by Sarah Noffke
“I clocked you doing eighty-five back there, sir,” the guy says.
“I think it was over ninety,” I say.
“Well, then that will increase the fine,” the guy says. “Now I’ll need your license and insurance.”
Dahlia looks from me to the police officer, who is studying the life-ruiners in the back seat.
I’m just about to tell him that Adelaide is a runaway I picked up when Dahlia opens the glove box and hands over the insurance paperwork.
It’s only fun to use mind control on the bloke if I first get myself into a real bad predicament.
“Here you go, sir,” Dahlia says.
“I don’t have a driver’s license. This is actually my first real experience driving,” I say.
“And the girl in the back I picked up in San Luis Obispo. She said she stole the baby and offered it to us in exchange for money for meth. I think you should frisk her.”
The guy peels off his glasses. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car.”
“And I’m going to have to tell you to fuck off,” I say, actually enjoying this. The whole trip has lacked this opportunity to berate someone. And it’s been entirely too long since I’ve used my control or hypnosis. Like an addict, I’ve been trying to cut back. Just so I can say I’m able to.
The policeman lays his hand on his gun, pinned in the holster.
Finally a little fun.
“Sir, again I’m going to ask you to step out of the vehicle,” Copper says.
I’m just about to turn on the mind control when Dahlia plucks off her large black shades.
“Oh, Officer, I’m sorry, my new chauffeur has an awful sense of humor. He’s British and fresh off the boat. Reynold doesn’t get how poor his jokes are to polite Americans,” she says.
“What?” I say, gawking at Dahlia as she commences to remove her disguise by pulling off her large hat. She still looks ill but beautiful and definitely recognizable.
“W-w-wait,” the guy stutters. “You’re Dahlia.”
Oh, here we go. “You’re Dahlia,” I mock in a childlike voice to the steering wheel.
“I happen to be, and you are?” she says, extending a hand to the guy.
“I’m Officer Hodges,” he says, throwing a dumb finger to his name badge.
“That’s a repugnant name,” I say, now realizing there’s no fun to be had. Dahlia had to intervene and use her celebrity status.
“Pleasure to meet you, Officer Hodges,” Dahlia says. “And thank you for your service to our community.”
The guy pulls his police officer’s hat off his head and giggles like a dumb school girl. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“Now I’m just on my way to an appearance,” Dahlia says.
“No, she’s not,” I say. “Dahlia is lying. She’s on vacation.”
“Reynold,” Dahlia says. “I’ve told you before that your job is to drive and my job isn’t to make you a comedian.” Then she turns to the officer. “Everyone is always trying to use me to break into the business. This guy wants me to introduce him to an agent,” she says, pointing to me.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got all sorts of people riding your coattails. You’re Dahlia,” Officer Nobody says.
“You’re Dahlia,” I mock again. “Dahlia happens to be smuggling a bunch of illegal marijuana in the back.”
Dahlia turns to the cop. “It’s true, but it’s just so I can deliver this medical-grade drug to a bankrupt nursing home up north. Most of the residents suffer from an ailment and the pain can be relieved by the drug.”
The man smiles widely. “A wonderful artist and a humanitarian,” he says. “I believe it and I will keep the life-changing drugs a secret between us,” he says, putting a finger to his lips with a repulsive wink.
She glides a finger to her own lips. “Between us, Officer Hodges.”
“Well, you all better be on your way. An important mission awaits you,” he says, stepping back away from the SUV.
I consider telling him there are dead bodies in the back but Dahlia will find a way to have him dismiss that too.
“Bye now,” he says and waves us off.
I peel out, screeching the tires and clouding the guy in a dust storm. When the vehicle is at ninety I turn on the cruise control.
“Are you happy now?” I say to the road but it’s directed at Dahlia.
“One hundred percent,” she says.
“Well played, my dear,” I say.
“I wanted you to realize that in some ways I’m just as powerful and manipulative as you,” she says.
“Oh, I know, believe me, I know,” I say and smile at the woman beside me who never stops giving me reasons to love her.
Chapter Nine
“Can you stick a cracker in his mouth or something?” I yell back to Adelaide. Lucien has been blabbering on for an hour alternating between sounds bordering on crying and incoherent ramblings. Toddlers really are daft with their inexperience and lack of communication skills. They all need to fucking grow up.
“I’m trying. He’s tired of being locked in the car. There doesn’t seem to be any way to appease him. He keeps chucking all my distractions back at me,” she says, holding up a magazine.
“Shocking, he doesn’t read Time magazine,” I say, wanting to ram Adelaide’s side of the car into the vehicle I’m passing. Now I know why mums in minivans are such bloody awful drivers. They are being driven insane by their passengers who are probably talking nonstop, dripping juice all over the upholstery, and thinking of ways they can waste more of their parents’ hard-earned money.
“Look, there’s a turn-off just up ahead. It seems like a popular stop,” Dahlia says, pointing to a parking lot adjacent to the ocean.
We’ve been winding our way along the PCH, the girls taking the liberty of telling me the view I’m missing on the left.
“I’ve seen the whole fucking world,” I finally informed Adelaide after she tried to describe the Pacific Ocean to me.
“So does that mean there’s nothing that excites you anymore? There’s no new sights for you?” she said, always trying to find my buttons.
“Pretty much. I’m fairly certain I’ve seen it all,” I said smugly.
“Well then maybe you should off yourself. You’ll be leaving some resources on this earth for the rest of us who have yet to take in every experience this world has to offer,” she said.
“Nope,” I said. “This world would spiral into a black hole without me on it.”
“That’s the elephant seals sanctuary,” Adelaide informs us. She’s reading from a map and along with describing the landscape has been telling me of each upcoming road and point of interest based on her map. She’s lucky I’m such a tolerant and patient man.
I pull the SUV off the road and find a parking space without nearly killing anyone. “You see, that’s how it’s done. That’s how you park a car,” I inform Dahlia.
“Thank you, Reynold, my chauffeur,” she says, sliding out of the car.
The smell of seal shit is strong in the ocean air, overwhelming the usually salty breeze.
“Elephant seals stink,” Adelaide says, pinching her nose.
“You should hear what they say about you,” I say.
“You’re so immature,” she says to me, taking Lucien’s hands and leading him a bit from behind. His unsure feet wobble over the rock parking lot.
“You keep doing that and he’s going to figure out how to walk,” I say.
“Well, it is kind of a life skill so excuse me for bestowing knowledge on my son,” Adelaide says.
“Oh, now you’ve decided to be a real parent. No more locking him in closets, is that it?” I say.
“You two are ridiculous,” Dahlia says, sidling up beside me, wrapping a shawl around her head and then neck. I’m not sure who she thinks she’s fooling with her disguises but we will have to hope that the crowd of people peering over the fence up ahead
are dumb as seals.
“Well, that’s not what I expected to see. Those things are ugly,” Adelaide says.
“They’re probably saying the same thing about you,” I say, staring over the fence at the creatures which are prehistoric in appearance. Some are huge, easily the size of a car, and others more the size of a motorcycle. Their bodies resemble seals but they have small trunks on their faces and make enough racket to wake the bloody dead.
“Have you ever seen anything like that?” Adelaide says, her focus on me and not the three dozen seals lounging on the beach. Nor is she paying attention to the child who is reaching through the chain-link fence and pulling vegetation from the earth.
“No, I haven’t actually,” I say, realizing it’s true. I’m having a rare new experience and it’s been so long that I feel the neural pathways making new networks. Wow, it kind of feels exhilarating after everything I’ve experienced lately to witness something new.
“Well, looky there, there are things that you’ve yet to see and experience. You may not be a know-it-all after all,” Adelaide says smugly.
“It’s true. Like I’ve yet to experience you keep your trap closed for more than a few minutes,” I say.
A nearby family catches our banter. The mum turns, giving me a displeased look. Then her gaze shifts to Dahlia and I instantly notice recognition dawning on her. She hasn’t figured it out yet but the pieces are starting to lock together.
“We are going,” I say, tugging Dahlia’s arm.
“But we just got out of the car,” my obtuse daughter says.
“And now we are going,” I say, angling my head at the crowd. Thankfully she catches my hint and nods. “Unless you want to stay and make a life as an elephant seal. You’d fit right in. You’re loud, funny-looking, and lazy as bloody hell.”
Dahlia has slid into the driver’s seat by the time I arrive at the car, after delivering a few more insults to Adelaide.
“You’re driving?” I say. “Are you up for that?”
“I’ll make it work. Otherwise your driving is going to give me a heart attack,” she says.
“Whatever,” I say. These women are thoroughly ungrateful.
Chapter Ten
“Ren, you’re supposed to be on vacation,” Trey says when he picks up the phone, confusion in his voice. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine. But you and Dahlia have the same poor education in vocabulary. Vacations are supposed to be relaxing and that is not how I’d describe this hellish excursion,” I say.
“Oh well, that’s too bad, but maybe it’s just your perspective. You’re with your family. It can’t be all bad,” Trey says.
“It’s day three of me wearing the same clothes, so I’d say my perspective isn’t the problem. Girls who can’t close bloody doors are the problem. Goats are the fucking problem. Dahlia’s incompetent shopper is the problem,” I say.
The douche bag who Dahlia obviously overpays wasn’t able to have my suits delivered to the hotel in Monterey before we left. The personal shopper is having them transferred to our hotel in San Francisco. Like a fucking pioneer I had my tattered suit laundered by the losers at the hotel who obviously have no idea what they’re doing. Now my suit feels stiff but at least it’s clean-ish.
“That sounds rough. Your vacation has hit a few snags?” Trey says on the other side of the phone.
I look at Dahlia, who is probably going to drive us into the bloody ocean. Taking the hairpin turns through the coastal towns has nearly given me gray hairs, which I always thought I’d like because they’d mask the obnoxious red. However, I didn’t want to earn all those grays in one sitting. I’m fairly certain the state of California wants its residents to die. Why else make curvy roads with no guardrails on the side of a cliff with zero shoulder? One false move and we’re plummeting over the edge and into the rocky Pacific. Yay for bloody vacations and adventures.
“Anyway, enough about this farce of a trip. What’s going on with the Strategic Department? Any level five cases come in while I’ve been gone?” I say.
“Trent has it all covered,” Trey says and then nothing else. We both go silent.
“Ren,” he says after a long few seconds. “I recognize that you prefer to work.”
“Well, I’m not a lazy drain on resources,” I say, throwing a glance at Adelaide in the backseat who returns it with a hateful smirk.
“But you haven’t taken a vacation in over twenty years,” Trey says. “This is good for you and although it will take an adjust—”
I switch off the phone, tired of listening to his unsolicited advice.
“Well, that was an abrupt ending to the phone call,” Adelaide says.
“Stops eavesdropping, loser,” I say.
“So Trey didn’t have any use for you,” the pain in the ass continues.
I remain silent, unsure if it’s the constant proximity or the gross clothes or the lack of work that’s driving me fucking crazy.
“Maybe the Institute really doesn’t need you anymore,” Adelaide says, again searching for my buttons. “Maybe you should retire, grandpa.”
“Do you know how many cases I’ve successfully overseen the strategy and solution for?” I say.
“You’ll no doubt tell me,” Adelaide says because she wants to be strangled.
I stayed focused forward and say, “Over one hundred and twenty-six million people owe their lives, livelihood, or mobility to me and the work I’ve done.”
“Is that all?” Adelaide says. “Gosh, after twenty years of service you think you’d have more of an impact. Maybe this guy Trent will have better results as Head Strategist. He can’t do any worse than his predecessor.”
She’s trying to get to me and it’s working. But I attempt to cover up my frustration. “Do you realize that the pyramids were supposed to be destroyed ten years ago? Flattened. Completely and utterly destroyed. But I prevented it. And three U.S. Presidents were going to be assassinated in the last two decades. And the Grand Canyon was supposed to be fill—”
Cold wind rips through Adelaide’s window as she lowers it completely.
“What?!” she yells up to me. “I can’t hear you.”
I shake my head and turn away from the ungrateful heathen.
***
“You’ve got be kidding me,” I say, staring at the gigantic building in front of me.
“I’m not and I don’t see what the big deal is,” Dahlia says, grabbing my hand and tugging me forward.
“The big deal is you expect me to trudge around a rinky-dink aquarium and compete with a bunch of Middlings for a chance to see a fucking sea horse. Next thing you know I’ll be waiting in a queue and standing next to a worthless bloke while I take a piss. What kind of man do you think I am?” I say.
“A changeable one, who is open to new experiences and adventures,” Dahlia says. “And this isn’t just any aquarium, it’s the world-renowned Monterey aquarium.”
I size up the lobby, taking in the mass of people staring at their dumb phones and talking in their outside voices. “Dahlia, you know I don’t do public places. That’s for everyone’s health and benefit.”
“Ren, your grandson wants to see fish. And this is important to me that we do it all together.” Then she gets that look, that almost pitiful one that’s been plaguing her. She’s close to really dealing with this all but for now it’s still fresh, and until then I know she will struggle to reinforce her soon to be indomitable spirit.
“Oh, fine,” I say. “But stop calling it that.”
“You mean calling Lucien your grandson?” Adelaide says, pushing a giant stroller half the size of the SUV.
“Yes, that. It makes me feel old and sound like…” I trail off, not sure what it makes me sound like.
“A real person with a real life,” Dahlia says, hitting the nail on the head.
“Shut up, diva who knows zero about being a real person,” I say.
“I want to
see the sharks,” Adelaide says, holding up the map of this blasted place. She’s just exchanged one map for another. It’s like a bloody obsession of hers.
“Lead the way, little life-ruiner,” I say, holding up my hand.
She pushes Lucien in the stroller through the crowd of people. They are every bloody where. Most stand in the thoroughfare with zero clue that other people need to get around their fat asses. People are so unbelievably oblivious. “Coming through. Move to the side,” I say loudly.
People jerk their dumb faces in my direction as I yell. And the fuckers grimace at me, but they indeed move out of our way.
“Why can’t we just use mind control to clear the space?” Adelaide says.
I regard the ceiling that has life-sized sea creatures hanging from it. The lamest shit really entertains these dumbasses.
“Because the last time I checked I can only simultaneously control three to five people at a time depending on their IQ. And you’re about as messy with the skill as a dog eating powdered donuts. Besides, why the hell would I want to drain my reserves so you all can see a bunch of goldfish? I’m only here to appease the pop star since I’m still in the doghouse for abandoning her for a few years,” I say.
“Nineteen years,” Dahlia chirps. “And you’ll probably die in that doghouse.”
“Well then I might as well just teleport back to Malibu where I’m sure my lovely armchair is missing me,” I say.
“Do it, Ren Lewis, and that death of yours will be sooner and rather unnatural,” Dahlia says, her eyes scanning although I can’t see them behind her big glasses.
“You know I secretly love your threats,” I say.
“You’re awful at keeping a secret then,” she says, tucking her hair back into the shawl around her head. She looks about like a pop star trying to walk around in disguise. It’s so bloody obvious.
“Wow,” Adelaide says when we arrive in a large dim-lit half-enclosed area. The aquarium is easily two stories tall. Bright blue reflects off the dark faces gawking at the sea life swimming around the golden seaweed. A large school of minnows earns a few gasps from the crowd when they skirt across the glass, moving like a single beast instead of ten thousand separate creatures.
