Quick Fix

by Linda Grimes

  “Why indeed would Ciel be here?” She pierced me with a look. I swallowed hard.

  Family rumor had it that Auntie Mo was visited by occasional flashes of the Sight. Billy has tried to reassure me that Mo herself was the one to start the rumors, but I’m not sure they don’t contain a grain of truth.

  At last she smiled and held out her arms. “James, my favorite nephew!” She said the same thing to all my brothers. “Come here and give me a squeeze.”

  She engulfed me in a warm embrace. I was used to Auntie Mo’s exuberance and normally would have returned her affection with equal enthusiasm. Frankly, I adore her, even if she intimidates the hell out of me. But James was more aloof, so I confined myself to a few light pats on her back.

  “So you’re the poor bastard roped into helping us this year. You sure your sister isn’t here with you? I could have sworn … No, I’m being silly. None of you would be here if you didn’t have to be.” But still she held on to me as if she could peek beneath my aura with her fingers.

  “Mo, come here.” Mom’s voice, thank God. “The caterer is at it again. Can you handle it while I call the liquor store?”

  Mo reluctantly let me go. I headed straight for the attic and started hauling out chairs. After umpteen trips up and down the narrow stairs, I started folding paper. A hundred and ten paper cranes (okay, so they looked more like airplanes; wings are wings, right?) and sixteen paper cuts later, I faked an incoming call from the university and made my escape. Even Mom and Auntie Mo couldn’t argue with a command appearance before one of James’s professors. Everyone in the family was getting desperate for him to actually graduate with a degree in something, so his schoolwork superseded all else.

  The cab dropped me at the building that housed James’s lab. I paid the driver and left without waiting for change, praying that James had come up with a solution. Cute as Molly was as an ape, I really missed her human form.

  “Jimmy!” a pleasant tenor voice called out. I ignored it. Nobody called my brother Jimmy.

  “Jimmy! Hey, James, it’s me.”

  Crap. I turned slowly and locked eyes with the prettiest man I have ever seen. Not handsome. Pretty. Silky, platinum blond hair—looked natural, too—waving above a button-down collar, a killer tan, wide-set violet (I kid you not, Liz Taylor violet) eyes, full rosy pink lips, and an almost-but-not-quite-too-delicate nose. Body like a dancer, long and lithe. Why had James never brought this guy home? Would an introduction have killed him?

  “Hi,” I said with a neutral smile. Best to keep things middle of the road until I figured out how well James knew this guy.

  His mouth curled into a pout. “Oh, come on. Is that all you can say? Haven’t you missed me at all?”

  Huh? “Uh, sure. How’ve you been?”

  He stepped closer, invading my space. I tried to step back but was pulled against his chest. “Horny,” he whispered. “How about you?”

  Chapter 8

  I pounded on the lab door, breathless from my run. “James! Where are you?”

  I’d ditched Pretty Boy with some excuse about a family emergency, told him I’d call him later. He’d pulled a Sharpie out of his pocket and written a phone number on my forearm, so I wouldn’t forget “this time.” Geez.

  “James. Open up.” I kept pounding until I heard a telltale click, then pushed the door open so abruptly it almost flattened Billy’s nose.

  “What are you doing here? Where’s James?” I said.

  “I came to pick up Molly. James had an errand. What’s wrong with you?”

  I shoved the door closed behind us and dropped James’s aura. His clothes swamped me, but I didn’t care.

  “James is—” I stopped short.

  But Billy was too good at reading me. “Gay? Yeah. What about it?”

  “What? You knew? And you never told me?”

  He shrugged. “You’re his sister. I assumed you knew. I mean, didn’t you ever wonder why he never brought a girl home?”

  “So? I never brought a guy home. I thought he was shy, like me.”

  Billy cracked up. I kicked off James’s shoes with enough force to send them across the lab, lifted the too-long legs of his pants with both hands, and started pacing. “Shut up. I didn’t know, okay? Not until about two minutes ago, when one of his boyfriends stuck his tongue down my throat.”

  “He’s seeing someone again? Good for him. He was kind of messed up after he broke up with the last guy.”

  I plopped onto the nearest chair. “Jesus. Do Mom and Dad know?”

  “Of course they do. He told them officially when he was sixteen, but I think they suspected long before that.”

  “Thomas? Brian?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, that’s just great. Fucking fantastic.”

  “What are you so mad about? You have something against gay people?”

  “Of course not, you idiot. It’s just … I just…” I stopped, words stuck behind the tears I didn’t want to let fall.

  Billy squatted next to me and stroked my cheeks, loosing the stream. “What, then? What is it?”

  “Why didn’t he tell me? I thought we were close. Doesn’t he trust me?”

  “You are close, in all the ways that matter. Maybe he just didn’t feel comfortable discussing his sex life with his baby sister. Lord knows I don’t talk about mine with my sisters.”

  I sniffled. Loudly. “Ha. You don’t have to. They can read about it in the papers.” That wasn’t much of an exaggeration, either, considering some of the high-profile models and actresses he’d dated in the past.

  “Oh, good. You’re still jealous. I plan to use that to my advantage. Just so you know.” His fingers slipped to my neck and started making little circles there.

  “Are you trying to distract me?”

  His lips replaced his hand. “Mmm-hmm. Is it working?”

  Yeah, pretty much. I leaned my head to one side to give him better access. “No, of course not.”

  He chuckled and nipped my earlobe. “I bought some ice cream while I was out earlier. After we put the munchkin to bed later—”

  I pushed him away. “Molly! Where is she? Did James fix her?”

  “No, James didn’t fix her. Yet. She’s napping in front of the TV set. Wore herself out with the Wii Fit. I was just waiting for you to come back so we can take her to my place for the night.”

  I hesitated. “About that. Maybe I’d better stay with James tonight. I need to talk to him about … things.”

  “That can wait. He won’t have time for any heart-to-hearts until he figures out what to do about Molly. Besides, from what you just told me, it sounds like he might have company of his own to consider.”

  I pushed up a sleeve and let the number show through. “Yeah. That reminds me—don’t let me forget to give him this.”

  Billy grinned. “Guy’s not taking any chances, huh?”

  “Nope. He’s serious. Stunning, too. Totally drool-worthy.”

  “Did you catch any of his energy? If you want to pass it along to me, I’ll see what I can do for you.” He was teasing. Maybe.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t think of him like that, not now. Not that I would consider … even if he weren’t— Stop laughing! And why aren’t you jealous, anyway? Don’t you even care that I totally ogled him before I found out he was gay?”

  “I probably would be jealous if I thought there was a snowball’s chance in hell of you throwing yourself at the guy. But you’re not that kind of person.”

  “Huh. Maybe I should find out what I’ve been missing.”

  He shrugged. “You’re human. It’s normal to find a little variety intriguing.” He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “Listen, Ciel, I can give you all the variety you ever want.”

  What? Was he offering what I thought he was offering?

  Duh. This was Billy. “Is that why you want me? Because I can change into your whim of the day without you having to bother with seduction? Huh. Efficient.” I should’ve bee
n mad, and I was, but mostly I was insecure. I looked away from him, feeling stupid.

  “Ciel, look at me. No, not at my shoulder. At me.” He lifted my chin and waited until I met his eyes before he continued. “I’ve had enough variety to know it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I want you. Only you. As you. You, on the other hand, haven’t been sampling. I’m not naïve enough to think you wouldn’t eventually wonder what else is available out there. I’m just saying there’s a safe way for you to experiment, if you ever want to.”

  God, what an offer. “You are unbelievable, you know that? You think just because you’ve gorged at the great big hookup smorgasbord everybody must want to? Geez.”

  He cocked his head, pondering. “I wouldn’t say ‘gorged.’ Supped until replete, maybe. But there’s definitely room for dessert,” he said, finishing with a wink.

  I heard a noise from across the lab. Molly must have woken up and started back in on the games. “Maybe I better get a hotel room.”

  *

  Back at Billy’s (he having talked me out of staying at a hotel—okay, maybe not talked, exactly, but his tongue was involved, so close enough) I looked around surreptitiously for signs of a female presence. Near as I could tell, the only women’s paraphernalia around belonged to Billy, for use with his female auras, so whoever his guest had been had done a good job covering her tracks when clearing out.

  Not that I cared.

  The condo was a large, open space, heavy on the black and modern. The kitchen took up one corner, separated from the rest of the room by a gray granite-topped breakfast bar. A comfortably spacious bathroom and a huge walk-in closet fit into the area under his sleeping loft. The leather and steel décor wasn’t what I would’ve chosen, but it suited Billy.

  I wasn’t sure how Billy was going to handle the sleeping arrangements, so I dumped my suitcase on the couch.

  “I’m taking a bath,” I said as soon as I pulled out some clean clothes. I wanted to scrub that phone number off my arm so I could quit adapting it away.

  “Great. Can you take care of Molly while you’re at it? She could use a little freshening up herself.”

  “You want me to take a bath with an ape?”

  “Well, I can’t do it. I’m her brother. It wouldn’t be seemly.”

  “It’s not like you’d have to be naked to give her a bath. I’m sure she won’t be traumatized.”

  “Look at her.” Billy gestured broadly, his arm following his sister. Molly was running around the condo, jumping up onto every available surface, climbing the stairs to the loft, and swinging from the railing. The longer she was in orangutan form, the more apelike she was becoming. “Do you think she could take a nice, calm bath without soaking whoever is with her? At least you’ll already be naked. You can dry off more easily afterward. Besides, it’ll save water. Sharing baths is the green thing to do.”

  I set my face. No way was I sharing my bubble time with a hairy little creature, even if she was my cousin.

  “Come on, cuz. Please? I’ll cook dinner for us if you do.” His eyes were beseeching.

  “Oh, geez. You are going to owe me big-time, pal. Come on, Molly. Bath time.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. When this is all over, I’ll give you a bath.” He flashed his dimples and headed for the kitchen.

  The bath with Molly turned out to be a lot more fun than I thought it would be. We used loads of bubble bath (I did not let myself question why a full-grown man would have such a large assortment of sweet-smelling bath products on hand—I knew I probably wouldn’t like the answer) and turned the jets on low to keep the froth lively. Molly decorated first herself, then me, giving us puffy white hair and beards. We squished masses of iridescence through our cupped fingers, making bubble volcanoes that shot out of the tub. I figured if Billy was going to blame the mess on Molly, we might as well make the most of it.

  When we were done, I pulled two large, plush bath sheets from the linen cupboard (the ones already hanging on the heated towel bar were soaked, for some strange reason) and wrapped us in them. Molly looked adorable peeking out from between the folds, with only her wise eyes and snub nose showing. I hugged her close, rubbing her back briskly.

  “What do you say, Molls—shall we go for the full treatment?”

  Billy’s blow-dryer had three settings: low, high, and hurricane. I did Molly first, leaving her soft and fluffy, with orange hair punked out on the top of her head. She loved the warm air blowing over her and twirled wildly with arms extended skyward, like a ballerina on crack.

  I was applauding one of her more expansive pirouettes when a bang! interrupted playtime, making me jump. Either a car had just backfired in Billy’s living room or somebody had fired a gun. I turned off the dryer and parked Molly on the toilet (lid down, of course), told her to stay put, and edged the door open.

  The living room was empty. I couldn’t see into the kitchen from where I was, so I crept out, gingerly shutting the door behind me. I didn’t need a diminutive fur person playing Watson to my Sherlock.

  Something—instinct, a sixth sense, whatever—kept me from calling out to Billy. Instead, I padded toward the kitchen, ducking to stay out of the line of sight until I was safely behind the breakfast bar. When I peeked around it, the first thing that oozed into my field of vision was blood, garnet black against the dark floor.

  I stood at once and rushed into the area screaming, “Billy!”

  But it was a woman laid out against the opposite side of the bar, one hand clinging to the handle of the cutlery drawer. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Flat, leather sandals showed off her pedicure. As I stared in shocked horror, her eyelids fluttered open and her lips formed the word “help.”

  Galvanized, I grabbed a dish towel off the counter and pressed it to the expanding blood spot just above and to the right of her navel. There was a wound on her back, too, so I reached for another towel and covered it, applying pressure as hard as I dared. She’d been shot through and through, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the front or the back. I just knew that if I didn’t slow the bleeding, she’d be dead before I could find out who she was.

  “Billy!” I hollered again. “Where are you? I need you. Now, damn it!”

  No answer. I let go of the towel and disengaged the woman’s hand from the drawer. I lowered her gently, counting on her body weight to keep the towel pressed firmly against the back wound, and placed her hand on the towel in front.

  “You keep holding this right here,” I said to her. “You hear me? Hold it tight. I have to get a phone.”

  A clatter on the breakfast bar above me alerted me to Molly’s presence. She dropped a cordless handset on me. Smart monkey.

  I was about to dial when I heard a voice coming from the phone: “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” Molly had already dialed for me.

  “A woman has been shot. She’s bleeding. Hurry!” I said, and verified Billy’s address. I disconnected as soon as the dispatcher told me help was on the way, swiping the phone across my bath towel before I laid it back on the counter. My fingers were still covered in blood. I wiped them off, too. Which was silly, because they got bloody again as soon as I touched the woman.

  Who was she? And, geez, what was I supposed to do with her until help came? Think, Ciel.

  What I really wanted to do was call Mark. But I didn’t dare take the time—if she didn’t bleed to death, shock could still kill her. What were you supposed to do for shock? Keep her warm, right?

  Okay, blankets. I ran to the living room. On the sofa was a throw cover Auntie Mo had knitted for Billy when she was stuck on bed rest with one of her pregnancies. God, she’d kill him if he got it stained. Crap. What the hell was I thinking? It was there. I needed something now. I grabbed it. It was as ugly as sin, anyway. A few bloodstains couldn’t make it any worse.

  I laid it over the woman, checking her wound as I did. It was still oozing. Oozing was better than gushing. I was afraid to lift her to check her back. The pressure
from her weight on the wadded-up dish towel might be all that was keeping her from bleeding out.

  “Thanks, Ciel.” The words were thready, spoken so softly I couldn’t be sure I’d heard my name. I stared at her face, really looking at it for the first time.

  “My God … Laura? Is that you?”

  It was. The long, auburn hair was now black and severely short, with eyebrows dyed to match. Or had the auburn been the dye job? But her forest green eyes were exactly as I remembered them. Her lips and cheeks were devoid of their usual healthy color—duh, Ciel, no wonder—but it was definitely Laura. She was the CIA operative who’d recently helped Mark crack a neo-Viking terrorist ring. I’d met her in Sweden when my then-client’s fiancé got kidnapped by the group.

  “Laura, what happened? What’s going on here? Who did this to you?”

  “Well, I could tell you, sugar, but then…” She tried for a smile, but it was replaced by a grimace as she sucked in a breath.

  I was glad she still had her sense of humor, but killing was not something I wanted to contemplate, even in a punch line.

  “Don’t talk. Help will be here soon.”

  “Ciel, tell Mark…”

  I took her free hand. “Quiet now. Save your breath.” As much as I wanted to know what she had to say, I was more worried about her dying. First things first.

  “Tell him he was right.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut again, and I felt panic grip my chest. I had to fight the urge to shake her, to yell at her to stay awake. The wail of a siren getting closer penetrated my growing bubble of fear, easing it some. Thank God. Maybe now my head wouldn’t explode.

  “Forget it,” I said, babbling anything, trying to will her into consciousness. “His ego is big enough without letting him think he was actually right about something. You just hang on, and when you’re better I’ll help you come up with a reason he wasn’t right. I’m good at reasons. Reasons are my specialty.”

  She didn’t respond.