In a Fix

by Linda Grimes

  his dimples. By the time I was close enough to wag my finger in his face, he was back to his sunny self. He grabbed my shoulders

  and kissed me on both cheeks. “Easy to rile as ever, cuz.”

  I shrugged him off. “I wil never understand why you weren’t drowned at birth.”

  “I’m hurt.” He tried—unsuccessfuly—not to smile.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Truly. I’m crushed. This hurts worse than when you kicked me in the nuts.”

  “Oh, geez. How many times do I have to apologize for that? We were in fifth grade, for Pete’s sake. Get over it.” He’d told me

  he was wearing a cup for soccer practice. I was merely seeing if it worked. I can’t help it if I have an inquiring mind.

  Before we could continue down memory lane—which tended to be a rocky path for us—my pocket sprang to life. Mina’s cel.

  It buzzed again as I fished it out of the polyester cavern.

  Bily stopped me before I could answer it. “Wait. Who is it?”

  I checked. “Looks like the same number as before. I better take it.”

  “Let me.” When I hesitated, he held out his hand impatiently. “So I can hear the accent.”

  “But if it’s not me, he might—”

  “So it’l be you.” He took my hand, borrowed some of Mina’s energy, and al at once we were twins. I’d say it was

  disorienting, but I was used to that sort of thing. It was only a little weirder than usual this time because he was stil topless.

  I handed him the phone. He kept holding on to me, because a secondhand aura takes a little longer to absorb. As long as he

  was poaching off me it didn’t matter. “Talk to me,” he said in a perfect imitation of Mina’s perky voice.

  “Show-off,” I mouthed to him. He turned away from me, pinching my fingers more tightly than necessary.

  “Yes, I understand … Where? I’m afraid I don’t … yes, of course. No, I haven’t said anything about you, I swear … Her?

  Just some old tourist who offered me use of her shower … no, of course I wouldn’t … Wait! What about Trey? Is he—” He

  closed the phone and let go of me.

  “Wel?”

  He looked at me like I was a slow child. “Since when is a Swedish accent difficult to recognize?”

  “Is that what it was? Huh.” I totaly suck at recognizing accents, other than your standard BBC America British. I can imitate

  any dialect connected to an aura I’m borrowing, no problem. I just can’t identify them. My mother tels me I’m like someone who

  can play an instrument by ear, but can’t read music. Whatever. I wasn’t going to admit a weakness to Bily.

  He shrugged. “Might be Norwegian, but my money is on the Swedes.”

  “So what did he say? What am I supposed to do?”

  “Mina wil be folowing instructions to the letter, for the meantime.”

  “Okay, I’m prepared for that. But you have to be a little more specific.”

  “No, I don’t.” Stil projecting Mina’s aura, he reached for his shirt and slipped it back on, not bothering with the bra. “Right

  now I’m going shopping. If you want to come along, I suggest you slip into something a little more regal.”

  “Oh, no you don’t!” I grabbed his arm and spun him around. Not difficult, since in his current incarnation we were evenly

  matched, to say the least. “You are not hijacking Mina. I can take care of this myself.”

  “Listen, Ciel, you’re great at your job, but this is different. This is dangerous. I can’t let you do it alone, and since Mina can’t

  show up with anyone, I’m afraid I’l have to fil in for you.”

  “That is so not going to happen,” I said in my best stand-up-to-Bily voice.

  “Here’s the deal, Ciel. I am walking out the front door as Mina. If you want to folow me as Mina I can’t stop you, but you’l

  blow your whole job here. Is that what you want?”

  “Bily, be reasonable. You don’t know Mina. You might slip up. If I had her file here for you to read—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve read it.”

  “What? How did you … you broke into my office!”

  He shrugged. “Of course I did. How else could I track you?”

  A nasty realization hit me. “You’ve done it before, haven’t you? Gone through my private files?”

  “Wel, how did you think I found you al those other times?” he said in a perfectly reasonable, albeit Mina-ish, voice.

  “I thought my mother told your mother.”

  “You tel your mother where your jobs are but not me?” He looked incredulous.

  “She worries.”

  “I worry, too.” He certainly had Mina’s pout down pat.

  “Yeah, but I don’t care if I worry you,” I said, feeling mean.

  He gave my hair a tiny yank. “Yes, you do.”

  “Do not.”

  “Never mind. I have some shopping to do before my big meeting. If you want to come along to the mal, you best get changed.

  If you get my drift.”

  “Shopping? Are you crazy?”

  “We have some time to kil. Coming or not?”

  I sighed, heavily and melodramaticaly, the way I’d learned from my mother. (He ignored it, the way he’d learned from every

  male in my extended family.) “Al right, already. Hand over a bit of the royalty,” I said, not seeing an alternative, since I wasn’t

  about to let him out of my sight until I found Trey.

  He took my hand and shifted to the Queen long enough for me to tap into the energy, and just as easily donned Mina’s aura

  again. Cal me shalow, but going from a firm, young body to one that’s … wel, not … isn’t entirely pleasant. I shook out my

  arms—ack! the jiggle!—and flexed my muscles. Aside from the bingo wings, I was fine. When you project an aura, you’re limited

  by the age, size, and reflexes of your subject. Lucky for me, Liz was spry.

  Bily held up the sturdy-looking brassiere he’d taken off earlier, not even bothering to tone down his grin. “Here. You might

  want this.”

  I looked down at my new, gravitationaly chalenged bosom and sighed. “Give it over. I’l be back in a second—and don’t you

  dare leave without me.”

  *

  “Mina would never wear leopard spots,” I hissed at Bily after the tarted-up salesgirl left us to hunt down more “perfect for you”

  clothes.

  I was stil having a hard time believing a shopping expedition was necessary, but Bily had assured me he was acting on orders

  to go about Mina’s normal day before going to the designated rendezvous point later. He figured the Swede didn’t want Mina

  traipsing off to meet him too soon, in case any stray police officers were stil hanging around, and might be inclined to folow her.

  Since shopping was as normal as breathing for Mina—and nothing would’ve kept her from replacing her blown-up wardrobe—

  here we were, being normal.

  “Says you. I happen to like it.” He twisted and turned in front of the three-way mirror, getting the ful effect of Mina’s to-die-for

  body in the clingy halter mini dress.

  I shuddered. “You would. But Mina happens to have taste. I thought you said you read her file. Did you even look at the

  pictures of her closet?”

  “She’s on vacation. Believe me, nobody who owns a thong bikini like the one you were wearing earlier would hesitate to be

  seen in this.”

  “That was beachwear, and she only wore it to get Trey’s undivided attention. Normaly she’s more reserved.”

  “Al right,” he said, stil unable to take his eyes off his reflection. “You go find me something then.”

  “I wil. Stay right there.”

  Halfway out of the bimbo department, I started to suspect I’d
falen for it again. Why do the work yourself if you can get

  somebody else to do it for you? Both our mothers were stil under the impression Bily couldn’t load the dishwasher properly. Al

  he’d had to do was let one piece of heirloom china fal through his fingers while in transit from the sink to the bottom rack, and

  he’d never been asked to help again. When I’d dropped a crystal goblet—mostly by accident—al I’d gotten was a stern warning

  to slow down and be careful.

  In the grown-up women’s department I selected several appropriate outfits, stepping though the aisles as rapidly as I could

  while maintaining a nonchalant, just-an-old-lady-shopping attitude. I could’ve moved faster, but I didn’t want to attract undue

  attention to my royal presence.

  “Excuse me…” I was interrupted by a sturdy, middle-aged woman with hair too blazing blond to be natural. Her outfit

  screamed American tourist. “… but you’re … aren’t you…” She checked the surroundings. No one nearby. “… her?”

  Guess I hadn’t been nonchalant enough.

  She looked so puppy-dog hopeful, I hated to disappoint her. Meeting the undercover Queen was probably the most exciting

  thing to happen to her in … wel, ever, from the looks of her awed expression.

  “Not actualy, no.” I smiled and patted her hand.

  “But you sound just like her.”

  “Yes, we Brits al sound alike, don’t we?”

  “Oh, I get it,” she said, and scrunched one eye up in the biggest, most obvious wink I had ever seen. “Don’t worry. I won’t tel

  anyone.”

  “No, realy. I’m not the Queen.”

  “Uh-huh. Gotcha.” Another wink. Popeye had nothing on her. I didn’t have time for this.

  So I winked back. “I was hoping I could shop anonymously. It’s so difficult to do back home.”

  Positively thriled, she started to curtsey, but caught herself. “Oh, yes, Your Maj—er, ma’am. I understand. But, first, could I

  ask a question?”

  “Of course.” Just hurry, damn it.

  “Did you do it? Not you personaly, I don’t mean—but did you order it?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You know … Diana.” She was practicaly salivating. “Don’t worry, I won’t tel anyone,” she added under her breath.

  Oh, geez. People. “Wel, just between you and me…” I whispered conspiratorialy.

  She leaned in closer, tickling my nose with piña colada fumes. “Yes, yes?”

  “NO! Monarchs aren’t alowed to do that sort of thing anymore, you twit.”

  “Oh.” Her disappointment was palpable, but she made one last stab at a royal scandal. “But if you could have?”

  I gave her my frostiest royal glare and marched back to the dressing room. Shoved four complete outfits at Bily and said,

  “Don’t say a word. Just try these on, and let’s get the hel out of here.”

  Chapter 4

  Bily dumped the shopping bags on a chair in the living room. “Be a love and put those things away for me, wil you? I have to

  rush.”

  He had elected to wear one of Mina’s new outfits out of the store, and it was a vast improvement over the Queen’s resort

  wear. Now clad in white linen walking shorts, a blue silk shirt worn open over a white cami, and fashionable marina moccasins, he

  captured the real Mina. And I felt dowdier than ever in my geriatric attire.

  I ignored his request and folowed him to the master bedroom, where he slipped into the closet and opened a smal wal safe

  hidden behind scads of floral print blouses. He withdrew a wad of bils, tucked them into Mina’s new straw handbag, and tossed

  it onto the bed next to the one I’d been carrying.

  I appealed to him once more. “Look, it’s my job. My responsibility. Whatever has happened, I should be the one to take care

  of it.”

  “No.” Simple, direct. He reached back into the safe and took out a gun.

  My knees gave, and I sat down—hard—on the bed, feeling dizzy.

  “Ciel? You okay?”

  “No! I’m not. What the hel do you have that for?”

  “What, this?” He held up the gun and shrugged. “Thought it might come in handy if I got into a tight spot, that’s al.”

  “Guns are dangerous. You could get hurt.”

  He tucked the smal firearm into the back of his waistband, under the shirt, and sat next to me, taking my liver-spotted hand in

  his beautifuly manicured one. “The idea is more to prevent that from happening.”

  “What did that man say to you on the phone? Where are you going?” My voice quavered. I’d like to claim I did it on purpose,

  to manipulate the information I wanted out of Bily, but the fact is, I was upset. Post-explosion Confronted with a Gun syndrome,

  or something.

  “I know how to use it, you know. Expert marksman ranking. You don’t have to worry.”

  “That’s not what I asked. And I’m not worried.” I tried to hold back the petulance, but some may have slipped out.

  “Of course not.” His tone was too kind, his hand too gentle. I felt my eyes fil. If Liz weren’t past the age, I’d swear she had

  PMS.

  “Where?” I pressed, spoiling the demand with a sniffle. Stupid crybaby aura. British stiff upper lip my ass.

  “Not far. I’l be back soon, I promise.” He gave me a hug, letting a little of his own comforting self leak through. For a second,

  I thought he might relent and tel me where he was going, but instead he tugged one of my short, gray curls. “And I don’t fal for

  waterworks, so dry up, toots.”

  I pushed him away. “Go ahead. Leave. Take your stupid gun with you, and when you get yourself kiled, don’t come whining to

  me.”

  He grabbed the purse and let Mina’s silvery laughter carry him out of the room. “Stay here, Ciel. Behave yourself, and I might

  even bring you a present.”

  “Unless it’s six-foot-two and wearing Trey’s bathing suit, I’m not interested,” I caled after him.

  “Check the bookshelves, Edith. You might find something there to keep you entertained while I’m gone.” I heard the door

  close behind him.

  The sound I emitted in his wake was terse and rude. I’m sure the Queen did not regularly make use of the raspberry, but it

  expressed my feelings perfectly. I hate waiting. And I wasn’t interested in anything Bily might keep on the Queen’s bookshelves.

  Knowing his propensity for adding twists to his celebrity auras, it was probably a fine selection of royal erotica.

  What I needed to do was think of a good way to explain this mess to Mina if Bily didn’t get Trey back. It was one thing not

  getting her proposal—or that gorgeous ring—but coming back without even her boyfriend? I groaned. This situation was not

  going to enhance the word of mouth I was depending on to grow my business. Not that I’d have a business left if this job went

  south. I palm-rubbed my eyes and flopped backward on the bed. Hit my head on something scratchy. My eyes flew open.

  Uh-oh.

  I reached back and discovered Mina’s new handbag. Bily had grabbed the Queen’s—or rather, Edith’s—by mistake. Easy

  enough to confuse the two, especialy for a guy. Same size, both straw with leather handles. The only big difference was, one was

  stuffed with a crap-ton of large bils.

  I jumped up and ran for the door. No teling what the kidnapper might do if Bily didn’t have the money to exchange for Trey.

  Too late. Bily had snagged a bicycle from the resort’s guest supply, and was already wel down the road. Mina didn’t have a

  rental car—she always used a resort driver. And of course Bily wouldn’t want a driver along. He was supposed
to come alone,

  so the bike made sense. I debated caling out to him, but knew it would be futile. He was too far ahead. I’d have to folow, and

  hope I could catch him before he got to where he was going.

  You were supposed to check in with the resort’s activities office before you took a bike, but they relied on the honor system. I

  figured kidnapping qualified as an exigent circumstance, so I didn’t hesitate to grab the one single-seater left without asking, only

  to find it had a flat rear tire. Crap. Of course, there were scads of tandem bikes available. This place was geared toward couples.

  Could one person even ride a bicycle built for two? I sucked in a deep breath and hauled a bulky beast away from the rack.

  Guess I’d find out.

  Okay, technicaly, yes, but it wasn’t easy. First thing I realized was a tandem bike is heavy on the ass-end, and awkward as hel

  to steer around curves, especialy with an over-eighty body at the pedals. Second, it’s a lot hotter in the Bahamas when you’re on

  a bike than it is when you’re on the beach. Who knew royalty could perspire so much?

  I made it to the road without faling off, which was a minor miracle in itself, and then narrowly avoided head-on colisions with

  an airport van and a truck ful of watermelons as I wiped the sweat out of my eyes. The driver of the truck helpfuly pointed out,

  “The left, you idiot! We drive on the left here!”

  Huh. Like I wasn’t trying.

  I pedaled for what seemed like hours, but was probably a few miles, tops, barely managing to keep Bily in sight. Thought I’d

  lost him for sure when he abruptly turned off the road, but as I caught up to that point I saw it was a dirt path, almost hidden amid

  the dense vegetation. Wheezing, I ducked my head beneath the overhanging branches, and kept going. My aged butt took a

  beating, but at least the bike stayed upright until I came to a clearing.

  The building Bily puled up to was long and low, and had seen better days. He left his bike leaning against it, and disappeared

  through the door—without the money, dammit!—before I could gather enough breath to cal his name.

  Shit. There was only one thing to do now.

  I dumped the stupid bike where I stood, happy to be done with it, and started speed-walking toward the building. Not a