The officer spokesman detached a small computer from his tool belt and punched in the numbers on the BMW's license plate.
That was when I spotted Jenny Green striding toward us. In a long, aqua-blue dress and matching dress jacket, she looked mouthwatering. My first feeling of relief and joy veered sharply to concern as the police turned to her.
"Hey, Jenny," I greeted her.
"I'm almost afraid to ask," she said.
"This is your girlfriend?"
The cop's harsh, incredulous tone underscored the cause for my concern. I was kind of young to be her boyfriend. Why hadn't I thought to just say "friend" or even "relative"?
"We're friends," said Jenny. I couldn't see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but her mouth had a displeased slant. "Not boyfriend and girlfriend."
"Right," I said quickly, giving the officers a rueful smile. "Sorry, that was more wishful thinking on my part."
The cop with the computer was now studying my face and the image on his screen. He showed the screen to his partner, who nodded and shrugged.
"Aiden Stevens," he said.
"That's me."
He lowered his mini-computer. "All right. You do come up as the owner. Did you see any of the kids who stole your clothing?"
"No."
"I'd recommend that you alert your credit card companies as soon as possible. Do you have a duplicate key for your vehicle?"
"At home."
"I'll make sure he gets home safely, officer," said Jenny.
"Yes, ma'am." He nodded to me. "I'm sorry for your trouble, Mr. Stevens. I will alert the park patrol and personnel to keep an eye out for your clothing. Chances are they disposed of them somewhere in the vicinity."
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
As the two officers returned to their car, Jenny lowered her sunglasses and peered down her nose at me.
"Aiden, you really didn't have to go through all that trouble to dress up for me."
My laugh ended in a rheumatic wheeze. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."
"Some kids really stole your clothing?"
"Yeah. I brought a change of clothes – I was playing basketball earlier. I hung them on the toilet stall and was spraying myself with Andrydox...and then they were gone."
Jenny stepped closer, a furrow appearing between her fine eyebrows. "What happened to your face? My God, is your nose broken? It looks off-center." She started to reach for it but stopped herself.
"Maybe." I touched it, smiling through my wince. "Does it make me look more rugged?"
"I'd say it makes you look like you should see a doctor."
"I guess so, at some point. I was thinking more about taking you to lunch today..."
"Maybe another time. I should get you home, and you really should see a doctor."
"I will, but if I go home like this..." Panic started setting in even as considered it. "My mom probably will lock me in the house until I'm eighteen."
"Well, maybe we can get you some clothes." She wrinkled her nose. "And a shower."
"Do I smell really bad?"
"Something does. It might be your T-shirt." She bent closer to it. "God...yes, it's your T-shirt. It smells like a cat's litter box."
I leaned toward it, and pulled up short. "You're right. I'll just toss it in the garbage."
Holding it by one sleeve corner I dropped it in a nearby garbage can and followed Jenny to her car, a white Toyota compact. She laid out a towel over the passenger seat and I climbed in beside her.
"I can pick up some clothes," she said. "But I think you're going to need to wash up before putting them on."
I tried not to be offended by her re-wrinkling nose.
"Why don't I grab some pants and a shirt at Penney's – it's on the way to my place. You can shower there. I'm only fifteen minutes from here."
"Sounds good. I really appreciate this, Jenny. And I'm sorry for putting you out. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Take you to an expensive restaurant or something."
"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad I showed up a bit early."
We stopped fifteen miles or so later at J.C. Penney's in West Sacramento, and after getting my measurements she emerged a few minutes later with a fresh pair of jeans and a blue Sacramento Kings T-shirt.
"Nice touch," I said. "I'll pay you back as soon as I get reunited with my bank account."
"Does this research program you're involved in pay you anything for participating?" she asked as we drove out of the parking lot.
"Yeah. A little." I managed to keep a straight face.
Jenny started to dab at her forehead. She tossed an accusing glance at me.
"I take it you never got around to the Andrydox."
"I'd just started spraying when I noticed the missing clothing."
"I should warn you I have a roommate. Kayla, my best friend from college. We share a three-bedroom condo a couple of miles from here. No idea if she'll be there or not. If she is, she could take a look at your nose. She's a sports medicine doctor."
I entertained myself for a moment imagining what Jenny's sports doctor friend from college looked like. I was betting on hot.
Jenny guided the Toyota into a two-car garage tucked into a complex of what looked like upscale apartment buildings to me. Inside, a tall brunette with a gymnast's body and a Kate Beckinsale face (I was a guilty fan of her Uberwench series) was laboring over a steaming ironing board in the living room. Seeing me in my boxer shorts with the gaping fly shot her eyebrows skyward.
"Hi," Jenny greeted her, urgently motioning me to the nearby stairs. From the side of her mouth she told me to "use the hallway bathroom."
I headed up the stairs without further prompting, hearing Jenny say in an exasperated voice, "Don't ask."
The shower felt every bit as fantastic as I'd expected. I washed and rinsed twice – once for the basketball game, another for the men's restroom and the romp in the park. My Andrydox possibly still sitting on the stall floor, I had no protection except clean skin that would, in theory, take thirty to sixty minutes to accumulate lethal levels of pheromone vapors.
Jenny was tugging a glass pan from the oven as I crossed through the living room into the kitchen. Her roommate, Kayla, sat at the table sipping wine while reading a magazine.
"Feeling better?" Jenny greeted me, while her roommate discreetly viewed me over her magazine and wine. "I thought you'd be hungry, so I heated up the spinach casserole I made yesterday."
"Thanks. It smells great."
"What can I get you to drink?"
"Do you have any cold beer?"
"Sure." She smiled as Kayla chuckled into her magazine. "But what can I get you to drink?"
I restrained a sigh. "Water's fine. Or milk."
"Milk it is. Take a seat. By the way, Aiden Stevens meet Kayla D'Amato ."
I sat across the table from her brunette roommate, who lowered her magazine and eyed me with a clinical smile.
"So you're a hyper," she said, scrutinizing me. "I thought you'd be taller."
"Next time I'll wear high heels."
They both laughed. Jenny set out the spinach casserole and Kayla carried over plates and silverware. We helped ourselves. I tried to eat as though I wasn't starving, but finished my plate before the women were more than a few bites in.
"Help yourself." Jenny nodded to the kitchen. "There's plenty more."
"Thank you. It's really good, by the way."
She gave me a pleased smile. "It's one of the few things I can make without inviting a culinary disaster."
I was about halfway through my second helping when I noticed Kayla wiping her forehead with a napkin and lifting the straps on her halter top as if to let in cool air. Jenny wasn't faring much better, though she'd settled in at the far end of the seven foot hardwood table.
"You feeling it?" Jenny asked her roommate. "His magic pheromones?"
"Is that what it is? I thought someone had turned up the thermostat."
Jenny departed the table
with a thin smile, returning with a nasal spray.
"Take a shot of this in both the nostrils," she said. "Or we may have to lock each other up in the closet."
Kayla examined the spray bottle. "It's just standard antihistamine. That actually works?"
"Turns out it limits our ability to detect most pheromones for about fifteen minutes. As a medical doctor, Kay, you ought to know that."
"Yes, well, this is a wee bit outside my specialty."
She sprayed it into both her nostrils and handed it to Jenny, who did the same. What a buzz-kill. I could practically hear my fantasies screeching to a halt.
"Now we can both stay sane a while longer," said Jenny. "Would you mind taking a look at his nose, K? He got it banged up in a basketball game."
"So I noticed." Kayla leaned closer. "Did you experience any significant bleeding, Aiden? Can you breathe freely through your nose?"
"Not much bleeding, and I can breathe okay."
"Could you look up and then to the left and right?"
I obeyed the beautiful doctor.
"Minimal bruising," she said. "Your nose appears slightly bent to your left. I'd guess a minor nasal fracture. The danger would be septal hematoma – which can deprive your nose of blood circulation and lead to a dangerous infection. Not very likely from what I'm seeing, but you should have it checked out as soon as possible."
The prospect of wasting a chunk of my weekend sitting around in a doctor's office – which I knew my mom would insist on – raised its hideous head. "Would there be any chance...you might, you know, be willing to check it out? I'd be happy to pay you."
Kayla chuckled softly and shook her head.
"He owns a BMW," said Jenny. "He's good for it."
Kayla laughed. "In that case, I could always use the practice."
"She's just kidding you," Jenny laughed in response to my worried face. "She's done a hundred of them."
"It's one of the most common sports injuries to the face," said Kayla. She smiled at me. "All right, you talked me into it. It's a slow Saturday and it does beat ironing clothes."
"Great! Thanks!"
I was hoping I wouldn't regret this as Kayla brought out her tool box and snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, but she was a sports doctor, after all, and really, how could someone who looked as good as her be bad at anything?
"Okay." Kayla gently gripped the bridge of my nose. "I'm going to feel around a bit. Tell me if it's too painful."
This was my opportunity to prove how tough and macho I was and I wasn't about to blow it. But I couldn't stop the whistling of air through my teeth as she squeezed and gradually increased the pressure on my nose.
"You okay?"
"Fine," I wheezed.
"Next step is an internal examination. Honestly, this is going to hurt a fair amount. So feel free to tell me to stop."
"Okay."
She eased her fingers slowly, gently into my nostrils. Burning pain spread ahead of her fingers, concentrating a ball of fire in the center of my forehead. I blinked back tears – and her fingers mercifully withdrew.
"I'm impressed by your pain threshold," Kayla said. "No sign of a septal hematoma."
I took a moment to enjoy her compliment and the good news and happily accept the tide of endorphins flowing from my nose outward.
"So what would be the next step?" I asked.
"Straightening the nose," said Kayla.
"How?" I forced a laugh. "A hammer? Pair of pliers?"
"You're actually not that wrong. I'd use a specially designed set of needle nose pliers. With your minor break, it wouldn't take much adjustment."
"In for a penny, in for a pound?" Jenny chuckled. Kayla raised her eyebrows to me.
"Sure," I said. "It would be great if I could just get it over with."
Several minutes later – numbed by local anesthetics and with a pair of rubber-coated needle nose pliers jammed up my nose – I comforted myself by believing I was in good hands and that I'd eventually be suffering the same indignity with another no doubt far less attractive doctor.
"That should do it," she said, stepping back as Jenny moved into the picture. "Good as new, wouldn't you say?"
"Maybe even better," said Jenny.
Kayla held up a small mirror. Other than a small discoloration, my nose looked the same as it always did to me.
"Thank you," I said. "I really appreciate that. Please tell me how much I owe you and I'll make sure you get paid as soon as I can."
"Hmmm," said Jenny, smiling archly at her friend. "Remember – he does drive a BMW."
"It was only twenty-five thousand," I confessed. "A lot of cars cost more than that these days. Though I did get a special price because Ragnar knows the dealer."
"Oh," Jenny laughed in response to Kayla's startled look, "I forgot to mention Aiden knows Ragnar Norquist. You know, the King's guard."
"Are you screwing with me?" Kayla glanced between us skeptically. "How do you know him, Aiden?"
"We just met at one of his games last year." I shrugged. "I was getting his autograph and mentioned that I was hyper, too."
"That's..." Kayla raised her hands in a helpless gesture to Jenny.
"Being hyper has its benefits," said Jenny. "That becomes clear when you research their average income."
"Oh, I don't doubt that."
"So I can afford to pay you," I said.
Kayla waved an arm. "I didn't even have to leave the house. Please forget about it. Just having this experience was payment enough."
I decided not to push it. She might not be a hyper but I had no doubt she was doing pretty well as a sports doctor.
"Well, I should get him home before his mom calls the authorities," said Jenny.
"It's not even five yet," Kayla surprised me by protesting. "Why not let the poor boy relax a few minutes, recover from his wounds. Rush hour's starting now – you'll just be fighting traffic jams."
Jenny eyed her. "You might be overdue for another nasal spray."
"I think I'll pass. Made my nose itch."
I allowed myself a brief fantasy about staying and getting to know these two friends better before forcing myself to stand up and offer my hand to Kayla.
"Thanks for the surgery," I said. "I hope I can make it up to you sometime."
Kayla held my hand a few beats longer than necessary, her dark violet eyes meeting mine.
"I may hold you to that, Aiden."
"Oookay." Jenny grabbed my forearm and tugged me out of her grip. "I will see you later, roommate."
She snatched up her nasal spray on our way to the door.
"Whew," she said when we were in her car and driving off. "If I hadn't seen it I wouldn't have believed it. Kayla is usually like steel and ice when it comes to men. Way stronger than I am – or so I thought." She glanced at me. "No match for your hyper pheromones, it seems."
"But you are?"
Jenny raised her nasal spray as though toasting me before dosing both her nostrils. "I am now."
I smiled, but the whole business about me being irresistible was starting to amuse me less and less.
"What's it like having that effect on women?" Jenny asked. "Being completely honest now."
"Is this for your story?"
"Maybe. But mostly I'm just curious."
"Honestly..." I searched for the actual honest truth. "It's great sometimes. But then...you ever have those dreams about needing to go to the bathroom but when you do there's no relief?"
Jenny laughed. "I never actually find the bathroom in those dreams. But I think I know what you mean."
"That's what it's like for me. No matter how much you go, it's never enough. It just leaves me feeling empty."
"I'm kind of glad to hear you saying that. Not because I enjoy your frustration. It just seems unfair for some people to have that power when the vast majority is suffering."
"I know. The way things are really isn't good for anyone."
"I agree with that." She glanced at me. "So what are y
ou planning to do after high school?"
I shrugged. "Microbiology with some genetics thrown in, I guess."
"That's your main ambition?"
"I don't know about that. It's what I've always been expected to do."
"My parents always wanted me to be a doctor. My friend became one instead."
"Being a journalist is cool."
"Cool doesn't pay the bills." She frowned as the cars began inching forward. "Full disclosure: that condo is mostly paid for by Kayla. I barely make ends meet working for the Sac Chronicle. And I'm almost twenty-nine and still have over twenty-thousand dollars in student debt."
"I could pay that off for you if you'd like."
Her shocked expression suggested that maybe I blundered in blurting that out.
"Are you kidding me?"
"No."
"So you're rich, then? Or your family – mom – is?"
"We're doing okay, I guess. Right now I have more money than I really know what to do with."
"That's a nice luxury. But of course I'm not going to let you pay off my debts."
"Okay. I understand. I probably shouldn't have said that."
"What does your mom do?"
"She works for a major pharmaceutical company."
"Which company?"
I was hoping she'd let the specifics drop, but then she was an investigative journalist.
"CellEvolve. She's a research, uh, executive."
"CellEvolve." Jenny made a humming sound as if tuning in on that word. "This is almost starting to make sense. They're the one running this program you're in, aren't they?"
"Could be."
She tossed me a dry smile. "CellEvolve is a leading researcher in drugs relating to Male Estrus Syndrome."
"Yeah."
"You don't sound too enthused about them."
"It's just a big corporation that does its big corporation thing."
"Standard evil corporation, huh?" She smiled at me. "I actually tried Melatin a few years back while battling frustration/depression."
"Did it help?"
"It took the edge off. But I couldn't form two coherent sentences in my brain."
"It was a lot like that for me, too."
"But did it work inhibiting your desire and pheromones?"
"Yeah. It did that part pretty well."
The traffic started rolling again. I wasn't all that anxious for it to speed up and take me home and out of this woman's car. I hadn't even thought out how I was going to explain this all to my mom. It was just possible – considering how tangled the story would become if I attempted to weed out certain things like Jenny – that telling her the truth might be my best option, as weird as that was.
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