High-Caliber Concealer

by Bethany Maines

  “And you are like a tiny oven,” he murmured back. “I could bake pizza on your stomach.”

  “We’re not very sexy, are we?” she asked plaintively.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, disbelief coloring his tone. “How on earth was that not sexy? We are sexy as hell. We are so sexy, they probably have a photo of us in the dictionary under sexy.”

  “No, I’m not complaining about the sex. The sex was sexy. But you and I, we’re not very… we should be snuggling and looking romantically at each other. Instead, we’re complaining about the heat. I mean, we even waited until after dinner to tear each other’s clothes off.”

  “Because you are a tiny furnace. And we had to wait until after dinner. It would have been rude otherwise. Seriously, it’s hot. Did the air conditioning turn off? I hadn’t realized that Washington was so hot. I thought it was supposed to rain all the time.”

  “West of the Cascades. East of the mountains it’s a whole different weather system and it’s hot, hot, hot.”

  “I think I can see a mirage in the heat waves coming off your thighs.”

  Nikki chuckled. “This is what I’m talking about. How is that sexy talk?”

  “You’ve been watching too many movies,” he said. “We’re real people sexy.” He flipped over onto his stomach, a position that Nikki knew meant sleep was imminent. “Real people would feel like idiots if they talked like sexy people all the time. Besides, who’s defining sexy? I’m not talking like some idiot Fifty Shades of Grey character. Here, I’ll tell you what,” he reached out and pulled her closer. “Your lips are a scarlet thread and your words enchanting. Your cheeks, behind your veil, are halves of pomegranate.”

  “What?”

  “Song of Solomon. My love for you is like a gazelle, yadda yadda yadda.”

  Nikki wanted to laugh and make his quotes a joke, but she couldn’t. There was something very serious about having a man quote the Bible at her, and besides, Z’ev was already unconscious on the last yadda. She lay next to him for a long time before falling asleep.

  August XVII

  Planning Commission

  Friday

  “So,” said Jenny, when Nikki had finished catching them up on her excursion to the body shop. “The DEA is right, there’s definitely a smuggling pipeline coming through here. Bill Pims is using modified cars to get it across the border and they’re doing it here because frequent trips across the border aren’t unusual. So what’s the problem? Let’s tip off the DEA.”

  “Or better yet, your friend Donny,” said Ellen, stroking by on an inner tube.

  “Bill’s not the boss,” said Nikki. “And although I might be able to tell Donny I illegally searched the body shop, there’s not much he or the DEA can do without evidence. But that’s not really what I’m worried about.”

  “What’s got you worried?” Jenny flicked water out of the pond with her feet and onto her inner tube.

  “Ylina. We have the time to sit on the smuggling situation and consider what the best course of action is, but she’s running scared. Whoever the boss is, she’s scared of him. I think we need to find her and get her out of town.”

  “She didn’t sound very receptive,” said Jenny.

  “She wasn’t,” agreed Nikki. “But that’s hardly surprising. There’s no Carrie Mae branch nearby, no Carrie Mae lady to lay the groundwork. All Ylina knows is that some crazy chick in a bar beat up her co-conspirators and now wants to ‘help’ her. I’d be suspicious too.”

  “Well, and not to violate the prime directive, but here’s a question,” said Ellen. “Just because she’s a woman, are we obligated to help her? We don’t know she was coerced. They could be co-conspirators. If she got herself mixed up in drug smuggling, maybe she should reap the consequences.”

  “And if the consequences were going to jail,” said Nikki, applying more sunscreen and scooting further into the shade of a beach umbrella propped in the fork of a tree, “I’d agree with you, but the sheriff here seems more likely to deport her and a drug kingpin isn’t likely to turn her over for a jury by law either. She’s headed for trouble.”

  “So then we have two options,” said Jenny, kicking back toward the shore of the pond. “Find the drug kingpin and eliminate him, either by having him arrested or something more permanent. Or find Ylina and get her out of town, then tip off the DEA.”

  “I think we should pursue both,” said Ellen, stretching out on her inner tube.

  “I also want to hear what Donny has to say tonight at the Fiesta,” said Nikki. “He keeps saying that he needs to talk and he’s hinted that it’s work related. Maybe he’s got a line on the drug smuggling that we don’t know about.”

  “That would make it easier,” agreed Jenny. “Although, that seems unlikely. I mean, when does anything go ‘easier’ for us?”

  “Sometimes it does,” protested Ellen, sounding closer and closer to being asleep. “By the way, has anyone seen Jane?”

  “She’s in my room, going through the clothes with Grandma,” said Nikki. “I think she’s picking out outfits for you and Jenny to wear.”

  “She’d better not be. I’m not involved in that pinup girl train wreck.” Ellen lifted up her sunglasses to glare at Nikki as if the pinup girl train wreck was Nikki’s fault. Which, upon reflection, it sort of was.

  “What about Z’ev? Where’s he at?” asked Jenny.

  “Back at the hotel. I’m meeting him in town for lunch and then we’re coming back here to hang out. You guys, what am I going to do? I can’t have him staying at a hotel.”

  “You mean, you can’t be staying at a hotel,” said Ellen. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you sneaking in this morning at the crack of dawn.”

  “I did not sneak,” said Nikki vehemently. “But staying at a hotel is ridiculous for all parties concerned.”

  “Yeah, but your grandma’s eyes kind of bugged when Jane assumed he was going to stay with you,” said Jenny. “It’s her house. I think you have to respect her wishes.”

  “We already live together,” said Nikki. “It’s ridiculous!”

  “Then you should have said something last night,” said Ellen.

  “I froze. It’s not a conversation that I’ve ever had to have before. Maybe I can get Mom to talk to her,” said Nikki with a sigh. “That went OK, right? She seemed to like Z’ev.”

  “Oh, yeah, she is definitely Team Z’ev,” agreed Jenny.

  “But your grandma is clearly Team Jackson,” said Ellen. “What’s that about?”

  “He has eighty-three acres,” said Nikki, as if that explained everything. “And he really is a nice guy. I think that’s probably why I was so heartbroken up when we split up. We had always been friends and losing him wasn’t just losing a boyfriend, it was like losing my best friend besides.”

  “I think he’s dreamy,” sighed Jenny, paddling by again.

  “Yes, we all know,” said Ellen.

  Jenny sighed again. “I wish I really could date him,” she said wistfully.

  “Speaking of your mom and grandma,” said Ellen, paddling over to the shore and arriving dripping on Nikki’s blanket. “Was it just me or were they weirdly twitchy?”

  “Yeah, they’re fighting about something. I’m not sure yet what it is. They’ll tell me eventually, or one of them will slip up. I’m not really in a hurry to involve myself in whatever drama they’ve cooked up.”

  “Yeah, but…” Ellen trailed off and then shrugged.

  “Yeah, but what?”

  “I don’t know. I thought they seemed extra twitchy about the pot conversation.”

  “Do you think one of them is involved?” asked Ellen seriously and Nikki burst out laughing. “What? You’ve said before how farms always have financial troubles. Maybe Peg’s farm is a stopover on the green underground.”

  This caused Nikki to laugh even harder.

  “I don’t think she’s taking your slang seriously,” said Jenny.

  “Well, fine. Whatever you want to
call it. Peg could be involved.”

  “Not a chance,” said Nikki, finally recovering. “When my mom found out that I tried pot in college she about lost her nut. And then Grandma called and followed up Mom’s rant with one of her own. They both voted against Initiative 502 and legalizing marijuana. I doubt you could find two people more opposed to marijuana and anything related to marijuana than those two.”

  “Could be a clever cover,” said Ellen, leaning back on the blanket.

  “Yes, a cover story they’ve been working on for over a decade.” Nikki shook her head in disbelief. “That sounds highly unlikely. Anyway, I’m going to go talk to Mom, see if she can’t convince Grandma to let Z’ev at least stay somewhere in the house.”

  Nell was easy to find. She stood on the porch, hands on her hips, the picture of angry womanhood.

  “Have you seen your grandmother?”

  “No, she probably went down to the orchard to check in.”

  “I don’t know why. Jorge runs it all just fine without her.”

  “She likes to keep tabs on her farm. What’s wrong with that?”

  Nell flapped her hands in annoyance at Nikki’s comment.

  “But speaking of Grandma. Do you think you could talk to her about letting Z’ev stay at the house? Having him stay at a hotel is embarrassing.”

  “Sure. I mean, I’ll try. But honestly, you should just pack him up and bring him here tonight. She can’t kick him out and she’d never be rude to his face. That’s how I got your father through the door.”

  Nikki laughed. “I’ll do it.”

  “I’m sure you don’t care what I think, but I really do like him.”

  “You like him because he’s not a farmer.”

  “I like him because he can provide for you without both of you having to scrape and work all your lives. So yes, that means, not a farmer.”

  “I don’t have to be provided for, Mom.”

  “And neither do I, but it would be nice to have the option to not be strong all the time.”

  Nikki bit back a sarcastic reply. There was something incredibly sad about that statement. On impulse she kissed her mother on the cheek. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Mom. I’ll take care of you.”

  Nell look startled and clearly at a loss for words.

  “Anyway, I’m going to go meet Z’ev for lunch and then I think you’re right, I’ll bring him back here.”

  “How are you going to meet him? Your grandmother has the car.”

  “I’m going to take my car.”

  “It doesn’t have any air conditioning.”

  “So we’ll roll down the windows. Is there some place you wanted to go, Mom?”

  “Yes, I wanted to go into town and see Leona.”

  “You could take Grandpa’s truck. It’s in the shed.”

  “Does it still run?”

  “Sure, I think Grandma keeps it for hauling stuff.”

  “It doesn’t have any air either. If I go to the beauty parlor, my hair will be sweated out by the time I get home. Can you stop by the orchard and tell your grandmother to come back. I wanted to use her car.”

  “Sure,” said Nikki wanting to leave before her mother came up with a laundry list of chores or messages to deliver.

  Nikki made the short trip down to the orchard. The orchard, with its neatly placed rows of peach trees, should have seemed the picture of bucolic farminess, but it always reminded Nikki most strongly of a construction job site. It was organized and run from a rickety trailer that smelled of damp and still faintly of skunk from the time a skunk had crawled under the trailer and died. They had removed the skunk and relocated the trailer to a new site, but even bleaching the floorboards hadn’t quite removed the stink. In front of the trailer, there was a tiny parking area, mostly for the four-wheel ATVs that pulled trailers full of peaches from the orchard to the barn.

  Nikki parked the car next to Peg’s SUV and Jorge’s blue Toyota Tacoma and got out. A large whiteboard in front of the trailer showed a list of names and assignments. She could hear the rumble of ATVs further out in the orchard, but none were close to the trailer.

  She walked up the stairs and reached out to open the door and then stopped. Something was wrong. She should have been able to hear voices through the paper thin walls. Feeling a little silly, she pressed her ear to the door. She could hear the soft rustle of movement, but no voices. Frowning, Nikki leaned off the stairs and peered through the window. She was able to hold the position for only a few seconds and then had to jump off or fall over.

  Hurrying back to the truck, she climbed in and drove away. She had been right. She was not prepared to deal with her family’s drama.

  She pulled up at the Kessel Run and shoved her way past Harrison Ford. “Clyde, I need a shot of Yukon Jack stat!”

  Z’ev looked up from his menu. “Yukon Jack?” he asked as Clyde poured. Nikki gulped it down and slammed the shot glass back on the bar.

  “Thanks Clyde, now bring me a margarita, and don’t spare the tequila.”

  She collapsed in a chair opposite Z’ev, and fanned herself with a napkin.

  “Bad morning with your mom?”

  “My mom was actually supportive and fine,” said Nikki. And then leaned in closer to whisper. “I think we’re in the matrix.”

  “If we were in the matrix then your mom being supportive and fine would be a dead giveaway, wouldn’t it?”

  “Twilight Zone?”

  “Maybe. Why,,,,, what happened?”

  “So I stopped by the orchard on my way here, to tell Grandma that Mom wanted to use the car and I happened to look in the window of the job trailer and…”

  “And what?”

  “I saw Grandma making out with Jorge, her foreman.”

  Z’ev grinned. “Yeah, he’s her foreman.”

  “It’s not funny! I may be scarred for life.”

  “Well, at least now you know what they were arguing about last night.”

  Nikki shrugged. “I can’t believe they were arguing about that. So Grandma has a boyfriend. Why is that a big thing? You know, as long as I don’t have to see it.”

  “Different generations think different stuff is a big deal,” he said with a shrug.

  “Well, the question is, do I tell them I know, or do I wait for them to tell me?”

  “Wait,” said Z’ev firmly. “Do you really want to get into a discussion of how you know?”

  “Excellent point,” said Nikki.

  “Are you sure you want to eat here?” asked Z’ev, wiping off his menu with the corner of a napkin.

  “Yeah, the food’s fantastic. I just try not to touch anything. After lunch, I think we should check you out of the hotel.”

  “Your grandma changed her mind?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Mom said she’d talk to Grandma,” replied Nikki.

  “Hmm,” said Z’ev.

  “Hmm, what?”

  “Well, you know your family best. I don’t want to cause an argument. Plus, last night you weren’t exactly demanding that I stay with you.”

  “I told you, I froze,” said Nikki.

  “Nikki,” he said.

  Nikki felt the butterfly of panic start to flap in the pit of her stomach. He was going to say something serious. She couldn’t do serious. Not in front of Clyde and Han Solo.

  “Nothing. Let’s just eat lunch.”

  Nikki wanted to argue, but she knew it wasn’t in her best interest. They had been skating along the surface of their relationship for too long. There were cracks in the ice, but they just kept skating. Sooner or later the ice was going to break and that was going to be a bad day for everyone.

  Returning to the farm, they parked next to Jackson’s F-150. She could see Jackson out in the paddock, cleaning up Donna’s area and fixing the hay bales to the goat’s specifications. “Oh, shoot. He’s making me look bad. I was going to do that later this afternoon.”

  “Your ex-boyfriend sure hangs around a lot,” said Z’ev
.

  Nikki shrugged. “He and Grandma always got along. I think it’s nice that he helps her. I wonder if he knows about Jorge?”

  “Seems like something he would have told you, doesn’t it?” Z’ev climbed out of the truck and pulled his single bag out of the truck bed.

  Nikki shrugged again. “Jackson is not known to be verbose.”

  Z’ev laughed. “Did he sign up for the Louis L’Amour school of How to Be a Cowboy, or what?”

  “Hey, there is nothing wrong with the Louis L’Amour school,” said Nikki, feeling annoyed. “The world could use a few more straight-shooting white hats in it.”

  “White hats get dirty,” said Z’ev.

  “Stop being metaphorical,” snapped Nikki, knowing she sounded like her mother and hating it.

  “I wasn’t actually. White hats collect dirt and sweat too easily.”

  Nikki showed Z’ev to her room and went back downstairs while he unpacked. She was still annoyed about his crack about Jackson. Still annoyed about everything, actually.

  She grabbed a few sodas from the fridge and walked out to the paddock, then climbed up onto the fence rail and sat, watching Jackson. He had his shirt off and was rambling around in his jeans, cowboy hat and work gloves. He’d worked up a sweat and Nikki had to admire the sharp v-shape of his lat muscles as he hefted a bale of hay from the truck. He ignored her, reaching into his pocket and flicking his pocketknife open with a quick snap of the wrist. It made a sharp clicking noise and Nikki suspected that in a pinch it would be faster than a switchblade. He slit the twine on a bay of hale and reached for a pitchfork.

  “I was going to get to it later today,” she said. “I told you, you didn’t have to help.”

  “And I told you that I didn’t mind helping. Besides, you were gonna be out here in your snappy clothes and shovel the horse shit?”

  “I was gonna change. I do have other clothes.”

  “I believe that you have lots of clothes,” he commented with a half twitch of a smile.

  “I brought you a soda pop,” she said, holding up two cans still on their plastic leash. “But if you’re going to insult my clothes I don’t think I’ll give it to you after all.” He leaned the fork against the barn and walked over.