One Good Ring Wednesday, 8/8, 8:30 AM by Susan M. Garrett The Raven was relatively quiet. With vampires and mortals on overlapping schedules, if the club wasn't filled with patrons, someone always seemed to be scrubbing, or sweeping, or tuning, or drinking (gotta test the merchandise, after all). Susan hadn't had a chance to get back to the Knighties about when the Caddie would be available for a wash. Of course, then they'd come to the Raven. And she really have said something then . . . . She hated that damned car. But getting last minute details over the phone--absolutely details--seemed the thing to do at the time. Which is why she'd waited until it was almost quiet, Janette was in a day-coma, and she guessed there be some Knighties present at the loft. The phone rang twice before it was picked up. "Does Nick have a hose, or what?" Susan asked, laptop open on the bar counter beside her. "Huummina, huh?" asked a muffled and sleepy yawn. Squinting at the spreadsheet of 'stuff to buy to wash that darn-puke-green-thing'--yep, right list--Susan didn't bother trying to identify the voice at the other end. Although she really need to talk to Perri or Boo. The Knighties weren't like the NatPack, who were somehow part of some spooky gestalt. If you told one NatPacker something, all the other NatPackers knew instantly. It should have saved them a fortune on phone bills. But, being NatPackers they talked anyway, so it wasn't much good except for weirding out other affiliations. With a sigh, Susan asked, "Can I speak to Perri or Boo, please?" "Grmuph. Mumble. Grumble. Shit!" There was a bang as the phone hit the floor--the last comment ringing faintly in the receiver and accompanied by several outraged cries, the loudest of which might have been the person the phone had been dropped onto. "Yeah--what--hello?" said Perri. Bingo. "Does Nick have a hose, or what?" repeated Susan. There was a pause. One of those longish pauses, where the person on the other end either is trying to figure out what language you're speaking, suspects you have a wrong number, or is frantically trying to hush a conversation going on about the caller. Susan guessed it was either number one or number two. Which was only natural. "Is this an obscene phone call?" asked Perri, somewhat harshly. "Because I am amused by dirty talk about Nick--" Susan paused before answering, hearing a distant "That's not what you said last--ow!" and "Oooh, me! Pick me! I wanna talk!" somewhere behind Perri. Sighing, Susan waited until the roar had died down. "Look," she said slowly. "It's an easy question. Garden hose. Tap hose. Support hose . . . hell, kind of hose. Does Nick have one? I need it to wash the car. No hose. No washing the car. Simple as that." "Oh, it's Susan," said Perri. There was a muffled response as Perri obviously tried to place her hand over the receiver and said to those around her. "It's Susan. At the Raven." "Why does Susan want to talk dirty about Nick?" asked a voice in the background. There was the sound of a 'thump,' followed by Perri explaining, "Susan needs to know if Nick has a hose." "Well, we've seen him in tights in a couple of flashbacks--" "Not kind of hose. She needs a hose to wash the Caddie," explained Perri. "Is she going to wash it here, then?" asked someone. Another pause. Susan had been playing asteroid on her laptop. But instead of mines, there were little tiny Caddies hidden behind the dots. She was losing. Badly. "You're planning on washing it here?" asked Perri, returning to the call. "Um . . . I was. I figured if the car was there, why move it? I'll haul my stuff over, give it a wash, and then everything's even on a karmic scale. At least where that damn car is concerned. Just need to know when and where it is and if Nick had a hose." Susan took a hopeful breath as another small Caddie exploded in her asteroid game. "Unless it's a real inconvenience. We leave it until next war . . . ." "No, no, that's okay," said Perri quickly. "But we'll get back to you with a place and time. Okay?" "I guess. You have custody, after all." "Okay, then. We'll be in touch." Susan hung up the phone, stuck her tongue out at the Caddie that had just exploded on her laptop screen, then switched to her Excel spreadsheet. It was only at that point that she realized that she'd never really gotten a straight answer as to whether or not Nick had a hose. Which, when she thought about it, didn't really surprise her at all. Just like any affiliation, there was a reason why people tended to group toward one character or another. And Nick was-- Well, they Knighties . . . .