“Why don’t you man up and tell me how the fuck it is that you came to be wearing my shirt?”
“Dave, enough with the fucking shirt!” Violet said.
“Yeah, Dave,” I added.
“Honestly, it’s time for you to shut the fuck up. It’s just a shirt, Dave. Let it go,” Violet said.
“Yeah Dave,” I added.
“And you be quiet too. Stop provoking him. You’re both acting like children.”
“He is,” I said.
“No, he is,” Dave countered.
“No, he is.”
“No, he is.”
Violet turned and walked outside, as she was apparently done with both of us for the moment. Of course, I couldn’t blame her, as it had been a particularly stressful morning, and now she had two fully grown adults arguing like children.
“See what you’ve done,” I said.
“See what you’ve done,” he responded.
“No, you.”
“No, you times ten.”
“No, you times infinity.”
“You can’t say that.”
“I just did.”
Thankfully, Dave’s order came up at that moment, and we stopped arguing and walked outside to join Violet, who was sitting on the curb and looking out towards the ocean.
“You OK?” I asked.
“Yeah, I was just wondering what the hell we do now. All of the leads and potential witnesses are missing or dead, which means this case is sucking some serious dick at the moment.”
“And not in the good handcuffed to the bed kind of way,” I added.
Violet and I shared a little smile, and Dave groaned.
“Can we go now,” he asked.
We loaded up in Dave’s car, and Violet again relegated me to the front seat, and we drove to the FBI’s office. It took about twenty of the longest most quiet and uncomfortable minutes I had ever spent in a vehicle, and so I was relieved to at last open my door and step out into the warm afternoon sun. We walked inside and went upstairs, where Violet wrote out an after-action report of our encounter. The FBI, like every other law enforcement agency, took it very seriously when someone tried to kill one of their agents, and, two hours later, we were ready to go to the closest Hertz rental car agency. As we were about to leave, Violet’s father walked in and immediately hugged her.
“Honey, I heard what happened. Are you OK?” he asked.
“I’m fine, thanks to Finn.”
Violet’s dad turned his attention to me and smiled.
“I’m glad to see you kept your promise, Tag. Now, How are you doing?” he asked.
“Fine, but I’m really sorry that Violet got dragged into this mess.”
“She didn’t join the FBI to play it safe, but, either way, you brought my little girl home safe and sound.”
Dave, who was standing nearby, watched the exchange and looked particularly agitated as he walked over.
“I helped too,” he said.
“Oh, hi, Dave.”
“Hello, Ed. I didn’t know that you knew Tag,” Dave said.
“Yeah, we met last night.”
“Over dinner at the Kalili home, where I also helped him wax the GTR.”
“How nice of you,” Dave said, as he covertly gave me the finger.
“Why don’t we get some lunch, and you two tell me what happened,” Ed suggested.
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Where should we go?” Dave interjected.
“You already ate,” I said.
“That was just a snack.”
“Tag, I want to bring you to my favorite spot. I’ve been taking Violet there since she was a little girl, and I know that you’re going to love it,” Ed said.
I didn’t even have to look at Dave to know that he was majorly annoyed at this rare privilege. Being taken to a favorite family restaurant hinted that I might be way more immersed in Violet’s life than Dave would have ever guessed, but what can I say? I’m a people person. We left the FBI office and climbed into Violet’s Dad’s GTR, with Violet in one of the small back seats and me in the front. This time, I was happy about the seating, as it allowed me a hell of a lot more leg room and kept me from getting car sick. As it turned out, Ed drove rather aggressively, but then it wouldn’t be very fun owning a GTR if you drove like a pussy. The best part was that Dave was following in his Fusion, and he was having to do his best to keep up.
We pulled into a small shopping center just below Diamond Head and parked in the outermost parking space—obviously as a deterrent to door dings. I knew the feeling and generally did my best to park well away from other motorists. Dave, however, parked directly in front of the restaurant, where he chose to be sandwiched between two beater cars that I wouldn’t have gone near for fear of contracting a communicable disease. As we passed, Ed gave Dave a subtle, though disapproving, glance to relay this very feeling, and Dave, of course, completely misunderstood.
“Check it out! Right in front! How lucky is that?” Dave said, excitedly.
Ed ignored him and proceeded to hold the door for Violet and me, but I paused and smiled back at Dave, as I wasn’t sure if he understood his faux pas. He apparently did, because he gave me the finger, so I proceeded to blow him a kiss before turning my attention back to the restaurant. The place was called Fat Momma’s and was crowded with locals, which I always took as a good sign. It’s easy to lure in a hungry tourist, but keeping the locals coming back for more meant delivering a good product.
The waitress came over and said hello to Ed and Violet, so it was obvious that they ate here fairly often. She then led us to a booth near the window and handed only Dave and me menus before leaving to get us water. I decided it was a moment to rely on my host, and I left mine closed and asked Ed what to order.
“If you’re hungry, I’d go with the barbecue plate, as it comes with barbecued pork, rice, macaroni salad, and kimchee.”
“Done,” I said.
Dave, who was sitting and still going over the menu, looked up uncomfortably.
“I’ll go with the that too,” he said, closing his menu.
I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was as full as fuck from that Starbuck’s sandwich and caramel macchiato, but he didn’t want to look like an ass in front of Violet’s father. This was going to be fun. Our waitress returned with our waters, then took our order, which consisted of four barbecue plates.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Ed said.
“Starving,” I said, looking at Dave.
Less than ten minutes later, we had four steaming hot plates piled high with delicious looking food, and everyone dug in as though it were our last meal on earth. Well, everyone except Doug, who ate quite daintily or perhaps girlishly, though that would be an unfair description considering the fact that Violet, a female of the species, was devouring her food like a rabid coyote. Ed finished his last bite and leaned back in his chair then took a sip of his water before letting out a long sigh.
“How about you guys fill me in on today’s exciting events,” he said.
Violet proceeded to tell her father about the morning’s dramatic encounter, and he spent a minute thinking and rubbing his temples before he spoke.
“Shit. You’re really between a rock and hard place here. There’s no doubt this is all part of a much larger, and highly sophisticated conspiracy, but it still doesn’t take away from the basic fact that you have no definitive or tangible way to dispute the evidence that points to your friend as the killer. GSR, blood spatter, ballistics, surveillance footage—all that stuff looks pretty convincing to the police, and, more importantly, a jury.”
“It’s incredibly frustrating to have the truth be so obvious yet have no tangible way to prove it,” I said.
“Well, you know the old Sherlock Holmes adage? Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”
“Then there must be quite an improbable truth.”
Ed asked for the check then tur
ned his gaze to Dave, as he hadn’t yet finished his plate.
“You’re still not done?”
“Come on. Finish it up, rook,” I added.
“I’m suddenly feeling a little full. Maybe I’ll take the rest to go.”
Ed regarded him and looked a bit displeased, and I had to laugh to myself now that I knew about Ed’s predilection not to waste food. Classic. I almost felt bad for Dave—almost. Ed suddenly turned and read the front of my shirt and gazed at me with a disapproving look on his face.
“Han Job? Seriously now?”
I looked at Dave and noticed he was smiling smugly having just achieved a minor victory in the subtle, though hotly contested battle for Violet’s affections—a key component being her father’s approval.
“It’s Dave’s,” I said.
Dave’s face abruptly turned red, and he looked so angry that I feared his body might jettison his head before it exploded, but, before he could say a word, Ed turned to him and raised a disapproving eyebrow.
“Seriously, Dave. It’s time to grow up.”
Dave was about to say something but decided to remain stoically quiet, though I was pretty sure I would hear a lot more once we were away from Violet’s father. Ed absolutely refused my offer to buy then paid the check, and we said goodbye to Dave and headed over to Hertz to get my third rental of the week. The pickings were slim, and my only options were a tiny Kia Rio or a large Dodge Grand Caravan minivan. I decided to go with the Caravan, as it afforded slightly more protection and seating for seven. It was white and loaded with every feature known to mankind, so it was a veritable party van and therefore needed a cool nickname. I decided the ultimate party guy was David Lee Roth and named my new vehicle the Rothster—regardless of the fact that it was nearly impossible to say a th sound directly before an st sound without feeling as though you had a major speech impediment. We said goodbye to Violet’s dad then headed northeast towards the resort, and, about five minutes into the journey, my phone rang, and I looked down to see that it was frank calling, so I hit the answer button on the steering wheel. Modern life was way too convenient, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell we did before bluetooth. I suppose we answered our phones, got distracted, and then rammed into other cars.
“Finn, you there?”
“I’m here, Frank. What’s up?”
“We need to do another damage control meeting tonight. Can you make it?”
“Of course. Where and when?”
“Seven o’ clock in John’s suite.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Great, thanks.”
I hit the end button and looked at the road ahead, and was keenly aware that we would soon join in yet another damage control meeting, and it was therefore not likely to be a very fun evening.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Damage Control Part Deux
I PULLED IN and parked next to an identical minivan, only it was metallic red instead of white. I always liked red cars, especially sporty ones like Ferraris, but in a hot climate like Hawaii, I’d take plain old white any day of the week. Violet and I exited the Rothster and started walking towards my room, where we would get to take a little time to clean ourselves up. Running around in the country, fording streams, and dodging bullets all day took a toll on your wardrobe, and both of us looked forward to showering and changing into some fresh clothes.
We entered my room and found the nerds playing D&D, and they were currently in the middle of a tense battle and didn’t even manage so much as a friendly greeting.
“Hello, nerds. How was your day? Oh, ours was fine, except for the part where we had to evade a team of deadly snipers and barely managed to escape with our lives—but thanks for asking.”
“Isn’t that basically an average day for you?” Beeber asked, as he rolled a twenty sided die, then followed it up by rolling a ten sided die.
His first roll was to determine if he scored a hit, while the second was the amount of damage. I obviously knew this because I had been a member of their little D&D club many years back, and, while I totally enjoyed the experience, I generally kept that fact mostly to myself, as it didn’t seem to improve my image with the ladies.
“Yes! Killed that motherfucker! Now, if you two want to see some real action you’d be playing with us,” he said.
Violet and I exchanged a knowing glance then retreated to my bedroom, and I hit the bathroom first, as I needed to take a second number two after having had such an active day and eaten a large lunch. Just as I reached down to hit the lock, Violet called out from the other side of the door.
“No need to lock it. I learned my lesson, and I’m not coming within a hundred miles of that fucking bathroom until you give me the official all-clear.”
“Good to know.”
I decided to test fate and left the door unlocked as I strolled over and dropped down onto my porcelain teddy bear. Its cool embrace was at once gentle and comforting, and no matter how crazy the world became, I at least had this time to myself. This was my constant, my rudder in the storm of my harried existence. I wiggled a little, found my sweet spot, then let lose a formidable fart, and its loud report became the signal to sound the charge. At that point, a small, though brave, army of fecal soldiers leapt from my anus and took the battle to the bowl to guarantee yet another brilliant victory. Finished, I wiped, flushed, and washed my hands before going over and opening the door.
“Bravery won the day, and victory is mine,” I said.
“Sounds epic, so I’m guessing everything came out all right.”
“It sure did.”
“Good—my turn.”
I left Violet alone in the bathroom and went to the living room bar and poured a splash of vodka in a glass and sipped it slowly as I took a moment to think about the day’s events. There was something in the back of my mind that was making my scrot-sense tingle, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it yet. Oh well, time would tell. Violet poked her head out of the bedroom and smiled.
“Done,” she said.
“Done? I couldn’t have even farted in that little amount of time.”
“Girls are magical.”
“Well, your buttholes are anyway.”
“And are breasts too apparently—considering the way you men constantly stare at them,” Rachel added.
“Sorry, I missed the last thing you said, as I was too busy looking at your boobs.”
“Very funny, but you’re probably not actually joking.”
“Sorry, missed that too,” I said.
I joined Violet in the bedroom, and we stripped down and entered the shower and stood there for a long time and just let the water pour over our bodies. Feeling a bit better, I grabbed the shampoo and rubbed it into Violet’s hair, then did the same to my own. Now it was time for the soap, and I lathered up my hands then sudsed her up, making sure I didn’t miss the critical areas such as her buttocks and boobs. When I finished, she took hold of the soap and did the same to me, though her extra attention to Tag Junior brought on a mild semi. We rinsed then dried off before applying the usual pleasantries, and, feeling human again, we exited to the bedroom to get dressed. I put on my usual shorts but decided to dress it up with a short sleeve button up shirt. Violet, who had fortunately left her overnight bag in my room, donned a lovely red summer dress that I hadn’t seen before. She smiled, did a turn, and I could already feel my balls ramping up semen production because of how nicely the dress hung on her curvaceous figure. It had a low cut top and spaghetti straps that negated the accompaniment of a bra, and it made her nipples very obvious underneath the thin fabric.
“I like the dress, but I love the nipples.”
“Thanks, now let’s get this over with, so we can come back, get drunk, and make sweet love all night long.”
“Last night you wanted me to fuck your brains out. Tonight it’s all about making sweet love. What the hell will we do tomorrow?”
“I’ll leave that up to your imagination.”
; We rejoined the nerds in the living room and almost had to physically force them from their precious game. D&D was like heroin with Doug and Beeber, and both were fully addicted. They begrudgingly put down their pencils and dice, and we left my suite and walked over to John’s room, where we found everyone looking particularly tense as they sat in his lounge. Stuart, Dexter, and Jeremy took up one couch, and they all had their laptops open and ready while Frank and Rex occupied the next one over. Opposite them was John, Jessica, Lux, and Corn, and that left one final couch empty. We took a seat, and, as luck would have it, I was only an arms length away from Corn, who had a plate full of french fries on his lap. They looked and smelled too good to resist, so I reached over and grabbed a couple then gave one to Violet, and she gobbled it down hungrily. I reached over for more, but this time Corn smacked my hand away.
“Easy there. I need the carbs,” he said.
“No, you don’t. That’s your second order,” Lux said, pulling the plate out of his hands and handing it to me.
Corn gave Lux a scowl then sat back in his chair and looked more like a scolded child than the Deputy Director of the CIA. I glanced over at the end table behind him, and there was indeed an empty plate. I loved fries as much as the next person, but two plates was pushing it. Clearly, Corn needed some serious intervention if he hoped to trim some of the extra girth he’d acquired since our time together in Pararescue. With the plate of fries now in my hot little hands, all the nerds partook and quickly decimated the pile, leaving me with only one sad little end piece. I guess playing D&D burned more calories than I thought. I popped the fry in my mouth, and John, seeing everyone was settled in, brought the meeting to order.
“Finn, do you want to fill everyone in on the latest?” he asked.
“Sure.”
I went on to recap the day’s traumatic events, and Jessica appeared to take it the worst. She slowly moved her head from side to side as she reached up and wiped tears from her eyes. Obviously, she was upset that so much turmoil seemed to be occurring on her account.
“It’s not your fault. Whoever is behind this, has a problem with John. You’re just the patsy,” I said.
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