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his
own.
    He checked his Timex. It was almost two
o'clock. He stepped outside by his bike and waited. Fifteen minutes
passed, no McKeen. Shit.
    He knew where the deadbeat lived. He raced to
the South end of the city to the rooming house on Mecklenburg
Street. The front door was unlocked so he entered and took the
stairs two at a time. The door to his room was ajar so Joey pushed
it open. Waiting a minute he stepped over the threshold. The room
appeared empty except for a few sticks of furniture, no doubt came
with the room. Joey opened the closet. It was empty, as well as the
chest of drawers.
    "What are you doing in here?"
    Joey whipped around to see an older man with a
pipe in his mouth.
    "I'm looking for McKeen."
    The man ran a match along the doorframe and
lit his pipe. "So am I, the bum lit out in the middle of the night.
He owes me rent, five weeks worth. You won't find him here. Get
out, boy. You're trespassing."
    Joey sneered in disgust and pushed past the
man and down the stairs. This was a first. No one ever ran from him
without paying. He must have misread McKeen. He was distracted
yesterday with the enchanted carriage and princess. What in
friggin' hell was he supposed to tell McGonagall?
    ****
    Music played softly from the stereo. Catherine
liked a lot of the music she had heard Joey play. This machine was
truly a revelation. Radio waves moved through the air almost as she
moved through time, spurned by electricity no doubt.
    The more she read the more she was convinced
the lightning striking the carriage was the catalyst to everyone
being scattered through time. Unfortunately there were no concrete
theories on 'time travel'. It existed only in fiction and something
called 'movies'. Catherine did read with a great deal of interest
on the 'Theory of Relativity' by a man named Einstein. 'Time was
no longer uniform or absolute.' It was all utterly
fascinating.
    She heard the key slip in the door and in
walked Joey. He carried a cardboard carrier with bottles and a sack
filled with what appeared to be foodstuffs. Her heart swelled with
happiness. Oh Lord. Surely she was not developing
feelings toward him. Was she? Falling for him would be a
disaster.
    She rose from her chair and took the cardboard
carrier.
    "What is this?"
    "Pepsi, it's a soft drink or soda pop,
carbonated like champagne but no alcohol. We'll have some after we
eat." He set the bag on the table next to her books. "I hoped you
could earn your keep by making supper."
    Oh. Was he teasing? She glanced in the
sack, but she really didn't recognize anything.
    "I do not know how to cook. I cannot even make
tea. We have a cook and servants. They do such things for
us."
    She watched Joey's dark eyebrows furrowed. "I
should've known. The princess wouldn't lower herself to do menial
work."
    His words stung even though she did not
ascertain the true malice in them.
    "I will not make excuses for living in 1821,
nor for my father being a viscount. I am not ashamed of my family
or the life I lead."
    Joey lifted his hand to her cheek and cupped
it.
    "Easy, Lady Cathy." He soothed. "No insult was
meant."
    Before she could react, he lowered his head
and brushed his lips past hers. The gentle kiss was like flint to
tinder. The sparks were real, heated, and the glint of attraction
buzzed between them. Joey raised his other hand to cup her face
then proceeded to ignite her body from her lips down to her toes.
His mouth was soft, gentle, yet demanding and skillful. This was
her first real kiss. A slobbering fumble from Lord Lampton at the
last country dance did not even come close to this all
encompassing, desirous kiss. His tongue flicked at the corner of
her mouth, how deliciously wicked.
    "Open Cathy, let me in." His voice was low,
husky and rough.
    She was puzzled, what did he mean? She opened
her mouth to ask him when his tongue slipped into her mouth and
began to explore and plunder, igniting her afresh. Her heart stood
still. Catherine was momentarily stunned by the