Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [37]
“What did you do about food?” asked Guinan.
Geordi shivered a little, remembering. “Sometimes you eat the lemon meringue pie,” he said, “and sometimes the lemon meringue pie eats you.”
Surprisingly Guinan didn’t seem put off by the idea. She just smiled that knowing smile of hers.
“Fortunately,” said Geordi, “we weren’t there long enough to get bored with the menu. As it turned out, our planet was the third one on the search agenda. Our phaser was still three-quarters charged when the cavalry arrived.”
“I see,” said Guinan. She paused. “You know, it’s funny.”
Geordi looked at her. “What is?”
“This story of yours. I could swear I’ve heard it somewhere before.” She gave it some thought, then nodded. “I have. On Starbase Eighty, while I was waiting to be picked up by the Enterprise.” Her brow wrinkled ever so slightly. “If I’m not mistaken, it was told to me by someone named Stutzman. Jake Stutzman, I think it was.”
Geordi felt an unwelcome heat creep into his face. “Oh?”
“Yes. You don’t know him, by any chance, do you?” Geordi was starting to feel like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Actually,” he said, “he was one of the other two rookies.”
Guinan made a sound of mild surprise. “Small galaxy,” she remarked. “But you know, the really funny thing is that this Stutzman fellow told the story differently, as if it was he who’d had to calm down his companions.” She shook her head. “And now that I think about it, he also took credit for making that hole.” A sigh. “Can you imagine? I guess some people just let their egos run away with them.”
“Right,” said Geordi. The jig was up. He could see it in her eyes. “Uh, Guinan … ?”
“Mm?”
“Maybe I mixed up a few of the facts.”
She regarded him. “You? Of all people?”
“You’re laughing at me,” he said.
“I never laugh at people,” she corrected. “Only with them.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “I suppose I deserve it.” He leaned closer. “But do me a favor, will you? Don’t let it out that I … um, embellished the story a little.” With a tilt of his head, he indicated the young medical officer to whom he’d related his tale the night before. “I kind of impressed her, I think—and with the shape my love life’s in, I need all the help I can get.”
Guinan clucked softly. “Geordi, Geordi, Geordi. All you need to do is be yourself. When will you learn that?”
He grunted. “When myself starts seeing some romance. So—will you keep this in confidence? Or do I have to admit to that nice young lady that I’m not the hero of Beta Bilatus Seven?”
“I’m your bartender,” said Guinan. “Whatever you tell me is strictly confidential.” However, something about her expression told him she wasn’t going to let the subject drop.
Guilt, he mused. Just what I needed. “Fine,” he said flatly. “I’ll tell her the truth. But you’re the one who’s going to have to listen to me after I ask her out and she laughs in my face.”
“If it comes to that,” said Guinan, “I’ll be here.”
Geordi was so wrapped up in his own life’s drama that he hardly noticed Wesley’s approach. It was almost as if the boy had materialized at his side—a stunt he wouldn’t quite put past Transporter Chief O’Brien.
“Hi,” said Wesley, acknowledging both Geordi and Guinan. He claimed an empty stool, but not with his usual alacrity.
“Hi, yourself,” said the Mistress of Libations—a sobriquet Will Riker had bestowed on her in one of his more jocular moments.
“Looks like you’ve got something on your mind,” remarked Geordi.
“Actually,” said Wesley, “I do. I’ve been researching Imprima. You know—to see if I can figure out what Commander Riker’s up to.”
“And?” prompted Geordi. He’d been a little curious about the first officer’s mission himself, though he’d known better than to press Captain Picard for details.
Wes filled them in as best he could. And, no surprise to Geordi, he’d done a pretty thorough job of researching the matter.