When they got back into his car, Jordan carefully secured her leftovers on the floor by her feet. The Stratus started up, and they were moving smoothly down the sleek roads, when the girl made a face at an offensive rap song that was pulsing from the stereo.

Reaching out, she clicked a button, and the CD spit out of the opening. “Sorry,” she said, holding the CD between her thumb and pointer finger. “But if that boy sings one more note I’ll have to do something violent.”

Danny smirked, only grateful that she’d put an abrupt stop to the song. When he was younger he’d had a short romance with rap music, but needless to say that honeymoon was over.

Jordan, who was once again half-submerged into her knapsack, spoke in a muffled voice. “God, I hate Eminem…”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you hate him so much, why do you have a whole CD of his music?”

The girl surfaced from her bag with a second burnt CD in hand and fed it into the player. “Oh, you know, my boyfriend’s into him. Thinks he’s an ‘artist.’ So I’m trying to glean some sort of musical appreciation for his…” Jordan looked at the burned copy of the latest Eminem CD like it was a strange artifact from another galaxy, before stowing it away in her bag. “Unique thoughts on society…”

Danny’s smile edged sideways, that is, before he returned to the first thing she’d said. “A boyfriend, huh? And I bet he’s an artist too, right.”

Jordan made a sound that was half-snort, half-chuckle. “Yeah, right. Aren’t they all?”

“He goes to school with you?”

“No, he has a place inside the city.”

At the description, Danny became quiet.

No one was more affected by pregnant silences than Jordan, and she let out a tense sigh, before lowering her tone. “Look. I know what you’re going to say, but it’s not like you think.” She stared forward, her voice giving way to feeling. “This guy really cares about me, Danny, and more importantly, he cares about Jason. He cares about what happens to both of us.”

“That why he left you on a corner in Fairton tonight?”

Jordan shot him a warning glance. “That had nothing to do with him.”

Danny wondered if that was true. Part of him hoped it wasn’t. If this boyfriend was the reason she got stranded in the ghettos of New York City, at least that meant there wasn’t another variable keeping her on the streets. Danny let out a sigh as he tried to root through his suspicions. It was exhausting sometimes, thinking like an FBI agent.

“Either way,” she continued. “It’s not like I’m going to take off with him or anything. There’s no promises of California…no big plans…no millionaire scams. There’s just trust, and that’s something I think I could handle keeping around for awhile.” She looked to Danny. “I just have a good feeling about this.”

When they came to a red light, the car halted to a short stop, and Danny turned to look her in the eye. He didn’t know enough of the elements in the equation to make any decisions for her…and going into a rant about the dangers of dating boys at this age would only provoke her into an argument.

So he would level with her instead. “I understand what you’re saying. But just be careful,” he requested softly. “Trust your instincts.”

Jordan only returned his stare. “I will,” she promised.

He smiled a little and looked away. “Just remember not to do anything you wouldn’t want Jason to emulate. Because whatever you’re doing now, he’s most likely going to hear about someday.”

Jordan only smirked and gave an overly exaggerated nod at the comment. “Yeah, I hear you.”

Though he had tried to be cool and candid for hopes of a greater impact, Danny still felt that same sensation run through him. He had wanted to say a whole lot more. He had wanted to tell her not to let this guy hurt her, even more to tell her to call him so he could beat his brains out if the punk ever tried.

But the light turned green, and instead, Danny made a left onto another virtually deserted back road in the Bronx. Somehow, it was enough to hope the few words he’d given her would influence her all the same.

Distracted, Jordan reached over with a short gasp as the track changed and turned up the volume. “Oh, man, I love this song.”

Blinking away his thoughts, Danny focused on the music stemming out from his car stereo.

“It’s Elliot Smith,” Jordan provided. “You know, the guy who committed suicide a few weeks ago.”

Danny nodded even though he had never heard of the singer. Still, he had to admit it wasn’t bad... for a guy depressed enough to end it all. But either way, it was a nice change of pace from the vocal stylings of Eminem.

The girl swung her palm back and forth in a slow, steady beat. “It’s called Waltz #2. Hear that? One, two, three. One, two three…”

The guitar kicked in, followed by a bass, and then light, lively piano chords…

Jordan sang along, lost in the lyrics, as if Danny wasn’t even in the car.

First the mic then a half cigarette

Singing cathy’s clown

That’s the man that she’s married to now

That’s the girl that he takes around town

She appears composed, so she is, I suppose

Who can really tell?

She shows no emotion at all

Stares into space like a dead china doll

I’m never gonna know you now, but I’m gonna love you anyhow

Now she’s done and they’re calling someone

Such a familiar name

I’m so glad that my memories remote

’cos I’m doing just fine hour to hour, note to note

Here it is the revenge to the tune

"you’re no good,

You’re no good you’re no good you’re no good"

Can’t you tell that it’s well understood

I’m never gonna know you now, but I’m gonna love you anyhow

I’m here today and expected to stay on and on and on

I’m tired

I’m tired

Looking out on the substitute scene

Still going strong

Xo, mom

It’s ok, it’s alright, nothing’s wrong

Tell mr. man with impossible plans to just leave me alone

In the place where I make no mistakes

In the place where I have what it takes

I’m never gonna know you now, but I’m gonna love you anyhow

As the song came to its end, Jordan sunk back in her seat and closed her eyes, as if the musical notes had somehow left their path through the tips of her fingers to the tips of her toes.

“God,” she breathed, as she broke from her trance. “I gotta tell you. I never liked the guy before… But the music just means so much more when someone’s gone, you know?”

Slightly amused by her fervor, Danny gave an affirming nod. He was about to ask her where she’d heard this type of music, when a familiar steeple ensconced deep in the South Bronx broke into sight.

Danny pulled into the church parking lot, his headlights lighting up an ancient sign that read “St. Luke’s Parish.”

Pulling to a stop, he put the car into park and turned off the engine.

Jordan’s eyes took in the edifice, and then she turned back to Danny with a classic shrug and smirk. “Home Sweet Sacristy.”

Danny nodded to the building. “You have your key?”

Jordan held up a short lanyard that jingled. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Opening the car door, Jordan secured her tote-bag around her shoulder and gathered up her leftovers. Danny looked to the Styrofoam boxes holding warm diner food with a short smile. A certain three-year-old was going to eat well in the morning. It was a small consolation, knowing that he had put that simple gesture into motion by taking Jordan out to dinner. But, Danny knew from experience to take solace in consolation wherever he could find it.

Jordan paused, one leg out of the door. “Thanks, Danny.”

“Your welcome,” he said.

She smiled meaningfully. “I ever tell you you’re the best?”

“Just stay off those streets, and you won’t have to tell me I’m the best,” he said forcefully. “No more calls from Fairton. I don’t want the next phone call to be from the hospital.” Or the morgue, he thought darkly.

She nodded, prostate from the direct order. “Okay.” She smiled once more. “Take it easy, Danny.”

He nodded good-bye. “You, too.”

Shutting the door behind her, the girl sprung onto the lawn of the church and up the steps into the convent section of the building.

“Take care of yourself, kid…” he whispered.

When he saw the heavy door open readily and easily, Danny leaned down to start up the engine of his Stratus.

But then he stopped.

A familiar figure stood in the doorway of the convent, arms crossed, looking toward his car.