In a Fix

by Linda Grimes

  the matter?”

  I swalowed hard. “Nothing. I’m fine. I just … it’s been a day. You know?”

  His arms circled me gently, pressing me to his chest, and mine automaticaly went around his waist.

  “It’s going to be fine. Bily wil take care of everything tomorrow, and you can put this whole thing behind you. And, Howdy …

  I know it pisses you off, but I’m not going to stop watching out for you.” His lips pressed against the top of my head briefly. “You

  get some sleep.”

  Yeah, right. Like that was gonna happen now.

  Chapter 6

  Bily and I got to the airport early, after driving through a raging storm, so I had plenty of time to work myself into a state of near-frozen panic before we boarded. I’m not the best air passenger, even under ideal circumstances. Toss in some bad weather and I

  stiffen up like a nun in a whorehouse. Not precisely in character for jet-set Mina, but frankly I didn’t give a flying fig.

  As soon as we were airborne, Bily signaled the flight attendant. She came at once, bearing booze. The hundred-dolar bil I’d

  seen pass from Bily’s hand to hers as we boarded might’ve had something to do with her alacrity.

  “No, thanks,” I said, gripping the armrests and shuddering as the plane bounced. Even the sight of Mina’s new ring on my

  finger didn’t comfort me. It wasn’t like I could give it to her and cal the job done, not before the real Trey was notified.

  Bily took the glass from her and held it to my lips. “It’s medicinal. Drink.” We bounced again. I drank. Fast, not even tasting it.

  “What was it?” I asked, staring straight ahead and ignoring the clouds floating past the window in my peripheral vision.

  “Only the finest Tanqueray martini. Wasted on your taste buds, apparently. Breathe.”

  I gulped some air. “I don’t think it’s doing anything for me.”

  He downed his drink in two quick sips and caled for refils. I shook my head at the flight attendant, but I was invisible to her.

  Ensnared as she was by Trey’s kiler smile, she wouldn’t have noticed me if I’d stood on my seat and danced naked.

  “Bottoms up, sweetheart,” Bily said, pouring the second one past my lips, not giving me a chance to refuse. He popped my

  olive into his mouth and chewed. “Don’t worry. You’l feel better in a minute or two.”

  “I dunnoh…” But he was right. My grip on the armrests gradualy eased.

  He smiled. “There now. You’re not scared anymore, are you?”

  I thought about it, somewhat amazed. “No. Not at al.” In fact, I felt pretty good. I snuggled up to Trey’s manly bicep as a

  wave of euphoria settled over me. “You’re wonderful. Martinis are magic, aren’t they?”

  “I’ve always thought so,” he said, eyes alight. “Now, have I told you about a little organization caled the Mile High Club?”

  I swatted him. “I’m not that drunk.”

  He laughed. “Too bad.”

  The landing at Reagan National Airport was bumpy, or maybe that was just me. But after staying lubricated with magic martinis

  for most of the flight, at least I was no longer stiff. In fact, I was so un-stiff Bily had to help me down the aisle.

  “Can’t hold her liquor,” he stage-whispered to the amused flight attendant as we passed. I would have denied it vehemently had

  I been capable of forming coherent words, but she probably wouldn’t have believed me anyway after I stepped on her foot.

  The first thing we noticed after we deplaned (and by “we” I mean Bily—I wasn’t noticing much of anything myself) was a TSA

  agent who seemed excessively interested in the pair of us. It wasn’t until Bily gripped my upper arm and hurried me into the midst

  of the crowd stampeding toward baggage claim that I picked up on something being out of whack.

  “Wha’s—what’s up?” I said. Bily let my mush-mouth moment pass without comment. It was the least he could do after

  pouring the martinis down me.

  “TSA does not customarily greet arrivals—they are more concerned with departures. They also do not use the kind of badge

  that guy was wearing, nor do their officers speak into their badges. Plus, the blue of his shirt is at least two shades off.”

  I craned my head to get a better look. He gave my arm a smal shake. “Eyes front, cuz.”

  “He’s not folowing us, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said, a smal burst of adrenaline having cleared my mind

  somewhat.

  “Yet. He’s giving us space because he thinks he knows where we’re going.”

  “But we’re not?”

  “Oh, we are.” He maneuvered us over to the restrooms. “But not as Trey and Mina. Meet me in two minutes right here. Get

  comfortable,” he said, adaptor code for be yourself.

  Luckily, there was a free stal, so I could change right away. I switched shirts with one from my carry-on. Figured that would

  have to suffice clothing-wise. Bily was waiting when I returned. He’d done the same.

  We continued to Arrivals at a more leisurely pace, which was good because Mina’s shoes were at least an inch and a half too

  long for my feet. We’d gone through customs in Nassau, so we could leave the airport without that delay. As we passed the

  baggage claim area we saw a uniformed driver holding up a sign with Trey’s name on it.

  “Aw, how thoughtful,” I said. “Mark ordered us a limo.”

  “Think again, cuz,” Bily said, guiding me away from the man, toward the taxi stand, with one hand on my waist.

  Oh. Wel, crap. Guess Trey and Mina were stil on somebody’s radar.

  *

  I live in D.C., not too far from George Washington University, in a condo I rent from my oldest brother, Thomas. He held on to it

  after he moved to a bigger place because its location made it such a good investment. When I decided to start my own business, I

  grabbed at his offer of cheap rent, figuring there were worse places to live and work than D.C. For one thing, it’s far enough away

  from the family homestead in New York that I’m not dropped in on by an endless parade of wel-meaning relatives.

  And, okay, D.C. is the closest thing to a home base Mark has. That might have had a little something to do with my decision.

  He used to room with Thomas, and stil stops by the condo occasionaly. Sometimes even stays overnight in his old room, which is

  now my guest room. I keep hoping he’l wander across the hal some fine night, but I’m not holding my breath.

  By the time the cab dropped Bily and me at my building I was slightly more functional. Not precisely sober, but Bily only had

  to steady me with one hand on my elbow as we walked to the condo.

  I punched in the code to unlock the front door. It stayed locked. Tried again.

  “Damn it. Somebody must’ve changed it while I was gone.”

  “Here, let me.” Bily, of course, got it on the first try. I hate people who can hold their liquor.

  My stomach contracted the instant he turned on the lights in the living room. “Shit. What the fuck happened here?” he said,

  echoing my thoughts. “I don’t suppose you left it this way?”

  I stared blankly, trying to take it in. My mind kept fighting me. Finaly I said, “No. I may not be Martha Stewart around the

  house, but I usualy manage to keep the cushions on the sofa and the TV off the floor.”

  “You stay here. I’l check the rest of the place.”

  No argument from me. If whoever had done this was stil here, I was in no hurry to meet him. A minute later he was back. “It’s

  the same upstairs. The stuff I keep in your guest room is al there. You’l have to check your room and see if anything is missing.

  Come on.”

  I folowed him reluctantly
. When I got to my bedroom door I froze, sucker-punched again, even though I was expecting what I

  saw. My comforter and sheets had been ripped from the bed and strewn on the floor, my clothing yanked from hangers in the

  closet, my underwear puled out of my dresser drawers. Bile crept into my throat at the thought of some stranger handling my

  intimate apparel.

  Bily laid a hand gently on my neck. “Hey, you okay?”

  I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway. “Why would somebody do this?” On top of everything that happened in the Bahamas, it

  seemed a little much to just be bad luck.

  “Obviously whoever did it thought you had something he wanted.”

  “But I don’t have anything. My furniture is al secondhand. My TV and stereo are crap. I don’t even have any good jewelry.”

  “How about a computer?”

  “My laptop!” I rushed to the desk and rustled beneath the scattered papers. “It’s gone.”

  “Anything vital on it?”

  Say, like backup copies of confidential client files? Oops. “Uh, no, of course not. Wel, maybe a few … never mind, it doesn’t

  matter. It’s password protected.”

  Bily snorted. “Oh, now we can rest easy. Please don’t tel me you used the security software that came with it.”

  “Of course not—I’m not stupid. Mark set something up for me when I got it.”

  “Should be okay then.” Approval, if somewhat grudging.

  I looked around at the mess, trying to survey it dispassionately. “What do we do now? Cal the police?”

  “No. We’l cal Mark and let the spooks handle it. I suspect whatever this is, it’s more up their aley. Besides, I’d prefer Mark

  to run interference between us and anyone official. But first let’s look around and figure out what else is missing.”

  After a thorough search, I said, “My diary.”

  “The green suede one, or the cute little pink one with unicorns?”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten under my breath. “Green,” I ground out. I hadn’t used the pink one since middle school,

  which I was sure he knew darn wel.

  “Wel, you shouldn’t keep a diary if you don’t want people to find it,” he said, without an ounce of shame. “Anyway, I wouldn’t

  worry too much about it. If I couldn’t decipher your mumbo-jumbo, I doubt our thief can.” That was some consolation, at least.

  I’d developed my own secret code at an early age. Growing up with three brothers and a very annoying pseudo-cousin wil drive

  you to extremes to ensure some privacy.

  “It’s not like I wrote anything important in it, anyway.” Unless you think schoolgirl fantasies about a certain spook are

  important.

  Bily wanted to make the cal, but I told him it was my condo so I should be the one to do it. Mark answered after the first ring,

  sounding alert in spite of the late hour. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing much. Somebody broke into my condo, trashed the place, and took my laptop.”

  “Shit. Is Bily stil with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Put him on.”

  “No. You can talk to me.”

  “Ciel, I need to ask—”

  “Ask me,” I insisted.

  “Never mind. I want the both of you out of there now. Tel Bily I said to use ful caution. You know where I am.” Click. Didn’t

  anybody say good-bye anymore?

  “Wel?”

  “We’re supposed to go to Mark’s place using ‘ful caution,’ whatever the hel that means.”

  Bily seemed to understand. He smiled and said, “How good are you at projecting drunken colege boys?”

  *

  Oddly, I didn’t have a single drunken colege boy in my repertoire, but that was okay because Bily had plenty to choose from in

  his. It was easy enough to borrow one—Bily caled up an alcohol-riddled specimen of undergrad manhood and took my hand.

  After a few minutes I had a good enough take on the image. And the smel. Ew. I felt myself getting woozy again on the beer

  fumes alone. Once I was set, Bily dropped the fragrant aura and brought out another one for himself, a much finer example of

  campus masculinity.

  “Hey, why’d you give me the overweight one with pimples?” I protested, my new voice cracking. Good thing the waistband on

  Mina’s skirt was expandable.

  “It was the first one handy,” he said in a pleasantly deep voice, looking at me through only slightly inebriated bedroom eyes.

  Handy, my ass. “Now come on. Get changed and let’s go.”

  Bily visits D.C. a lot, and keeps as many clothes at my place as he does at his own in New York. I suspect he has stashes

  everywhere he frequents, because he never seems to be at a loss for something to wear, no matter which aura he’s using. His

  jeans were al too tight for my new persona, but he had a pair of cargo pants that had been stylish once upon a time. They were

  intended to be worn baggy but, sadly, on me were not. Mina’s ring—back in its case—fit neatly into one of the side pockets,

  though, so that was good. I couldn’t risk leaving it at my condo now. The old black T-shirt was a slightly better fit than the pants,

  but the picture of Bart Simpson mooning the world wasn’t exactly my cup of tea.

  We made it to the street unobserved. Once there, we blended in with a group of similarly jovial colege kids as we made our

  way to the closest major road to get a taxi. One of the girls was a tal, big-bosomed brunette who cozied up to Bily like a kitten

  to cream. Her T-shirt was emblazoned with a “Slippery When Wet” road sign. Huh. I’l just bet.

  “You’re in my chem class, aren’t you?” she purred.

  I missed Bily’s answer because another girl in the group—short, plump, and stil in ful orthodontic regalia—swayed into me. I

  steadied her the best I could, and was mortified to feel my projected penis start to twitch when my arm accidentaly brushed her

  breast. See, this was exactly why I generaly prefer not to assume a male aura—I never quite know how to deal with an

  appendage that has a mind of its own. (Granted, this one seemed to be twitchier than most I’d experienced.) It is also proof

  positive a man’s penis acts without consulting his brain, because there was no way my brain was the slightest bit turned on by the

  unfortunate girl beside me. Not that I would have been even if she’d been a super model, but damn.

  As we rounded a corner, I saw a cab and quickly hailed it. Bily laid a happy frat-boy kiss on Miss Boobs before I shoved him

  into the backseat and climbed in after him. He leaned over me and roled down the window. “See you in chem class,” he caled

  out, and blew her a kiss.

  I elbowed him in the gut, garnering a satisfying “Oof!” He pushed himself off my lap. The cabby was familiar with the address I

  gave, so I settled back, trying unobtrusively to adjust myself.

  “Got a little problem there, cuz?” Bily said under his breath.

  “Why did you choose this aura for me?” I whispered back furiously.

  “You mean old ‘Boner’ Benjamin? No special reason. Just thought he’d make good cover.”

  I narrowed my eyes to murderous slits. “You do know I’m going to kil you in your sleep someday, don’t you?”

  Chapter 7

  Mark lives on a thirty-foot sailboat he keeps anchored in southwest D.C. Lucky for me, it requires maintenance from time to time

  —that’s usualy when he shows up at my place to borrow his old room. I guess he figures I’m less likely than Thomas to have

  overnight visitors he might disturb (sad but true). Wel, other than Bily, but Mark doesn’t realy care if he disturbs Bily. If they

  both show up at the same time, they flip a coin for
the couch.

  He was waiting on deck for us when the taxi let us off at the marina. Bily and I stumbled our way over and boarded, with me

  narrowly avoiding an unintentional dip in the Potomac when Mark grabbed me by the waistband and hauled me back to safety.

  Which says a lot about his strength because, believe me, Benjamin was no lightweight. I was relieved to avoid the dunking, even

  though the cold water might have helped with my continuing, um, problem.

  “Steady there, Ciel,” he said quietly.

  “What makes you think I’m Ciel?” I whispered back, embarrassed by my clumsiness.

  “Because there’s no way Bily would take that aura for himself.”

  “How do you know Bo—uh, Benjamin?”

  “Who do you think gave him to me in the first place?” Bily answered for him.

  “And you felt compeled to pass him along to me why, precisely?”

  “You’ve heard of ‘pay it forward’?”

  I clutched my twitching crotch, drawing gleeful laughter from Bily and a look of restrained amusement from Mark. I stomped

  off toward the cabin. “I wil see the two of you inside,” I said as imperiously as my cracking voice would alow.

  The windows were mostly covered by the mesh hammocks Mark had rigged in front of them to make extra storage space, so I

  assumed it was safe to resume my own identity, which I did with an explosive sigh of relief, holding my pants up with one hand so

  they wouldn’t fal off. I parked myself at one end of the table. Bily chose the opposite end, but I was stil close enough to kick

  him, so I did, right on the shin, with a shoe that was now about ten sizes too big for me.

  “Ouch! What was that for?” He switched back to himself as he rubbed his injured limb.

  “You know very wel what that was for, and you’re lucky I didn’t aim farther north.” I slipped out of the clown sneakers and

  tucked my feet up under me.

  “Hey, I got you here safely and without being folowed. Those were Mark’s instructions.”

  “Oh, so ‘ful caution’ means ‘use the horny drunk slob’ aura? Must be some secret spy code I’m not privy to.”

  “Children, children,” Mark said as he closed the cabin door behind him.