“I’d invite you up to my place.” Aggie giggled and continued to do so uncontrollably until Hagen relented. Frustrated. Self-defence can only be taught to someone looking to fight. And he went on the search for someone less compliant.
“Ok… I, uh, might need to try a new partner. You game?” he asked me.
“Me?” I felt my face get warm. “Ok.” What was the worst that could happen?
“Thanks, I owe you,” he said lowly and positioned himself in front of me while he shouted a play-by-play to the crowd. “Ok, so pay attention. An attacker comes at you like this,” he said and raised my arms in what felt like an unnatural position, though I’ve never actually assaulted anyone so I can’t say for sure. His hands were big and warm and easily closed around my wrists. “Now what do you do?”
“Depends on what he looks like!” shouted a twangy voice from the crowd. Had to be Gladys.
“I’d say you’re screwed,” Jack Junior offered up.
“Are you sure?” Hagen volleyed back, and I felt my body suddenly in motion.
“Wha—?” I began, not even getting out the entire word before the damp fabric on my back was suddenly on the grass, my heart thumping, and Hagen was crouching beside me. For some reason the crowd applauded as if they felt I had it coming.
“Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked me, his green eyes piercing.
“No. I could have used some warning, though,” I said, arching an eyebrow as I looked up at him.
He extended his big, warm hand to me as he pulled me from the ground while he addressed the crowd. “Ok, now she’s going to show you what I did there, and you’ll all replicate it.”
A flash of panic ran through me like a lightning bolt. “Maybe you should pick someone else,” I said just above a whisper. I had a flashback of the fourth grade where, in the spelling bee in the gymnasium, I flubbed on pachyderm while I had my eyes on Ryan Dougherty in the front row, two grades above me, and he rode motocross on the weekend. This time, I’d been too consumed with the scent of Hagen’s body wash and warm hands to concentrate on his self-defence choreography, and it had all happened so fast.
“Listen, you can do this.” Hagen ignored the pleading in my eyes. “Ok, ready?”
“She was born ready,” Ags piped up. God love her for her confidence in me.
I let out a deep breath, then Hagen motioned in the attack pose and, somehow, I leveled him. It wasn’t textbook, and I don’t imagine it was pretty, and he probably gave in just a little, but Ags told me later that it looked convincing. A smattering of surprised sounding “ohs” and one or two cheers rose from the crowd and I took a bow. When I looked down at Hagen, he had a goofy grin on his face like a proud father. He got to his feet and dusted his backside with his hands, and I re-joined Ags, assuming my work was done.
“Thank you, Miss Michaels, excellent work. Now, there are other ways to disable a predator, especially if it’s a man. You can kick or punch him in the family jewels, so to speak,” Hagen went on.
“You done?” Ags mumbled toward me while Hagen went on about how to disarm a predator.
“Done what?” I turned to her, screwed up my face, and asked just as lowly.
“Whatever little dance you two were doing up there.”
I rolled my eyes at her and turned my attention back to Hagen.
“The main thing is to be aware of your surroundings,” he said.
“What if they have a gun?” an older woman called out.
“Run… or walk as fast as you can.” Hagen corrected himself after his eyes drifted down to the aluminum walker the old lady leaned on.
“What if he’s after my body?” Gladys shouted.
“He won’t be!” Jack Junior retorted.
“Jack Junior, you little smart aleck, you keep your comments to yourself, you hear,” Granny Fleet hollered out.
“If he wants your body, consider yourself lucky and buy a lottery ticket while you’re at it,” Jack retorted and high-fived Peter Muncie.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if we can just behave like ladies and gentlemen for a moment. If you don’t feel safe or you can’t perform any of the moves I’ll be showing you, you may want to carry mace or pepper spray.”
“How about a Glock?” Granny Fleet shouted.
“No!” Hagen was getting flustered. “Now look. If you are going to walk, walk in pairs. Leave your Glock at home, Mrs. Fleet.”
“What if he gets me on the ground and gets on top of me?”
“In your dreams, Ginny,” I heard Gladys remark.
Hagen closed his eyes and sighed. He was having a moment. “There’s always a way to get out of that situation. Here, let me show you. Alex, do you mind?” He reached out and pulled me by the arm.
“Do I mind what?”
Hagen laid down on the grass. “Get on top of me.”
“Excuse me?” I heard myself crow.
Hagen propped himself up on his elbows and addressed the crowd. “She’s going to help me demonstrate how to get out of a vulnerable situation.”
“Oh, I think maybe…” I held up my hands in protest or surrender, wondering how I’d gotten into my own vulnerable situation.
“What, uh, what’s the matter, kiddo?” Jack said, and when I looked back at him, he was beaming.
I let out another deep breath, squinted, and nodded slowly at him in the “I’m going to get you later” fashion. It only fanned the fire; his smile grew bigger. I got closer to Hagen; I couldn’t leave him just lying there.
“Ok, just straddle me here.”
“In the name of public good, of course,” Ags said without missing a beat.
My cheeks were on fire and I gingerly put one leg on each side of Hagen like he was a bucking bronco I didn’t want to touch.
“Uh, uh, uh,” Jack stammered.
“Oh… Mylanta,” Gladys groaned. “Everybody, shush.” And when I looked up, I saw her nudge her friend. “Geraldine, are you seeing what I’m seeing? Can you video this with your phone?” Geraldine and the rest of the crowd were transfixed.
“I’m going to kill you, you know that, right?” I mumbled down to him.
Hagen stayed in character. “Ok, now everyone watch closely,” he said as if they weren’t doing it already. “Now this aggressor has me pinned.”
“I always knew she was like that,” I was surprised to hear Doctor Richards chime in.
“And, you’re not, uh, putting up much of a fight there, Hagen,” Jack said.
“Shush, Junior, this is just getting good,” Granny Fleet said.
“Ok, so pay attention,” Hagen scolded the onlookers. Or were they voyeurs? “Put your arm on my neck like you’re going to choke me.”
“Oh, so that’s what you’re into,” someone said.
I closed my eyes and wondered what strange sequence of events got me to this place. Two years ago I would have been in my pre-furnished condo working on a spreadsheet or analyzing financial statements while I waited for dinner to be delivered. Now I found myself on public display, straddling a handsome police officer and wondering how my hair looked after I’d been tossed on the ground.
“Ok, so I’m going to lock her arm at my neck while, without her noticing, I bend my legs and get ready to roll her over with my hips,” he said slowly in that way that’s meant to sound instructional. His naivete was cute – no one in this crowd needed instructions so much as they did a cold shower. But in a second or two, I found myself suddenly under Hagen. “See, she had no way to ground herself and I knocked her off balance. And now I can get up and run away.”
“And yet, oddly enough, you’re not,” I heard Ags cackle.
“Can I see that again?” Gladys of the Gee Spots asked.
“Yeah, I think I need to see that one again too,” Ginny said, and when I glanced in her direction, despite the coolness of the early evening, she was fanning herself with a newspaper.
“Ok, now let’s all try that move,” Hagen told the crowd.
“Muncie’s in
the head again. I’m a free agent ladies!” Jack announced. “Any takers?” And with that invitation, Jack Junior ended up paired with Granny Fleet, sans Glock, of course.
✽✽✽
“Well, ladies, what’d you think? Think anyone will retain any of that?” Hagen asked as he strolled toward Ags and me shooting the breeze on the teeter totter in the park while we waited for the rest of our crew to end their social hour and walk with us back to the marina.
“Oh, I know I’ll have a hard time forgetting it,” Ags said with a smile.
“I think it went… well,” I said, trying to reassure Hagen. I didn’t tell him that afterward the ladies from the Gee Spot asked me some in-depth and extremely personal questions about him. From the corner of my eye, I could see Johnny Fleet approach with his gran.
“Hey, Alex,” he said.
“Hi, Johnny, Mrs. Fleet.”
“Just giving her a lift home. How’d the thing go?”
Hagen kept it brief. “Good, thanks.”
Johnny looked at me. “We still on for tomorrow?”
“For sure. Ten, right?”
“Yep, pick you up at ten,” he said then nodded and let his gran take him by the arm. She looked intent on spilling her guts about the X-rated self-defence class the town had been treated to.
“What’s at ten?” Hagen asked while I was teetering. Or was I tottering? Well, my butt was low to the ground at any rate, and Ags was aloft.
“Oh, Johnny and I are going to look at a boat tomorrow, for his business.”
“Oh?” Hagen asked, his voice rising an octave.
“Yeah, in Evanston. A thirty-footer. Aluminum number with twin outboards. Should go like stink,” I said.
Hagen nodded and his furrowed brow told me the wheels were turning.
“What?” I asked, looking from his face to Aggie’s. She shrugged.
“Nothing,” he said, and I watched him as he watched Johnny walk away with his gran. “Getting dark. How about I walk you girls back to the marina?”
I dismounted the seesaw as gracefully as possible and let Ags down as gently as I could, then looked around for our escorts. Jack Junior and Peter Muncie were not far off. Peter was chatting up the Gee Spot gals while Jack stood by looking bored. I shot him a wave, which he reciprocated, and I turned to walk with Hagen and Ags. It’s not a far walk from the park to the marina. In fact, nothing in Marysville seems far from anything else. A neat little trick the town planners pulled off, back in the days when walking must have been the primary mode of transportation, but if there’s one negative about the town infrastructure, it’s a distinct lack of public parking. With the sun sinking low and fast this time of year, it was dark by the time we got to the marina. Members of our walking group seemed to veer off one by one until, finally, it was just Hagen and me at my dock.
“Would you like to come in for coffee or tea?”
“Hmmm?”
“I asked if you’d like to come in for a drink. Something bothering you?”
Hagen paused and looked as though he was struggling with his thoughts. “Well, actually there is. I’m kind of hesitant to bring it up, though.”
My mind started to wander and wonder. Was Hagen about to ask me on another date? Sure, we’d watched that movie once at his home in the tony, gated community–where I don’t mind telling you I felt completely out of place. Did he consider the self-defence class foreplay? Was he about to ask me for a kiss? Because I certainly wouldn’t have objected.
“Where’d Johnny Fleet get the money for a boat all of a sudden?”
Pop. There went the bubble he burst. My thoughts went from how to form the perfect pucker to how to punch an officer in the face without being charged. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just curious. And when did he get that truck he had at the park tonight?”
I felt my jaw drop. “You don’t for one second think that Johnny Fleet had something to do with what happened at the bakery and the pharmacy, do you?”
Now let me tell you something about Officer Ben Hagen. He has a nice face. In fact, it’s very nice. Square jaw, beautiful green eyes, dimples when he chooses to break them out, the full meal deal. What he does not have, though, is a poker face. At least around me.
“You do, don’t you?”
“All I’m saying is that we have to look at every conceivable angle. Johnny Fleet has come into enough money to suddenly buy a truck and a boat and—“
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Johnny Fleet is one of the hardest working guys I know. Just because he wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth like you doesn’t mean he has to steal in order to buy things.”
“Alex, I just—“
“Well, I just… I just remembered, I have some work to do. Goodnight, Ben,” I said before boarding my boat, unlocking it, flicking on the lights, and closing the stern door without looking back toward the dock.
CHAPTER 7
When Johnny Fleet and I rolled back into the marina the next day around one, we brought with us the thirty-foot, twin outboard aluminum boat of his dreams. To my complete amazement, I’d managed to negotiate the seller down ten percent, and he even gave us a deal on a trailer he had on site. All in all, I had proven myself worthy of the adoration of my seventeen-year-old fan. I’m sure the effect will wear off when he’s old enough to hit the bars. I couldn’t, though, bring myself to add to Johnny’s teenage angst by telling him that Hagen was suspicious of his seemingly sudden windfall. I knew after all that Johnny was a hard worker and his gran had taught him how to pinch a penny ever since he’d come to live with her. The last thing I wanted him to think was that the police didn’t trust him. It wasn’t long after we pulled into the marina that the aluminum trophy we were towing drew a crowd. Or as much of a crowd there can be in the off season.
Once he parked the new-to-him truck, Johnny jumped down out of the driver’s side and introduced the new gal at the marina. “Isn’t she a honey?” He beamed to Peter Muncie, Sefton, and Bugsy who had all been drawn to the boat as if by a magnet, but we’re talking aluminum here, so that analogy doesn’t really work, but you get my drift.
“Nice boat, kid,” Peter said and nodded with approval as he ran his hand along the sides that’d been buffed to a polish.
“She’s a beaut,” Sefton added while making a closer inspection of the twin Yamaha motors.
Bugsy had sidled up to me on the left by that point and nudged me. “Hey, why do men call boats she anyway?” he asked lowly as if it’s something he should have learned in Marina Management 101.
“Because they cost you a pile of money and they’ll take you for a ride,” I quipped and smiled up at him, meeting his big blue eyes.
“See the console up there, and there’s lots of room for storage and nets and pails and…” Johnny’s voice trailed off as he gave the tour highlights while Bugsy made small talk with me. You know, the kind of small talk that’s made by people who aren’t great at it. That’s Bugsy. The kind of awkward small talk where he’d have said anything other than to say what was on his mind, and I take it his living situation was still very much on his mind. I was thrilled when, while postulating with Bugsy about the weather forecast for the next week, Johnny threw me a conversational life ring and yelled out for my attention.
“Hey, Alex!”
“Excuse me, please.” I smiled at the Bugster. “What’s up, Johnny?”
“The guys want to know if I’m going to name her. Whaddaya think, should I?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Well, what do you think I should call her?”
“Johnny, I’m not creative enough to—“
“How about after you? You’re pretty awesome.” Johnny gave me that look again.
“Thanks, but I think one boat in the marina named Alex M. is quite enough. We don’t want to confuse anyone,” I said, nodding toward our illustrious marina manager who in turn arched an eyebrow at me.
“Yeah, Johnny, we’ve got enough trouble with this one,” Bugsy fired back.
“Fleet Feet,” Sefton piped up with inexplicable satisfaction.
“Fleet Feet?” Peter Muncie asked in a disgusted tone.
“Sure. Didn’t you say you’ve got the track record for the county?” Sefton asked.
“Sure. Ok, that’s an option,” Johnny replied in a tone that said there was no way in hell he was going to name it that.
“Fleet’s In,” Bugsy offered, and through twinkling blue eyes and a smile, he seemed quietly delighted with himself. “That way when you come back to the harbor, everyone will say ‘Hey, Fleet’s in.’”
“You know, that’s not half bad,” I said, a little surprised. I turned to give him a smile when my eyes landed on Ben Hagen walking toward us—uniformed, lug-soled, tanned, and if I knew him, smelling good.
Ben’s footsteps halted when he flanked me on my right. “Hi, there. Wow, nice boat,” he said loud enough for Johnny to hear.
“Thanks, I love it!” Johnny was still overflowing with enthusiasm.
“Hey, Hagen, you wanna give your two cents?” Sefton asked; he was still making an inspection of the vessel.
“Hagen’s got more than two cents to spare,” Peter Muncie tossed in, somewhat aware of the economic status of the officer.
“Go for it,” Hagen said.
“Johnny’s looking for a name for his boat here. And I suggested ‘Fleet Feet’ since everyone knows he’s got the track and field record for the county.”
As soon as Sefton said the words, I cringed, watching Hagen processing the notion and making the tenuous links I would have if I didn’t know Johnny so well. We’d all heard that an eyewitness to the robbery at the pharmacy had seen the culprit take off on foot and word was, they ran faster than a jack rabbit.
“Ok, what are my other options?” Hagen asked.
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