by J G Jerome
I chuckle, “Get in line brother. Talk to you soon.” I slide in and close the door. As I click the buckle, Trina pulls out.
“He’s not well,” she says.
I agree, “No he’s not, but he’s not doing anything to make himself better. I keep encouraging him. Your little pep talk may do him more good than anything I’ve done so far.” She grins as she waits at the road.
“Reverse course, Captain,” she asks in a pirate accent.
“Aye, matey,” is the only appropriate response.
“Argh,” she say as she turns left on the road and heads back out.
“How do chicken kabobs sound for lunch,” I ask.
“Oh yeah! That sounds great, sir.”
I pull out the phone and look up the number for the Fireside Bistro and order two servings of Chicken Kabobs to go with some bottled water. I’ve not ever done take-away from them, but they have great Persian food. I like to indulge whenever I get the chance.
I give Trina directions, and away we go. Upon arrival I launch out to grab lunch as she backs the SUV into a parking space. While I‘m in the restaurant, my phone pings me that a text came in, but I stay focused on my task. I’m back out in about three minutes with a bag that smells like heaven.
I jump in and give Trina directions. “OK, Trina. Take a right, and then an immediate left onto 89A. Once we are out of town, there is a little rest area about two-thirds the distance to Jerome. We can pull in and eat there.”
“Yes, sir.” I pull up my phone and see the text is from Erica. I open it and see a selfie of her in an airplane lavatory in her uniform. I’m sure her uniform is not in compliance because her jacket is open completely, her blouse is open to her navel, and her bra is completely under her plump breasts, pushing them into the air. Her nipples have popped, and her left hand is pulling the left one hard enough that it looks twice as long as the other. The text reads, ‘Wish I could be there with you. I would bring these to the party!’ I fire off a quick ‘We both are ready to see you again! Be safe! Love J & M!’
After that I sit back and watch Cottonwood slide by as Trina manages the hard stuff.
I love Old Town Cottonwood. It’s a wonderful blend of historic small town, boho chic, artsy, haute cuisine, and bars all rolled into one glorious locale. Cottonwood and our next destination, Prescott, both call to my soul in different ways. Prescott has been heavily influenced by a huge influx from California, with all the good and bad that implies. It still has the old town charm going around Courthouse Square and Whiskey Row, with a similar mix of the elements similar to those I love about old town Cottonwood, but there are more stores, restaurants, and conveniences that cater to people with money to spend. Plus Prescott is cooler temperature-wise. Both places draw weekend tourists in the summer to escape Phoenix. Cottonwood draws a lot of Canadian snowbirds in the winter, too. If I were just looking for a house, Prescott would be my choice. Since I am looking for more of a ‘country manor’ setup as Myra called it, Cottonwood’s draw is stronger for me at the moment.
If I find what I’m looking for in either town, I will be ecstatic.
We’ve been driving less than fifteen minutes when Trina points ahead, “Is that it, Jack?”
“That works, Trina. You’re the best.”
“I know,” she says. Again, I see a big grin on her face. I have to chuckle.
She pulls into the rest area and smoothly executes her normal parking maneuver, which is impressive as there is no rail behind us. I get out as she sets the emergency brake. “Too bad we didn’t have a footbrake in the Safeway lot,” she says. “Myra would have been more comfortable.”
I look up to catch her eye as I lean in to grab the bag. “I think you did an extraordinary job of making her comfortable, Trina. I doubt she has any complaints.” She shrugs and closes her door.
I add, “I miss her, too. Sit inside the hatch to eat?”
I hear her answer, “Sure,” as I head to the rear of the vehicle. I pop the hatch, and she says, “hold on for a minute.” She pushes the duffles to run horizontally across the back of the cargo hatch and then levers up the floor. Holding it and peering in she squints.
“Hey, Jack can you reach the torch in my cargo pocket?”
“You don’t want to just shine your eyes in there?” I set the bag of food on top of the flooring and root in the small pocket to find a short led flashlight.
“Sadly, I can’t generate enough light to go more than just in front of my face. It doesn’t work that way,” she replies. I shine the light into the gap.
“Uh Trina...something just moved.”
“Shit,” she exclaims as she drops it. “Move the bags off it.” I hand her the torch, which she holds in her left hand. Then she pulls this beautiful curved blade from her shoulder rig. I carry the three duffles to the side. I go back for the guitar and amp.
“Okay, now what?”
She says, ”Pull it out when I give the word.”
‘Jacob, I think a full-forearm gauntlet would be useful about now.’
I get an impression of ‘roger,’ but without any vocalization.
‘Durec, how about mock-turtleneck t-shirt coverage.’
*Certainly, Lord Jack.* I feel the two knotted cords unravel to the desired configuration as I pry the floorboard up enough to slide my gauntleted fingers under it and grab it.
“Trina, how about I lift it and try to get it in position to provide a shield.” She nods. “Okay. So out and down, then up. Once I have it in place we can look over to see what we have.
She nods again. “Do it now.”
I check to ensure I know how far I am from the edge. Then I nod to her and pull it hard backward as I perform what martial artists refer to as a ‘cat’ maneuver. Leaving the back edge on the bumper, I do a ‘bow’ forward and push the board into vertical position.
Trina looks at the gauntlet, and then at me. “Spoils of battle. I’ll tell you about it later.” Rolling her eyes she peers through the four-inch gap at the top.
“Fuuuuuck,” she says. “Fucking demi-fey assassin.”
I respond with something pithy, “What the fuck does that mean?”
Keeping her eyes on the gap she says, “A flying Barbie doll with a poisoned blade.”
Keeping the poison comment in mind, I reach behind me with my bare hand trying to reach the magical blade. ‘Eventide, is there any way for you to move to my left.’
I hear Durec respond, *Lord Jack, let your arm hang and get ready to grab her when she slaps into your palm.*
I do as requested and one breath later I feel the handle in my palm. I flick the blade open and hold it in a palm down grip with my lower three fingers. I steady the edge of the board with my index finger and look over the edge just in time to see a flying Ken doll in black with shoulder-length hair and dragonfly wings try to poke me in the eye with a five inch sabre.
Trina stabs at him but is too late as he buzzes back out of range and then follows Trina’s blade back towards the entrance. He’s ignoring me, so I channel my inner bar brawler by pulling the board down about another inch and firing a right cross center of mass on the assassin. The concussion interrupts his flight as he bounces off the window in front of Trina. She catches him with her blade on the bounce, cutting him in half.
She shines her light over the cargo area looking for more surprises. “Remove the board,” she says, so I set it on the ground leaning it on the bumper. “I was expecting a rattlesnake. That’s much easier to avoid sending suspicion on the Winter Court.”
“Could he be Summer Court?”
“No. He’s one of ours. His name is...was Silk. I worked with him a couple of times. Little dude was deadly. He has over 100 kills. We’re lucky to be alive. As far as I know, this is his only failure. Can you lift the tire the same way?”
“Sure.” I tilt it up as requested. She checks the well and indicates I can return it. She grabs two rubber wedges from the well and puts them either side of the back driver-side wheel. I smile at how
thorough she is. It’s always great to work with a professional.
I fold up Eventide, and return her to my pocket. I ask Durec and Jacob to return to their knotted configurations. They transition as I return the floorboard. Guitar and amp go back in. Lunch goes back on the board. Finally I bring the duffles back. I open mine and check to ensure no surprises found there way in there, but everything appears in order.
Trina blows out a sigh as she zips hers closed too.
“Can we have lunch now? The smell from that bag is driving me into a frenzy.”
“Sure Trina.” I see the pieces of Silk’s corpse laying at our feet. “Shall I kick him over the edge.”
“Yeah. Something will eat the remains.”
I sit down on the cargo floor with my legs hanging over the bumper. Trina sit next to me. I put the bag between us and pull out two bottles of still water, another two of sparkling, two styrofoam boxes of chicken kabob, a ziplock with a stack of foil wrapped pitas, two containers of yogurt garlic sauce, and two of chili sauce.
I open the pita package and hand a box of kabob to Trina. She watches me tear some bread off and grab some chicken. Then I dip it in the yogurt sauce and the chili. My sigh conveys to her my pleasure in the melange of flavors in my mouth from the huge bite.
Trina smiles. She constructs her own first bite copying my procedure. She takes her first bite, chewing it slowly and completely. I watch her eyes droop and a beatific smile grow on her face. After she swallows, a blissful groan escapes her mouth.
I crack open a sparkling water and smile at her. “First time you’ve had kabobs?” She nods and reaches for another. I’m surprised, but I suppose it’s probably not all that surprising. I have no idea what her life has been like before I met her yesterday.
“Enjoy, Trina. It’s been a long day.” She nods and takes another bite.
We devour our lunch without speaking again. We make all kinds of appreciative noises over the food and share smiles of joy over the experience. When it’s all gone, I put the empty wrappers and cartons back into the bag and toss it into the back. There are three waters left, so I hold one of each up to Trina. She grabs the sparkling, and I crack the other.
“Feel better?” I ask her.
“Much. This food was such a good idea! I like the locale, too. It would have been perfect if not for our uninvited guest. She peers over the edge and flips the bird to the tiny corpse.”
“I hate to break the mood,”...
…”then don’t.”
“C’mon Trina. This is important.” She hangs her head. I add quietly, “Do the math, Trina. You didn’t order the truck until you were in the office. It’s a truck that only you use, right?” She nods. “They loaded it with surveillance devices and explosives, when only you and some no-account mortal were going to be in it. They could have loaded them in the vehicle you were taking to pick up Myra, but they didn’t want to put the Princess at risk. This last bit is based only on my observations over the last 24 hours, but you appear brutally competent to me. You have a presence that I’ve only seen in top-level operators. I’m assuming they know how competent you are. So, they infiltrate an assassin to finish the job in case you cleared the explosives. He probably didn’t know about the explosives. He’s also an assassin that knows you; so that if he fails, you still get the message.”
She turns her face away from me. “Trina, what are they trying to accomplish?” She covers her mouth and sobs. I stand and walk to stand in front of her. I take the bottle out of her right hand and set it down as my right hand caresses her shoulder. Then I grab her right hand and pull her into my arms. She lays her head on my left shoulder turned away from me. I gently massage her back as she sobs her frustration and hurt away.
Her sobs eventually stop. She slowly wraps her arms around my neck and turns her face into my neck. I keep holding and massaging her for several minutes.
“Thank you, Jack. I’m sorry to put you through all that.”
“Tell me about it, Dear. Let me help you talk it out.” I feel her nod.
“Sit down, Jack.” I release her and sit in the middle of the cargo floor. She empties her water, and then crawls into my lap with her legs off to the right of mine. Her arms and head return to their position from when we were standing in an embrace. She rubs her face on my shirt for a minute and then stops.
“I understand that’s a Fae thing.”
She nods, apparently not thinking to ask how I came to understand that. Then she touches the Celtic Knots on my throat. “That’s nice. I don’t recall that being there before.”
“It wasn’t. I have quite a story to share with you when we get done running around today.”
She nods and returns her arm to hold my neck. “Jack, this smells like a multi-faceted campaign. If they kill me, then Myra is without the support of her oldest, closest friend and most rabid bodyguard. If I survive all their attempts, then it becomes a psychological campaign as I am likely to tell her, she gets more anxious, and…” She pauses for a moment, “...what the hell would that gain?”
“Would it cause Myra to button up and stay at the compound? You know her better than anyone. How would she react?”
“If I tell her, she would button up. My security would become her primary concern, and...and all the work on the accord becomes second priority.” Trina sits up. “Getting all the people around the table to agree to the accord has taken all her attention for over a year. All the participants have been trying to wiggle out of it at every turn. If she loses focus on it for even a couple of days, the whole thing could fall apart.”
“Is it possible that our adventure with the Douchettes earlier today was part of a deal between one of the accord stakeholders and Prince Corwyn?”
“Oh shit, Jack. That’s diabolical!” She thinks for a minute, “Oh! At least two of the Sidhe families we want at the table have relatively cordial relations with Summer Court. The Schatten family actually have business interests with Prince Corwyn and a couple of his partners! Shit, shit, shit!”
“Okay. That’s sound deductive reasoning. Who does she have near her to help her find evidence?”
“Normally I would say the Queen’s Ravens, her elite guards - all female. There is a contingent of them in Sedona, but I think four of the six are from Family Schatten. She can’t ask the Goblin King for help because she just had to bitch slap him yesterday. The only one that is…ah crap, I don’t know. Myra does this shit all the time and makes it look easy. I should just present my...er...our concerns as a potential scenario and let her do her magic.”
“Okay. What are the impacts if we don’t tell her about the attempt on you?”
“She’ll be pissed as hell when she finds out. Pissed at me. Pissed at you. Cholley will die in minutes. Otherwise, she might withhold sex from us for about four hours.”
“Okay. How about this. We contact her with the following messages. First, you finally got rid of her thrall.”
She nods, “That gets you off anyone’s radar in the unlikely event someone might have taken note of you. We kept you out of our reports on the attack other than I sent you to her with the gun in the purse.”
I nod, “It lets me attack from the shadows if I have to get back in the game. Hopefully it won’t come to that. Continuing on. Second, you had a weird ‘what-if’ collusion scenario pop into your head as you were driving the vegetable to drop him off in Prescott. Third, you stopped in Cottonwood for a late lunch and met a new friend in a restaurant. You would like to take a couple of days off to catch him playing guitar in Cottonwood tomorrow. Fourth, you had a blowout with Lorn in the garage, and you’re not sure if you’re done torturing him yet. Does she mind if you kill him? Finally, ask if she heard about your vehicle problems.”
“Okay Jack, I follow the logic on most of it, but why point three?”
“It gives her an excuse to come out and meet her best friend’s new mortal potential lover. If she takes the opportunity, then we get the chance to talk face-to-face. She’s likely go
ing to assume you’re talking about me; so, you mentioning it will likely cause her to think we need to chat...calculated risk, but reasonable. It also gives you a plausible reason to be gone this weekend, maybe into Monday.”
“Okay, why mention the Lorn debacle...oh crap, I’ve got that one. So she doesn’t bring the asshat with her on security. She’ll likely bring Ravens, but she may have to bring some of the boys just so they don’t make noise about not getting the respect due their station.”
“Right. Only Lorn and Cholley have seen my face in any detail, assuming the guys on security surveillance in the compound weren’t paying much attention to the brain-dead mortal. Good work there, Trina. So do you want to take a swing at the last one?”
She shrugs, “Why not. If she hasn’t heard anything, she will ask me about what kind of trouble. I respond ‘No big deal. I’ll tell you about it over a beer next time I see you.’ That tells me that so far no one is trying to use me against her, and it’s simply a case of me having pissed off someone powerful and them wanting me out of the way. HOWEVER, if she says she did hear about it, then I tell her ‘there were a couple of hairy moments, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.’ Recycle the ‘tell you about it later’ statement to close it down. Hopefully that puts her mind at ease.”
“You’re all over this, Trina. No wonder she loves you. You’re beautiful, smart, witty, and wickedly good at your job.”
She smiles at me, but the smile fades slowly into a serious look. She looks down at my lips, and then back up to my eyes. She does this a couple of times rapidly. Finally, she nods to confirm whatever internal conversation she’s having. Slowly she leans in and gently presses a kiss to my lips. I meet her, but don’t press. She breaks and then looks me in the eye. She does it again, but she gently nibbles my lips. Again, I match her pressure and pace, but I don’t push her.
She breaks again, and slowly a grin lights her face. “I got to give you credit,Jack. The whole time you were holding me, I’ve never once felt you press your rampant cock into me.”