Security Squad

by Nicolette Pierce

  “We’re going to have a cooking competition here in two weeks,” I said. “Jack inspired it with his new onion ring recipe.”

  “Are those them?” Mac hungrily eyed the plate next to me.

  “These are mine,” I said, pulling the plate closer.

  “You can share,” Mac said, reaching forward.

  Hank plunked a beer in front of Mac and tugged the plate from my hands, settling it within Mac’s reach.

  My rings.

  My stomach growled, protesting the loss.

  “I can make more,” Jack said, hearing the growl.

  “Do you know what goes good with onion rings?” I asked.

  Jack sarcastically pondered. “Hmm . . . would you like a burger as well?”

  “I wouldn’t say no if there happened to be a burger surrounded by onion rings.”

  “Give me ten minutes,” he said and pushed through the kitchen door.

  “These are really good,” Mac said, polishing them off. “So, I take it you’ll need my artistic skills again.”

  “Artistic skills?” I asked, praying he wouldn’t offer to help with signs. But he did.

  “You’ll need signs made,” Mac said. “I have the whole afternoon free. Just hand over the markers and paper and I’ll get to work.”

  Darn.

  Well, no sense in hurting his feelings, I thought, digging out the markers and paper. I can always order professional signs later.

  “Where’s Bob?” I asked, placing the supplies in front of Mac.

  “He’ll be here soon. Had some things he needed to do,” Mac said. He took a large swig of beer, leaving sudsy foam on his wooly beard. He wiped it off with the back of his large hand. “He’s been busy lately doing some side work.”

  “Good for him,” I said. “It’s about time he does something other than warming the barstool.”

  “I’d rather have him warming the barstool,” Hank said.

  “You’d rather everyone was warming a barstool,” I replied.

  Hank gave a nod. “It’s the good ol’ American way.”

  Mac looked up from his drawing. “Can’t argue with that.”

  “Are there any bikers coming through?” I asked Hank.

  “Not that I know of. Just the regulars.”

  My eyes swept through the empty bar. What regulars? I had really hoped the wet T-shirt contest would have drummed up more business. Perhaps additional signs outside might help. The weeds growing in the crumbling parking lot didn’t really give the bar a welcoming atmosphere either.

  A few flowers in the abandoned tire wouldn’t hurt.

  I was lost in thought when Jack slid a plate in front of me. The intoxicating smell brought me back. My stomach growled so loudly the sound nearly echoed in the cavernous bar. I dug into the burger without hesitation, stuffing in onion rings when I could.

  “Doesn’t Evan feed you?” Jack asked with a lopsided grin.

  I nodded since my mouth was filled to capacity. If it wasn’t for Evan, Jack, and Mrs. Janowski, I’d probably starve. It’s not like I made any money here. The wet T-shirt contest brought in enough to tide me over, but it didn’t pay bills. Not that I owed anyone at the moment. All of my bills were paid, thanks to Brett. My stomach flopped heavily.

  Brett.

  Envelope.

  Dammit!

  I shoved the plate away with my half-eaten burger and onion rings.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked. “Is it not cooked through?”

  “It’s great. I just lost my appetite.”

  Jack flashed an accusing glance over at Mac.

  Mac raised his hands in defense. “I didn’t let one slip!” They both looked to Hank, who stood wiping the counter.

  Hank sheepishly said, “It was five minutes ago.”

  My nose wrinkled. “Not that I approve of standing in your gas fumes, but it had nothing to do with your flatulence. I wouldn’t notice anyway. This place always smells.”

  “That’s true,” Mac agreed. “It smells like a permanent case of dropped ass.”

  “And yet you come here every day,” I said.

  “And if I let one rip, no one is the wiser,” he replied.

  “Except that it sounds like you sat on a frog,” Jack said.

  “Leather barstools and tight jeans will do that.”

  My nose wrinkled again. I swear we have this same conversation every week.

  “So, if it wasn’t the smell, what made you lose your appetite?” Jack asked.

  “I have something on my mind,” I answered.

  “Must be something serious,” he said. “Are you and Evan having problems?”

  “No. Nothing like that.” Well, something like that. Evan and I might not be having problems, but Brett’s presence loomed even though he’s twelve-hundred miles south. It didn’t help that Brett was my benefactor.

  “Want to talk about it?” Jack asked.

  I shook my head. “Not right now. But thank you.”

  He gave a nod in understanding and let me drift back to my thoughts. It was several minutes later that I was ripped away from them when Jack barked with laughter.

  Jack and Mac were leaning over a sign, shaking with giggles. Peeking at the sign, I knew why.

  “Why would you draw that?” I asked.

  “I didn’t draw that!” Mac said with unshed tears in his laughing eyes. “Haven’t you ever stacked onion rings on your finger to see how many would fit?”

  “I did as a child.”

  “That’s what this is,” he said, pointing to the sign.

  “That’s a finger?” I asked, staring quizzically at the drawing.

  “That ain’t a finger,” Hank said, peering over my shoulder. “That’s a johnson.”

  “It’s a finger,” Mac defended his drawing.

  “It’s a tallywacker if I ever saw one,” Mrs. Janowski said, popping up on a barstool.

  “Oh, God,” Hank muttered. “Are the rest of the old crones on their way?”

  “Nope. Just me today,” Mrs. Janowski said. “I just dropped off the uniform design and thought I would check in. Have you seen any perps in the area?”

  “Perps?” Mac asked with a confused brow.

  “She means perpetrators,” I said. “No perps, Mrs. J.”

  “There will be,” she said. “They’re always around.”

  Ignoring her faith in the criminal world, I asked, “Do you think the ladies would be willing to plant a few flowers outside?”

  “Say, that’s not a bad idea,” Mrs. Janowski said thoughtfully. “Criminals love seedy areas. Flowers would be a natural repellent. It’s not foolproof, but it’s a start.”

  It wasn’t my original intent, but if it adds some welcoming color, then so be it.

  “Leave it to me,” she said, heading toward the door. “I’ll have this place looking like spring.”

  Hank’s mouth swung open. I didn’t say anything for fear he would turn on me.

  “There,” Mac said, lifting his marker from the paper. “All fixed. I made the finger into a tree.” He held the drawing for everyone to see.

  Hank’s head tilted. “It looks like the finger just . . . orgasmed.”

  “A very large and splotched orgasm,” Jack snickered.

  Dear Lord.

  * * *

  I crawled into bed and slid next to a warm, sleeping body. Curling against Evan, I wrapped my arm around his waist. He settled into my arms with a sleepy moan.

  “Hey, sugar,” Evan mumbled from the pillow.

  I placed a kiss on his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”

  He turned to face me and pulled me into his arms. “They let me off work early tonight. I couldn’t stay away.”

  “You should have come to the bar,” I said. “Mac and Bob designed a stack of posters for a cooking competition. They were . . . entertaining.”

  “Let me guess. Boobs.”

  “A very good guess,” I said, kissing under his jaw. “It’s amazing how many innocent f
oods and cooking utensils can look perverted when drawn by the boys.”

  Evan grinned. “Sounds like I missed out. I could have helped. In middle school I was the king of confiscated drawings.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “I have something that might surprise you,” he said, coming alive in my arms. He was very, very awake.

  “That’s not surprising either,” I said, feeling the hardness of him against me.

  He smirked. “I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about . . .” He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a small bag. “. . . this.”

  I took the bag he offered and looked inside to find . . . well, that is surprising.

  “Surprise,” he said. A wicked grin spread on his face as he pressed me to the bed. “Shall we test it out?”

  With Evan, I was willing to test out anything.

  Chapter 3

  I awoke quite happy and content. Until I realized I was alone. The warm, sleeping body was gone, and I felt the loss immediately.

  A rustling downstairs caught my attention. Flipping the covers back, I crawled out of bed and headed toward the noise. Evan was standing at the kitchen table, digging through my disorganized stack of papers. He didn’t see me as I padded up behind him and slipped my arms around his waist, hugging him into me.

  “Good morning, sugar,” he said, turning to face me, giving a proper morning hug. “You have delightful hair this morning.”

  My hand automatically reached up to feel my tangled mess. “I wouldn’t call it delightful.”

  “I think it is.” At my quizzical brow, he smirked. “It means I did a very good job last night.”

  “That you did,” I agreed. “I’m starting to love surprises.”

  He chuckled softly. “And I love giving you surprises. Would you like another one?”

  “When?”

  “I take that as a yes,” he said, moving us toward the staircase.

  “Right now?” I squeaked.

  “I have some time before work. I’m sure it’s enough time for me to come up with a new surprise.”

  “I was going to head over to Mrs. J.’s.”

  “The ladies can wait,” he murmured into my neck, nibbling his way to my shoulder.

  “They’re going to ask why I’m late,” I said, feeling his soft lips trail my jaw.

  “Tell them the truth.” I felt his devilish smile as he continued placing heated kisses while leading me back into bed.

  “So, this surprise . . .” I said, toppling onto the mattress with Evan firmly on top of me. “What is it?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he said. His tongue grazed my lower lip as his hand slid up my side.

  “Hmm. I think it’s my turn,” I said, pushing his shoulder. He flipped over, taking me with him. “You’ve been full of surprises. Let me try.”

  “I’m all yours,” he said playfully, his hands moving up my thighs.

  I’m all yours, I silently repeated his words . . . I liked the sound of that.

  * * *

  An hour later I watched as Evan shifted through the pile of papers again. “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “One of my school papers. I could have sworn I left it on the table.”

  I grabbed my keys and shoved them into my pocket. “Do you need help?”

  “No. I’m heading to work in a few minutes. I just really thought it was here.”

  “As far as I know, there’s nothing in there except for bills.”

  “Paid bills, you mean,” he clipped in an uncharacteristic tone, but one that I’ve heard before while discussing my “situation.”

  Knowing it was a source of contention for him, I placed my hand on his arm. He stilled but didn’t look at me, keeping his focus on the papers.

  “I didn’t ask Brett to pay my bills,” I said softly. “I’m going to pay him back, and that will be the end of it.”

  “And what about this?” he asked, holding up a white envelope.

  The damn white envelope.

  Evan and I argued on and off for days about it. It always ended the same: no solution except to ignore it and have make-up sex. The sex was great, but something told me we were past ignoring it.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked.

  He sighed and tossed the envelope on the table. “Yes.” He turned to me, raising his hand to brush my cheek. His arctic-blue eyes delved into mine. “I trust you,” he said. “It doesn’t make it easier.”

  “I understand.”

  He gave a soft, defeated laugh. “No, you don’t. But I trust you, and it’s my problem to work through.”

  “What problem?”

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling before settling back on me. “I don’t want to share you.”

  “Share me? I’m not asking you to share.”

  “In a way, you are,” he sighed and stepped back. “I have to get to work. I’ll see you later, sugar.”

  I watched him walk out the door. He gave me one fleeting glance with a half smile before closing the door behind him.

  I swore and glared at the offending envelope. Unfortunately, I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at Brett. He’s only ever helped me, and now he’s asking for one thing in return. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him down. It was something that I had to do for him . . . as well as for me.

  With a deflating sigh, I walked over to Mrs. Janowski’s house where I found the ladies sitting around the dining room table with two additions: Kym and Aaron.

  “Hi, Mars!” Aaron greeted, bounding over to give me a hug.

  “Hi, Aaron,” I said, returning his hug. It was a short hug; he quickly wiggled out of my arms. “How have you been?”

  “I’m great,” he said. “I’ve been playing a new spy game. I’m nearly at the end.”

  “That’s awesome,” I said. “Have the ladies put your spy knowledge to work yet?”

  He laughed. “No. But they said I could be an honorary security guard.”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Janowski agreed. “I’ve ordered him a shirt and hat.”

  “Welcome aboard,” I said, catching Kym’s beaming smile as she looked at Aaron.

  The two of them were as thick as thieves. Thankfully, Aaron’s adoption papers were in the works so he could live with Kym and Jim permanently. I was happy for them. They made an instant family and did it with hardly a hiccup. Although, Kym did confide that Aaron has constant nightmares that leave him white and shaking and Kym feeling rather helpless.

  “Mars, I’m glad you arrived,” Mrs. Janowski said. “I have an announcement to make.” We turned our attention to Mrs. Janowski, who stood at the end of the table barely able to contain herself. “I found us a gig!”

  “Where?” was the general question.

  “At Shanty Arcade. They need extra eyes during their busy times. A few hooligans are making mischief.”

  And they wanted these hooligans to stop their hooligans? I thought wryly.

  “When do we start?” Sylvia asked.

  “We start in two nights,” Mrs. Janowski said.

  “Will our uniforms be ready?” Edna asked.

  “I put in a rush order,” Mrs. Janowski answered. “They should be ready by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “How much are they paying?” Ida asked.

  “Three hundred . . .” a happy titter spread amongst the ladies “. . . tokens.”

  “Tokens?” Ida asked. “We’re being paid in tokens?”

  “What do we do with tokens?” Edna asked. “Is that like food stamps?”

  “You play games with them,” Mrs. Janowski said.

  “We’re working so we can play games?” Sylvia asked. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I think it’s great!” Aaron exclaimed.

  “We have to start somewhere,” Mrs. Janowski stated. “Once we have a few jobs under our belt, we’ll be able to get better ones. Until then, we need to focus on the assignment and start training. Remember, our main goal is
to keep our city safe. Tomorrow we’re heading over to T’s for pointers.”

  “T is going to help?” I asked, wondering what she did to twist his arm.

  “He’ll be a wealth of knowledge,” Mrs. Janowski said. “I heard he has a gun range on site, and my trigger finger is itchy!”

  * * *

  I was in the process of hanging the handmade cooking-competition signs around town when my phone rang.

  “Hi, Dad,” I answered, taping a poster of a sadly rendered spatula in mid-spanking. What the spatula was spanking was questionable, but since it didn’t really look like anything X-rated, I decided I’d use it. I had every intention of printing professional signs, but, unfortunately, the budget was still too tight to add printing costs. And, there was something about these silly handmade signs that tugged at me. They called attention. Whether in a good way or bad way, I haven’t determined. Either way, these would have to do for now.

  “Hi, Mars,” Dad greeted. “I was just calling to say hello . . . Hello!”

  I smiled. “How are you?”

  “Oh, the earth is still revolving and the universe is still expanding, so all is well. How are you?”

  “I’m good. I’m just hanging signs for a cooking competition that the bar will have in two weeks.”

  “What kind of cooking competition?”

  “It will be open to anything that could be considered an appetizer. We’ll need a couple of judges. Would you be interested?”

  “Actually, I think I might just enter the competition.”

  “Really? What would you make?” I asked, wondering when my dad had learned to cook.

  “I found a great recipe in the Cosmos Chronicle a few months ago. I changed it a bit, and I have to say, it’s really tasty.”

  “What is it?”

  “Galactic clusters.”

  Interesting. “Great. I’ll add you to the list of competitors.” Making a total of two.

  “This will be exciting. I can’t wait,” he said.

  I stifled a laugh at his genuine enthusiasm. “I should get back to hanging up these signs. If you’re free later, come to the bar.”

  “I have my astronomy club meeting tonight.”