by Tony Lavely
She was glad that Lisa’s suit fit no better than Amy’s; while both of them dispensed with the tops after the losing battle to keep them in place, and she appreciated the resultant images, she had been more curious about how successful Doctor Carver had been at repairing Lisa’s breast. Now, with an opportunity to see the scar, she was of two minds. The stitch and staple marks had faded as he’d predicted, and the breast appeared, from her discreet distance, to be as symmetrical as its mate. But the injury the knife had inflicted drew her eye to the mark, the blemish, though Beckie hesitated to consider it minor, that now defined Lisa’s upper body even more than her bare breasts.
“Hey, boss…” Ooops, bet Amy’s gonna embarrass me. “… you’ve been watching Lisa’s chest more than mine. What’s up with that?” Yeah. She’s good at that! Her blush was met with guffaws from both girls. Good to see Lisa laughing about it.
Beckie reached out for their hands and pulled them to sit, side-by-side, facing her. “To be honest, I’m trying to get over the… horrific fascination, I guess…”
“Yeah,” Lisa said. “I am, too.”
Beckie reached a hand toward Lisa’s chest. “May I?”
“‘Course. You’re the boss—”
Beckie snatched her hand back like she’d been burned. “No! Never ‘cause I’m the boss. It’s not a boss thing… touching you. Ever!”
Lisa’s shock showed as she first stiffened, then relaxed. Unsure what she wanted, Beckie allowed her to grab her hand and press it to her, directly across the scar when her breast had been almost split. Should this feel sensual? ‘Cause it doesn’t, really. Pleasant, warm, firm but yielding. The scar is shiny smooth, different from skin. Wonder how it feels to her.
“I trust you,” Lisa said. “You took care of me when I needed it. I’m not afraid of you or anything you do. Believe me, I understand the… I guess almost voyeuristic interest, especially since it’s so close to the nipple.” She pressed Beckie’s hand against her. “It feels funny… and the scar itself…” She held Beckie’s finger to touch the mark just beside the areola. “… right there is pretty sensitive. Just like the doctor said it might be.” She released Beckie’s hand.
“Thanks. It feels… this will sound really stupid, I guess, but it feels kinda like mine…” She held out her arm where the bullet had entered and exited.
“Okay, girls,” Amy said. “If you’re done comparing tats and piercings—”
They ganged up to roll Amy over and Beckie jumped on her butt while Lisa rubbed Amy’s face in the sand, gently enough to signal teasing displeasure rather than anger. In a minute, Beckie rolled away and sat up; Lisa and Amy did the same, laughing.
“Hola!”
Wendy, I’ll bet.
“Wendy!” Lisa confirmed. “Down here.”
Her older sisters appeared and ran down the beach, laughing when they noticed the topless pair. “So that’s why Mr. Boynton wouldn’t come find you guys. Really, you should be ashamed!”
“Not of my body, girl!”
“No, no. Of showing it where you make someone else uncomfortable.”
“Well, since I didn’t know Boynton felt that strongly… Give me your shirt, then,” she teased.
Wendy paused instead and Beckie noticed she, too, was staring at Lisa’s scar. “Have the boys given you grief about it?”
Lisa’s gaze fell to the sand, but just as quickly, she looked up again. “No. None have gotten that far… and that’s okay by me. I think where they can see…” She pointed to the scar below her throat, where it would show above shirts and tops that weren’t crew neck. “It’s like Beckie was just saying: they have a horrified fascination with it. Not what I’m going to reward by letting them grope my boobs, believe me.”
“Yeah, of course. Sorry.”
As Lisa waved off the apology, Megan said, “The reason we’re here, aside from admiring all the boobs on display, is Mr. Boynton has lunch prepared. So, do you have shirts, or do I run up and get a couple?”
During lunch, Amy reminded Beckie that she and Dylan were headed to his home the day after Christmas; “Don’t be doing anything that I’d disapprove,” she said with a laugh. “We’ll see you after New Year’s; the fifth, I think?”
“That’s it. Beth’ll be back to take care of Lisa while you guys are gone. But,” she said with a laugh, “I’ll have Solène with me, so you two will have to behave.”
“Like Solène would ever stop us! Or you. It’ll be fine. Paris on Monday, right?”
“That’s the plan. I have til the twentieth to get you back?”
“No, we need to check in the fifteenth; classes start that Tuesday. Though Dylan can check us both in, I guess, if we need the extra day.”
“No. Your mom’d shoot me if she didn’t get a day or two with you before school, so…” Beckie thought about the trip’s schedule. “Nah, it’ll be fine.”
Christmas passed quietly. Beckie’s parents had arrived, as had Mike and Lissa; she gathered Meili and Xia and they all trooped across Home Cay to roust the Groves and then invade Shalin’s home to assist the twins in their mixed celebration.
Beth landed after dark on Boxing Day; Beckie met her at the plane’s door with Janni. Janni took Beth’s passport and Beckie took Beth.
On the lanai at Beckie’s home, Boynton greeted Beth and offered refreshments. Beth took a beer and Beckie, a cold bottle of San Pellegrino. “So, Merry Christmas, Beckie. Thanks for sending me back; it was a lot more fun than I thought.
“But you don’t really care about that. I know, I know…” as Beckie tried to protest, “don’t even bother. I hope you’ll be able to either get to Pretoria yourself, or bring Tjaart someplace where you can meet him. He’ll be an asset.”
“So, has he found anything that makes any sense? His last report just said you’d tell all.”
“That’s what we agreed, because, really, there isn’t much at all. The two deaths, the doctor and the policeman, are both listed as suspicious, but the trail ends there.”
“What made them suspicious, then?”
“For the doctor, a fresh dent in the rear end of his car, maybe pushing him off the road? For the policeman, shot with his own weapon while cleaning it… if you can believe that!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“No, which is why nothing’s being done. But… Three people who had been at the surgery with the doctor… they all disappeared. It looks like they moved in, opened the closed-up surgery—remember I told you?—and were there for about two weeks, until that Monday. Then, they vanished.”
“I… I don’t understand, Beth. Vanished?”
Beth finished her beer. “No, that’s enough Boynton, thanks. Vanished is what the witnesses said. As soon as the hearse left with Ian’s ashes, a neighbor told us the people in the surgery closed it up and were gone. They thought nothing of it at the time, of course.”
“Yeah.” What does this mean—
“But even more interesting—and the reason I think Tjaart will be a good fit—he took a couple of days and went to Lesotho, to see about the smugglers.”
“On his own?” When Beth nodded, Beckie continued, “I hope you thanked him from the bottom of our hearts, whether he found anything or not! Would a contribution to his favorite charity be welcome? Or allowed?”
“I’ll arrange it with Rou; he’ll be… it’ll be fine. And it’s certainly not the smoking gun we’d like to find, but… Most of the smugglers in the group that you and Ian tracked weren’t local. They came in and hired a couple of local guys… One died, the other’s in jail in PMB. Pietermaritzburg,”
‘Yeah.” She heaved a deep breath. “Maurice!” When the man appeared, Beckie said, “I think I need a glass of wine, please.”
His expression said resigned to Beckie, but he left the deck. She shrugged and said, “What else?”
“Two things. First, he’ll try to talk to the guy in jail, but he doesn’t expect anything—just covering all the bases. And the non-locals, they only cam
e in about four weeks before the incursion into the deVeel’s farm.”
“So, planned to a fare-thee-well, then. Thanks.” Boynton set a small glass, half-filled, beside her. “I think you’re right. Or Tjaart is, anyway; there won’t be anything from the guy in jail. Anyone who knew anything got out. What the hell could they be thinking? Just makes no sense.”
Both Beth and Boynton nodded in agreement.
“Okay, thanks. Now get some sleep; your trainee is ready and anxious.”
The day after New Year’s, Kerry brought Solène back from their visit to Kerry’s home. She’d asked for permission to spend the holidays with her family, escorting Solène, and Beckie had agreed once she enlisted Dan to watch the both of them, making sure all three knew. “No sneaking out by either of you,” Beckie said. “Dan will tan your hides, and then I’ll take over.” She was confident of Kerry, who’d done a masterful job at everything Beckie’d set her to, including spending a week with Lisa’s father, giving him a detailed indoctrination to the work he’d be doing.
Beckie had observed, though it hadn’t required much attention, Kerry’s distress at learning that her former position had been filled, and asked, “Are you disappointed in the things you’ve been tasked with?”
“Not really,” the woman replied, “but it’s like a new anything. Now I haven’t got any place to go back to. Not that I did, really, but it makes it pretty clear that I’ve got to keep you happy.”
“Well, that was always true.”
“It was, right, but when I didn’t deal with you directly—”
“Now I’m in your face all the time, right?” Beckie laughed aloud. “I’m sure you’re not the only one who wishes I was out of their face.”
“I could be the only one dumb enough to say it, though.” Kerry’s chagrin was so apparent that Beckie laughed again.
“Not a firing offense. But I may take it into account when comes time to assign you again.” Beckie stuck a finger in her mouth and then struck the pose to fit. “If I need a houri, maybe, or a geisha? Can I count on you?”
Solène, who up until this moment had been sitting quietly, began to laugh as she said, “Please, Beckie! I can train her, I know I can!”
Kerry straightened her back and drew her four foot nine inch height up. “Whatever my mistress requires.” She bowed to the floor. “Can I keep some clothes on?” she asked plaintively. “Solène’s told me such stories…”
“A quarter of which might have had some truth to them; I’ve listened to her, too. Yes, you can keep your clothes on… most likely.” She smacked Kerry’s rump. “Okay, I’m happy for today. Have a good time and make sure she’s back here by…” She dragged out her phone to check the calendar. “… by the third.”
Paris
Doctors Jones and Brody
BECKIE HAD MATHILDE FLY HER and Solène to Boston the weekend following New Year’s to pick Amy up. She and Dylan met the travelers once they’d cleared customs and immigration; the ride to the Cape was uneventful. While cold, the sky was blue with only a few puffy white clouds. “No snow?” Beckie asked.
“Not yet,” Dylan replied. “We don’t get a lot down here, usually. No storms predicted for the next week, either. How about Paris?”
“Cold and damp, according to Weather Underground. Not April in Paris, to be sure.”
Continued small talk filled the two hour drive, and Beckie relaxed as they crossed the Sagamore Bridge over the Cape Cod Canal. The pleasant drive segued nicely into the day-long visit before Dylan drove them back to Logan Airport to catch the Air France flight Sunday evening.
Willie had come over early from Miami; he met them at Paris Charles De Gaulle Airport in Roissy and drove them to the hotel Boynton had booked for them, the Mandarin Oriental on rue Sainte-Honore. Though weary from the flight, Beckie was impressed by the hotel’s appearance, but the fact that Willie had been able to book an extra suite converted to conference facility amazed her more.
“Good job, Willie. But you’ve eliminated the need to see Paris at all.”
He laughed at her faux disappointment. Yeah, he understands me. “If you want to see Paris, come back in the spring. Slushy snow is predicted for overnight tonight, and you already saw the morning drizzle and clouds from the Pèriphèrique. I’m happy to stay inside!”
“No sense of adventure, Willie,” Amy said. “I’ve never been here and I don’t think April will be in the cards, so I’m going to explore. What’s the drinking age, here? Can I check out those famous bars and, what do they call them? Cabarets?”
“You will not sightsee Paris alone. And taking Solène doesn’t make it a viable group. Willie, what’s the schedule? Can we carve out a half-day or so?”
“Depends on Solène’s dad. No word from him, which bothers me, but if he’s on time, yeah, we should be able to set time aside. Not today, the clients are here for lunch; that’s all set up.”
“Hmm. Okay. I’m gonna get a shower and change into working clothes. I recommend the same for you, Amy. Solène, we’re gonna be in the meeting all afternoon. You can have lunch with us, but slip out after, okay?”
“That sounds like what you promised. I’ll work on that homework Shalin gave me.”
Beckie gave her a quick glance, but there didn’t seem to be any sarcasm in the girl’s words or demeanor. If she’s not planning to come back, why… Worry about here and now, Beck. Plenty to be concerned with, even without the girl and her… unusual father.
In the shower, she relaxed. The baby moved inside her, kicking to make a point. I guess the baby likes the warm water on my skin. Hope so, anyway, as she massaged her rounded belly.
Amy knocked, then entered. Beckie, clad only in her underwear, was continuing her relaxation spread out on the bed. Her dress shirt and wool slacks hung from hangers. “Willie says about fifteen minutes,” Amy said. “The staff is setting the lunch up.” She spun on her toes. “Do I look okay?”
Beckie raised her head to examine her. “Why are you here?”
Amy dropped back, flat on her feet with her eyes wide. Might be a little fear there, too. That’s okay, we have to do this. “To help you and Willie with the client… if you take him on, and to look out for Solène.” Beckie sat all the way up and stared at her. Amy began to move, little twitchy motions. Her eyes flicked from her feet to her hands to Beckie’s eyes to the window. “I was kidding about the bars, you know that. What did I miss?”
“All those are important and good. But first and foremost, you’re here to learn about negotiation. I’m fair, and Willie’s almost that good… His expertise is in tactics, not speaking. From what I’ve seen, you have no experience outside trying to get me or your mom to allow you to do something. Or Dylan. I want you to watch everything that goes on during lunch and after. There will be a test after.”
She rolled out of the bed and looked Amy over. She had a serviceable blouse on, red and blue in color, but her skirt… Beckie hadn’t seen it before and hoped she hadn’t bought it for this trip. It looks really, really… short. In fact, Amy’s long tanned legs were displayed to perfection, and the skirt exposed almost all of them. “The outfit is okay for nightclubbing, if we do that later. But for lunch and the meeting… Did you read Ian’s notes on the client?” Amy bobbed her head a couple of times. “Conservative. Notice that? My take-away on that was they’ll want to see the color of your panties, and they’ll be uncomfortable, maybe even angry, because they do. With that skirt, they probably can, and it’ll make them even more uncomfortable.”
“Not…” Beckie’s glare sufficed, she guessed. “You’re right. I’ll change into—”
“Do you have slacks that go with the blouse? It looks nice… for sure, the outfit looks great and you have the looks to carry it, just, it’s not right for this meeting.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. That’s what you’re here to learn. I should be clear: I interpreted Ian’s notes. I could be wrong, but I want to do this deal, so better safe than sorry. I don’t wan
t to give them any reason to feel uncomfortable.”
“My legs would make someone feel uncomfortable?”
Beckie felt the sneer take hold before she could stop it. “For some people, anything that reminds them that you are female and might have sexual urges… or reminds them that they do, makes them uncomfortable.” She snickered. “Not like when you and Dylan are together, that’s for sure.”
“Thanks… I think,” Amy said, running to the door.
Beckie smiled. She’ll do. Her own shirt and pants were next, and a tiny bit of make-up, before she tied her hair back in the familiar pony-tail.
Outside, Willie was patiently waiting, engrossed in conversation with Solène. It looked to involve her handheld game device; Beckie stayed on the other side of the room and waited for Amy.
When Willie’s phone rang, he glanced at it and stood. “The clients are here. Should be two: Doctors Jones and Brody.” When Beckie made a sort of gagging sound—like I just swallowed my tongue!—Willie just laughed. “Yeah, Ian had the same reaction. I guess they watch a lot of movies… or maybe only a few! Anyway, they’re here. I’ll get them.”
The two men didn’t fit the names very well, at least from what Beckie recalled. She was sure Dr. Brody hadn’t been black, well, I guess he’s not black, just… dark. Maybe Indian? Anyway, he hadn’t been that in the movie, and asking Dr. Jones to run fifty feet would have been a fool’s errand. The man looked morbidly obese. Interesting. Is that really what I think about them? She shook hands as warmly as they did and allowed Willie to continue the introductions.
Lunch eased by. The hotel had laid an excellent selection of buffet items that would have suited the UN, and Beckie made a note to thank not only the maître d’, but Boynton for selecting the hotel in the first place. The conversation was very low key once Beckie had introduced Solène as her ward, who had no interest in their business, only food.
However, once Solène had excused herself, the tension grew faster than Beckie expected. It started benignly enough: “Mrs. Jamse,” Jones said, “please accept our sympathies in person on the loss of your husband. While not of great importance to you, undoubtedly, he was a great help to us, advising without recompense on many topics. We shall miss him severely.” Beckie knew from Ian’s notes that he had been in contact with these two for over a year, doing what he could to entice them toward a contract which, as it had turned out, would be for protection. “Our need,” the man continued, “made exigent over recent months, both before and after we agreed to this rendezvous, is for our work site to be protected.” He paused to share a look with his compatriot, who shook his head slightly. “However, we cannot divulge our location without a commitment that you will undertake to protect our site.”
