War for the Oaks Read Free Page A

you
are
feeling sentimental," said Carla.
    "Yeah." Eddi turned around to face the windshield. "Carla, am I doing the right thing?"
    "You mean dumping Personality Man?"
    Eddi looked at her, startled.
    "Hey," Carla continued, "no big deduction. You couldn't leave Stu's band and stay friends with Stu—nobody could. So kissing off the band means breaking up with Mr. Potato Head."

    Eddi giggled. "It's a really
pretty
potato."
    "And solid all the way through. This'll probably wipe the band out, y'know."
    "He can replace me," Eddi shrugged.
    "Maybe. But you
and
me?"
    "You're quitting?"
    "I'm not sticking around to watch Stuart piss and moan." Carla's tone was a little too offhand, and Eddi shot her a glance. "Oh, all right," Carla amended. "Stuart would scream about what a bitch and a traitor you are, I'd tell him he was a shit and didn't deserve you, and I'd end up walking out anyway. Why not now?"
    Eddi slugged her gently in the shoulder. "Yer a pal."
    "Yeah, yeah. So start a band I can drum in."
    "You could play for anybody."
    "I don't want to play for
anybody
. You do that, you end up working with bums like Stuart."
    With a lurch and a rumble of drumheads, they pulled in the driveway of Chester's. Even in the dark, its bits of Tudor architecture were unconvincing. The bar rush that hit every all-night restaurant was in full force; they had to wait for a table. When they got one, they ordered coffee and tea.
    "So, are you going to start a band?"
    Eddi slumped in her seat. "Oh God, Carla. It's such a crappy way to make a living. You work and work, and you end up playing cover tunes in the Dew Drop Inn where all the guys slow-dance with their hands in their girlfriends' back pockets."
    "So you don't do that kind of band."
    "What kind do you do?"
    Their order arrived, and Carla dunked a tea bag with great concentration. "Originals," she said at last. "Absolutely new, on-the-edge stuff. Very high class. Only play the
good
venues."
    Eddi stared at her. "Maybe I should just go over to Control Data and apply for a job as Chairman of the Board."
    Carla looked out the window. "Listen. You don't become a bar band and work your way up from there. There
is
no up from there. It's a dead end. All you can become is the world's best bar band."
    Eddi sighed. "I don't want a new band. I want to be a normal person."
    Carla's dark eyes were very wide. "Oh," she said.

    "Hey," Eddi smiled limply, "it's not like you to miss a straight line."
    "Too easy," Carla said with a shrug. Then she shook her head and made her black hair fly, and seemed to shake off her sorrow as well. "Give it time. You don't remember how awful it is being normal."
    "Not as awful as being in InKline Plain."
    "Oh, worse," said Carla solemnly. "They make you sit at a desk all day and eat vending machine donuts, and your butt gets humongous."
    "Now that," Eddi said, "is a job I can handle."
    "If you work hard, you get promoted to brownies." Carla set her cup down. "Come on, let's roll."
    Outside, the wind was blowing. It had none of the rough-sided cold of winter in it; it was damp, with a spoor of wildness that seemed to race through Eddi's blood. It made her want to run, yell, do any foolish thing. . . .
    "You okay?" Carla's voice broke into her mood. "If you don't get in the car, I'm gonna leave without you."
    Eddi took pleasure in the dash to the car, the way the wind tugged on her hair. "Roll the windows down."
    "Are you bats? We'll freeze."
    Eddi rolled down her own, but it wasn't enough. As they drove toward the city, the early spring madness drained away. The wagon's rattles and squeaks, its smell of cigarette butts and old vinyl and burnt oil, took its place. By the time they'd reached the edge of downtown, Eddi felt weary in every muscle and bone.
    What should she do now? What
could
she do? It sounded fine to tell Carla that she wanted to be normal for once, but Eddi had never been suited to a normal life. Once she had taken a job as a security guard, patrolling an