Security Squad

by Nicolette Pierce

  Hmmm. My business senses were tingling. “Why don’t you have the meeting at the bar? I’ll have Jack whip up some delicious Saturn rings, and I’ll make nebula sunrises.” What nebula sunrises were, I had no idea. It sounded good, and if I could wrangle in a club meeting, it meant tips for me.

  “That sounds like a super idea. I’ll call everyone now.”

  I better text Jack and give him a heads up to prepare enough onion rings to keep the club happy, I thought, ending the call with my dad.

  I turned to finish taping the sign and spotted Bob walking into a bar. Why is he going into that bar? A sneaking suspicion he was warming two different barstools had me stealthfully shuffling over to the window to spy inside. Bob wasn’t at the bar. Where did he go? I wondered, scanning the entire length of the room. Perhaps he stopped at the men’s room.

  I wasn’t going to stick around and wait. I had more signs to hang and an astronomy club meeting to prepare for. But it made me wonder if we were going to lose yet another customer and Mac’s bar companion.

  No, that’s silly. Those two are inseparable . . . well, I guess not quite as inseparable as I’d thought.

  * * *

  “Halt!” Hank growled. He was standing in the parking lot with his hands on his hips looking quite out of sorts.

  The ladies peered up from their scattered positions.

  “What’s he blustering about this time?” Sylvia asked. A smudge of dirt spotted her nose.

  “The flowers,” Ida answered, spreading dirt around a newly planted mum, clearly enjoying Hank’s displeasure.

  We were at the end of the summer season, heading into fall. The mums reflected the season change with their burnt oranges, reds, yellows, and purples. They were pretty — a fact that irritated Hank.

  “Hank, they make the bar welcoming,” I said, and added, “They’re not permanent.” Which was true. They’re flowers, not statues.

  “This is a bar, not a garden,” he argued, gripping onto his hallowed dive for as long as possible.

  “There’s nothing wrong with adding a little color,” Ida said. “Heaven knows you could use a little as well. When was the last time you went clothes shopping? You’ve been wearing that same shirt since 1981.”

  He looked down at his brown button-down shirt. “It’s comfortable.”

  “It’s old. Just like this building,” she said.

  “Give up, Hank,” Jack said, looking out from the doorway. “Grandma, the flowers are very nice.”

  “Thank you, Jack.” Ida smiled at her grandson. “Have you met any new girls recently? Any keepers?”

  “Not since the T-shirt contest. But no, no keepers.”

  “What about this one?” Ida shot her thumb my way.

  My eyes widened and I stammered to argue.

  Jack came to my rescue with a good-natured smile. “You know I would jump at the chance, but she’s already taken, Grandma.” He sighed dramatically.

  Mrs. Janowski nodded. “And he’s a naughty rascal. You should have seen what he brought her last night.”

  “Mrs. J.!” I squeaked. “Were you wearing your night goggles last night?” I demanded.

  She nodded. “And boy, did I get an eyeful. I keep telling you to get better shades. I nearly had a dizzy spell when I stumbled upon your window.”

  Better shades.

  Oh, my!

  “Your face is as red as the flowers,” Jacks said with a gleam in his eyes. “So, what did Evan buy that has you beet red and Mrs. J. fainting?”

  Thankfully, I was spared having to answer when Ida turned to Jack and asked, “What about that feisty girl you were arguing with all night at the contest?”

  He leaned over to whisper to me, “Don’t think we’re done yet. I still have questions.” He winked and then turned somberly toward Ida. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, pleading ignorance.

  “You know, that pretty little number with the blue eyes,” Mrs. Janowski said. “Isn’t she Evan’s sister? Didn’t you kiss her?”

  “Don’t remind me,” Jack huffed. “I’d like to forget all about her.”

  The ladies eyed him with curious interest.

  “She’s a cook, right?” Mrs. Janowski asked.

  Ida’s mouth twisted into a devious smile. “Yes. That’s right. And I believe she’d be interested in signing up for the cooking competition. I’ll swing by her truck later and invite her.”

  Jack stared at Ida incredulously. “Grandma, have you no shame? Andrea and I can’t stand each other.”

  “That girl is the devil’s own harpy,” Hank added.

  “You think that about all women,” Ida retorted, turning back to Jack. “And no, I have no shame. We all know you and Andrea were hot and steamy in the kitchen. No use trying to deny it.”

  “Hank nearly had a stroke with all the action,” Sylvia added. “Remember when he escaped from the kitchen with his hair standing on end?”

  “That’s because he hasn’t seen action since I moved out,” Ida said.

  Hank snarled, turned on his heels, and stormed back into the bar. The ladies snickered.

  “I’m not denying there was a kiss,” Jack said, stepping to the side to avoid being toppled by Hank. “But I don’t want to ever repeat the experience.”

  “Bah!” Mrs. Janowski said with a wave of her hand. “That’s what a man says when he doesn’t know he’s head over heels. Men are always the last to know these things.”

  “You’re not going to win this argument,” I whispered in warning to Jack.

  He grimaced, knowing I was right. “If she wants to enter the competition, that’s fine with me. I couldn’t care less.”

  “Great. I’ll invite her,” Ida said smugly.

  He stared at her, not blinking.

  “Are you concentrating on not rolling your eyes?” I asked Jack with a laugh.

  His face broke into a grin. “Does it show?”

  “Yes. I know that look well. I wear it at least once a week . . . sometimes more.”

  He laughed. “That makes me feel better. At least I’m not alone.”

  “You’re never alone in that respect. How are the Saturn rings coming along?”

  “Oh,” he said with a shake of his head. “I completely forgot why I came out here. I was going to ask how many people I should prepare for.”

  “There are usually twelve to fifteen members that show up,” I said.

  “Do you think they’ll want anything else? I could come up with something astronomy-related.”

  “Like what?”

  He looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I think I might need Mac and Bob’s input. They do put a creative spin on food.”

  “I’m not sure if ‘creative’ is the correct word,” I replied.

  “Unique?”

  “Ridiculous.”

  Jack feigned shock. “And after all of their hard work.”

  “Which is now hanging all over town.”

  “They’ll be proud.”

  I didn’t doubt that.

  Chapter 4

  Mac and Bob had vacated their normal stools and moved to the opposite side of the bar to watch the astronomy club members as their meeting commenced. It was giving the boys something to ponder.

  “Do you really think space is infinite?” Mac asked. “How can something never end?”

  “Nah, the way I understand it, it’s growing,” Bob said. “The universe keeps pushing the space walls out.”

  “There’s no such thing as space walls,” Hank stated.

  “Then where does the universe stop and nothing begins?” Mac asked. “And where does this nothing exist?”

  “It doesn’t exist,” Bob said. “It’s nothing.”

  “Is that the same as a black hole?” Mac asked.

  Bob snickered, ready to launch into a joke. “No, that’s . . .”

  “Stop!” I interrupted. “I don’t want to hear the joke again.”

  “Loosen up,” Bob said. “It’s a good joke. Pass me s
ome of those space balls that Jack made.”

  I pushed the plate over to Bob and Mac. They both dug in and popped space balls into their mouths.

  “You should have named them meteorites,” I said, stealing a fried cheese curd, aka “space ball.” “It would make more sense than space balls.”

  “Meteorites wouldn’t be a very catchy name,” Mac stated. “It’s fun to say space balls.”

  Bob nodded.

  If I partook in their conversation much longer, my IQ would drop at least twenty points, I thought, deciding it was the perfect time to check on Jack. I pushed through the kitchen door and plopped onto the rickety chair in the corner.

  “How is the meeting?” he asked.

  “The meeting seems to be doing just fine. It’s Bob and Mac that are giving me trouble.”

  “The toilet joke again?” Jack asked with a knowing smirk.

  “They can’t leave it alone,” I grumbled.

  “I can’t blame them. It’s a funny joke.”

  “Then you go out there and listen to it for the tenth time of the evening.”

  “I can’t. I’m making light sabers right now,” he said.

  I groaned. “We shouldn’t have let the boys name the appetizers. Light sabers and space balls have nothing to do with astronomy.”

  “It kind of does. Star Wars takes place in space. And so did the movie Spaceballs.”

  “Not you too!” I scolded.

  “If you can’t beat them, join them,” he said with a wink. “So, about the present Evan bought you . . .”

  I shook my head adamantly, feeling heat spread across my cheeks. “I’m not saying a word.”

  “Will you tell me if I guess?”

  “No way.”

  He smirked. “Then I’ll ask Evan.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I said warily.

  His smirk never left. In fact, it grew mischievous. “I would. And I will. If something makes Mrs. J. lightheaded and turns you as red as an apple, I want to know what it is.”

  The building shook with a loud rumbling sound. Our eyes locked.

  “It sounds like there are seventy bikes out there,” Jack said. “You better go warn your dad. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I raced out of the kitchen and over to my dad, leaning over to whisper. “Bikers are here. You should wrap up your meeting.”

  “But we’re only half done. We haven’t even gotten to the part about Betelgeuse dying.”

  “That star could have a million years left before burning out. I think you can wait to talk about it next week without any problems.”

  The door flung open and bikers flooded the bar. The astronomy club members turned to watch the infiltration with discomforted interest.

  I raced over to Hank. “Are they friend or foe?” I asked hurriedly.

  “Haven’t seen these riders before,” he answered.

  Damn.

  Orders were shouted. I took money while Hank tapped. My gaze darted through the bar, watching for any sign of a disturbance. The bikers milled around, eyeing the astronomers. The jukebox kicked on, drowning any chance for continuing the meeting.

  “Hi, Mars,” Brandy said, hopping onto a barstool.

  Brandy? But these riders aren’t the Blue Thunderballs.

  “Who are you riding with now?” I asked, eyes still surveying. “And are they friend or foe?”

  She waved off my concerns. “Don’t worry about these guys. They’re as gentle as pussycats.”

  I assessed the large men with full beards, tattoos, and leather.

  “If you say so,” I said, disbelieving. I grabbed a glass and pulled some bottles from my girly-drink stash. “What happened to the other guy you were fighting over? You know, Dirty Locks or whatever his name was.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I found him with another woman. Needless to say, I wasn’t too happy. She wasn’t too happy either when I superglued her helmet.” A smile curled.

  I slid a glass of sex on the beach in front of Brandy. “Was she wearing the helmet?”

  “Shortly after.” Brandy took a sip. “Hey, you’re getting good at this.”

  “Did she have to go to the hospital?”

  “I’m not mean-spirited,” she said. “I only superglued the top inside, where her hair is. It was quite therapeutic to watch them have to cut her hair to get her out. I think I did her a favor, though. Amazingly, she looks good with a shaved head.”

  “And then you left the Thunderballs?” I asked, tapping a beer for a rider.

  “Not at first.”

  “Don’t tell me you went back to Dirty Locks.”

  She shrugged. “He’s really cute.”

  “He’s a dirty slut,” Ida stated, squeezing her way closer to the bar. “Who are these guys?” she asked, looking around. “I haven’t seen them before.”

  “They’re the Comet Riders out of the Dakotas. I can’t remember if it’s North or South. Not that it matters. Aren’t they basically the same state?” She shrugged. “I’ll find out soon either way.”

  “Are you going to move there?” I asked. “What about your home and all of your stuff?”

  She shrugged again. “I don’t have anything to move. We’re always traveling. I haven’t had a real home in years.”

  I let that sink in. “Who are you riding with, then?” I asked.

  Brandy scanned the room and then pointed. “Fritz is over there by the man with the map.”

  I followed her gaze and saw a huge man with a thick brow glowering at my dad and his celestial map.

  “That’s my dad holding the map,” I said, feeling uneasy. “Will he be safe? Fritz doesn’t look happy.”

  Brandy gave a small wave. “I told you. These guys are pussycats.”

  I doubted that, but I’d leave them alone for now. “How did you meet him?”

  “Well, the Thunderballs figured out who superglued the helmet a few days later and they stranded me at a bar. I sat there for hours wondering what I should do when the Comet Riders rolled in.”

  “You need to ditch the riders,” Ida said. “Nothing ages a woman faster than a rough life.”

  Brandy’s lips pinched together. “I’m happy with Fritz.”

  “For now,” Ida muttered, eyeing the whiskey bottle behind me.

  I grabbed it and slid it in front of her with a glass. She gave a nod and settled in.

  “I’m going to check on the astronomy club,” I said.

  As I dodged bikers and closed in on the group, I saw my dad jab a pointed finger at his open palm. It was a gesture I’ve witnessed before when he tried to make a point. The group was focused on the intense conversation.

  “That’s just a theory,” my dad stated.

  “It will be proven soon,” Fritz argued.

  “I’ve never heard such poppycock in all my life,” Dad retorted. “It’s a known fact that . . .” He stopped to look over at me. “Why are you yanking on my arm, Mars?”

  “Please don’t get into a debate now,” I hissed in a whisper. “These guys are bikers.”

  “Bikers that have their facts wrong.” He turned back to Fritz, refusing to be deterred. “As I was saying, it’s just a crackpot theory. First of all, a wormhole has never been found. I’m not saying they don’t exist, but if they do, traveling through them would be impossible and otherwise suicidal.”

  The club members nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Only the first few times until we learn how to navigate them,” Fritz stated.

  “Einstein and Rosen predicted them to be microscopic. How do you propose to navigate them?”

  “With a camera, of course. There are cameras small enough to navigate a human body. I’m sure a guy from MIT can make a camera small enough to pass through a wormhole.”

  Dad scrubbed his hand over his face and paused, looking thoughtful.

  Crap.

  I’ve seen that look before. This debate was about to turn into a brainstorming session. Those tended to last through the night and sometimes stretch
ed into days of head scratching, pacing, and missed showers. I took the cue and left them to it. I learned long ago not to step between my dad and his stars.

  * * *

  “I’m not touching that thing,” Edna said during our training at T’s place the next day. She stepped behind Ida to hide.

  “It won’t bite you,” Ida said, tugging Edna.

  “No, but I’ll end up shooting my eye out.”

  “You have eye protection.”

  Edna’s brow creased. “These glasses aren’t bulletproof. I don’t see why we need to learn to shoot. We’re not going to carry guns.”

  “Why are we learning to shoot?” Sylvia asked, turning to T.

  “Because Mrs. J. wouldn’t take no for an answer,” T answered, scowling at Mrs. Janowski as she drooled over the assortment of weapons he had.

  “Do you have any AR-15s?” Mrs. Janowski called to T. “I was hoping for more action.”

  “No,” T stated firmly.

  I had a feeling he did and had them well hidden from Mrs. Janowski. The guns currently on display were no better than a BB gun. And yet, I had a feeling the kickback still had enough power to knock a few of us over.

  Aaron poked his head in the door. “Did I miss anything?”

  “You haven’t missed a thing,” I said.

  With a satisfied grin, he bounded over to the ladies. Kym followed him in but veered over to me.

  “I didn’t know you were coming today,” I said.

  “Aaron talked me into it. I have a hard time saying no to him.”

  “Don’t let him hear that,” T said. “Nothing worse than an adolescent who knows how to twist their parent’s arm.”

  I caught Mrs. Janowski out of the corner of my eye, knocking on the wall and giving Aaron instruction to do the same. “Mrs. J., what are you doing?” I asked.

  She straightened and peeked over. “Just looking for termites. Those little buggers can infiltrate and you wouldn’t know it until you’re standing in a pile of sawdust.” She gave Aaron a nod to continue.

  T, Kym, and I stared at the pair.

  “What’s she really up to?” T asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, and I’m sure I don’t want to.”