Aim to Please

4 | Nothing but Chance

MacCready jolted awake when he felt movement on his head and light was suddenly thrown in his face. He met Magnolia's smug smile—she had lifted his hat he had pulled over his eyes.

"Morning, handsome. It was a nice surprise finding you here in my work."

"I missed your show last night, so I wanted to get early seating," he said.

She gave her usual sultry laugh as she straightened. "You sure know what to say to a woman, don't you?" Magnolia's heels clicked as she walked off.

He swung his legs off the side and stretched to finish waking up, then he remembered why he was back in The Third Rail and looked up to check on Aurora.

Curled up on her side, she faced away from him. The damp rag he had given her for her head lay on the floor, now dry.

MacCready got up and bent to pick it up. He had a thought about throwing it in her face to wake her up, but decided to let her sleep a bit more. He headed toward Whitechapel Charlie to return the rag.

"Thanks for letting us crash here for the night," he said as he returned the rag.

"I would not throw Aurora out on the street. The lass is welcomed here anytime." All three eyestalks turned on him. "You, on the other hand, are still pending."

No matter how hard MacCready tried to distance himself from his past, it still hung over his shoulders. Even if his plan to rid himself of Winlock and Barnes worked, MacCready would probably still be viewed as how Whitechapel Charlie looked at him: with distrust and suspicion. But the Mr. Handy wasn't as high and mighty as he portrayed—he'd hire someone to go raid a warehouse for supplies in a heartbeat, not that he even had one.

Hypocritical robot, MacCready thought as he turned away to return to Aurora. Now in a sour mood, he poked her, not caring if it hurt. "Hey, it's time to wake up."

She grunted in displeasure and tried to get away from his poking. "No, it's not."

"Yeah, it is. Whitechapel Charlie's going to throw us out if you don't get up."

"No, he won't; he'd throw you out, not me."

MacCready frowned; she caught him in his lie. Whitechapel Charlie had a soft spot for women—he'd be quick to help his female customers and forget the males.

At the burned smell of coffee, he got an idea; he went back to the bar, got two cups, promised Aurora would pay for the drinks, and headed back over with steaming cups in hand. MacCready stopped behind her drinking his, thinking on how to wake her up. He had humorously thought to dump the drink on her, but he didn't want to burn her. With a plan in mind, he leaned over her.

He brought the cup of coffee close to her nose; it didn't take long for her to smell the fresh coffee and start to wake up. Her eyes flickered open, looked at the cup, then scowled up at him. "You couldn't let me sleep, could you?"

He felt smug as he straightened—she looked so irritated; all women became angry bears when woken. "Nope."

Aurora huffed as she swung her legs off the couch and accepted her cup of coffee as he sat on the edge of the end table between their sofas. She didn't look as pale as she did last night and seemed to be more lucid.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like something's growing out the side of my head."

"Well, if something's supposed to be there, I don't see it; that's not good, right?"

She cut her eyes at him—she really wasn't a morning person.

"So, where are we headed next, boss? Another bar?" he asked.