Hedging (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery)

the health department, on top of her head, but irrepressible nevertheless. She had gold studs in her nose and lobes, and thin wires lining the outer edge of both ears.
    She looked up and stared. “Hey, dude, don’t I know you?” she said.

10
    “Y OU KNOW me?” She tried to keep her voice low, the question casual.
    “You sort of look familiar. What’ll you have, dude?” The pierced one’s eyes were wide set, charcoal in color, and highlighted dramatically with black liner. Her nose was barely a button. She had another stud in her tongue. On her hands, thin surgical gloves.
    Temporary Jane sat on the stool. “Coffee, black. How late are you open?”
    “All night. I’m the night shift.” A cup was produced, filled, and placed on the countertop.
    “Isn’t it lonely?”
    “I don’t mind. It’s a job. I have a real career. It’s just starting to build. So whatever pays the rent.”
    The steam was rich with aroma. It filled Jane’s nostrils, left a gentle film of moisture on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. A calm settled over her. She took off the knit cap and her hair tumbled around her face.
    “Hey, dude,” the young woman said. “I would have thought you were a blonde.” She grinned. “I’m thinking of going that next.”
    “Your hair suits you. I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you make me smile when I look at you.”
    She jumped straight up in the air, grinning, her arms undulating wings and came down almost in slow motion. Her curls were puppet limbs following her descent. “You’re supposed to smile. Mimes bring that out, among other emotions. I’m part of a troupe. We’re just starting to get paying gigs. I’m Zoey, by the way.”
    “Pleased to meet you, Zoey. I like your name.”
    “It’s from a book, like in Franny and—. My mom was into Salinger.”
    Salinger. J.D., not Mary Lou. Was she real, this Mary Lou Salinger? “ Franny and Zooey ,” she said. “Zooey was a guy.”
    “They wanted a boy.”
    “So you became Zoey.”
    Zoey was giving her that stare again. “What did you say your name was?”
    She took a sip of the coffee. It was as good as it smelled.
    Temporary Jane, she thought. T.J. Yes, why not T.J.? “T.J.,” she said.
    “T.J., like Teresa Judy?”
    “Or Tillie Joan.”
    Zoey giggled. “Or Tabitha Jill.”
    They both laughed.
    A workman went by outside the shop and the flash of his blinking worklight filled the small space. Zoey froze, stared off into the distance. Her eyes rolled back. She slipped out of sight.
    Stunned, T.J. leaned over the counter. Zoey lay on the floor, thrashing, her head rigid. A seizure. Projecting herself off the stool, T.J. squeezed into the small space behind the counter. She raised Zoey’s head slightly, and stroked her cool forehead. Spittle oozed from the corner of Zoey’s mouth.
    She’d call 911, but there was no phone that she could see and she didn’t want to leave Zoey. A minute or so might be okay. A minute or so went by and the twitching began to subside. Color came back to Zoey’s face.
    Zoey’s lids fluttered, opened. She sighed. “I’m sorry, dude.”
    “Just stay still. I’m going to call 911.”
    Zoey clutched her hand. “No, you can’t. Please. I’ll lose my job.”
    “But you’ve had a seizure.”
    “I have epilepsy. Help me sit up. I’ll be okay, honest. I just have to sleep for a little while.”
    “I’ll close the shop then.”
    “No, please. I don’t know you, but you seem so nice. Could you just stay behind the counter for me and pour coffee if anyone comes in?”
    “I can’t—”
    “I know it’s asking a lot, but please. The coffee is ready. All you have to do is pour it and take the money. I need to close my eyes for a few minutes.” She stripped off the vinyl gloves. “Here, put these on. We’re supposed to wear them.”
    “I don’t know how to work an espresso machine.”
    “Say ... broke down.” Zoey’s words were thick and mushied. She threw off the packages of napkins on the shelf under the counter, and even before T.J. had finished helping her onto it, Zoey was asleep. She listened to the even breathing, then rose and took off the down jacket. Temporary Jane was now temporary counterperson.
    With shaking hands, she straightened the fingers of Zoey’s gloves and inserted her own, smoothing the gloves into a second skin. She refilled her coffee mug with regular coffee and wiped up the spill. She would need the caffeine and a steadier hand. It was going to be