Behind Frenemy Lines

by Chele Pedersen Smith

  “I’m good,” he assured. “Go get him!”

  “I can’t. We need to get you to the hospital.”

  “For a heel scratch? Malarkey.” He brushed himself off, then feeling woozy, stumbled over to a fire hydrant, taking a seat.

  “They're poison darts.”

  His eyes bulged in panic.

  “Wait, I have an antidote in here somewhere.” She fumbled through her purse, pulling out a wrapped mint and a pen injector.

  “Candy?” he shrieked. “How does that help?”

  She shoved the dissolving tablet into his mouth, then peeled off his jacket sleeve to stab the muscle.

  After a few minutes, Lee stood, feeling stronger, until a wave of nausea knocked him off his feet. He staggered to the curb to rid himself of the toxin.

  Galaxy wiped his perspiring brow, helping him to the car. “Maybe I should drive.”

  He jingled the keys in agreement.

  Once inside, they exhaled against the headrests. Gal pounded the steering wheel in frustration. “I can't believe we blew our cover. Fitz is probably long gone by now.”

  “Yeah, he'll never trust us again. But what the hell, Galaxy? You run around in poison pumps? Should I really go to the hospital? I can't move my arm.”

  “I'm sorry. You'll be fine; it's just a little botulism. I think.”

  “You Botoxed me? You're not sure?”

  “Not intentionally.” She looked down at her feet. “Yes, it's the right one. Whew, you'll live. Don't worry, it's just a wee more than a micro-dose.”

  “More, that's supposed to comfort me? And how can you be so sure? It's in the heel of a shoe!”

  “Relax, I'm a nurse. I can dose in my sleep. The tweed probably absorbed most of it, plus the serum and Ipecac tablet kicked in.” She caressed his arm softly and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for taking a bullet for me. You have my back, and that means a lot.”

  “Well, you certainly got mine,” he winced, shrugging free from the jacket’s remainder. “Will it need some Neosporin or something?”

  “Don't be a baby,” she teased. “It's just a needle.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A canvas of pastel pink brushstrokes streaked the sky, greeting Lee and Gal as they entered the park. The Green was filling up fast, dotted with blankets. An inflatable movie screen was tied securely between two trees.

  “Let’s grab that spot.” With his good arm, Lee gestured to an area off to the side, away from the crowd.

  “But we won’t be able to see,” she protested. When he arched his eyebrows, she lightly poked his chest. “We’re here on a respectable date, remember? You promised. Besides, after all the encounters we’ve had, you couldn’t possibly have any fluid left.”

  “I recover fast. Honestly, it’s a continuous factory. But you’re right. We will behave and enjoy the flick. I’m quite exhausted, really.” He haphazardly spread a cover on the grass. “I might just doze off.”

  Gal set the basket down and helped him straighten it. “I knew we should've rescheduled. Are you sure you're up for this?” Then she yawned, settling in. “See? I might nod off too.”

  “I'm fine. This will be fun and take my mind off the weird paralysis.”

  “Great, no hard feelings?” She took out a bottle of white wine.

  “Of course not. Is that a peace offering?”

  “It's a complement,” she flirted, revealing a gourmet-dipped dessert box. “For the strawberries.”

  “You sure know how to doll up a picnic. What else you got in there?” He peeked inside the wicker bin.

  “Yeah, you're feeling better alright,” she chuckled in relief. “Just some light snacks. Hummus, pita chips, carrots, and celery.”

  “Nice.” He arranged the goodies on the blanket while Gal splashed drinks into purple Solo cups.

  “To a real relationship,” she announced as they clunked cheers.

  “Uh, relationship?” He pretended to loosen an imaginary tie on his tee.

  “What? You horn dog,” she razzed, pushing on his chest. “We can't stay out of each other's pants! What else would you call it?”

  “A good time,” he leered, leaning in, nuzzling her ear. “A really awesome, good time...”

  “You give me goosebumps when you do that,” Gal murmured, the Chardonnay spilling secrets. “It drives me crazy, and then I can’t resist your charms.”

  “I know…”

  “Sneaky, Cowboy, how did you pick up on that?” She narrowed her eyes, sipping more wine.

  “I'm an intuitive guy,” he smiled, looking down, swirling his vino. “You look nice tonight. I like the casual clothes and your hair is different.” He strummed the ends of her side ponytail.

  “Well, heels and skirts don't exactly cry ‘movie in the park.' You're dressed down too. I like your Henley.” Her fingers followed the three button trail, admiring the unfastened top loop. “Faded turquoise brings out your eyes.”

  “Yeah? Thanks,” he grinned, looking down at his shirt. “This old thi—” he began, then stopped, studying her face, that familiar feeling crashing back again.

  “What is it? Do I have strings in my teeth?” She tossed the celery stick, self-consciously covering her mouth.

  “No, you're fine. I just had the weirdest sense we've done this before.”

  “Ah, déjà vu?”

  He shook his head to clear it. “Yeah, I must be more tired than I thought. We've had a few long days, haven't we? No complaints, it's been a real blast. And for the record, I'm relieved you ditched those dangerous daggers.” He leaned back and surveyed her outfit. “You know, you look a bit nautical with the blue and white striped top, and that navy scarf thing.”

  “Nautical or naughty?” she teased, zig-zagging a chip through the dip.

  “Both. But I thought you wanted to behave.” He could feel the chemistry percolating, and he knew they couldn’t act on it here. He plunged a carrot into the creamy chickpeas then spotted someone. “Gal, look!” he whispered. “Under that tree. Is that who we think it is?”

  The sun was disappearing, but a few street lamps helped Gal make out the shape hunting for a spot. “Is that Fitz?” she gasped. “Oh, of course, a Marilyn Monroe movie!” She thumped her head. “Wait a minute…you were expecting him, weren't you?”

  “Not exactly, just figured the odds were high that he might show up.” Lee scooped extra hummus, bigger than the cracker. “Since he fled on us, it's the perfect opportunity to keep an eye on him.”

  “In the dark? So, this is work, not a date.” She folded her arms in disbelief.

  “No, we are going out. It’s just two birds, ya know?”

  “Two birds? What does that mean? Are you two-timing me?”

  “No.” Lee put his hand on her shoulder, stifling a chuckle. “You've never heard the expression? Killing two birds with one stone. It's terrible now that I hear it, but it means being efficient. We don’t have much time to go out and have fun and this way we get ahead in our investigation.”

  “Oh,” she said, relieved, chewing thoughtfully on a carrot. “Yeah, that’s smart, especially since Geoffrey doesn’t want us sniffing down this road in the first place. Should we invite him over?”

  “Well, Geoffrey might spoil the mood.”

  “Fitz, you goofball!” She slugged his arm, making him miss his mouth. She smothered a laugh.

  “Yes, why not? We might be able to get more information. Go on,” he urged, grabbing a red-checkered linen from the basket and another scoop of dip.

  “Me? Why don’t you?”

  “Well,” he muffled with his mouth full. “For one, you just pied me with a cracker, and two, I think he trusts you more.”

  “Sure, you just want to stuff your face,” she laughed, getting up. “Save me some.” She sprinted over to where Fitz was settling in.

  “Hi, Mr. Baker, uh, Kennedy. Do you remember me?” She knelt beside him on the grass, thankful for jeans and sneakers.

  “Oh… hi.” He half-stood, ready to split. �
��G-G-Gail Louis, right? Are you going to arrest me?”

  “No, you can relax. We aren't cops or FBI. I'm a social worker. Liam's the public defender. Are you here alone?”

  “Well, sort of…someone might be meeting me.” He sat back down, rifling nervously through his popcorn.

  “Oh, is it that lady friend of yours?”

  “Well, yeah. Sarah, from the bakery. I want to introduce her to my mother.”

  “Oh, is your mom here too?” Gal asked, looking around.

  “Yes, well, at least she will be.” He nodded at the screen.

  “Ah, yes…” She fought a panicky urge to hightail it back to Lee. “I thought maybe you meant your adoptive mom, Mrs. Baker.”

  “No, she lives states away. But her name isn’t Baker. It’s Cooper. Franny Cooper.”

  “Oh! Does she know you’re trying to get credit for your rightful lineage? It won’t hurt her feelings, will it?”

  “It was her idea. She made it sound like a piece of cake so I moved here, thinking I’d walk right into the White House and be a Kennedy. Instead, they laughed me right down Pennsylvania Avenue, and I’m walking dogs for a living.” He sounded forlorn as if she let him down. “But I do love dogs…”

  “Oh, wow,” Gal mumbled under her breath. He truly is a little bonkers. “I’m not sure the President’s headquarters is the place to start. Do you have a birth certificate?”

  “Yes, but I'm a secret, so it's very not accurate.”

  “Right. But it says Marilyn or Norma Jean Baker?”

  “Yes! It does say Norma Jean. I can go get it if you’d like.” He started to rise.

  “No, not now, we don't want to miss the movie. Maybe tomorrow. Let me do some research and help you set this straight.” Just then the lights flashed three times. “Well, I better go sit down. Liam is over there. Want to join us?”

  “No, that’s okay. Sarah won’t be able to find me if I'm lost in the park.”

  “Good point. We will see you tomorrow then.”

  Making her way back to Lee, she had trouble stepping over the maze of people in the shadows. Her foot broke through a lemon tart, starting a slippery chain reaction. The slimy filling slid her into the next picnic couple, tripping over them and sending their bucket of fried chicken flying. Poultry parts punched other picnickers, which either provided them with an extra snack or resulted in spilled drinks and popcorn. The catastrophe seemed to end when her face landed in a bowl of mashed potatoes. Gal crawled around the blankets, apologizing profusely. She was about to reach safe territory when her elbow landed in someone’s nachos.

  Lee flinched, witnessing the chaos unfold and galloped to Gal’s rescue, armed with a gleaming, white hanky. “Do you want fries with that, ma’am?”

  She looked up, mortified. A small crowd had gathered. Were they concerned about her or mad because she spoiled their supper?

  “She’s okay,” Lee assured a security guard who had run over. To the others, he offered to replace their food. They thanked him but assured it was unnecessary.

  “That’s what happens when it’s dark,” the KFC couple said. “I saw someone snowboard a pizza once.”

  “Yeah, it’s not the first time,” the nacho guy admitted. The crowd dispersed, and everyone settled into their space.

  Lee steadied her by the elbow and led the way to their area, wiping off the buffet.

  “I’m a blundering idiot.”

  “But you taste delicious,” he declared, kissing her mashed potato nose.

  “Thanks, but I feel like a world class imbecile.” She pulled a wad of wet towelettes from her purse and blotted her face. She wanted to cry, but that wouldn't be professional, would it?

  “Hey, no worries. I’ve had my share of klutz moves. Pretty hilarious at my height, right? You witnessed that this morning.” That lured a sad laugh. “The good thing is, it’s dark. The movie's playing, so you’re out of the limelight.” He studied her face, slightly illuminated by the movie projector. Even globbed with starch and soda splattered hair, she managed to look cute.

  “I feel all sticky. Attractive huh? So much for impressing you, unless glow-in-the-dark cheese turns you on.”

  Lee hid his smile, grateful for the night sky. So she was digging him after all. “Didn’t you know, girls covered in fast food is my wildest fantasy? Mmm…” He started nibbling the crook of her arm, kissing his way down her legs. “But I think my favorite is lemon meringue socks!”

  “I’m making out with Cookie Monster,” she giggled. A few “shhh’s” rose from the crowd, so she corked his mouth with a strawberry. “The movie,” she whispered.

  Musicians Jerry (Jack Lemmon) and Joe (Tony Curtis) are in a Chicago garage when mobsters make a hit, so they duck down and try to sneak out carrying clumsy instrument cases. But the gangster boss spots them and instructs his posse to go after the potential witnesses. Whilst on the lamb, they spot a poster advertising an all-girl jazz band, and Joe gets an idea!

  Next scene, they wait nervously in line, dressed in drag, to board a train to Miami. Jerry (Daphne) doubts they can pull it off because they still look too manly and is sure they won’t get by the strict headmistress. But Joe (Josephine) reminds him it’s life or death, so they charm their way on and prove themselves during a jam session before hiding safely in sleeping berths. Except, their masculinity isn’t exactly safe when they meet Sugar Kane, a hot blonde secreting all kinds of sexy.

  “Ah, there she is!” Lee whispered in Gal’s ear at the sight of Marilyn. The familiar rise of goosebumps prickled her skin. She cradled herself on his left, leaning against his solid frame, her head resting on his shoulder. Was it the toll of the day or the wine? She felt safe with him, as it should be with a fellow agent. But were they working on the same side? Gal stole a glance at his striking profile enjoying the movie and wished they were.

  Sugar immediately piques Jerry’s interest so he lures her to his bunk for a secret slumber party. They camp out, have “girl talk” and drinks from the flask “Daphne” claimed earlier to cover for Sugar when it tumbled from her dress during rehearsal. Jerry is delighted, but his plan goes to hell when Sugar slips out to get more booze and word gets out. Soon there’s a very crowded bash in his bed! The commotion wakes Joe and he ushers everyone back to their berths before the band leaders find out.

  “That’s my other fantasy,” Lee broke in, his voice low and deep.

  Galaxy was lost in thought for a moment and didn’t know what he was talking about. “Uh, what?”

  “A party in my bed,” he whispered. “But that’s a joke unless it’s just the two of us.” He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

  “True, we haven’t done it there yet,” she prodded with a cheesy elbow.

  “Ow, I see your mishap hasn’t weakened it any.” Lee rubbed a rib while Gal secretly smiled. They returned their attention to the film. It was a beach scene in front of a Miami hotel.

  Joe figures out a better way to get close to Sugar than Jerry’s idea of having “Daphne” be her confidant. With his method, he can stay out of pantyhose with a real possibility of getting into hers. Pretending to be Junior, an oil company tycoon with a yacht and a funny “rich” accent, ups his odds of scoring compared to Daphne, who’s only perks are a peek at unmentionables and a pillow fight. Meanwhile, Daphne has to fight off an actual millionaire with a yacht, mama’s boy Osgood Fielding III, who doesn’t take no for an answer.

  Even though Joe pulls off the scam—he has Daphne distract Osgood so he could pretend to own his boat— it gets him into quite a pickle when he has to resume his role as jazz musician Josephine and be in two places at once.

  The mobsters eventually realize Jerry and Joe are part of the band and catch up to them in South Beach while in town for a gangster convention…

  “Wow, pretty funny,” Gal said, stretching with the scrolling credits. “But I nodded off and missed the ending.”

  “Me, too!” Lee lamented. “And so did my butt.” Groggy, they sat while everyone else gathe
red belongings, milling their way out of the park.

  Gal stole a glance as she restocked the basket. “Ah, and what an asal,” she wisecracked dreamily.

  Lee turned around, mock-offended. “What did you call me? And after I gave you this fantastic date?”

  “No, no,” she laughed. “It’s a good thing, really!”

  Lee shook his head, pretending not to be convinced. “I don’t know, didn’t sound very nice.”

  “On my honor, I swear. It’s Irish.” They were in a catcher’s position, putting things away but Galaxy was laughing so hard trying to defend her language, she tipped over backward, clutching Lee’s shirt to steady herself, only to pull him on top of her.

  “Oh, hi...”

  “Why, hello...”

  “That was an accident,” she disclaimed.

  “I'm glad.” They kissed, enjoying the delicious intimacy. He reveled in this powerful position, a hierarchy created by cavemen, not in a domineering hair-dragging sense but the thrill-of-the-hunt, triumphant prize sort-of-way. The electricity of their pulses driven by Gal’s passion and the urgent, meaningful way she kissed told him she liked it too.

  With the park nearly empty, the scraping of industrial dustpans signaled the swarm of clean-up crews. He kissed her nose and then tapped her shoulder. “C’mon,” he beckoned, climbing off and standing with outreached hand.

  “Forever the gentleman,” she admired, taking it. She scooped up the bin while he grabbed the throw. Emerging from the wrought iron gate, Gal stooped under a street light to scratch her ankle and noticed her yellow-smudged sock was stiffened by meringue.

  “Oh no, I didn't smear any food on you, did I?” The dried egg-white foam was quite itchy.

  Lee examined his shirt. “Nope, I’m good. Hey, do you want to stop at my place? It’s close by, and I have stain stick.”

  She burst out laughing. “That’s the lamest pickup line ever!”

  “What?” Lee defended. “It’s true.” When Gal gave him a skeptical look, he added, “Okay, I’m tired and don’t want to drive you all the way home. But I do have Spray-n-Wash!”