The significance of his scornful remark might have escaped her notice if one of the lovebirds hadn't chosen that moment to make a harsh gasping sound, as if it were strangling.
With a suspicious eye trained on the birds and dread in her heart, Justine asked her nephew, “How did you know Zack and Barry were neighbors?” Both the birds were now preening themselves with frantic intent. Just two birds doing what birds do, Justine. You know that although it's rare, lovebirds can mimic human sounds.
"Well, I—"
For a terrifying moment, Jordan sounded flustered. Justine turned to look at him, praying for a miracle. When he spoke again, his voice sounded forced, deeper than normal, as if he were reciting lines for a part in the high school play. His face was flushed, but then, he'd been exerting himself by sweeping.
"Coach Wayne gave me a ride home after practice one day—before he suspended me—and he stopped by his apartment to check his messages. He said something about expecting a call from his brother, Thomas, I think.” Jordan grimaced. “He mentioned something about a crabby neighbor, and I already knew that's where Barry lived. It wasn't hard to guess who he meant."
Justine might have questioned him further, but she knew Jordan couldn't have known about Zack's brother Thomas unless Zack told him. She had never mentioned Thomas to Bea or anyone. Besides, Jordan would know that it would only take a phone call to confirm his story.
"Hey, you didn't believe Barry the Creep, did you?"
Distracted, Justine shook her head. “No, no. I didn't believe him for a moment.” It was true, too. Her suspicions had not been aroused until Bea mentioned Jordan going out Tuesday night.
Which reminded her. “Did Chris mention his reason for coming to the store?"
Jordan looked at her blankly.
"Chris? My assistant? You gave him a ride?"
"Oh! Oh, yeah.” With a sheepish grin, Jordan said, “It wasn't Chris who called. It was one of my friends. He didn't think Mom would let me out of the house if she knew who he was, so he pretended to be Chris.” He looked at her, half-pleading, half-defiant. “Are you going to rat on me?"
"I should, but I won't...this time.” Justine put on her tough auntie face. “Just don't pull a stunt like that again."
"I won't.” His gaze strayed to the lovebirds. “At least, I'll try not to."
Seeing what had captured his attention, Justine wondered if she should be concerned about Jordan's growing obsession with the birds. Perhaps they'd sell soon. They were quite a handsome pair, and if her suspicions proved true and they were attempting to mimic humans, they were more valuable than she first thought.
Time would tell.
"Why did you hurt Jordan?” Mini demanded the moment they were alone. Jordan had gone home, and Justine had closed shop. She had begun to think the day would never end. “You promised you wouldn't use witchcraft on the young mortal—"
"—unless it was necessary,” Reuben concluded with a righteous sniff. “I felt it was necessary. You heard him—he was about to dig his own grave. I was merely helping him out."
"By choking him? Frightening him to death by taking over his voice?"
Reuben lifted his beak high. “I didn't hurt him, Mini. Besides, he's not a baby.” Neatly turning the tables, he pinned her with an accusing glare. “What about you? Why did you refresh the love spell on the monkey? I thought we agreed Dennis was causing too much trouble for Zack!"
"Because—” Mini flapped her wing at him. “Oh, why do I bother? You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Mini hesitated. How could she explain women's intuition to a man? “The monkey isn't the real issue. He never has been.” When her husband remained silent, she knew she had failed to make him understand. “In my opinion, Dennis represents Justine. If Zack dumps Dennis after showing Justine he cares about the monkey..."
Reuben's beak dropped open. “Then she'll continue believing he'll do the same to her if he gets the chance!"
"A second time,” Mini reminded him.
"So she's testing Zack with the monkey."
Surprised and pleased with her husband's insight, Mini nodded. “Yes, I think she is."
Excited now that he understood, Reuben hopped around on the perch. “And if she believed Zack's stories about Dennis, she might be impressed with his—"
"Dedication? Determination? Heroism?” Mini smiled. “After what he's been through, I'd say there's something terribly wrong with her if she doesn't consider him heroic."
Reuben's excitement faded. “But how will she know Zack's telling the truth about Dennis the Menace?"
"I think, my dear, that in this instance nature will take its course."
"The monkey?” Reuben guessed astutely.
"The monkey."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Twenty
Zack's gaze roamed slowly from one red, sweaty face to another. He and the team were gathered in the locker room for a heart-to-heart talk, and he wanted every ear listening.
Finally, he was satisfied that he had their full attention.
He put all the conviction he could muster into his voice as he said, “You boys did great today, really great, and despite our recent losses, we're going to win the game Friday night."
There were a few head shakes, a doubtful murmur. A bold voice called out, “We will if you'll let Diamond back on the team!” Cheers of agreement erupted. As one, they stood and began to chant Diamond's name.
Zack's mouth tightened. He waved them down, disgusted to realize they truly believed they couldn't win without Jordan Diamond.
It was time to get brutal, time to produce his last ace.
"Would you follow Diamond to his death if he jumped from the Empire State building?” he asked them, his voice edged with deliberate contempt. Overriding their murmurings, he continued. “How many of you ask Jordan's permission before you go to the bathroom? Do you take him along on your dates? Is he your mama, or a team player?"
Gradually, the disgruntled murmurings died away. All eyes regarded the locker room floor as Zack's meaning sank in.
Zack stifled a surge of triumph; he wasn't finished. “When Diamond gets hurt and has to leave the game, do you give up like a bunch of sissy cheerleaders?"
"No!"
Finding the source of the defensive outburst, Zack focused on him. It was Avery Joebella, with the unlikely nickname of Belly. The kid was a passionate player and with Jordan temporarily out of the game, their star quarterback. He was good, but according to his teammates, he couldn't hold a candle to Jordan. Zack suspected he was every bit as good, but lacking confidence. It wasn't hard to understand why; he was constantly compared to the incomparable Diamond.
"Avery,” Zack acknowledged. “Do you have something to add to that?"
Nervously, Avery rose from the bench. He turned his helmet around and around in his hands. “You don't understand, Coach. The Diamond is the best. He doesn't get hurt, because he doesn't get caught."
Zack lifted a disbelieving brow. “He's never been tackled?"
Avery flushed and glanced around him. “Well, a few times."
"Then he is human?” Zack drawled sarcastically. He was secretly impressed that a kid Jordan's age could command so much respect and awe. Making a mental note to talk to Jordan about a career in coaching, he folded his arms and played his last card. “Why doesn't he get caught?"
"Well, he's fast.” The helmet made another turn in his hands.
"And?” Zack prompted softly. They were all listening intently, he noted. Good, because if his prediction proved right, he didn't want them to miss a word.
"And we don't let him get caught."
"Repeat that please. I'm not sure I heard you."
"We don't let him get caught."
"Again,” Zack ordered. “Louder, please."
Casting an uncertain glance around him, the unsuspecting Avery raised his voice and repeated, “We make sure he doesn't get caught."
"Did you say, ‘we ma
ke sure he doesn't get caught'?"
Totally bewildered now, Belly nodded and stammered, “Y-yes, sir, that's what I said."
"You heard him, boys. Diamond doesn't get caught because of you guys. Not only because he's fast, and not only because he's slippery, but because you—” Zack stabbed a finger in the air at each blocker. “And you, and you keep the other team away from him. I don't have a doubt in my mind Diamond is good, but how many times could he make a successful throw or a touchdown if it wasn't for you guys clearing the way?"
A low murmur of agreement rose from the cluster of boys.
"My question is, why can't you do the same for Belly? Is he too slow? Too clumsy?"
"No! He's fast!"
"He ain't clumsy, neither!"
"We could do it!"
Zack got the desired reaction. “So what are we going to do Friday night?” he shouted.
"Kick butt!” they shouted back.
"Louder!” Zack demanded.
"Kick butt! Kick butt!"
Finally, Zack allowed himself a triumphant smile.
"You should see this, Mini. They're shouting ‘kick butt’ at the top of their mortal lungs.” Reuben chuckled gleefully. “And Zack's grinning like a warlock on Halloween."
"I don't have time for that now,” Mini said shortly, using her beak to yank at the newspaper beneath his feet. “Move your scrawny legs—I've got to have this paper."
Reuben obediently moved from the paper, his gaze glued to the crystal ball. “I think he might have a future in coaching, don't you?"
"Whatever."
"Do you think we could get Jordan to sneak us into the game Friday night?” Reuben asked hopefully. He yelped as Mini pulled a feather from his back.
"Sorry, but I need it."
She didn't sound the least bit sorry, Reuben realized, finally glancing over his shoulder at his wife. “What are you doing?"
"Shredding paper. Plucking feathers.” She shot him an irritated glance. “What does it look like I'm doing?"
Puzzled, Reuben cocked his head as she carried the shredded paper and feathers to the far corner of the cage. She dumped it and began to stalk in his direction. He backed away from the purposeful gleam in her eyes. “W-what do you want now?"
"More feathers. You've got plenty, and feather-plucking is perfectly normal for lovebirds."
Reuben's mouth went dry. “Feather plucking?” he squeaked as his back connected with the bars behind him. “Darling—"
Mini silenced him with a single glower. “Don't ‘darling’ me! You're the one that got us into this mess with your ‘night to remember.’ “
Mystified, Reuben watched as she drew closer. “I wish you would explain.” He braced himself as she yanked several downy feathers from his breast. He was becoming rather fond of his feathers, finding them much easier to groom than his original shoulder-length black locks.
"Hmm, these are softer,” she mumbled around a mouthful of feathers. “There's nothing to explain—yet.” She stalked across the cage and dumped the feathers on top of the growing pile.
"If there's nothing to explain, how do you explain plucking my feathers?” He swallowed hard. “Maybe you shouldn't have read that book about birds. It's obviously gotten you upset.” Or driven you mad, came Reuben's frightened thought.
"I'm glad I did. If I hadn't, I'd probably find you eating the eggs for breakfast before I knew what was happening."
Leaving him to contemplate her mysterious comment, Mini flew from the cage and disappeared into Justine's office.
She returned moments later with her beak full of facial tissue, and with an intensity that increased Reuben's fear, began to shred the tissue with her sharp toenails.
"Mini...what's all of this about?” Reuben asked cautiously.
For the next five minutes, Mini ignored him. She moved in a frenzy, scratching and shredding, shifting the feather and paper mass this way and that. Finally, she stepped back to regard her creation.
Reuben's tiny heart began to flutter. “It—it looks like a birds’ nest,” he croaked.
"It is."
"B-but why?"
"I just felt this urge to build it.” Mini swooped forward and adjusted a piece of paper with her beak. She gave it a loving pat with her wing.
"Then why didn't you use witchcraft?"
"Because...” Mini shrugged. “I don't know. It didn't seem right."
A startling premonition hit Reuben, nearly strangling him. He could barely speak above a whisper. “Mini...are you saying—are you saying—"
"Oh, for star's sake, can't you even say it?” Mini snarled. “Yes, I might be pregnant!"
Reuben swooned to the floor in a dead faint.
Restoring the team's confidence in their own ability was perhaps a small—and possibly premature—victory, but Zack decided to celebrate anyway. He stopped at the local market on the way home and purchased a bag of fresh fruit for Dennis, and a six-pack of beer for himself.
They would order pizza, turn on the tube, and relax.
Zack paused as he hefted the sack of groceries from the back seat. He chuckled to himself when he realized he'd been thinking of the monkey like a roommate. Dennis probably either didn't like pizza, or wasn't supposed to eat it. Well, that was okay, because he'd bought the monkey a smorgasbord of fruit from seedless grapes to tangerines. Surely there was something in the bag he would like.
Turning with his arms full, Zack nearly plowed into Mr. Potter. One look at the man's face and Zack's good mood turned as sour as his landlord's expression. Somehow, he knew Mr. Potter had not rushed out to help him with the groceries.
"Mr. Potter!” Zack managed a friendly smile. Mr. Potter, a short, thin man in his late sixties with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, didn't return his smile. He glowered at Zack over the rim of his spectacles.
"I need to speak to you, Mr. Wayne,” he said, sounding slightly harassed. “Mr. Fowler has been a tenant here for five years, and he's rarely complained in the past."
Zack shifted the groceries to his other arm. “I take it he's complaining now? If it's about the hot water—"
"It's not about hot water. It's about the volume of your television set."
"My...television?” Zack frowned. “I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about."
"Can't you hear it, Mr. Wayne? I've been gone most of the day, but Mr. Fowler said it's been blaring since noon."
He did hear it then. How could he have missed it? He could even recognize the theme song to an old show he used to watch as a kid.
Dennis. God help them if the monkey ever learned to use the phone!
"I apologize. I...must have left it on when I left this morning.” Zack moved around the irate man and hurried into the building.
Mr. Potter followed on his heels. “Mr. Fowler seems to think you're harboring a woman in your apartment."
Zack froze in his tracks. His brows arching in disbelief, he turned to face Mr. Potter. “Fowler is mistaken. That basket case would like nothing better than to get me thrown out of my apartment."
"Then you won't mind if I have a look?” Mr. Potter's cheeks turned rosy as he added, “It's not that I mind you having...a woman in your apartment, Mr. Wayne, but I do like to know who's living under my roof. You can't be too careful these days."
Coldly, Zack said, “You're the landlord. I can't stop you, can I?"
"I don't want to invade your privacy—"
"Then don't. I told you that Fowler's wrong. I don't have a woman in my apartment.” Just an insane, too-smart-for-everyone's-own-good monkey. Wouldn't Mr. Potter be shocked to learn he'd would rather have a dozen women? Oh, yes. Women, cats, dogs, or even a toe-biting iguana. Right now he'd trade Squeeze for Dennis.
Mr. Potter remained persistent, much to Zack's grief.
"If I could just take a peek? I don't want to lose a good tenant like Mr. Fowler..."
"Like I said, I can't stop you, can I?” With a fatalistic shrug, Zack turned and stomped up
stairs. He knew Mr. Potter followed, and he suspected the outcome. The landlord would see Dennis and scream the house down. He'd be evicted, homeless.
Would Justine feel the slightest remorse? Zack wondered, jamming the key into the lock and giving it a vicious twist. Perhaps suffer a twinge of good old-fashioned guilt for having taunted him into taking the monkey again? When he thought of the grief he'd suffered to woo her...
"Don't mind the mess,” Zack growled, throwing the door wide. He sincerely hoped there was nothing wrong with Mr. Potter's heart.
Surprisingly, there wasn't any mess to speak of, but Zack could understand Fowler's complaint about the volume of the television; it made his ears ache.
Deliberately ignoring the landlord, Zack turned off the set, casually dropped his coat over the ruined chair, and went straight to the kitchen with the groceries. Feeling no special urge to watch the encounter, he stacked the fruit in the glass bowl as Mr. Potter nervously inspected the apartment.
When the landlord disappeared into the bedroom, Zack braced himself. Any second now, he'd spot the monkey and start shrieking bloody murder, which would in turn scare the living daylights out of Dennis, who would shriek right along with Mr. Potter.
As Zack all to easily envisioned the terrified man and the equally terrified monkey emerging from his bedroom, he actually grinned. He'd probably have two heart attack victims on his hands.
He nearly had one himself when Mr. Potter strolled out of the bedroom, looking relieved and guilty. Zack popped a beer open and guzzled half of it, wishing he'd reached for the whiskey instead. He couldn't believe his good luck.
Mr. Potter had not found Dennis. Somehow, the monkey—wherever he was hiding—had managed to escape detection.
Hallelujah.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Wayne, but you have to understand my caution after that little mix-up with the police last week."
Dazed, Zack managed to nod. He supposed it was understandable, especially with that coward Fowler whining in his ear.
"Perhaps Mr. Fowler is still suffering from his head injury,” Mr. Potter mused as he made for the door.
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