing against her as well.
“Time to cool off, Big Guy.” It was Blair who had woken and feeling thirsty had gone to the kitchen for a drink.
Jim startled and righted himself. Michelle scrambled to the sofa grabbed her coat and purse and fled the apartment.
Jim shook himself. “What the hell?”
“That’s what I was about to ask you. What was going on out here?” Blair demanded.
Jim looked around puzzled. “I’m not sure. We were having cider and then...”
“Then what?”
Jim shook his head.
“Then what,” Blair repeated.
“It’s like all I wanted to do was mate.” Jim looked to Blair. “I couldn’t stop myself.”
“This ever happen before?”
“No. No wait. You remember. That robbery case. The pheromone thing.”
Blair was nodding. “Only this time your intended wasn’t interested.”
Jim grew irritated. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Me?”
“You’re supposed to be the big sentinel expert, Darwin.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know you go off half-cocked...” He paused “Skip that.”
“I don’t get it. This never happened with Chelle before.”
Blair, still not feeling well threw himself on the sofa. “Must’ve been just the right combination of things... or the wrong combination of things let’s say. I mean maybe you caught her during ovulation and since there was nothing to distract you. Heck, I don’t know. But it’s the best I can come up with right now.”
“So what do I do about it, Einstein?”
“For now I’d say definitely dial down your sense of smell. Maybe create some other dial for.... you know.”
“Great. Just great. Something else I have to keep a special dial for.” He stopped and looked around. “Where’d she go anyway?”
Blair pulled an afghan around his shoulders. “She ran out the door. Can’t say as I blame her.”
Jim went to the window and looked down to the street. He saw Michelle standing just in front of the building. Turning up his hearing he heard her calling a friend with a snow plow to come get her.
“Please,” Michelle begged. “I’m willing to wait until you come down Prospect. I know it’s cold out...”
“Hang up,” Jim said softly from behind.
Michelle turned. Lowering the phone she said, “Jim, I don’t think...”
“Look, I’m sorry. Something happened. Blair can explain it better. All I can say is I’ve got my sense of smell dialed down... way down.”
Michelle raised the phone. “Never mind,” she told her friend and disconnected.
“Come back inside?”
Michelle nodded. “Only I get to choose the activity.”
Jim raised his hands. “Anything you say.”
Back upstairs Blair dozed on the sofa. Michelle and Jim again sat by the fire. Jim gazed into Michelle’s eyes. “Got any threes?”
Michelle smirked. “Go fish.”