High-Caliber Concealer

by Bethany Maines

  The wind shifted, blowing smoke and ash into their faces.

  “And if you’ve got evidence on me, then I’ve got evidence on you,” he continued. “I’m sure the state police will be interested to know what you were doing here. Pretty young things running around with guns. That’s not normal. I don’t have to know what you’re up to in LA, I just have to make enough people curious that they start investigating. And Donny? I just have to say that he was on my payroll and that we got into a dispute. Even if he proves otherwise, he’ll still have a black mark on his record and trust me, it will follow him everywhere.”

  Nikki frowned. The sheriff read her expression as uncertainty and smiled.

  “The best part about being bad is that you don’t have to be tied down by rules and playing fair. If I’m going down in flames, you’re going down with me.”

  Nikki could feel the fire at her back. Jenny was gesturing to her to get in the car. Z’ev was saying something, pointing at Jenny.

  In the calm, cool part of her brain that was reserved for these moments, she did the calculations. He was absolutely right. He didn’t have to have any proof. But the situation was weird enough that anything he said would get investigated. Investigations that would ruin Donny’s career. Investigations that would cause Carrie Mae nothing but trouble. And then there was the threat against her grandmother.

  “We can still all walk away from this,” said the sheriff. “You got what you wanted. Let’s just stick to the original agreement.”

  Z’ev was reaching for her, still saying something. But she couldn’t hear him above the roar of the fire and the pounding in her ears.

  He really shouldn’t have threatened her grandmother.

  “Come on,” Merv Smalls said, smiling the smile that never touched his eyes, while his right hand reached for his gun. “Let’s all just get out of here.”

  Her left hand hurt from where it had been ground into the dirt, but not so much that she couldn’t pull the trigger. She felt Z’ev reaching for her, so she knew she didn’t have a lot of time. Decisions had to be made.

  She pulled the trigger. The Sheriff stumbled forward one step, gun halfway out of his holster, then dropped to the ground.

  Z’ev picked her up like a football, tucking her under one arm and running for the car. There was another explosion from the car section and she could see the flames behind them, a wall of orange engulfing the junkyard.

  Jenny revved the engine, as Nikki and Z’ev dove into the back seat, starting the car with the keys Nikki had left in the ignition. Val’s Impala leapt forward throwing Nikki and Z’ev back against the cushions as Jenny floored the gas pedal.

  August XXX

  Endings

  “Slow down!” Nikki yelled as they hit the curve in the driveway. “We need to get Jane!”

  Jenny slowed, but didn’t stop. Jane ran out from behind a car and jumped in, throwing herself into the backseat across Nikki’s lap.

  “Hurry! We need to get out of here before the fire hits the det cord!” screamed Jane.

  Jenny shoved her foot to the floor and the Impala streaked up the drive. The four-door sedan followed them. They weren’t shooting. Instead, they looked equally as intent on getting the hell out of the junkyard. As they hit the road, the fire found the det cord buried under the dirt and the explosion shook the ground under the car. As Nikki watched, the archway of deer antlers and car parts began to topple down on itself.

  “Jane, did you wire the Roadkill Memorial?” asked Nikki.

  “Of course I did,” snapped Jane, crawling over Nikki and Z’ev and into the front seat. “That was the creepiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “Ditto to that,” said Z’ev, gripping the door frame as Jenny took a corner faster than the recommended speed limit.

  “It was in honor of the deerly departed. You know, deer,” said Nikki, fully aware that she was focusing on the trivial, but feeling a deep, uncontrollable need to explain the pun.

  “It was creepy as shit,” said Z’ev.

  Jenny jerked the Impala to a stop at the intersection to the main road. Ellen, Jackson and Donny were already waiting for them. The four-door sedan shot by them without stopping.

  Donny was on the phone and they could hear the distant sound of sirens.

  “Donny’s calling the state cops,” said Jackson. “But he wants to go back with the firefighters and try and save his parents’ house.”

  Nikki nodded.

  “What the hell?” demanded Ellen. “So it’s OK when you shoot dirty cops, but when I do it it’s an international incident?”

  “I knew that looked like Ellen,” muttered Z’ev.

  “He was a threat to us.”

  “So was mine.”

  “No, yours was a threat to women in general. Mine was a threat to us. And I have someone who can work the cover up.” She gestured to Donny. Ellen still looked unconvinced.

  “You’re assuming he’ll cover it up,” said Z’ev. “That’s a big assumption.”

  “He owes us,” said Nikki with a shrug. “And the fire should make it easier.”

  “You’ve covered all the angles then, haven’t you?” Z’ev sounded bitter.

  “I try,” said Nikki. “Jenny, get out to the road and flag down the first fire truck.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Donny walking back toward them. “I know, there’s a lot more to cover, but come out here and do it in person. Right now, I have to go try to stop a wildfire.” There was a pause. “Yes, sir, I do think I’m freaking Superman. I’m fairly certain it’s on my birth certificate.” Pause. “No sir, I do not think this is funny.” Pause. “Yes, sir, I am aware that the State Patrol does not have a sense of humor. See you then.”

  He hung up the phone and looked at all of them. “OK, everyone. Thanks so much for helping, now you all need to leave.”

  “What about the fire?” asked Jenny.

  “What are you going to do, carry buckets? I turned on the sprinklers before we left. I’m going to direct the firemen to skip Crazy Cooters and go straight to my parents’ house. But, if my story that Jackson and Nikki are the only ones who came to make the exchange is going to hold water, I need the firemen to not see the lot of you. So, everybody climb back in Nikki’s pimp-mobile and get the hell out of here.”

  “I don’t want to leave you on your own,” said Nikki, frowning. “Shouldn’t Jackson and I stay?”

  “Agreed,” said Jackson. “I’m staying. Besides, I’m part of the volunteer fire crew.”

  “Then he can stay, but Nikki you need to go.”

  “I’m part of the cover story. I want to stay and help.”

  “And eventually the police will want to talk to you. But right now it’s an emergency fire situation. Protocol says get civilians out. Plus, no offense, but you attract attention. And we want less attention, remember? You’ll be more help if you leave.”

  “He’s right,” said Jenny and Ellen nodded.

  “Fine,” said Nikki frowning. “But I’m not happy about it.” She hugged Jackson and then Donny. “Take care of each other. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Although, it turns out that’s a pretty low benchmark,” said Z’ev. “So really, you probably ought to stick with using your own best judgment.”

  “Call us if you need help,” said Jenny.

  “Thanks,” said Donny. “And I really do mean that. Without you guys, I’d be dead. Now vamoose before you cause me even more of a headache than the sheriff.”

  Fitting four women and Z’ev into the Impala was a tight fit, but they managed, mostly due to the Impala’s bench seating and Jane’s skinny butt. They pulled out onto the highway, and Nikki rolled down the window. The post-mission crash was imminent, but she wanted to stave it off for as long as possible.

  “INTERPOL sent out a B.O.L.O. on you,” said Z’ev turning around in the front seat to look at Ellen. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking, ‘Oh, look, someone should really
crush this serial killer to death with his own car.’ Although, really, that’s a better death than he deserved after what he did to those women.”

  “Serial killer? I thought he was a cop.”

  “Turns out he was both,” said Jane.

  “And do you really think that was the best way to handle it?” asked Z’ev.

  “Hey,” said Nikki. “We don’t second-guess the operator. We weren’t there. Monday morning quarterbacking is counter-productive and besides, it’s none of your business.”

  “None of my business,” said Z’ev. “I’m in the fucking CIA, Nikki! We’re supposed to assess threats from foreign entities and protect the United States. Currently, you’re the most foreign entity I know!”

  “Yes,” said Jenny, soothingly, “But we’re not actually a threat, so really there’s no problem.”

  “You just killed the sheriff,” said Z’ev. “Ellen apparently ran over a mountie. Your body count for police personnel is looking suspiciously high.”

  “They were bad people,” said Jane. “And you’re not seeing all the bad guys we take down.”

  “No, clearly I’m not,” said Z’ev. “But would you please explain who made you the decision-makers on who lives and who dies?”

  Jane opened her mouth and Jenny poked her in the ribs.

  Z’ev looked at all of them. “I’m going to stop talking now,” he said. “I’m going to wait until we’re not all armed and we’re sitting in Peg’s kitchen eating pie and the guns are all put away before we talk more. But when we do talk, I’m going to have questions, and there better damn well be answers.”

  He turned around, eyes facing front, walls up, ignoring all of them.

  Nikki looked at the girls in the review mirror. Jane made a face, Jenny shrugged, Ellen spread her hands, palms up. Nikki nodded.

  The drive was long, silent, and hot since the Impala cooling system couldn’t push the air around fast enough to keep any of them from melting. Nikki pulled up in front of the house and saw a strange car in the driveway. Another rental car. Someone had sprung for the upgrades. It was a convertible with leather seats.

  “Give me a second,” said Nikki. “Let me make sure Mom and Grandma aren’t having the pastor over for tea before we all go trooping in with our guns.”

  “We do look a little Not Suitable For Church,” said Jenny, unstrapping Peg’s six-shooter.

  Nikki walked up to the front door and paused. There was something off, she could feel it, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. She had one hand on the door knob and took a deep breath, then froze. Ever so slightly, there was the faintest scent of Chanel.

  Nikki’s skin felt clammy, and she reached for her gun as she opened the door. Her heart was racing.

  “Do not move,” she said.

  “Ah, Nikki,” said Valerie Robinson, “We’ve been waiting for you.” Val looked suspiciously the same: hair cut in a sharp black bob, pale skin, blue eyes, crisp black shirt. She looked as she had always looked, effortlessly sophisticated and cool. The only difference was that there wasn’t a cigarette in one hand.

  “Where’s Mom and Grandma?” Nikki demanded.

  “I think Peg is getting baby pictures and Nell is fetching lemonade. Because I look like a lemonade kind of woman.” Val paused, then continued when Nikki didn’t comment or change position. “Relax, Red, I’m here about your father.”

  “Nicole Lanier,” said her grandmother coming into the room and attempting to snatch the gun out of her hand, “we do not point guns at guests.”

  “But she shot me!” Nikki said, holding the gun further away.

  “Twice,” said Val holding up two fingers, with a lazy smile.

  “What?” said her mother, coming into the room carrying a tray of lemonade. “Shot you? What is this? Nikki, please stop pointing guns at people. You can’t carry guns around like that!”

  Behind her, there was a slam of a car door and running feet.

  “Nikki, what’s going on? Why did you pull—” Ellen’s sentence abruptly cut off.

  “Oh, shit,” said Jenny. Nikki heard the guns come out.

  “Hey look,” said Val, “the glee club has arrived.”

  “You are supposed to be dead,” said Jenny, aiming steadily.

  “Jenny, Ellen, Jane! What are you all doing with guns? You work for a make-up company!” Nell thumped the tray down on the coffee table. “You don’t carry guns.”

  “These ones do,” said Val.

  “You want to shut up now?” asked Nikki.

  “Actually, I think I’d like to hear more,” said Z’ev, crossing the room and dropping into her grandfather’s old armchair.

  “Oh, please, it’s not like you could ever keep a secret anyway,” said Val. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “That is kind of true,” agreed Z’ev.

  “Nikki, who is this woman?” demanded her grandmother. “She said she worked with you.”

  “That is Valerie Robinson,” said Jane, “and she’s supposed to be dead.”

  “It’s called Kevlar, sweetie,” said Val, smugly. “Don’t leave home without it.”

  “Next time, I’ll make it a head shot, sweetie,” said Ellen.

  “Why— How are you here, Val?” demanded Nikki.

  “We still haven’t covered why you’re carrying guns,” protested Peg.

  “I’m here about your father,” said Val.

  “Oh, God,” said Nell. She picked up a glass of lemonade and emptied it into the ficus. Then she pulled out a bottle of Scotch from the sideboard.

  “Actually, if you’re pouring, I wouldn’t mind some,” said Val.

  “You shot my daughter,” said Nell, pouring out a generous measure. “Twice? The only way you’re getting some of this is if I hit you up the side of your head with the bottle.”

  “Point taken,” said Val shrugging.

  “Actually,” said Z’ev, “I’m with Peg. I want to know who Nikki and her friends work for.” Nikki tried to read his expression, but couldn’t.

  “We work for the Carrie Mae Foundation,” said Nikki defensively. This wasn’t how she wanted to do this. She wanted to have a private, honest conversation with Z’ev where she could explain. Val, as usual, was ruining everything.

  “The Carrie Mae Foundation carries a lot of heavy weaponry, do they?” asked Z’ev.

  “Not a lot,” said Jane. “Just the necessities.”

  “Just what does Carrie Mae do?” asked her grandmother.

  “Carrie Mae uses a multi-disciplinary, local approach to solving the problems facing women on a global level,” said Nikki, as if reciting a well-learned lesson, which thanks to Mrs. Boyer, it was.

  “With extreme prejudice,” added Val.

  “Well, I appreciate that you want to help women,” said Peg, “but that doesn’t mean the four of you can form your own little vigilante group.”

  “What makes you think it’s just the four of them?” asked Val, unwrapping a piece of gum and popping it into her mouth.

  “Shut up!” Nikki yelled at Val. She could feel her breath coming in rapid gasps. This was her worst nightmare.

  “That’s impossible,” said Z’ev.

  “What?” asked Val, looking at Nikki’s furious expression. “He’s CIA. I’m sure he’s figured it out by now.”

  “CIA?” repeated Peg. “Nell, be a dear and pour a glass for your mother.”

  “All of Carrie Mae?” He asked looking at her as if she were the only one in the room. Nikki felt herself flush bright red.

  “Oh! He didn’t know,” exclaimed Val laughing. “That is so cute! You’re like the Dumb and Dumber of espionage.”

  “All of Carrie Mae?” he repeated.

  “Not all of it,” said Nikki, blushing harder. “Just the non-profit portion.”

  “Most Carrie Mae ladies really do sell make-up,” said Jane, clearly trying to help.

  “But not all of them,” said Z’ev. “Most is not the same as all.”

  “Well, all of them do
sell make-up. But some of them also do… other… stuff.” She finished awkwardly, and glanced at Nikki apologetically.

  “So what we have is a worldwide organization with advanced training in tactics, weapons, and explosives,” said Z’ev. “That about sums it up, yes?”

  “More or less,” said Nikki.

  “Only, it’s an organization that no one knows about? How can no one know about it?”

  “Because we’re women,” said Val, standing up, sounding suddenly bitter and tired. “And women are the invisible, alien others. The CIA doesn’t know about us, not because we’re so clever, but mostly because you’re so dumb that it doesn’t occur to you that women could do anything. Nikki, this has been fun. It’s practically a Homecoming Dance and a ten-year high-school reunion all rolled into one. Now maybe we could get down to business?”

  “What business could we possibly have?” demanded Nikki.

  “I’ll say it for the third time. I’m here about your father. He’s in trouble. There isn’t a lot of time and I need your help.”

  “Don’t believe her,” said Jenny.

  “Actually,” said Peg, clearing her throat. “I think she might be right.” Everyone swiveled to look at Peg. “The reason I’ve been pushing your mom so hard to tell you about Phillipe is that three weeks ago I got a letter in the mail. It was addressed to you, but I opened it because…” She paused, then shook her head. “Because I’m a snoop.” She pulled a folded envelope out of her pocket and handed it to Nikki. “Once I read it, I knew it wouldn’t make any sense if you didn’t already know he’d gone to jail. I figured we had to tell you. I just thought we had more time.”

  Nikki read the letter. She read it again.

  “Where is he?” she asked, looking up at Val.

  “South Africa,” said Val. “I can get him out, but I need someone I can trust.”

  “That’s a laugh, coming from you.”