Human Interaction

by Cheyenne Meadows

  I stepped up to the door, noting Melody behind the counter with her hands full of cookie sheets. "What wards?"

  "Just some magic. I would like to see some juvie try to steal it." His eyes flashed wickedly. "Dumb kid would wake up a while later asking what bus just ran over his ass."

  Chewing my lip, I asked, "You sure?"

  "Yep. It'll be fine." He pulled the door open a bit wider for me to enter.

  A huge explosion jostled us, shaking the entire building. I thumped into Meat, who braced himself in the door jamb. Right before my eyes, Meat's 'baby' went poof. One second it sat there, the next, it fell from the sky in dime sized metal pellets. The small license plate landed with a clank at his feet, blackened and bent.

  "You okay?" he whispered against my ear, still holding me tight.

  "I think so." Glancing up, I studied the emotions flashing over his face.

  He stood in stunned silence, his mouth gaping. Slowly, he bent to pick up the license plate, rubbing it tenderly with his thumb. His eyes returned to where his motorcycle once stood. That expression of 'I can't believe what just happened' quickly evolved into one of rage.

  Cars screeched to a halt. Onlookers drifted out of shop doors. Only a couple at first, then more as long seconds ticked by.

  Uh-oh. His eyes met mine. "Can't you just wiggle your fingers, say abracadabra, and it'll reappear?"

  He glared down at me, enunciating clearly and sternly between clenched teeth. "No. I can't make it reappear. This isn't David Copperfield, you know."

  Sirens sounded as the first fire truck pulled up, stopping beside a blackened spot on the cement. Judging by the non-harmonious wailing of other sirens, more first responders would show up any second.

  "It was one of a kind." He turned back to stare across the street. "What in the hell was in that box?"

  "I don't know. My boss had me pick it up this morning. Just said it was fragile." I stammered out, still in shock that his prize possession ceased to exist except for tiny pieces dotting the cement.

  His stormy blue eyes locked onto me once more.

  Oh, yeah. He was pissed. Majorly pissed. Only once before had I seen him like this. And, just as then, I stepped back, retreating from the absolute fury about to be released.

  "Hey, Shy… ummm… do you guys want to sit down for a minute? I have fresh cookies out of the oven. On the house," Melody called from a nearby table, obviously trying to break the tension.

  I slowly ambled her way, noting that Meat followed, still sadly petting his damaged license plate.

  He sat at the table, tenderly stroking his one remaining possession from his now deceased bike, his eyes reflected pain, and began to actually water up. My heart broke as he reminded me of a little boy who had just lost his best friend. Forlorn came to mind.

  I shot Melody a pleading glance as she hurried over to pass out some cookies and milk to Meat.

  As things couldn't get much worse, I opted to go ahead and call Mr Cranky Enforcer and notify him of the loss. More than likely, he'd tell me something like I just signed the warrant for the end of the human world or something cheerful like that. Not to mention he would most likely still be asleep, until my downright depressing phone call woke him.

  He picked up on the fifth ring. "This had better be life or death," he growled into the phone.

  I pondered if death of a motorcycle counted. A seventy-five thousand dollar motorcycle at that. If not, I was pretty sure my own lifeline was drawing short from the expression on Meat's face.

  "Ummmm. Hello, Cannibal," I stammered. He cussed. I opted to just blurt it out and get it over with. "There was an accident with your box, you see."

  "I told you it was fragile! Don't you ever listen to anything? What did you do, lose it?"

  I chewed my lip for a second. "No. Didn't lose it." Technically, it didn't qualify for lost and found.

  "Was it stolen?"

  "Ummm. Nope. That's not it either."

  I must have garnered his full attention as he paused before demanding an answer. "Well, what in the hell happened to my blasting caps, then?"

  Blasting caps? My fuzzy brain contemplated that information for a second. "You had me carrying around a box of highly dangerous and combustible blasting caps!" I erupted back at him. "I could've been killed, blown up in my car, became tiny bits of Shy splatter on someone's windshield!"

  Both Melody and Meat stared at me. She mouthed back 'blasting caps'. I just nodded and shook my head. Her expression spoke of sympathy and maybe a bit of indignation. Meat, on the other hand, looked like a volcano ready to erupt. Standing, he walked over to me, gesturing for me to hand over the phone. I shook my head. I needed my job. Pissing off my sort of boss didn't help ensure my continued employment.

  "If you'd have done as you were told, everything would've been fine." His voice lowered. "Where are my fucking blasting caps?"

  I could almost smell the smoke coming out of Cannibal's ears. "There was this accident, you see," I rushed onward. "I stopped by the cookie shop. I had a date last night and was awakened so early I needed sugar to keep me awake for the drive. Well, and today was one of those days that I just needed a cookie to make the day better. Some days, a woman just needs a cookie…"

  "Shyanne!"

  "Well, my date from last night saw me, pulled up on his motorcycle, and we were going to come in for cookies for breakfast. The box was heavy. Almost too heavy for little old me to heft across the street without dropping, but I didn't want to leave it in the car to be stolen cause I figured it would contain some ancient globe that will destroy the earth if I broke it and that certainly couldn't be stolen, you know…"

  "Shyanne!"

  "Well, I put it down by the motorcycle and well, Meat… You don't know Meat, do you? He's my boyfriend… or maybe was my boyfriend at this point." I glanced over at Meat's sour expression as he blatantly eavesdropped.

  "What do you mean 'was'?" Less growling this time.

  "He has this really pretty, Jesse James bike, you see. Or rather had. All I know was we walked across the street and boom it was tiny motorcycle confetti."

  "You blew up your boyfriend's Jesse James custom built bike?" Cannibal clarified slowly.

  "Well, sorta." I worried my lip once more, waiting for the next round of rage.

  Instead, I heard gales of laughter through the phone. Chuckles that turned into a full-blown belly laugh. Could have even been tears of mirth involved, as he went on and on.

  "It's not that funny." I tapped my toes and waited.

  He continued laughing his rear off at me. I gave up and clicked the phone closed. Enough was enough.

  Meat stared angrily in my direction. "Glad to know someone thinks it's funny." He sucked in a breath. "What the fuck was he thinking sending you after blasting caps?"

  "Meat. Ty. Please. He's my boss."

  "I don't care who the hell he is. You're not risking your life for him. I'll just track him down and explain that to him." A toothy smile full of retribution covered his face.

  He stood and flicked a couple of bills on the table. "Thank you, Melody. I'm sorry I couldn't have met you under better circumstances." Heading over, he hugged me quickly. "No more blasting caps or explosives of any kind. Ever."

  "But, my job…"

  "Isn't worth your life." He shot me a fiery look, spun on his heel, and stormed out the door.

  "Whoa," Melody said.

  I sighed. "This is going to be one of those days, I think."

  She gave me a hug. "Let's figure out a way to fix this."

  Hope danced in my heart. "You think we can really fix this mess?"

  A smile popped onto her face. "Sure. Besides, he's yummy, he didn't strangle you, and that rear begs for a quarter test."

  I blinked at her.

  "I'm just saying." She waved a hand nonchalantly. "I think he's more than worth the effort."

  I smiled in return as we began to brainstorm.

  CHAPTER 19

  Melody turned out to be a miracl
e worker. Right after Meat left she pulled up Google, attempting to find Jesse James. With a bit of hunting and picking, we were able to get his location and number. I wasted no time in calling, giving the company secretary a rundown of my situation and begging for an appointment. Luckily, she seemed to understand things like "I accidentally blew up" and "I really care for this man." She signed me up for a meeting the very next afternoon.

  I mentally wrote myself a note to take her a dozen cookies from Melody's shop as a thank you. Heck, might as well take some to Jesse, too. Anything to help my cause.

  Melody even knew someone that could get us in touch with the 'you want it blown up, we can do it' factory. I didn't have a clue why Cannibal wanted or needed such things, but tossing out the Enforcer term opened many doors in this city. Evidently, the blasting cap factory fell under the same category.

  Speaking of one grumpy Enforcer needing explosives, I grabbed a box of freshly baked cookies from Melody. She tucked them into a second, bigger cardboard box to help keep them warm, at least that's the reasoning she cited. Personally, I think after seeing my mishap, she thought maybe they needed extra protection in order to remain in one piece to their destination.

  Twenty minutes later, I entered the construction supply outlet, quickly telling the worker my name and what item I needed to pick up. Word must have spread quickly about my oopsie a few hours earlier as the front desk person gingerly rested the new box of detonator caps on the desk and scrambled through the back door, not even bothering to say better luck this time. Shaking my head, I grabbed up the box and headed on my way.

  By the time I reached Cannibal's home, the clock had turned to late afternoon. I figured he should be getting up and around by that time since he worked predominantly night shifts. After all, I didn't want to tick off Oscar the Grouch any more than I already had. Although, he did laugh hysterically at what happened to the bike, so I technically owed him payback by waking his snoring rear out of bed.

  After banging on the door several times, I pushed the doorbell repeatedly. Sighing in frustration and determination, I leaned on the doorbell once more, the cardboard box I held growing heavier by the second.

  The door swung open without warning. "Ack!" I squealed, jumping as my eyes landed on one large naked man standing in the doorway with an equally large metal blade.

  The box in my hands tumbled, gravity quickly drawing it down. Both my eyes and his locked on the item, staring as it seemed to topple slow motion to the concrete front step. I cringed, waiting for the next moment when the whole neighborhood would go boom and I really would be Shy splatter on someone's window.

  After what seemed to be an eternity, I opened one eye, peeking at the box lying at Cannibal's feet. No big bang. Leaning over, I cautiously glimpsed inside the box, and then stood, shooting him a grin. "Just the cookies."

  "Shit! What are you trying to do? Give me a damn heart attack?" he growled, his weapon twirling in agitation.

  "You scared me!" I crossed my arms over my chest.

  He simply snorted, glaring right back.

  Taking note once more of his apparel or lack thereof, I tilted my head. "Do you always answer the door nude and with a large pointy sword?"

  The corners of his lips twitched.

  My face flamed as I realized what I'd said. Looking down, I found the cookie box enthralling. "I didn't mean that!" The Neanderthal chuckled at me. "Can't you just put some clothes on?" I would feel better if he did.

  "No." He bent over, picking up the box easily. Standing up, he spun around.

  Gasping, my gaze landed on his equally nude rear. Slapping my fingers over my eyes, I tried unsuccessfully to erase the image now burned into my mind. "Why not?" Unable to resist, I peeked through my fingers, vowing to keep my eyes locked on his face.

  Pausing on his trek back inside, he looked at me over his shoulder. "My house. I wear what I want to… or not at all."

  One requirement for Enforcer-hood related way back to kindergarten grade cards. The 'plays well with others' box had to be left unchecked with a note underneath about how under no circumstance did they or would they pass that specific requirement. Something about big and bad meant civility fell to the bottom of the totem pole.

  Cannibal continued into the house, giving me a full on view of a scrumptious backside. My long forgotten vow vanished at the intoxicating sight. Dang. Here I was without a quarter, too. Wonder if I could use a blasting cap to bounce off that backside.

  A growl came from inside. "I don't think so!" His voice reeked of indignation.

  Wait a minute. How in the world? "You can read minds?"

  Low masculine laughter answered.

  My face beamed brighter than Rudolph's nose. Leave it to me to be stuck with the Enforcer with the ability to read my thoughts about his yummy bottom.

  "I can loan you a quarter if you want to find out," he tossed out in a low, sultry voice.

  Yikes!

  Luckily, divine intervention appeared in the form of Tony.

  One could describe Tony as a six foot tall guy with dishwater shaggy blond hair and a lanky strength. His brown eyes flashed with intelligence and knowledge, while his attitude made the rest of the Enforcers' 'don't play well with others' motto resemble finding cat poop in the sandbox you were playing in. Doesn't smell well, kinda icky, but overall not the worst thing that could happen. Maybe that's why he quickly moved up to the leader of the Clearwater City Branch of the Peace Protection Division. To put it bluntly, he was the Rock of Gibraltar for the group of near mercenaries. Rules bent, bad guys disappeared, and no one talked back.

  I gasped at his sudden appearance, a smidgen intimidated by his sheer height and piercing gaze.

  Then, an evil thought occurred to me. Sure, he could squish me like a bug and just one long look in my direction sent my adrenaline-producing cells to fast action. But, this opportunity couldn't be missed.

  Leaning in, I whispered loudly to Tony, "I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

  He glanced through the open door quickly before focusing back on me. "And why is that?"

  "'Cause Cannibal is nakie, has a large, hard… sword. And, he wants someone to bounce a quarter off his butt."

  "Shyanne!" Cannibal roared from inside the house.

  Squealing, I laughed, dashing back to the truck for his other box.

  Tony trailed along, taking the container from my back floorboard. His mouth hitched up in a small grin. "I better carry this."

  I nodded, relieved to be rid of those dang blasting caps.

  "Would hate for you to have another accident."

  Oh jeez. I lowering my head. "How did you…?"

  Tony hefted up the box with ease. "The whole world knows."

  Just great. I'd never hear the end of this one.

  * * * *

  That night, after delivering the blasting caps to the surly Cannibal, I headed to the dance club.

  I managed to schedule an appointment with Jesse James the following afternoon in order to beg for a replacement bike for Meat. Bas already volunteered to teleport me there. He insisted, based upon my poor track record of actually hitting my target, claiming to worry greatly for my safety if I attempted such a feat alone. While that could be true, I think he couldn't pass up the chance to see the one-of-a-kind bikes and meet the creator more than he worried about me being flattened on a southern California freeway when I flashed in front of a big rig. Shy, the new Frogger.

  With those plans in place, I turned to the last remaining hurdle. Meat. He didn't seem to blame me for his loss, but I couldn't help but feel guilt sitting heavily on my shoulders.

  I tossed the cover money at the doorman once more, held out my hand to be stamped, and gave him a small wave as he shook his head at me. Poor guy probably thought I was the horniest or kinkiest woman on the face of the earth as much as he saw me. Oh, well. I couldn't be worse than some of those crazy ladies who I swear were in heat.

  Standing on tiptoe, I checked out the dancer on the stage. Not M
eat, which meant he had to be around somewhere, probably hanging out in his dressing room, waiting for his turn to take the stage and literally dance his clothes off. As much as I wanted to see him, I didn't have enough courage to go looking for a wounded liger in his own lair.

  I spotted Ducian standing near the hallway to the bathrooms and made a beeline for him. The downfall of being a full time dancer, he worked each night the club's doors were open, which made tracking him down pretty easy.

  A couple of steps away, he noticed me, judging by the expression on his face. His eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up. "Oh, shit. When did I get cursed?"

  I pouted, hanging my head. "I'm not curse material."

  He snorted. "So you say."

  Okay. Okay. Send a man to see old, wrinkled, perverted senior citizens in the bathroom a couple of times and see what happens. "Anything exciting going on?" I opted to change the subject. My luck for the day hovered well into the red.

  Ducky looked at me before shaking his head. "Kinda slow, but it's early yet."

  I nodded. "Have you seen Meat?"

  The jerk just grinned. "Lost your knight in shining armor?"

  Crossing my arms across my chest, I glared up at him. "He's not my knight in shining armor."

  "Uh huh." The arched eyebrow and tilted lips blatantly declared he didn't believe a word I said. I looked down at my toes, using the tip of my shoe to draw tiny circles on the tile floor. "Besides, I think he's mad at me."

  "What did you do now? Take him for an encore visit to that bathroom?" He leaned closer in interest.

  "Why do you think it was me?"

  He snorted and tapped my forehead.

  I blurted out, "I kinda, sorta, accidentally blew up his motorcycle."

  Ducian's jaw fell open as he stared at me in utter shock. "You blew up his Jesse James original?" He enunciated slowly and clearly.

  "Not on purpose!"

  Shaking his head, Ducky whistled. "No wonder he's been as surly as a cat with a stick up his ass."

  "Oh, jeez. Thanks for that image." Crossing my arms over my chest, I sighed.

  "Blew it sky high?" His lips began to twitch.