Under Cover

by MaryJanice Davidson

  “I’ll take care of it. I’m sorry—I’ve got a terrible temper. My mom’s temper.” The smile dropped away as if it had never been there, “She’s dead.”

  “OK.”

  “And I’m in trouble.”

  “I figured.”

  “And I want you to watch out for me and help me.”

  “Red—”

  “Lori.”

  “—I don’t do bodyguard stuff. Not to say I couldn’t use the job, because I could, I mean, as long as we’re being square with each other, right? But I don’t want a job where getting shot or knifed is part of the job description. You want me to check someone out, I’m your fella. You want me to mangle people giving you trouble, just point ‘em out and I’ll put foot to ass. But dogging your footsteps and jumping in front of you to take a bullet in my teeth… nope.”

  “You won’t have to take a bullet. I just need you to keep them off me while I figure out what to do,” she said. Her expression was earnest and hopeless at the same time. “I thought they were out of my life, but now that the will’s finally been read they’re back, worse than ever. I’m not surprised… but it makes me tired.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?”

  “My mother’s second husband and his son.”

  Not, he noticed, my stepfather and stepbrother. “Why are they so interested in you all of a sudden?”

  “They want the money.”

  “The—unbelievable!” He got up and walked around the kitchen, careful to avoid the broken glass. “What is it with you broads and having to steal stuff? That’s all I need, another sticky-fingered bim in my life.”

  “I didn’t steal anything!” she said hotly. Her palm slapped the table with a sharp crack. He ducked, but she didn’t toss the plate. “It’s my mother’s money. She left it to me. And those two bastards want a chunk They’ll take it all, if they can.”

  “Well, if your mama’s will said it’s yours, then they can’t touch it.”

  “They can if something happens to me.”

  “Oh, here we go again. Back to bullet catching.”

  “I just need you to watch my back while I get rid of the money.”

  He was having a little trouble following her. “Get rid of it?”

  “Yes. If I give it away, Ed and Conrad will lose interest in me. They won’t be happy, of course, but they’ll leave me alone. And that’s all I want. It’s all I ever wanted.”

  “That’s nice, but you’re not making a lot of sense. You want to ditch your inheritance? All of it? That’s crazy. It’s yours. We—I mean, you can figure out how to get those guys off your trail. Don’t be too hasty, for Christ’s sake.”

  She shook her head so hard the towel came undone, spilling wet red-gold strands to her shoulders. “My mother’s money came from her father. All his life, he held it over her head like a whip. Do this, go there, do that, and if you don’t, no money. It made her miserable. And now it’s making me miserable. I don’t want it. I’m getting rid of it.”

  “Well, maybe I could help you out with that. How much moolah are we talking about here?”

  “Nine hundred thousand dollars. Give or take a few thousand.”

  He sat down before his knees unhinged.

  Chapter Four

  Lori resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. As soon as she’d told him the amount, she could see the dollar signs pop up in his pupils.

  “Well, shoot, Red, it’s your lucky day!”

  She sighed. “Don’t, Peter.”

  He tilted the chair back, stretched, and then brought it down on all four legs with a crash. “I’ll be glad to take that nasty inheritance off your hands,” he said, actually rubbing his hands together with glee. “Yeah, your dead mama was a real jerk to put such a burden on you. Luckily, Uncle Peter is here!”

  She tried not to shudder. “Did you know when you try to sound warm and caring, you’re actually twice as terrifying?”

  “Well.” He appeared to mull that one over. “I don’t get a lot of practice.”

  “That’s why I picked you. And I’m sorry, but you can’t have it. I mean, I’ll keep some of it back for your fee. But I have to give it away in chunks. Do you know why my mother was disowned for so long?”

  “No,” he said, bored.

  “She wanted to be a doctor. And so she was. And when she had her MD, she spent the rest of her life helping as many people as she could. This horrified my grandfather, who was sure she would catch some poverty disease from the masses and bring it home to the mansion. If I just—splat!—plopped her money down in one spot, it’d almost be dishonoring her memory.”

  “Bullshit Give it to—I can’t believe I’m saying this—the Red Cross or something. They’ll spread it around for you.”

  Lori shook her head. “My mother would want me to go out and see a situation for myself, then write a check for the appropriate amount. All over the city, or the state, or the world.”

  “Why didn’t your mom give it away?”

  “She couldn’t If she wouldn’t spend it the way Grandpa dictated, she had to put it in a trust for me. But his control over it only extended so far, and now I’m free to do with it what I like.”

  He thought that one over. “So she did that, OK, but… you think your mom knew you’d give her dough away?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “Well, you’re both nuts. But you’re the boss.”

  She smiled. All at once, her headache vanished. Pop! The soda finally kicking in, or sheer relief? “Decided to work for me, have you?”

  “Sure. And help you with the biggest shopping spree in the damn world. But don’t forget to save a chunk for me.”

  “Ah, now we’ll get down to it. How much?”

  “Um…” He tapped his chin. His fingers were as large as sausages. Really, he was a terrifying creature to behold. And thank goodness. “To be at your side, to keep you safe from the booger your mom married—”

  She laughed at that; she couldn’t help it. If ever there was a walking booger in the world, it was Ed.

  “—that’s gonna take up a lot of my time. Sooooo… a hundred grand.”

  She snorted. “I can’t imagine this will take more than a few days of your time.”

  “OK,” he said with an air of generosity that was utterly bogus, “Fifty grand.”

  “I’ll give you two thousand for each day. But that covers your expenses, too.”

  “Done,” he said quickly. He spit in his hand and then held it out to her. “Shake on it.”

  She shrank back from his glistening palm. “I’m not touching your hand until you boil it.”

  He shrugged and wiped his palm on his pants. “Suit yourself.” He grinned, and she had a sudden glimpse of the sharp mind lurking beneath the Neanderthal exterior.

  He did that just to see how I’d react, she thought. What a very strange man.

  “So, what next?”

  “I need to pick up the checkbook from my lawyer’s. He’s supposed to get it first thing tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I have to stay out of sight.”

  “You have a checkbook for this money?”

  “It’s in a trust. The trust has been moved, per my mother’s will, to an account, and I’m supposed to take possession of the checkbook for it tomorrow. Do you know what the name of the trust is?”

  He’d been interested while they were talking numbers, but now he was bored again. “Now, how the hell would I know that?” He got up, went to the door opposite the table, opened it, and pulled out a broom. He walked over to her and, as she stood, handed it to her. “Clean while you talk, sweetie.”

  “It’s called Random Acts.”

  “OK.”

  “Don’t you think that’s amazing? Your last name is Random!”

  He looked at her expressionlessly. “Oh, so I was fated to help you?”

  She started to sweep and tried to hold onto her temper. One tantrum was plenty. “My mom died, and I go into hiding for a year. About the time I need to get moving, you
lose your job. I’m desperate. I see your picture in the paper—the story about that bio company that lost their invention, or whatever. And your picture was sort of glaring up at me. You looked bad, and you looked mean. And your last name was Random. Random! I mean, come on! I had to track you down. It was like fate was hitting me over the head with that newspaper.”

  “So fate’s some sort of celestial dog trainer? Ha! I don’t believe in anything but coincidences. So you should get the stars out of your eyes, Red. And sweep, don’t flip. You’re tossing broken glass all over the place.”

  She gritted her teeth and swept. Well, what did you expect? You wanted a hard man. And that’s exactly what you got. So don’t cry about it now.

  Good advice. She hoped she’d be able to take it.

  “Good God!” She stopped short and Peter ran into her. The shock of his body nearly caused her to yell again. She’d never heard him coming up behind her. Quiet as a cat, and solid as a rock. Too bad he had no soul. “Are these all yours?”

  “No, I run a video store out of my living room. ‘Course they’re all mine.” He edged around her and spread his arms like a badass game show host. “Cool, huh?”

  The entire east wall of the living room was solid movies. About two-thirds were standard VHS, and the other third was all DVDs. She guessed she was looking at roughly six thousand movies.

  “You want to watch something?”

  “Er… not especially.”

  His face fell. She was so surprised, she blurted without thinking, “I wouldn’t mind going out to a movie, though.”

  “Really? Mall of America?”

  She tried not to wince. But this was the first thing he’d shown any animation about, besides the money. And he was helping her out. Even though she was paying him, she was still grateful.

  “Red? Do you?”

  “Sure. I’ve been on the run for the last few days. I’d love to—uh—” Expose myself to the masses at the largest shopping mall on the planet. “I’d love to.”

  “Great! And don’t worry,” he added, correctly reading her expression. “No one’s gonna be looking for you there, of all places. And if anyone is, I can handle them.”

  “I’m sure there won’t be any problems,” she said doubtfully.

  Chapter Five

  If anyone had told me Peter Random loved window _ shopping, I’d have said they needed to change their medication.

  “Red! Hey! Over here! Look at that, a whole store full of bikinis. And it’s practically wintertime!”

  “Truly amazing,” she agreed dutifully. “Peter… how long have you lived in Minnesota?”

  “I was born in South Minneapolis and never got around to leaving,” he replied, now chomping cheese samples from Cheez It, Da Kops.

  “Oh.” So much for her tourist theory. In her experience, the natives didn’t get terribly excited about the Mall anymore. Never the mall, always the Mall, so you could hear the capital letter.

  Oh, sure, there had been lots of speculation and traffic when it was built over a decade ago, but locals got used to anything in ten years. Even the biggest mall in the universe. She herself hadn’t been here in four years.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her down toward the escalator. “Come on, let’s shake a leg.”

  “Peter, the movie doesn’t start for half an hour.”

  “Yeah, but…” She was a step above him on the escalator, and he looked up at her earnestly. “We can’t miss any of the previews.”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  Lori didn’t know whether to be annoyed or charmed. Apparently her troubles—and they were pretty significant, thank you!—had rolled right off Peter’s shoulders. He had a job, he was getting paid, end of discussion. Or interest. It was—well, she didn’t know what She wasn’t attracted to him. He was a means to an end. Right? Right.

  On the other hand, when was the last time she’d gone to the movies? Not this year, certainly. Possibly not even the last. As if the nightmare of her mother’s death and probate hadn’t been enough to keep her occupied, she was also in her fourth year of med school. She’d had to drop out, of course, but hopefully she could make up the work next quarter. Once all this was over.

  Oh, if only all this was over.

  Regardless, if she was forced to hang out in limbo, it was nice to be entertained. And Peter was, if nothing else, entertaining.

  As it was on any Sunday, the Mall was ridiculously crowded. Throngs of people packed the walkways, the escalators, the stores. Peter didn’t seem to notice or care; he was holding her wrist and shouldering his way through packs of people. She had to admit it was an efficient means of getting where you needed to go.

  There was a group of older teenagers clustered around the ticket booth, and Lori instinctively tightened up.

  She wasn’t a racist She wasn’t At least, she didn’t think she was. She would have been nervous if the four—no, five—youths slouched in torn clothes and bristling with jewelry and funny haircuts had been Caucasian. Even the smallest probably outweighed her by twenty pounds. It was just one of those things a lone woman accepted—you took care when you were around a group of boys-not-quite-men.

  As she and Peter got closer, it was obvious they were arguing about what movie to see. Peter waited impatiently while the dialogue floated over them.

  “—sequel to the Terminator—”

  “—fuck you, that’s a chick flick—”

  “—fuck you, it ain’t—”

  “—fuck all of you, let’s get in there—”

  “Yeah,” Peter said. “Decide now or make room, boys.”

  Their arguing stopped as if Peter had hit a switch. Lori felt the weight of their menace as they gave him their full attention.

  “We’ll move when we’re done, homes,” the tallest of them said in a curiously gentle voice. “Best you wait ‘til we’re through.”

  “Homes? Nobody says homes anymore, pal. Next you’ll be telling me about your crib in the hood.” Peter laughed. Laughed! Lori wondered if she had time to pray for a swift death.

  The tall one blinked in surprise, then said, still speaking quietly, “Oh, man, you don’t want to fuck with us. You jus’ don’t. So stand still and be quiet and we’ll move when we fucking well want to.”

  “How about instead I shove your head so far up your ass, you’ll be able to lick your own colon?” Peter asked this in a perfectly bored tone, as if he truly didn’t care whether they fought or not. Probably he didn’t.

  “Colon?” one of the others exclaimed.

  “Oh, man, you done it now. You—”

  Peter, who had been stifling a yawn, suddenly straightened up and speared the tall one with a glare. “I know you. You hang out on Chuck’s block. What are you doing clogging up the line and making trouble for yourself?” He tsk’ed a few times and then added with cheerful relish, “Guess I’ll be telling Mama Chuck on you. All of you.”

  Thunderstruck silence, followed by a chaotic chorus Lori could barely follow.

  “—do that, man—”

  “—kill our asses just like—”

  “—didn’t mean nothing—”

  “—Mama beat my head so bad—”

  “I know you,” the one Lori took to be the leader said. A smile bloomed on his face, throwing his cheekbones into relief, which transformed him from sullen thug to Egyptian prince. “You’re the Random Man!”

  A new chorus:

  “—shit, fucking Random Man!”

  “—Mama’s favorite, and she don’t—”

  “—that dude is the haps—”

  “—mess with Random—”

  —broken by Peter’s, “Jesus, shut up! Stop talking all at once, you’re giving me a headache.” He jabbed the leader with a forefinger. “You. Stop pulling shit. Move when people ask you to move. Don’t make me hurt you.”

  The boy—close to a man; Lori pegged him at about nineteen—held up his hands, palms out. She noticed they were heavily callused. He really was extraordinary, wit
h liquid brown eyes and cheekbones she could have cut herself on. He was almost as tall as Peter, but lean as a blade. “Hey, we all do that, and you don’t tell Mama, okay?”

  “Yeah, fine. Get lost. Go find an old lady and help her across the street.”

  “The only old lady we know is Mama Chuck,” one of the others piped up. He was teeny—both in stature and age—and had startling blue eyes in a dark face. A scar slashed across his cheek and buried itself in his hairline. “And if we try to help her across some street, she’ll bust our heads.”

  Peter laughed. “You’re right And you’d deserve it, too. The day she needs help from some punk is the day I lock her in a retirement home.” like a dark fide, the group moved back to make room for them, “You ain’t never, “the tall one said, still smiling. “Unless you want your own head busted.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So long, fellas.”

  There was a chorus of good-byes, and they reached the ticket window without further incident. Lori had about a thousand questions, but bit her tongue.

  “Two for Love At Random. And don’t start,” he said, pointing at her. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows at him. “You don’t think it’s weird that that’s the only movie we could agree on?”

  “No. I don’t care what we see, and that’s the one we picked. Let’s not mix up the facts, Red.”

  “Lori,” she snapped.

  “Sixteen dollars,” the ticket taker said from her cage.

  Peter looked at her expectantly.

  “What?” she said. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Oh, for—here,” he said, fishing out a twenty dollar bill and shoving it into the ticket taker’s cage. “Richest bim in the Twin Cities, and she welches on the movie tickets,” he added under his breath.

  “Poor baby,” she said, and laughed.

  His frown disappeared. “You got a great laugh,” he said grudgingly. “A guy could fall in love.”

  She was so surprised, she could say nothing in response.

  “I was a little worried about those boys.”

  Peter paused before tossing a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “They were just kids from my old neighborhood.”