High-Caliber Concealer

by Bethany Maines

  Nikki tried to turn her laugh into a cough under Z’ev’s disapproving stare.

  “I’m Jewish,” said Z’ev.

  “Nobody’s perfect,” said Donny, with a shrug.

  “This way,” said the host. Another cop car drove by and Z’ev allowed himself to be led toward a back booth.

  “I don’t mean to be a pain,” said Donny, as the host left them to be seated. “But I do have a slight problem.”

  “What?” growled Z’ev.

  Donny hoisted his hands, lifting two black duffle bags into view above the table.

  “Oh, crap on a cracker, Donny.” It was one of Ellen’s favorites ‘swears’ and Nikki found it creeping into her vocabulary. “You’ve got the drugs and the money? I’m assuming that’s drugs and money?”

  “I hope so,” said Donny. “Otherwise there wasn’t any point to that little party.”

  “I’ll call Joe,” said Z’ev standing back up, he dialed his phone as he walked away from the table.

  “He seems like he’s wound a little tight,” said Donny sitting down across from Nikki.

  “He doesn’t like me getting shot at.”

  “No one was going to get shot at,” said Donny dismissively.

  “Yeah, they were. Those Crazy Town Locos were busting out the heavy weaponry. I don’t believe they were planning on handing over the money. They were going to shoot you.”

  “Noooo,” said Donny, but hesitantly, as if he were reviewing the last few minutes in his mind and starting to doubt that he was in the right. “They weren’t going to shoot me.”

  “Yeah, they were,” said Z’ev and Nikki at the same time.

  “We had the long view on the situation,” said Z’ev sitting down next to Nikki and waving to the waiter. “The guys at the back were packing Beretta Model 12’s. They came to play.”

  “I could have handled it,” said Donny with a shrug. “I’ll have the Saag Gosht, please,” he said to the waiter. Nikki could tell Z’ev wanted to argue and she could tell that he was annoyed that Donny was using the waiter to prevent arguments. But she knew that neither Donny or the waiter could tell. Z’ev, after all, was a professional.

  It was a talent that infuriated Nikki. She always felt out-classed when he went into agent mode. Soon, the waiters were calling him Mr. Z’ev and Donny was telling them ‘this one time in college…’ stories and comparing notes on this year’s potential match-ups for the World Cup.

  Nikki made it through dinner, but she didn’t remember how. Modern fusion gastro Indian was not her idea of a good meal. The food all came in tiny weird bites that tasted like freeze dried air and she never seemed to be able to catch up with the conversation. Throughout dinner, police cars drove up and down the street, and once, they saw the SWAT van lumber by.

  “Joe wants to pick you up,” said Z’ev to Donny, when they were standing out on the sidewalk again. He handed Donny a business card. “He said to call him at 6:00 p.m. and he’d have a pickup time and location figured out by then.

  “Great,” said Donny, chewing his toothpick. “Can I crash at your place until then, Nik? I should call my LT and get stuff figured out.”

  “Yeah, of course, Donny. Not a problem.” She could almost hear Z’ev gritting his teeth.

  She loaded them both in the Impala and drove home, where Donny locked himself in the office to make some phone calls.

  “This is what I’m talking about, Nikki,” Z’ev said when the silence had stretched on for about an infinity.

  “What you were talking about when?” asked Nikki bewildered.

  “Last night. You want to know why I’m so suspicious—it’s because you do stuff like this. You dove right into the middle of a gun battle.”

  “I did not dive. I just ran out there and got Donny.”

  “They were pointing weapons.”

  “Yeah, at my friend. I needed him out of there.”

  “You could have let the DEA and police figure it out.”

  “They were going to figure it out after he was dead.”

  “I told them he was a cop. They had it under control.”

  “Well, you didn’t tell me. There could be a little more information sharing.”

  “Yeah, there sure as hell could be.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m not Lois Lane. I know that you put a romance novel dust jacket on Bullseye’s Don’t Shoot Back. I know what eye shadow you use to cover up black eyes. I know you’re…” He hesitated, unwilling to actually say it. “I know something isn’t –” His phone began to ring. He had ringtones assigned to almost everyone in his contact list and they both instantly recognized the old telephone sound that indicated that it was a work call.

  They both stared at the phone, abandoned on the kitchen counter with the car keys.

  “You’d better get that,” said Nikki, glumly.

  “We’re not through talking about this,” said Z’ev, picking up the phone and walking into the bedroom. A minute later, he came back out. “I have to go.”

  “You said they wouldn’t call you for at least another month.”

  “I said it was unlikely. Apparently, something came up.”

  They stared at each other, Z’ev in the kitchen and Nikki in the living room and one hundred million miles apart.

  “I love you,” said Nikki, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “I love you, too,” he said, walking into the living room. She put her arms around him and buried her face into his chest—into that perfect little hollow below his shoulder that seemed meant for her.

  “How long are you going to be gone?”

  “I don’t know. It sounded like a couple of weeks.”

  “I worry about you,” she said, looking up. “I know you can take care of yourself, but I worry.”

  “The feeling is extremely mutual,” he said, laughing with just a hint of bitterness.

  Nikki wanted to tell him he was imagining things and that everything in her life was normal. She wanted to lie, lie, lie. But she couldn’t. Maybe if she was a better liar, he wouldn’t get that look, that sad one that said he didn’t trust her. Impulsively, she kissed him. Hard. Wanting to imprint herself on his brain and body.

  “Not to bust up the party or anything,” said Donny, clearing his throat. Nikki stepped back and Z’ev immediately dropped his mask back into place. “But I’ve got a meet location and they want to pick me up now.”

  Nikki nodded. “I’ll get my keys.”

  “You’ll have to go without me,” said Z’ev, reaching for his jacket. “Sorry.” He picked up his watch from the tray by the door and slid it on his wrist. There was a honk from the parking lot. “I’ll call you when I can,” he said, kissing her unresponsive mouth. “And don’t get her shot.” He pointed at Donny, who gave a half head jerk, half nod. The door slammed shut and Nikki twitched slightly, buffeted by the impact.

  “Well,” she said after a moment. “I guess we should go.”

  The door opened back up, Z’ev stepped in again and Nikki smiled.

  “We need to try that again,” he said. He grabbed her and kissed her into a huge dip. “Right,” he said, setting her upright. “That’s better. I’ll call you.” And then he was gone again. Nikki giggled and caught site of Donny who was wearing a wide grin.

  “Shut up,” she said.

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “Yeah, well, keep it that way,” she said, grabbing her purse.

  The ‘meet’ turned out to be held in the parking lot of Pinky’s Hot Dogs. Nikki was a bit disappointed. She was getting used to a Carrie Mae rendezvous being boring, without any glamour or mystery or atmospheric fog, but she’d been hoping that other agencies had things better planned. The Impala cruised down the freeway and Nikki was keeping an eye out for her exit when Donny finally spoke up.

  “So what does he do for a living?”

  “Um,” Nikki paused. Z’ev had told her the cover story to use if this questi
on ever came up, but all of her friends were Carrie Mae and they all knew. It had never really come up before. “He works for the State Department.”

  “The State Department?” repeated Donny skeptically.

  “Yeah,” said Nikki, aiming for cheerful.

  “Uh-huh,” grunted Donny. “And what do you do?”

  “I work for the Carrie Mae Foundation, helping women on a world-wide level,” said Nikki glibly.

  “Yeah, right,” said Donny sarcastically.

  “No, really. I do.” He held eye contact for a second, and he frowned when Nikki didn’t look away.

  “You know,” said Donny conversationally, after a few moments of silence. “I’m good at being an undercover cop. I say it’s because I’m good at spotting liars. My ex-girlfriend says that’s because I am a liar. That may be true. I choose not to speculate. But you, on the other hand, could never lie at all. You’d try, but it was never any good, anyone who really knew you, could spot the lie in a heartbeat.”

  “I’m not lying, Donny,” said Nikki, laughing. “I really do work for the Carrie Mae Foundation.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Donny. “That’s why I’m worried.”

  They pulled into the parking lot of Pinky’s and Nikki backed into a spot so she could see the whole parking lot.

  “I think we’re early,” said Donny, checking his watch. “You want a hot dog?”

  She looked at Donny in disbelief.

  “We had dinner, like an hour ago.”

  “Yeah, but Pinky’s hot dogs are supposed to be really good, and what with the adrenaline and wanting to get out of there, I didn’t eat what I could.”

  “You are a bottomless pit.” It was a childhood refrain and Nikki found it easy to fall back on.

  “So, you want one?” he asked getting out of the car. The smell of frying meat and French fries wafted from the diner.

  “I’ll just have some of yours.”

  “No, you won’t. Get your own damn dog.”

  Nikki waffled and got out with him. It was true what he’d said about dinner and the food did smell good. They ordered dogs and stood waiting for their order to come up.

  “So you and this Z’ev guy, huh?” Donny asked, taking a seat on the curb. Nikki sat down next to him, trying to keep her knees together in her skirt.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “You’re pretty stuck on him?”

  “Yeah,” agreed Nikki.

  “It’s funny, but I really always thought you and Jackson would make a go of it.”

  “Well, I thought so too, until he broke up with me,” said Nikki with a shrug.

  Two cars pulled into the lot, one green, one dirty white. A black guy in a doo-rag got out of one and into the other. After a minute, he got out again and went back to the original car and they both drove off.

  “Drug deal?” asked Nikki, jerking her head at the cars.

  “Probably a gun, since he actually got in the car,” said Donny. He sighed and rubbed his face. “Today was supposed to be like that, you know? We go in, do what we do, fast and casual, and then we leave. Nobody makes a fuss. Nobody gets hurt. I wasn’t even supposed to leave Washington. But I had a shot at getting tape on Ruiz. I figured I should take it.”

  “Dogs are up,” said the waiter from the order window.

  Donny and Nikki stood up and retrieved their hot dogs, chewing as they walked back to the Impala.

  “I like your car,” said Donny, as Nikki perched on the hood.

  “Mmm,” said Nikki around a mouthful of hot dog. “I got it from my first partner at Carrie Mae.”

  “Man, you would have had to pry the keys to that baby out of my cold dead fingers,” he said cheerfully.

  “I dropped her off a bridge in Thailand,” said Nikki, swallowing a suddenly dry chunk of hot dog. Donny started to laugh and then took a second look at her face.

  “Damn it, Nikki. I think I’d feel better if you would lie.”

  “Sorry,” said Nikki, forcing a laugh. “I’ll try lying next time.”

  “You and this Z’ev guy are going to have problems,” Donny blurted out, and then laughed guiltily.

  “No!” lied Nikki, “we’re fine. Mostly, anyway.”

  “Yeah… right now, but Nikki… Well, I’ve worked undercover stuff for a while now. Like I was saying earlier about lying and being a liar.”

  Nikki quietly eyed him over her hot dog. She didn’t like where this was going.

  “It’s really hard to maintain a relationship when you’re hiding parts of your life from your significant other. Even if you think it’s for their own good, you’re still hiding yourself from a person that you should be the most open to. I’m not trying to bring trouble on you guys and I don’t really know what you’ve got going on with your Carrie Mae stuff there, I’m just trying to tell you from my own experience.”

  Nikki shrugged awkwardly. “How do you manage it then?”

  “At the moment, I don’t,” he said, with a shrug. “Sorry, I know that’s not very helpful. I think the thing that my ex kept asking for that I wasn’t able to wrap my head around was that she didn’t want details of what I’d been out doing. She didn’t need to know all the horrible stuff I’d seen. She wanted to know how I felt about it, where I was going, who I was, what I wanted. And I kept saying that everything was fine. Fine isn’t a real answer, you know?”

  “Yeah, but if you say something else, they might get mad or leave,” said Nikki.

  “She left anyway,” said Donny. “I should have taken the chance.”

  A black Ford Explorer rolled into the parking lot and stopped in front of the Impala.

  “I think this is my ride,” said Donny.

  “It better be,” said Nikki, “I’m not packing and they’re blocking the exit.”

  The door opened and a man in a Hawaiian shirt stepped out. Nikki slid off the hood and landed on the pavement with the solid click of her heels hitting ground. She recognized him as the man Z’ev met at the beach.

  “You must be Joe,” she said, and he grinned.

  “Nice to meet you. And believe me, I’d love to stay and chat about how you managed to get our friend Coralles wrapped around your finger, but I’m working on a bit of a timeline. I need Fernandez. Now,” he turned to Donny, “If you’re done with dinner and a date, do you think we could get this show on the road?”

  “Thanks for the ride, Nik,” he said, leaning over for a hug and kissing her cheek.

  Nikki hugged back. “Tell everybody hi for me,” she said.

  “You bet,” said Donny. He jogged over to the Explorer and got in. Joe followed Donny into the interior, shutting the door after them. Nikki waved as the Explorer left the parking lot.

  August I

  Pre-Flight Check

  Tijuana • Friday

  “Nicole Lanier!” Nikki pulled the phone a few inches away from the overly loud greeting.

  “Donald Fernandez!” She barked back and Donny laughed.

  “Hey Nik, where you at?”

  “Tijuana airport.”

  “For reals? Cool, I guess. You and the big brah take a little vacay?”

  “No, he’s still away on assignment. I’m helping out the Tijuana Branch.”

  “Still? He’s not following the budiquette of how to treat your best chick very well.”

  “Donny, have you been undercover with stoners?”

  “Sorry, it’s a hazard of the job. I busted some total bro brahs last week and I can’t seem to lose the surfer-dude patois.”

  “Well, keep using words like patois and you’ll ditch it in no time.”

  Donny laughed again. “Well, I’ll definitely ditch it soon. I’m on my way home for a couple of weeks. Mom demanded I come home after scaring the crap out of her with my disappearing act last month. Of course, when I go back to work, I’ll be all Spanglish, all the time. Which is unfortunate because the guys already call me Telemundo.”

  “What is it with cops and nicknames?”

  “We’
re stunted emotionally,” said Donny. “Anyway, the reason I’m calling is that I wanted to see if you were possibly thinking about taking a little trip to the old stomping grounds, too?”

  “Did my mother call you?” Nikki demanded.

  “No, I swear,” said Donny laughing. “Why, has she been after you?”

  “Yes, I’ve been dodging her calls for weeks. She keeps saying that my grandmother would love to see me.”

  “She probably would,” said Donny.

  “I don’t need the guilt from you, too,” said Nikki. “I would love to go visit Kaniksu Falls. I haven’t been back in years. But it’s not feasible with work right now.”

  “What, you never get to take a vacation?”

  “Yeah, I can take a vacation. But my boss’s husband had open heart surgery and now she’s out on sabbatical to take care of him and her temporary replacement is kind of having a rocky time of it. I need to stick around and make sure things go OK.”

  “Except that you’re in TJ,” objected Donny.

  “Only for a few days. There was a situation.” Nikki didn’t add that she thought Darla, Mrs. M’s replacement, had sent her to Tijuana simply to get rid of her, and she didn’t add that it had been over a month since she’d heard from Z’ev. She also didn’t add that it had been almost the same amount of time since the team had officially been together. Darla had sent her to Mexico a lot lately. Not that the Tijuana Branch couldn’t use the help, but even they were starting to think it was more than a bit ridiculous. To be perfectly honest, she was about one more trip to Mexico away from telling Darla where to get off. She didn’t add these things because, while Donny was her friend, this was an open phone line, and well, he wasn’t one of the girls. “Anyway, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to fly home and keep you from freaking out over the fact that the nearest Starbucks is two hours away.”

  “I get weird when I’m too far from the mother ship, man. Por qué, no?”

  “Porque tengo un trabajo..”

  “Ah, man. Sad face.”

  “Seriously, did you just speak an emoticon? Stop hanging with stoners.”

  “Well, I also have a job. And periodically it requires me to assume the guise of a hapless youth devoted to the pursuit of narcotics. I am what I am. I’m a yam. Que será, que será.”