Security Squad

by Nicolette Pierce

  That was good enough for me. I wasn’t going to worry. I’d just think about it every single minute until the competition.

  I sighed. Ridiculous.

  The phone oinked, jarring me from my thoughts.

  “Mrs. Thompson?” I answered. “How can I help you?”

  “Call me Lil, dear,” she said. “Brett left a message late last night that you weren’t going to stay with us. I wanted to call and ask if everything is okay.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he called you. But, yes, everything is okay.”

  “Then why did he cancel?”

  “I . . . uh . . . well, we’re back together. I guess he wants me to stay with him instead.”

  “Of all the . . . Mars, you’re staying with us,” she stated. “I asked you first.”

  “I sense you’re not happy.”

  “Oh, I’m thrilled you’re back together. I just want to spend time with you too. I’d like to get to know you better,” she said.

  “I said yes to your offer, so I’d be happy to stay with you. Brett didn’t ask anyway.”

  “Of course he didn’t,” she muttered. “He’s just like his dad. He stirs up a dust cloud and then takes what he wants. His favorite word as a child was ‘mine.’”

  And it still is, I thought, amused.

  Mine. I let the word play in my thoughts.

  I like that word. Especially if he’s saying it to me in that sexy, breathless way that makes me shiver.

  “So, we’re agreed?” Lil asked. “A unanimous front.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “But I’ll let you tell him.”

  “I sure will,” she said. “I have to call him anyway. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “It’s not a very long wait,” I said. “My flight leaves in just a few days.” I wondered if Brett would be on the same flight? It’s not like we had planned on traveling together originally.

  “I wanted to say I can’t wait again, but with the trial looming, it makes a person want to wait.”

  “I completely understand.”

  “I know you do, dear,” Lil said. “We’ll stay strong together. Everything will be just fine.”

  * * *

  “I can’t get in touch with Bob,” Mac said as he hauled his grill from the back of his truck.

  “I’m sure he’s just busy getting ready for the competition,” I said.

  “But I haven’t heard from him since Road Hog was shut down.”

  “If he’s not here by the time the grills are lit, we’ll arrange a search party,” I said to appease Mac, meanwhile pointing him in the direction of where to set his grill.

  There were already a few grills arranged in the far corner, and there should be at least two more coming. The large tent was up, and tables and chairs were strategically placed underneath. Hank was setting up a makeshift bar, and Jack was hauling ice and coolers. The ladies had pooled resources and found as many light strands as possible. I asked for white, but there seemed to be a wild mix of colors and sizes, blinking and nonblinking, and even some that bubbled. As long as they didn’t start bringing out Santas and snowmen, I was going to stay out of it.

  We were ready an hour before the competition began. Mac found a spot in the corner. His brow pinched together as he gulped down a beer. There was still no word from Bob. The ladies were fussing with one of the light strands. A single bulb was blinking while the rest were not. It was driving them batty.

  “I already checked that one,” Sylvia said, jiggling the wires.

  “How about this one?” Edna said. She plucked out the light bulb.

  “Now the whole strand is dead,” Mrs. Janowski said. “Put it back in.”

  Ida huffed and made a beeline for Hank. “Fill it up,” she said, handing her flask over. “I can’t take another minute trying to find that bad bulb.” She turned to me. “You were smart to walk away.”

  “I didn’t walk away,” I hedged. “I merely had pressing matters to attend to.”

  She snorted.

  Hank returned her filled flask, and she nodded her thanks. “For what it’s worth, Hank, I’m sorry you were shut down.”

  “We’re not shut down,” I said. “We’re temporarily without a home.”

  Hank opened his mouth to argue, but I wasn’t going to hear a peep of it.

  “Look at this tent,” I said. “We’re all set up. We can run with this during fall, and by winter, we should have the bar ready for inspection.”

  “We’re going to sit under a tent?” he asked.

  “Yes. People love fall festivals. We could have a theme every weekend. Oh, we could bring in bands. Perhaps some vendors.” My mind raced with possibilities. “We can do it, and it all starts tonight. We’ll come up with a list of events and fit as many in as we can. It will draw people from all around.”

  Hank glanced past me. “Oh, thank God.”

  “What?” I asked, turning to see what he was looking at.

  Brett and T had parked and were heading our way.

  “It’s only Brett and T,” I said. “Why are you thanking God?”

  “He’ll kiss you and I can get a few minutes of peace.”

  “Only a few?” Ida asked.

  “In public,” I clarified, to the exasperation of Hank.

  As Brett and T drew closer, I noticed they both had red marks on their faces and arms.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Brett leaned in to kiss me. “Jocelyn.”

  My jaw bounced open and closed. “Did she scratch you?”

  “You warned me about her claws,” he said. “She was like an alley cat backed into a corner.”

  “Why did she attack you? I thought you were just going to talk,” I said.

  “We were talking,” T said. “And then she pounced on Brett. I tried to pull her off and got caught in the crossfire.”

  “Nothing was resolved then,” I said.

  Brett shook his head. “If anything, we’ve made her angrier. Don’t worry, sweet thing, I’ll figure a way to fix this.”

  “I doubt it,” T said, touching one of his scratches. “Do you have any antiseptic wipes?”

  “You tapped me out last time,” I said. “Could you at least give me a few days between scrapes?”

  Brett grinned.

  T scowled. “Wipe that dopey grin off your face. All of these cuts and scrapes are your fault.”

  “How are they all my fault?” he asked, his grin growing wider. “I seem to recall you were already banged up when I got here.”

  “If you would’ve been here to corral your women, I wouldn’t have had to stick my neck out for them.”

  “My women?” Brett turned to me. “Do I have a harem I don’t know about?”

  “No. But I’m sure they wouldn’t mind belonging to your harem.”

  “You wouldn’t even have to twist our arms,” Ida added.

  “That’s it!” Mac bellowed, slamming his hand on the table. “I’m going down there and finding Bob!”

  “Going where?” Hank asked.

  “To that damn bar he’s working at. Something’s not right. He said we’d meet up and I can’t get a hold of him. Something’s not right,” he repeated.

  “Give him at least until the competition starts,” I said. “He seemed like he really wanted to participate. If he doesn’t show, then I’ll agree that there might be something wrong.”

  Hank refilled Mac’s beer and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before resuming his spot behind the bar.

  We heard the rumble before we saw the Comet Riders roll in. A sea of bikes swarmed the parking lot until it was packed full.

  “Oh, my,” I said, watching one bike in particular. A man looking very much like my dad was riding on the back of it.

  Chapter 20

  “Is that your dad?” Brett asked, following my eyes.

  “I think it is,” I said, flabbergasted.

  “How does he know these riders?”

  “They’ve been here b
efore. He and Fritz — one of the riders — struck up a conversation about wormholes.”

  “And from that, he’s riding with them?”

  I figuratively scratched my head. “It looks that way.”

  Dad hopped off the bike and waved at me. He unstrapped his helmet, which had a single spike on the top, making him look like a unicorn that was trying too hard. “Did you see me ride in?” he asked, hurrying over. He scratched under the bandana wrapped around his head, tilting it to the side.

  “I did,” I said. “I didn’t know you became a Comet Rider.”

  “I’m an honorary member. Fritz and I are on the cusp of a huge breakthrough. We’re heading to MIT for testing tomorrow.”

  “When are you flying out? I can give you a ride to the airport.”

  “The Comets are riding there.”

  “You’re riding to California on the back of a motorcycle?”

  “Isn’t it great?” he asked with a boyish smile. “I thought it was safer than trying to learn to ride by myself.”

  “Very wise,” Brett said.

  “Oh, Brett,” Dad said, reaching over to shake Brett’s hand. “I was so excited, I didn’t see you there. How have you been?”

  Brett looked over at me. “I’m wonderful, now.”

  “Excellent,” Dad said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to retrieve my wieners from Pothole’s satchel before they get warm and sweaty.”

  I winced. He really ought to think before he speaks. Brett and T silently shook, stifling their laughter.

  “Who is Pothole, and why are your wieners in his satchel?” I asked.

  Brett flicked a tear from his laughing eyes. T turned so I couldn’t see his face.

  “Pothole is the guy I’m riding with,” Dad said. “His name is aptly descriptive. He lands in every pothole we come across. My rear is going to be black and blue by the time we arrive in California. And, he has my wieners because I didn’t think to bring a backpack with me. I’m new at this.”

  “Perhaps find a different biker to ride with,” I said. “Or better yet, fly out and meet them there.”

  “Fritz and I still have work to do, which we can do on our stops along the way,” Dad explained. “And Pothole isn’t bad. Besides the ruts, he’s a really good driver. Well, I should go get my wieners and start preparing them for the grill.”

  I watched as he scurried back to the motorcycle. This had disaster written all over it.

  “Don’t worry about him, sweet thing,” Brett said, pinching his lips tight so he wouldn’t grin. “He’s probably safer with them than without.”

  “That’s true,” I said, trying to find the bright side. “I doubt anyone would mug a biker . . . at least not these bikers.”

  The crowd filled the tent and outer areas. We had people. We had drinks. Food would come from the grills after the competition. But it felt like something was missing.

  Music.

  The jukebox was still inside the building.

  I eyed the two muscular men standing next to me.

  “She’s staring at me,” T said to Brett.

  “I’m not staring. I’m assessing how strong you are.”

  “Stronger than him,” T said, jabbing a thumb over at Brett.

  “Good,” I said. “Then you can help move the jukebox outside.”

  Brett smirked. “See what happens when you let your ego talk?”

  I led them through the back door as they quarreled like siblings.

  “Here it is,” I said, temporarily stopping their argument.

  “This thing weighs five hundred pounds,” T said.

  “I’ll help,” I said.

  They both looked unconvinced.

  “How about if you open the door and keep your feet out of the dropping zone?” Brett suggested.

  “That’s what I meant,” I said, heading to the door.

  A couple of curses and a bruised elbow later, the jukebox was out and music was playing.

  Better, I thought. Much better.

  “Mars!” Kym called. She weaved her way around until she broke through the crowd. She froze at the sight of Brett. “Brett . . . you’re here.” Kym looked at me with an expression that crossed between confusion, worry, and are-you-keeping-a-secret.

  “He returned to beat up T,” I explained.

  “I returned for Mars,” Brett corrected.

  “Only after you attacked T,” I teased.

  Kym’s expression was guarded. “Can I see you for a moment?” she asked, pulling me away before I could answer. She gave Brett one last glance before leaning in. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “There was a miscommunication,” I explained. “T was hurt. I let him sleep over at my house. Brett had called and thought we were sleeping together. The next day, I went to T’s office and Brett came charging in.”

  “Interesting,” Kym said thoughtfully. “So, you’re back together then?”

  “We’ve made up,” I said.

  “You’re blushing.”

  “I’d be shocked if I wasn’t.”

  “Are you sure this is wise?”

  “Is what wise?”

  “You just broke up with Evan, and before that, Brett had walked out. I don’t know if you should jump back in bed with him.”

  “It’s too late for that,” I said, my face heating to blistering temperatures. “But Evan and I ended things amicably. I don’t miss him like I thought I should. I should have . . . shouldn’t I?”

  Her mouth twisted. “I hate to tell you this, but I sort of figured Evan was a temporary stand-in. Did Brett tell you why he dropped you like a smelly fish?”

  Lovely.

  “Actually, his mom called before I spoke with Brett.”

  “Oh, God. He’s not a mama’s boy, is he?”

  “Does he look like a mama’s boy?”

  “Not really. But there are some men that could fool you.”

  “As far as I know, he’s not. His mom called to invite me to stay with her. She had told me a little of what happened after Brett returned home. I guess he never mourned Eve’s death and it all came crashing down on him.”

  “Do you forgive him?”

  “I do. Had I known it at the time, I’d have never been mad. I just didn’t know.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Yeah, I do. I guess the question that remains is: Does he love you?”

  “I have no idea. He had said it once before, but he hasn’t repeated it since we’ve made up. But, really, it’s been such a short time, I’d hardly expect him to spout words of love.”

  Kym crossed her arms. “You should expect that all the time.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me right now. I’m happy he’s in my life again. I want to get to know him better. And if he says he loves me, I’ll tell him I love him. Otherwise, I’m taking one step at a time.”

  Kym tossed her arms around me and squeezed until I couldn’t breathe. “I love you! Don’t you ever forget that! No matter what happens.”

  I hugged her, smiling. “You’d never let me forget.”

  “Can I get in on this?” Jim asked, stepping behind his wife.

  Kym let go and chuckled softly. “I’ve been giving Mars the third degree.”

  “No,” I said. “You’ve been a great friend.”

  “I hate to steal my wife away, but Aaron is excited over something and wants to show Kym.”

  “Be my guest,” I said. “I have to round up the competitors.”

  Jim placed his arm around Kym and led her off into the crowd.

  “You’re an idiot!”

  I turned sharply to find Andrea and Jack nose to nose.

  Dear Lord. What is it this time?

  “Can you stop yelling at me for two seconds?” Jack snarled.

  “If you’d give me a reason to stop yelling,” Andrea hissed.

  “I could give you several, but that’d mean I’d have to kiss you,” Jack retorted.

  Andrea sucked
in a gallon of air. “Don’t you dare kiss me!”

  “I don’t want to!”

  With a weary sigh, I wedged between them. “Can we call a truce for tonight? If you want to kiss or not kiss later, that’d be fine. In private. Not with a hundred people watching you.”

  Andrea blinked and glanced around her as Jack stormed off.

  “I don’t know what it is about him, but he makes me so angry,” Andrea said between clenched teeth.

  “I’m not sure either. I like Jack.”

  “He’s just so . . . so . . .” she bristled. “I hate him!”

  “Well, stay away from him if you can. I’ll try to rig the cooking line up so you don’t have to grill alongside him.”

  “Could you?” Andrea pleaded.

  I nodded. “I’d rather not have to break up a fight around flames.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Before I could move away, she touched my arm. “Hey, I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and Evan.”

  “Evan’s a great guy. I only want the best for him.”

  Andrea smiled. “I know he’d say the same about you.”

  “I know,” I said, my eyes scanning until I spotted Brett. “Evan’s going to have a bright future . . . and mine seems to be falling into place.”

  “I’m happy to hear you say that.”

  “Come with me over to the grills,” I said. “Let’s get this competition started.”

  I found a spot near the grills and faced the growing number of guests. “Can I have everyone’s attention?” I hollered above the noise. “I need all competitors to meet over at the grills. The competition will begin momentarily.”

  At final count we had fifteen since Fritz and a few other Comet Riders had decided to compete. We were still missing Bob. I couldn’t see Mac over the crowd, but I knew he had to be twitching with worry by now.

  The group of potential winners gathered as I gave out last-minute instructions.

  “We have six grills that, as you can see, are a mix of gas and charcoal. Only five contestants will cook at a time. You will draw a number to see who goes first. Your number will also determine the selection order of the grills. You may cook anything you like, but you’ll only have fifteen minutes to finish. As soon as you’ve plated for three judges, you may bring them over there,” I said, pointing to Mrs. Janowski, Sylvia, and Edna, who were prominently seated at a table nearby. “Your judges will rate your dish with several criteria in mind, including taste, appearance, and creativeness. You may proceed to the judges’ table and pick your number out of the bag. Good luck.”