I parked my fifteen-year-old Buick on the street in front of Lexi’s house, ringing her doorbell a minute after six; fashionably late in my book. Her hair wasn’t in the tight braid she usually wore it in. Nor had she dressed up, but was instead handsomely clad in really short cut-off jeans, a button-down white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the front tails knotted at about her belly button. The top buttons were undone down to her cleavage. I’m pretty sure her choice must have been an invitation to look. So, yes, I observed without trying to hide it and without making a big deal of it. I saw zero evidence of a bra. She was small in that area so it isn’t like one would have served any useful purpose unless she was sensitive to chaffing. In contrast, I may have been slightly overdressed in khakis and a polo shirt. A pink polo shirt if you want to know.
She met me at the door and gave me a quick, “I’m going to miss you buddy,” type of kiss on the lips, causing squirming in my pants anyway. I found myself asking what I thought I was doing coming here at all. Somehow the answer that I had been invited for dinner didn’t seem to cover it. Maybe I just wanted a nice, probably bitter-sweet, memory of dinner with pleasant company.
Lexi and her two roommates, noticeably not at home by the way, rented a three-bedroom house off-campus. The rooms, as I later learned, were all small, although larger than those where I normally lived. She led me by my hand into the kitchen. The kitchen was bright and clean, with white Formica counter tops, white cabinets, a white subway tile back splash and a mocha-colored, ceramic tile floor. Oddly, the major appliances were red. The kitchen was small, although all of the glass fronted wall cabinets opened the space up somewhat. Without rummaging through her cabinets and drawers, which I’m pretty sure would have been a major faux-pas, it looked well organized.
“Two bottles!” she exclaimed. “Sweet. Open one for us. Pour. Then sit at the counter and keep me company while I cook.” Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes.
She handed me a corkscrew and turned to stir something on the cooktop. It smelled slightly Indian and definitely spicy. She noticed me sniffing as she turned back. “It’s called Moroccan stew. My father used to make it. It’s kind of a curry dish. I’m making couscous to go with it too. It occurred to me that I didn’t know whether or not you might be vegetarian. I should have asked you yesterday. This is meatless. Oh, and feel free to change the music if you like.”
I liked what she had playing. “Not a problem, Lexi. Thanks for inviting me over. I can eat anything.”
She smiled, somewhat mysteriously. “I’m glad to hear that, Ron, because I have a very special dessert planned.”
I smiled back. I had to. Not only was she entrancing, she was so obviously enjoying herself. “And what might this very special dessert be?”
I stepped close enough to hand her a glass as I asked about her dessert. I used the Riedel glassed I brought, of course. And yes, I washed them before bringing them over, also, of course. The wine shop guy said I should let the bottles breathe a while before serving. I figured the second bottle could do the breathing. I opened them both.
We touched glasses and each took a small sip. She nodded approvingly. “Nice. Actually, very nice. The special dessert? That would be me.”
I carefully set my glass down on a counter. I came very close to dropping it. “Lexi…”
“Yes, Ron?” she said, standing very close to me, her tone soft and questioning, her hand caressing my pecs.
“Lexi, what are you thinking? I’m going to be leaving tomorrow night. I have to be leaving tomorrow. I won’t be coming back.” Damn, I wanted to caress her pecs, or her butt, or something. I’d cheerfully settle for a shoulder. Even that didn’t seem wise.
“What I am thinking, Ron Samue, is that I should have done this months ago. Why do you think I sit through that asshole Jameson’s class? It’s because you’re in it. Why do you think I don’t date? You have a blind spot and I’m square in the middle of it.” She left me to stew on that while she turned back to stir the Moroccan stew on the cooktop. She turned, and leaned against the counter, facing me. “You’re leaving tomorrow. I got that. I want you here tonight.”
Wow! For the first time ever, I wished I was ordinary, just an ordinary human. Sadly, on this world, I am neither ordinary nor human, at least not in her terms, not really. “There is no place I would rather be.”
Chapter 4
Stalker
Lexi learned several interesting things about her date over the next sixteen hours. Ron’s stamina was amazing, to the extent that she had an absurd mental image of him marching around her bedroom in a pink rabbit-suit, wearing jaunty sunglasses and beating on a drum. He tasted really good. He didn’t snore, although he did talk in his sleep a bit in a language that wasn’t English. It didn’t really sound anything like any of the other languages she knew a few words in. It certainly wasn’t French or German.
Somehow he was able to convince her crappy little coffee maker to rise above its limitations Sunday morning and brew the best coffee that had ever dripped out of the filter basket. Damn, no wonder he was so popular at the coffee shop. For someone who, during dinner, seemed so on edge, once she got him loosened up a little he kissed really well. For one thing, he paid attention while he was doing it. She liked that.
When he left around ten on Sunday morning to finish packing for his mysterious trip out of the country, it was clear to her that he was forcing himself to do so and that he would have rather stayed. The kiss they shared as he walked out of her door and out of her life could best be described as poignant. Watching him walk to his car, she thought, It should have promised things to come.
After straightening up the kitchen and making her bed, Lexi looked thoughtfully around her room. The room hadn’t changed any. The soft yellow walls reflected this morning’s bright sunlight streaming in through the east facing windows. Her wall to wall carpeting, a low-pile tan that came with the house looked the same as always. Her second-hand furniture looked worn, but then again, it was worn. It was bought from the Good Will when she moved to Washington. Her room hadn’t changed, yet it felt smaller than it had yesterday. Somehow, it seemed larger when the very large man was getting dressed this morning.
Lexi stood in her doorway with her arms crossed, panning her gaze around the four walls. After a minute or so, she said, “Hmmph,” and started packing a small bag with enough clean clothes for a weekend getaway. She left it sitting prominently on the edge of her bed while she took a long, hot shower.
She could see the bag reflected in her mirror, watching her, asking her, Are you sure? as she dried and braided her hair. Following a light lunch, she packed a second bag with a couple of bottles of water and a few granola bars. Unlike the bag with her clothes, it asked her no questions. Then she stuck a note on the refrigerator for her roommates, Liz and Jenny, to the effect that she might be gone for a few days.
***
She spent a long, boring afternoon feeling more and more like a stalker as the hours dragged on, discussing life with her dashboard. She parked her car a block from Ron’s apartment building, positioned so she could see the building’s front door. She watched him haul a couple of bulging black garbage bags out the front and into the alley on the side. They presumably wound up in one of the dumpsters back there. That was the most excitement she had all afternoon.
More than once, she had the thought, This is stupid. That came, she was pretty sure, from what she thought of as her wise voice. This time, it went on, He doesn’t want you, Lexi. He left without giving you a phone number or even an email address. He’s not on Facebook or Linkedin.
That was true. The only reason she knew where he lived was he mentioned it while chatting over dinner. She didn’t have the apartment number, though. Another more argumentative voice piped up, saying, This is more than a crush, girl. If he was going to be around, that would be different. He said he had to leave the country. Give him up and move on. He’s not the first guy who walked out, is he? Probably won’t be the
last.
Lexi thought, Hey, who’s side are you on? I’ve enjoyed talking with him at the coffee shop, the gym, before and after class and definitely at dinner last night. The man’s smart. And, oh my, that body. He didn’t want to leave this morning. I keep going back to that.
Argumentative replied, If he didn’t want to leave, he wouldn’t have left. I’m hot and I’m smart, maybe a little bitchy at times, but not when he’s been around. So far. He’s just not interested. He just wanted some really amazing sex before he hit the road.
Maybe that’s right, Lexi thought as she reached forward and started the car, prepared to drive away.
Wait. Hold on, Wise remarked. There’s something here I’m missing. Turn off the car. Let me think. A moment later, Wise added, What’s he going to do with his car? Wait for him. Follow him when he leaves.
Argumentative always preferred to have the last word. I agree. This is stupid, but even so, wait and follow. The wine he bought was over-the-top nice.
Her bag of clothes, when she glanced down at it, admitted, I don’t know what to think.
She didn’t know whether it was Wise or Argumentative who remarked, You’re an overnight bag. You’re not supposed to think anything!
In a huff, the top of the bag collapsed in on itself by an inch or so.
Lexi, Wise and Argumentative could all see Ron’s car parked on the street a couple of buildings up. On-street parking was always a bitch. Her house had a four-car driveway. A lot of the afternoon passed with her analyzing what she was doing and why. Eventually, she gave it up as a hopeless task despite the continual input from her inner voices and her overnight bag. OK, he’s cute and he’s a hunk. He’s really smart. That’s important. He has good taste in wine. He helped clean up after dinner. And, wow, the coffee this morning! I like him. While all of that was true, in the final analysis, she had no clue what she was doing nor why she put herself in the position of sitting in her car for hours talking to herself. There really isn’t any good reason I can’t just go up and knock on his door, is there? Maybe I could at least help him pack.
It was approaching seven in the evening, with dusk already coloring the landscape in shades of purple, blue, brown and gray, when Ron strolled out, carrying only his backpack and a gym bag, and walked to his car. She was still just sitting in hers, watching, having successfully resisted the impulse to knock on his door. At least, once she admitted to herself that she was behaving bizarrely, her damn travel bag had quit asking her questions. As he pulled away from the curb she pulled out behind him, wondering how difficult it might be to follow someone. They did it on TV all of the time, didn’t they? After a while, she relaxed and settled down for the drive. As usual, there was almost no traffic. A typical Sunday night in a sleepy college town.
He probably wasn’t expecting to be followed. Maybe she was still in that blind spot she told him about. Callen andd Hanna would have noticed her. Ron didn’t. It didn’t take long to realize if he was heading to the airport, the man was totally lost. Unless he did know he was being tailed and leading her somewhere to be dealt with.
She followed him for almost forty minutes. The college town quickly becoming suburbs and then abruptly turning rural. When he turned off from the two lane county road onto a private dirt road leading to one of the many small farms dotted around the area, she continued past. She pulled off the road and onto the shoulder about a quarter a mile further. Then she grabbed her pack, locked her car and jogged back to the turn off. What the hell is he doing? How is this leaving the country? You can’t even get a bus out here at this time of night. Maybe he does plan to deal with me. This would be the place for it.
The unpaved road ran almost a quarter of a mile up to some outbuildings. The buildings were all in dilapidated shape, leading her to suspect the property was probably abandoned, and not very recently, either. Lexi was careful to use whatever cover she could find getting this close, because, realistically, this was a good place to hide a body. Ron left his car in front of a large, rundown-looking barn. Is he attending a clandestine meeting in a barn? What’s that about? Maybe he’s FBI and undercover. That could be interesting. Then again, maybe he’s a terrorist meeting with his cell. She considered. I doubt that. Interpol? That was a foreign language he was speaking in his sleep.
When she eased up closer she realized the barn’s side door wasn’t closed properly. She noiselessly squeezed through the gap giving her eyes time to adjust to the dim moonlight filtering through cracks in the siding. Then her breath caught and her heart began thudding in her chest. Not a terrorist. Nope, can’t be. Definitely not FBI either. Interpol is right out, too.
She couldn’t not look at the huge vehicle. It barely fit within the walls of barn. The thing was oddly shaped for a farm vehicle. On the side she could see, it was all shiny, light-gray metal with what looked like it might be a rectangular cowling jutting out. It was tall, too, although from where she was standing she couldn’t tell quite how tall. Four skis attached to sturdy-looking legs held it a couple of inches off of the ground. Yeah, he probably won’t be back, she considered, at least not until long after I’m dead of old age, what with the effects of time dilation and all. What looks like a spaceship and hides in a barn? Right in one, Lexi-girl. A freakin’ spaceship.
Chapter 5
Defender
In that instant, she became not just a young woman attempting to determine if there was anything she could do to make a relationship that she wanted to see develop with a man she found herself drawn to materialize. She became the sole defender of Earth. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that. Lot of responsibility there. Oh, yes indeed, a lot of responsibility, isn’t there?
She could slip out of the barn, run back to her car and drive back into town. That would be the sensible thing to do. Except, she could see how it would go if she tried to report what was in the barn to the authorities. Yes, sir. I followed my boyfriend, well, he’s not really my boyfriend, at least not yet, but he’s going to be. I’ve decided. We had dinner Saturday night. I cooked Moroccan stew. I was the very special dessert. But, never mind, that’s probably not relevant. Anyway, the next night, he drove to a barn a little ways out of town. Then he got on a spaceship and took off. She sighed. Right! Maybe I’ll meet a cute doctor when they take me in for observation. No, she couldn’t report this.
She didn’t know how to get in touch with the MIB, assuming they even existed outside of comics and movies. Most of Will Smith’s movies are pretty good. He shouldn’t have made After Earth. Maybe the men in black really exist. She was, after all, looking at a spaceship. In a barn. It couldn’t be anything else. Contacting them might be a bit of a problem though.
So, at any rate, getting hold of the authorities was out. Action on her part was required. She found it easy enough getting on the ship. She just walked through the door, although it was probably called a hatch. Her sailor friends always got unreasonably riled if you called a hatch a “door” and didn’t have enough sense to call the toilet “the head.” She found herself in a small space, facing a second hatch. Both were open. Most likely an airlock. Probably useful on freakin’ spaceship.
Great plan so far, she congratulated herself. Go girl! You’ve successfully infiltrated the alien spaceship. Is there such a thing as a non-alien spaceship? Hmm. Probably not. What now? Disable the pilot? Is Ron the pilot? Lexi was a big, strong woman who had spent last night in the arms of a bigger, stronger guy. Yeah, disabling him might prove just a tad iffy. Especially if he shoots me with a phaser, even one set to stun. Clearly, she needed a plan B. She wondered what that would turn out to be. She smiled at her inadvertent pun.
Before she came up with an alternate plan of action, she heard a cell phone start ringing. Although, since the door, or rather the “hatch,” closed behind her a second later and the noise cut off at the same time it may have been a door, damn, hatch-closing warning. She quickly turned off her own phone though. Wouldn’t want it to start ringing at an embarrassing time like whil
e I’m trying to hide. Which just might be a good thing to do right now. Aha, there it is, plan B! I knew I’d think of something.
Lexi ducked through the nearest interior hatch hoping for a storage closet or an empty cabin. It was a small room. But the appliances looked out of place for a storage closet. She found herself in what she guessed was the head. Not a good place to hide. A closet would have been much better. But other, more stressful tones were already creating a minor cacophony bringing to mind movies of a submarine about to dive. She figured she’d best brace herself and stay put for now.
As the liftoff pressed her into the floor, she thought, All this because I met a hot guy I like. A very hot guy who I want to like a lot. The last man I dated may have had a valid point. There is something wrong with me. For some reason he thought it would be helpful to shout that in my face as he stalked out my front door.
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