"True," I said.
I got to wait for Ronnie this time. On leg machines she was faster. Upper body was my area. "I'll call Dolph as soon as we're finished here. Maybe it's a pattern? A hell of a coincidence if it's not."
We started around the track and Ronnie said, "So, have you decided what you're wearing to Catherine's Halloween party?"
I glanced at her, nearly stumbling. "Shit," I said.
"I take that to mean you forgot about the party. You were bitching about it only two days ago."
"I've been a little busy, okay?" I said. But it wasn't all right. Catherine Maison-Gillett was one of my best friends. I'd worn a pink prom dress with puff sleeves in her wedding. It had been humiliating. We'd all told the great lie of all bridesmaids. We could cut the dress short and wear it in normal life. No way. Or I could wear it at the next formal occasion I was invited to. How many formals are you invited to once you graduate college? None. At least none where I'd willingly wear a pink, puff-sleeved, hoop-skirted, reject from Gone With the Wind.
Catherine was throwing her very first party since the wedding. The Halloween festivities started long before dark so that I could make an appearance. When someone goes to that much trouble, you have to show up. Dammit.
"I made a date for Saturday," I said.
Ronnie stopped running and stared at me in the mirror. I kept running; if she wanted to ask questions she'd have to catch me first. She caught me.
"Did you say date?"
I nodded, saving my breath for running.
"Talk, Anita." Her voice was vaguely threatening.
I grinned at her and told her an edited version of my meeting with Richard Zeeman. I didn't leave out much, though.
"He was naked in a bed the first time you saw him?" She was cheerfully outraged.
I nodded.
"You do meet men in the most interesting places," she said.
We were jogging on the track again. "When's the last time I met a man?"
"What about John Burke?"
"Other than him," Jerks did not count.
She thought about that for a minute. She shook her head. "Too long."
"Yep," I said.
We were on our last machine, the last two laps, then stretching, showers, and done. I didn't really enjoy exercising. Neither did Ronnie. But we both needed to be in good shape so we could run away from the bad guys, or run them down. Though I hadn't chased after many villains lately. I seemed to do a lot more running away.
We moved over to the open area near the racquetball courts and the tanning rooms. It was the only place with enough room to stretch out. I always stretched before and after exercising. I'd had too many injuries not to be careful.
I started rotating the neck slowly; Ronnie followed me. "I guess I'll have to cancel the date."
"Don't you dare," Ronnie said. "Invite him to the party."
I looked at her. "You've got to be kidding. A first date surrounded by people he doesn't know."
"Who do you know besides Catherine?" she asked.
She had a point there. "I've met her new husband."
"You were in the wedding," Ronnie said.
"Oh, yeah."
Ronnie frowned at me. "Be serious, ask him to the party, make plans for the caving next week."
"Two dates with the same man?" I shook my head. "What if we don't like each other?"
"No excuses," Ronnie said. "This is the closest you've been to a date in months. Don't blow it."
"I don't date because I don't have time to date."
"You don't have time to sleep, either, but you manage it," she said.
"I'll do it, but he may say no to the party. I would rather not go myself."
"Why not?"
I gave her a long look. She looked innocent enough. "I'm an animator, a zombie-queen. Having me at a Halloween party is redundant."
"You don't have to tell people what you do for a living."
"I'm not ashamed of it."
"I didn't say you were," Ronnie said.
I shook my head. "Just forget it. I'll make the counteroffer to Richard, then we'll go from there."
"You'll want a sexy outfit for the party now," she said.
"Do not," I said.
She laughed. "Do too."
"All right, all right, a sexy outfit if I can find one in my size three days before Halloween."
"I'll help you. We'll find something."
She'd help me. We'd find something. It sounded sort of ominous. Pre-date jitters. Who, me?