RECOMMENDED
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"The Waitress" © Bernard Reischl |
Ean didn't steal the waitress, it just followed him home after the raid - chased him home, actually. It was more like a misunderstanding than a crime.
Oh, sure, he kept it after it walked into his apartment. What man wouldn't? It was a perfect pair of legs. It served him water from his own tap. It took payment by blue card or library card (who would have guessed?). It was better than any supermodel calendar, breasts or no.
It was the best piece of furniture Ean had ever owned.
**
By the time the doorbell finally rang on New Year's Eve, Ean had been standing in the middle of his apartment reading The Taming of the Shrew for an hour.
"It's her," Mel said from the couch, her own towhead barely visible from behind a textbook. "I hope you didn't get any wrinkles in those excellent dork pants."
Ignoring her sarcasm, Ean tucked in his bookmark, placed the book on its spot on the table, and opened the door.
Heaven lounged in the frame like a Playboy centerfold, her red dress showing plenty of cleavage above and legs below. He admired her delicate cheekbones, smooth shoulders and absolutely exquisite elbows. There was a little dimple right in the bend of her arm, where-
Her hand flew to her mouth, hardly covering a delicious smile.
"Why, Ean, don't you look just like a little stick man in a sharp little stick man outfit, all lines and corners! Even your little shoulders are pointed!"
Ean's brain melted at her southern belle voice.
"I told you to wear the painters I bought you for Christmas," Mel murmured.
"I don't like my clothes wrinkled," he explained to Heaven. Mel was always dressed like a street person, with holes and scuffs on her clothes, so of course she would think painters were acceptable. But in anything less than khakis and a button-down shirt, he would have looked like a slouch next to Heaven.
"Of course!" She patted him on the head. "You just wear whatever you makes you happy, hon. Are you all ready to leave?"
"Yeah, I'm ready. Oh, I hope you don't mind," he jerked his head toward the couch, "I invited my apartment-mate, Mel."
Heaven's eyebrows went up, and she leaned toward him. "I'm so sorry, Edward," she said in a low voice, "but I only have permission for you. Besides, that was the deal. You write my paper, I get you into the party."
"It's alright, Edward." Mel emphasized the name. "You go ahead. I've plenty of other invitations." She motioned to a stack of books on the floor.
"Um... okay. I'm ready then." He glanced back at Mel, but she was ignoring him. On the one hand, Ean couldn't blame her if she was upset. New Year's Eve had been a tradition for them since they were undergrads. But surely she wouldn't begrudge him his first date in a year, even if it was just the result of a carefully crafted bribe.
Down the steps and out into the street, Ean stumbled in Heaven's wake like an amateur skier being dragged behind a yacht. Once, he almost grabbed her arm to steady himself, but gained control just in time to prevent an embarrassing mishap.
"Would you like me to drive?" he asked. "I'm parked pretty close."
Ean's seniority at Arbor Towers had earned him a spot right next to the manager's space. He was pretty proud of this tiny piece of privilege, as well as his ability to have anyone towed who had not earned it.
"Oh, that's alright. I'm parked close, too," she said over her shoulder, and marched right up to the manager's space.
Ean cringed. Wedged in the no-parking ramp space between the manager's car and a delivery truck was Heaven's red convertible, one tire resting on the sidewalk. She had left plenty of room on the driver's side to open her own door, but the passenger side of the car was so close to the truck he would have had to climb up the hood and over the windshield to get in the front seat.
"Looks like you, uh, parked a little close on that side," he said. "Maybe you should let me in after you back out."
She waved her hand and smiled, "No worries, there's plenty of room in the back seat."
Since all of his recent dates had been double dates with Mel's friends, so he was getting used to the back seat. Still, he had kind of hoped to be a little closer to her. The wind and the roar of the stereo filled the void where Heaven might have expected conversation. He mused that a mile was too short a time to smell her perfume and watch her black hair floating over the seat.
Ean had often passed Paolo's neighborhood, a community of three-story houses scattered among immaculate lawns and flawless trees, each with - he was certain - a breathtaking view of the Huron River. Paolo's was surrounded by an eight-foot wrought iron fence with a stone entryway, "Matteo" woven into the design of the gate.
Around a tree-lined curve, the house rose ahead of them like some fairytale castle. Ean was genuinely awed. He knew the freshman's parents were rich, but this house was a rival to some of the houses he'd seen in Grosse Pointe when he and Mel went driving along Lake St. Claire before Christmas. It was still decked out in Christmas lights, each individual tree branch glowing all the way to the tip and a huge wreath suspended from the second-story balcony.
A white-gloved valet opened Heaven's door, and she strode up the stone steps. Ean felt lucky to exit the car before the valet drove off and parked him with the cars. When he looked up again, Heaven was gone.
The house pulsed with a dance mix he didn't recognize. Ean stood frozen at the foot of the steps until another laughing couple pushed past him and went in the door without knocking. He didn't feel that welcome here, but he supposed he had better keep his ride in sight if he didn't want to walk home.
Inside the house, he felt like he was in one of Mel's favorite clubs: dark, smoky rooms, crowded floors, and pounding music. Thousands of Christmas blinkers carpeted the ceiling; light rolled across the room in waves of red, green, white. He squinted up for a minute, wondering how much power it took to keep them all going without blowing any circuits. Six strands on any single outlet did it for his apartment.
Then a group of gyrating women forced him forward into the throng, and he was temporarily lost. As he circulated, he stuck his head into every door he passed, trying to find a quiet spot, while keeping his eyes open for Heaven. A little alcove with one floor lamp and seven bookshelves caught his eye, and he slipped inside. The bookshelves held no books, just knickknacks and photo frames. He collapsed onto one of the leather chairs and put his hand over his eyes.
What was he thinking going to a rich guy's New Year's Eve party when he could have been home with Mel reading Shakespeare and listening to Sinatra? He hadn't seen a single person he recognized, and now that Heaven had disappeared he'd probably end up walking home.
"Hey, if you have an order you better give it now. There's a lot of people around and only one waitress," a voice said.
Ean looked up. One of the guys he thought was passed out had apparently just been resting his eyes. He had long, straggly hair and dull eyes. "Waitress?" He looked around. There were three other men piled on a sofa in lewd positions, but no women.
"Not them. Her."
The guy's finger was pointing over Ean's left shoulder, at a shiny metallic sculpture of a woman from the waist down. On top was a tray holding a glass of blue liquid. The guy reached over and took the glass.
Ean stared.
The sculpture moved.
"What the heck was that?" he yelped. He realized he was sitting on the arm of the chair.
"Shhh!" The guy put his finger to his lips, as if anyone outside of the alcove could have heard it. "It's a prototype. Some kind of AI robotic thing Paolo's dad is testing for his company. You order drinks from it."
"I don't drink." Ean eyed the waitress. He didn't even own a dishwasher or a television, and he only checked email exactly once a month when he visited the public library.
"You can buy lemonade, then, Mr. Pocket Protector," the guy said. He pulled out his blue card, waved it in the air, and the waitress headed toward him. "Just slide your card down this slit on the side, and tell her what you want. What do you want?"
Ean didn't really want anything, but he was a little curious to see how it worked. "Uhh... What are you drinking?"
"It's a Sully. It's harmless, I swear. You want one? I'll buy."
"Sure, I guess." He didn't have to drink it, but it couldn't hurt his image at a place like this to at least carry one around.
"One Sully." The waitress walked out a door on the other side of the alcove. "My name's Jim, by the way." He offered his hand.
"Ean."
"Ean, if you don't mind my saying, this doesn't look like your kind of party," Jim said. He sucked down half his blue drink.
"I'm not here for the party, really. I came with someone."
"Let me guess - she ditched you for someone else?"
Ean shifted in his seat. "No, she's here somewhere. This is just such a big house, I don't know where to start looking for her."
"Right." Jim nodded his head like he knew better, and Ean felt annoyance rise in his chest again. He was about to say something rude, when the waitress returned with three drinks on her tray.
"How does she do that?" Ean took the blue one off the tray and ventured a little sip. It was sour and smelled like cough syrup. It tasted even worse. He tried not to make a face.
"Do what?"
"Get the drinks on the tray?"
"Who knows? Who cares? She's nice to look at, though."
The drink got better as the night wore on - Jim just kept buying them! - and Jim's personality improved as his speech declined. Ean was just about to lean back and take a little nap, when the house erupted in chaos. He heard a crash like a glass chandelier exploding and the alcove was flooded with panicked, stomping people.
Ean grabbed Jim's arm. "What - ?"
"Police raid!" Jim dragged him out of the room through a door he hadn't noticed before. The black hallway beyond was empty, the sounds of the crowd muffled once he was inside. "Come on, I know a way out."
At the end of the hall, they went down a steep, seemingly endless flight of steps and out a door. They exited on a private beach by the river. Moonlight glowed on a speedboat tied to a small dock. Ean imagined he could still hear the dance mix; he realized it was his own heart banging inside his ribs. His stomach was starting to hurt.
He turned to go back in. "I can't leave without Heaven!"
Jim grabbed his arm. "You can't go back. There was someone behind us. Didn't you hear the footsteps? This is the only way to get off the property without climbing the fence or going through the front gate."
Ean glanced back at the door, but when Jim took off without him, he gave up. He didn't know his way around the inside of the house, and for all he knew Heaven had already left without him. He followed Jim around the outside of the iron fence and along the back of two other properties, occasionally aware of the footsteps behind them. They were definitely a few steps ahead of someone.
When they finally reached the road, Ean turned his head to the side and puked.
"Hey man, that really stinks. Couldn't you wait until you got home? Where you going anyway?"
"Arbor Towers," Ean gasped.
"I'm going this way. Good to meet you and all, but I gotta get out of here." And Jim was off again.
Ean stumbled back into the cover of the trees as a car came around the curve. Home was only a mile away, but he didn't seem to be walking or seeing very straight. A lot of things could happen in that amount of time. A twig cracked behind him, and he whirled around.
He blinked. The waitress? The waitress was following him?
"You a cop? Go away. Go home." He waved his hands at her, but she just stood there. Surely she wouldn't follow him all the way home. To test his theory, he looked carefully both ways for cars and stumbled across the road.
The waitress followed. She followed as he ran through a park on the other side of the road, crossed two more streets, and hid in the shrubs behind someone's house. She disappeared when he cut across a busy parking lot, but he saw her slinking along the shadows next to the building.
What did she want? Conspiracy theories flooded his muddled brain. Heaven was out to get him. The cops were having him followed to see where he lived. The HSTF thought he was a terrorist.
Finally, he realized she was hiding any time there was a chance she might be spotted, and he had an idea. He pulled out his phone and called for a cab. It was a relief to climb in the back seat without her. He watched the streets anxiously, but she seemed to have disappeared.
Mel was still reading the same book, laying in the same spot on the sofa, when he arrived home. He plopped onto the floor with his back to the door.
"How was the party?" She peered over her book. "You have barf on your shirt."
"I know." He didn't really care. He was just relieved to have arrived home. "All the men were wearing painters."
"I know," she said, and went back to reading her book.
Ten minutes later, the waitress arrived.
**
"You have to take it back." Mel scowled at him, hands on her hips.
The waitress stood just inside the door where she had stopped the previous night when Ean let her in. He couldn't believe she had tracked him down. He couldn't believe Mel had woken him to pester him about this.
"I can't take it back," he moaned. "The police are looking for it. If I come forward, they'll know I was at that party, and I'll end up in jail."
Mel had been rambling about the local news for five minutes before he was able to focus. Apparently, credit card information stored in the waitress could lead to some big drug busts.
"If you don't take it back, and the police track it here, you'll end up in jail for felony possession of stolen property, too. And that's another thing. At breakfast this morning, all the talk was about the reward Gian Matteo - Paolo's father - has put out for return of the thing. That guy who helped you get out of the house would probably turn you in for a lot less than 30 grand."
Each word felt like a crack on the head with a hammer. Ean sagged onto the sofa and put his hand over his eyes. He had no coping mechanism for hangovers.
"Jim didn't even know it was following us. Can't we just talk about this later? My head is killing me."
Mel grunted. "Well, if you aren't going to take care of this, I will. I'm putting it outside, so someone else can pick it up and take it home."
Ean heard another grunt and something big crashed onto the hardwood floor. He peeked out from under his hand, then sat up. Mel was sitting on the floor shaking her head.
"What happened?" "The damn thing shocked me."
"Hard enough to knock you on the floor? That must have been a pretty good shock."
Mel stood up and wrapped her arms around the waitress, but when she started to lift, her arms flew out and she flopped back onto the floor. She sat there wiggling her fingers and shaking her head. Ean couldn't help laughing, despite his headache.
"She didn't shock you when you first touched her, only when you tried to pick her up. Must be some kind of built-in defense." He leaned back and covered his eyes again. "I guess you'll have to kick her out later. Why don't you order a beer instead? That should get her to move."
"Hey, that's a good idea," Mel said.
"What?"
"You're dehydrated. You should ask her to bring you a glass of water."
"I want a nap, not a glass of water," Ean grumbled, but he sat up. "Waitress, I'd like a glass of water."
The waitress walked over to him, turning toward him so he could reach the credit card slot in her hip. He wasn't about to pay for water.
"Just a glass of water."
She waited.
"Water is free."
She didn't move.
"Oh, Ean, just pay the stupid thing," Mel said. "I want to see it work."
"I'm not going to pay for water I can get out of my own sink. Besides, she doesn't take cash." He had two financial policies that had always served him well: never turn down a good book sale, and never use any form of credit, especially a blue card.
"Well, I'm not going to pay for it to bring you water." Mel bit her lip, then opened Ean's wallet and pulled out his library card.
"What are you doing?"
"Remember that scam a few years ago where people were getting gas for free by using invalid credit cards? I heard that was built in for debugging, so the designers didn't have to authorize real transactions while they were just testing. Maybe they did the same thing with this one."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ean said.
"Just watch." She swiped the card, and the waitress headed for the kitchen. Ean followed.
The waitress turned in a circle, then went straight for the cabinet with the glasses. Her tray tipped back, revealing a small compartment underneath, and two long silver arms folded out of the inside. Each arm had three elbows and a humanoid hand at the end. Taking a glass in one hand, she turned on the tap and filled it. One arm folded back inside, the tray tipped back up, and the other hand put the glass on the tray. Then the second arm slid back inside through a hole he had previously not seen. She walked over to him.
Ean smiled. "I think I'm going to go lay down and have her wait on me all afternoon." He waved his library card in the air. "I think I can afford it."
"Nice trick," he heard Mel tell the waitress as he eased back onto the sofa, "but I'm going to get rid of you one way or another."
She slipped on her coat and her flap cap.
"Where are you going?"
"I have to see a man about a dog," she said. "You just lean back and relax. By tonight, all your troubles will be solved."
Ean hated it when Mel got all mysterious like that.
**
Ean dreamed he was back at Paolo's party running from an enormous mechanical breast with lightening shooting out the nipple. On his back, he carried a glass tank filled with blue liquid, and he was drinking it through a long tube over his shoulder. He kept sucking it down, even though it made his head and his stomach hurt.
When he woke up, his apartment was full of babbling people. His eyes focused, and he realized they were all women he didn't recognize. One of them was kneeling in front of the waitress, wearing black, elbow-length gloves with wires attached. The wires ran into a little suitcase on the floor.
"Hey, what are you doing in my apartment?"
Everyone stopped talking and looked toward the kitchen. Mel was leaning on the counter looking smug.
"They're going to help us get that thing out of here."
Well, she had threatened to take matters into her own hands.
"Who are all these people?"
"This is your team," Mel said, strutting into the room. "The redhead in the gloves is Jenni. She has three engineering degrees and is on her way to getting her PhD in robotics - if I understand her properly. She's going to disarm and sanitize the device."
The device?
"Kris is going to be our lookout. She's a physics expert, but we're more interested in her martial arts training. A black belt in karate and...?"
"Extensive training in jujutsu, aikido, kempo, and lua. I also have some skill in fencing and kickboxing." The blond winked at him, as if to show that she wasn't all that scary. He wondered if he could convince Mel to set her up with him.
"Amber is a business major, but right now she works for Jack's Appliance. She's our muscle, our cover, and our getaway guy," Mel continued, nodding to the buff brunette in the corner chair.
"Why do we need a getaway guy?"
"All in good time, all in good time. Harry, the gal on your right, is our tech. She's providing all the equipment and security expertise."
"Just tell me vat you need, and I vill get it for you." Harry's voice was soft, her accent German or Austrian.
"What are you studying?" Ean asked. He leaned over to pull a piece of fuzz off her shoulder.
She grabbed his wrist. "Do not ask questions, and do no touch."
Ean rubbed his wrist and backed away from her. "Ow- okay. Sorry."
"And that's everyone," Mel said.
"What about me? What should I do?"
"Hmm... You can be in charge of morale. Good music, inspiring quotes, stuff like that."
"Oh. Okay." Morale? What kind of a stupid job was that? "Can't I operate some of Harry's equipment?"
Mel's forehead crinkled. "Ean, come on, you're not exactly a tech guy. I mean, you don't even own a DVD player. How do you expect to figure out night goggles and tranq guns?"
It seemed unfair, but she was probably right. "Fine, but when I start spreading morale I better get a whole lotta lovin' and no complaints."
Harry punched him in the arm. "You are a vimp. It is no vonder you haf no girlfriend." She crossed her arms and stared hard at Mel. "Give him za goggles. Guns and goggles for everyvon."
Mel crossed her own arms and stared back, but she didn't look very menacing. "I'm the team leader, so I make the decisions. I tell you, if you give him a gun he's going to shoot the wrong person."
"And I say everyvon gets a gun, or novon. Any idiot mit half a brain can keep from shooting his own team."
Mel growled and stamped her foot. "Fine. If he tranqs himself, you can carry him out. Now where's that map? We have to talk about what we're going to do."
She stalked to the corner and started digging through her backpack.
Harry leaned toward him. Her blond hair smelled like aftershave. "Stick vit me," she whispered. "Do not shoot anyvon unless I tell you to shoot zem. Understand?"
He nodded. Harry wasn't confident of him either, but at least she was treating him like part of the team. "Thanks."
"Okay, everyone gather round," Mel called from the table. "Here's the plan. Jenni, as soon as you have the device disabled..."
** Ean read while Jenni worked on the waitress and everyone else played poker. Well, Ean sort of read. He'd read The Taming of the Shrew four times already, so half his attention was focused on Jenni and her gloves.
"What are the gloves for?"
"They're hooked up to a small generator. I'm hoping to shut down the defense system so I can open it up, but I don't want to feed it too much voltage, just enough to overload the circuits." She adjusted a dial, touched it again. "I can't get it to attack me, though, and I don't want to open it up until I'm sure it's disabled."
"Just pick it up."
Jenni squinted at him. "Really? That simple?" She wrapped her hands around its waist to pick it up, wiggled it a little, and looked at a dial on her wrist. Then she tried it again, watching the dial, and nodded. "That should do it."
Ean sat up. "That's it? We can go now?"
"Not so fast. Didn't you hear Mel say I have to sanitize it?" She took off the gloves and started feeling around the waitress' legs and butt with her hands.
"What does that mean?"
"I have to examine the contents of its hard drive to make sure it hasn't stored any data about us." She found a spot with her finger and stuck a pointy tool in a hole. The entire front of the waitress popped open, revealing her electronic innards.
"Eew! You didn't have to show me that," he said.
Jenni smiled, keeping her eyes on the job. "Don't worry, that was the hard part. It's all downhill from here."
"I'm no rocket scientist... or actually even a regular computer user... but couldn't you just connect with your Powerbook?"
"That's what I'm going to do, but I still have to open it up. I have to check software and hardware. It probably has a built-in wi-fi connection that the owner uses on a daily basis to communicate with it, but it may also have a firewalled drive that actually stores data, possibly even an audio or video recorder. There are no ports on the outside, but..." she pulled out a mass of wires with plastic connectors on the end. "Jackpot." She connected her Powerbook to one of the ends and went to work.
Ean sunk back into his book, eventually falling asleep with it on his chest, only to wake when Mel called "Report!"
"No actual video or audio recorders - though it does have sensors that serve as eyes and ears. No biometric recorders. There's GPS software installed, but there's a shared library missing, so it's broken," Jenni said. "Ean, I don't know exactly how it found you, but it seems to followed you intentionally. It has a program on it called 'Threat Risk' that analyzes facial characteristics, tone of voice and conversation to determine a person's likelihood of involvement with law enforcement."
"Are you telling me it chose me because it could tell I'm not a cop?"
Jenni nodded. "And you aren't a criminal either - basically you're harmless. It was probably programmed to find a place to hide it in case of something exactly like what happened. Oh, it also stores credit card data, but there's nothing here on any of us. The only new entries since Ean arrived home last night were made by a card issued to someone named 'Tom Jones' from New York City."
Six faces swiveled toward Ean, registering varying degrees of surprise. "Why is everyone looking at me?"
"Did you steal someone's library card?" Mel asked.
Ean felt his face grow hot. "I don't want the government investigating what kinds of books I'm checking out. So I bought a fake name. What's the big deal?"
"Ean, you dog! I'm impressed!"
"Smart man," Harry added.
"So what's the word? Are we done?" Mel asked.
Jenni snapped the front of the waitress closed. "Done."
Mel looked at Amber. "Okay, team, I think we have a refrigerator to deliver."
**
Wrestling the refrigerator box down the stairs and into the Jack's Appliances truck was easy. The waitress probably weighed 200 pounds, but Amber had her routine down and only needed one assistant to hoist it into the truck. It was dark outside, the parking lot deserted. Amber rode in the front of the truck, and Ean rode in back, sandwiched between Harry and Kris.
"What if the house isn't empty? What if the cops are still there?" Ean tried not to tap his foot. Harry had already stomped it still twice.
"Nobody is zere. I guarantee it," Harry said. "You vill speak of it no more."
Ean tapped twice, then stepped on his own toe and grinned at Harry. "So... how do you all know each other?" he asked.
"We're all floopers and U of M students," Kris said. "Well, except Harry."
"Floopers?"
"Feminist Lesbians of the UP: F.L.U.P." she explained.
Ean's heart fell. Well, maybe Mel could set them up anyway. Heck, his last three dates had been setups with her lesbian friends. He would consider it a success if he didn't have to sit in the back seat.
"So how do you guys know Harry?" He glanced over at Harry, whose face could have been carved in iron. "Uh, never mind. Want to hear the music I picked?"
"Sure." Mel sighed and rolled her eyes. "Pop it in."
"You heard what I said earlier about complaining, right?"
"Yeah, but that was before someone gave you a gun."
Ean grinned and popped in his Sinatra DVD-A. He had calculated the distance to Paolo's house, and figured they had just long enough to listen to "Luck Be a Lady." Sure enough, the music trailed off just as they reached the drive.
The beginning of the drive curved behind some trees, so Harry had a little privacy to work her magic on the gate. She climbed out the back, and a few minutes later climbed back in.
"Gate is open, camera disabled," she reported. "Ean, you do not yet need za gun. Put it avay."
Embarrassed, he slipped it back in the holster. He just wanted to be prepared. Everyone else looked like they were on their way to a nap.
A few seconds later, the truck stopped and Amber opened the doors. "Harry, you're up again."
"Zere are no cameras at da door. Evervon can get out, if you vant. Ean, take off za night goggles."
They pulled pantyhose over their heads and crowded around as Harry went to work on the front door lock using a handheld device. When she was finished, she handed it off to Jenni, who fumbled and dropped it in the bushes. Three people swore different curses as Jenni lowered herself off the side of the porch and retrieved it.
Time for a quote to boost morale, Ean decided. "You know that 'The intention makes the crime,' don't you?" "Ean, what the hell are you talking about?" Mel gave Jenni a hand back up.
"It's Aristotle. In case anyone cares that we are breaking and entering, I just want to reassure you that you don't need to feel badly about it," he said.
"You're the only one with a guilt problem here," Mel said. "One quote is enough. Let's just be quiet and get this over with. In and out, just like that."
Harry opened the doors, and they tipped the box back and wheeled it in.
"Okay, let's get it out of this box and wipe everything down," Amber said. "I don't want this coming back to haunt me."
"Can I help you?"
Ean jumped and whacked his elbow on the wall. A man in an apron had emerged from one of the side rooms. Mel, Jenni and Harry moved left, and the other three women moved right. Ean stood rooted in place, rubbing his arm. Where were they all going?
"We have a delivery for Mr. Matteo," Kris said, bouncing up to the guy. "Can you take it for him?"
"Why are you wearing-"
Kris' punch knocked him out cold, right there in the foyer.
Ean's mouth dropped open. "You hit him in the face. He saw us. You hit him."
"We have stockings on our heads, and the markings on the box are all obscured. Don't worry about it," Mel said. "Amber, Jenni, get that thing out of the box. Kris, keep your eyes open. Harry, help me move this guy. Ean, stay out of our way."
Ean scowled. "If you were my sister-"
"If I was your sister, I'd have tied you up and left you at home, knowing you as well as I do," Mel said. "Okay, help Kris keep a lookout."
Kris had moved off to the left, so Ean went right. All the lights had already been removed from the ceiling, and the place looked like there had never even been a party. He glanced back. They were just standing the waitress up. They still had to get rid of the box and do a wipe-down. He ventured into the kitchen. A pot of boiling something sat on the stove, and the island was spread with half-assembled hors d'oeuvres. The guy in the apron must have been cooking dinner, but this was a lot of food if no one was going to be home.
He was about to say something when he heard a voice in the other room.
"Don't move, or you're dead."
Ean sneaked up to the doorway and slowly leaned around the frame to see a man in a suit apparently holding a gun on the team. Ean couldn't actually see the gun, since the guy's back was to him, but no one was moving. He had a clear view of everyone but Kris.
"We're just returning property that rightfully belongs in this house," he heard Mel say. "This is not a crime."
Where was Kris? Ean strained out as far as he dared, but Kris was nowhere in sight.
"Corporate espionage is a crime, even if you return the property," the man said.
"We didn't steal it. This is all a big mistake," Mel said.
"We'll let the police be the judge of that."
He couldn't tell through the stockings whether anyone had seen him. If they had, they might have been able to give him a clue what to do.
Harry nodded down toward her hip. "Ve are not criminals. See? Zese guns are to disable only. No stealing, no killing."
So she had seen him! But he'd never shot a guy before. If he missed, the dart would go past the guy and possibly hit a member of the team. On the other hand, if he didn't shoot, they might all end up in jail - or worse. This guy had a real gun, and he looked pretty steady with it.
What was it Theodore Roosevelt had said about decision-making? 'In any moment of decision the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.'
Ean slid the gun out of the holster and raised it. His hand shook like he'd been writing papers longhand all day. He steadied it with his left hand and tried to aim, the way Harry had shown him. He fired.
The man dropped his gun and reached around behind him, spinning to face Ean. His expression went from shocked to confused as he fell to his knees and crawled toward his gun. Then he went limp.
"Good vork, Ean," Harry said. "Now retrieve za dart and let's go."
"Where's Kris?"
"She had to get something upstairs," Jenni said.
"What?" Mel said it at the same time as Ean.
Jenni shrugged. "Junia Matteo owns a diamond necklace that's worth thousands. Kris went to look for it."
Ean looked at Mel. "You said in and out. You didn't say anything about actually committing a crime."
Mel's jaw looked like she was grinding her teeth together. "No, I did not. We'll discuss this later. Everyone to the truck. Kris can catch up, since she ran off to do her own thing."
Kris was right behind them as Amber put the ramp away and shut the doors. The truck rumbled off down the driveway.
"Kris, what the hell were you doing back there? Trying to get us all busted?" Mel asked. "If they didn't have a reason to track us down, they do now."
"No they don't," Kris said, pulling the stocking off her head. "I didn't get the necklace."
"You didn't?" Jenni asked. "Why not? You had plenty of time."
"Because it was in a locked cabinet and I couldn't break the glass," Kris said. "I'm tired. Let's just go home and forget about this."
Ean smiled, then chuckled, then started to laugh.
"Vat? Vat is it?" Harry asked.
"'Many a man is saved from being a thief by finding everything locked up,'" Ean said. "Edgar Watson Howe."
**
Harry dropped in a week later to deliver a small box wrapped in silver paper.
"Keepsake," she explained. "Open it later, ven I go."
Ean thanked her and set the box aside, even though he was dying to rip off the paper. "I really appreciate you guys helping me out last week. You never told me, though... Why did you do it?"
Harry's lips turned up at the corners, just a tiny bit. "I have a friend who needs a date. No - do not gif me zat look. I do you a favor, you do me a favor. You meet her. If you like her, you date her."
"Alright, I think I can handle that," he said.
"Good!" Harry said. "I vill send her right up."
"You mean she's here right now?"
"Yes, she is vaiting in za car. It was good to see you, Ean. I vill be in touch."
Harry nodded and left him standing with his mouth open. He was still wondering what how much he could clean up within three minutes, when the doorbell rang.
Pretty. That was his first thought when he opened the door. She was thin, slightly shorter than him, with straight brown hair and brown eyes.
Bookish, too. Ean was intrigued.
"Hi, I'm Angel," she said.
"Yeah," he said, staring at her. "I mean, I'm Ean. Are you a lesbian, too?" He smacked himself in the head. "I'm sorry, that just didn't come out right."
"No, it's okay that you ask. I'm not, though," Angel said. "Is that okay?"
Ean grinned. "That's great, just great."
"Do you think your roommate would mind if I come in for a minute?"
"Oh, she isn't here," Ean said, stepping aside so she could enter. "She moved in with her partner."
"Well, you should definitely make up with her." Angel gazed around at the bookshelves. "A person can never have too many friends."
"Oh, she's still my friend." He wasn't really sure about that, but he didn't feel comfortable talking to Angel about it. Meri had been his best friend for years, and it was hard to realize she was angry enough to move out.
"'I have lost friends, some by death, others through sheer inability to cross the street,'" Angel quoted.
"Virginia Woolf." Ean was amazed. Where had Harry found this woman? Wherever it was, he wanted to go there. "Do you like Frank Sinatra, by any chance?"
"Absolutely," she said. "Since your room mate isn't coming back tonight, why don't we just listen to some music and talk about good books."
So Ean popped in his favorite DVD-A.
Chris Africa is a veteran writer and editor, with years of experience in Web site development as well. In November 2004, she adopted two FeLV-positive kittens, bringing the household cat count up to five. For more information about Chris Africa (or her kittens), browse her personal web site, Parola Scritta. Feel free to contact her at either of her e-mail addresses: baiewola@yahoo.com or editor@ultraverse.us
Story © Chris Africa; artwork © Bernard Reischl
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