Devlin's Defiance: Book Two of the Devlin Quatrology

by Jake Devlin

  Three of the Incontinentals were clustered by the stairs up to the restrooms and the relocated showers, Millie, Fran and Alvina were holding down (as their combined 957-pound weight easily could) their part of the beach, and seven of the Beach Potatoes were gathered in their usual spot, chatting and laughing and reading. Alice and three members of the Hat Squad were not in the water, but sitting in a tight circle of beach chairs, trading disapproving and often downright nasty comments about the younger retirees (“Whippersnappers” was Alice's word) who were invading their beach, some as young as 52.

  Gordy was lying comfortably on his PVC lounge, smoking and looking through a sheaf of papers, making notes occasionally, often chuckling, sometimes frowning and crossing out several lines of the text. Hanging off the head end of his lounge was a T-shirt that said, “BE CAREFUL! You might wind up in my next novel.”

  As he pinched the final ash off his little cigar and put the butt in the empty pack in his bag, a pretty 50-ish brunette approached him. She was vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't pull her name out of his memory. So he just smiled and nodded.

  “Hi, Gordy. I met you last week,” she said, leaning her beach chair against the side of his lounge. “Oh, is that okay?”

  “Sure, fine. And I'm sorry; I've blanked on your name.”

  “Dallas.”

  “Dallas, right; I'm sorry.”

  “No problem. We had the conversation about grazing and orgasms with your girlfriend. Rosemary, was it?”

  “Yeah, but she's not my girlfriend; we're just friends.”

  “Oh; okay. Anyhow, she talked me into getting your book, and I did and I've read it. Would you sign it for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Dallas pulled a copy out of her bag and Gordy signed it: “To Dallas, Enjoy, Think & Smile. Jake Devlin, 11-18-12.”

  “I remember now. Rosemary said you're a writer, too.”

  “Yeah; I do romance novels, much different genre from yours.”

  “I think she said it was erotic fiction.”

  Dallas laughed, “Yeah; we call it 'mommy porn.'”

  Gordy chuckled. “I think I've heard that somewhere.”

  “It got popularized with that author with the blockbuster trilogy earlier this year.”

  “Oh, right, right. I think I remember now. But I'm afraid I haven't read anything in that genre. Sorry.”

  “Don't be; you're not in our target demographic.”

  “Doing okay with it?”

  “I think so. Managed to give up my day job a few years ago.”

  “Oh, bravo. I bow down to you,” he said, giving her a tip-of-the- hat gesture. She chuckled.

  “Thanks. But I think I'm working harder now than I did back then.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “Too much promotion, too little writing time.”

  “D'you write under your own name or a pseudonym?”

  “A pseudonym, just one name: Dallas.”

  “But your real name is Dallas?”

  “Actually, it's Debbie.”

  Gordy raised an eyebrow. “Your last name isn't Jackson, is it?”

  “Nope. Oh, right. That made me laugh.”

  “I apologize for using it that way.”

  “Oh, no problem. She's like a lot of characters in my books.”

  “Skanky?”

  “Not that so much, just sexual and a bit trampy.”

  “Oh, wait; I just remembered something else, and I think I owe you another apology.”

  “For what?”

  “For my joke about the batteries.”

  “Oh,” she said, laughing her deep belly laugh, “not a problem at all. I use them all the time.”

  “You mean in your books?”

  “Oh, there, too,” she said, smiling.

  “Oh,” was all Gordy could come up with.

  “Really, no prob- – oh, am I embarrassing you?”

  “No, no, no – well, maybe a little bit.”

  “You haven't met too many women who are so open about sex, have you?”

  “Uh, I – not really.”

  “Well, I have to be to write about it. And I could tell from your sex scenes that you were a little embarrassed about writing them.”

  “I – well, I was thinking about my target audience.”

  “For the political stuff?”

  “Sort of, but also the older folks down here. Average age, average temperature, same number.”

  “You did tone the sex down a lot more than I would have.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah, like in the shower scene, after Jake joined Pam in the shower, you just wrote, 'A minute later, he joined her in the shower.'”

  “Well, it was sorta obvious what was going on, wasn't it?”

  “Yeah, shower sex.”

  “So the reader could fill in the blanks … at least the ones with some imagination, right?”

  “Yeah. But if I were writing that, I'd have written something like this: 'She looked deeply into his eyes and saw his intense desire. Then, glancing down, she gently but firmly grasped his swollen, throbbing member and guided it into her quivering, quavering moistness, thrilling to the electric ecstasy that convulsed her entire body. Pulling him deeper and deeper into the very depths of her being, she'” --

  “Wait, wait, Dallas. Where'd you come up with that?”

  “Ah, it's just boilerplate. It's in our writer's guide.”

  “You have a writer's guide?”

  “Of course. That's why all romance novels sound the same. In fact, if an author deviates too far from the guide, the Board punishes her severely. They usually demote the deviators to writing clopfic.”

  “To writing – wait, what? You have a board?”

  “Of course, and with a capital B, Board, the Board Of Romance Novelists. You've never heard of it?”

  “No, never.”

  “Ever heard the phrase 'born writer'?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, that's actually 'BORN writer.'”

  “What's the difference?”

  “Oh, right; ears. It's all caps.”

  “Uh – um – oh; got it.”

  “Don't you guys have a board?”

  “I have no idea. I just started writing and kept at it until it was done.”

  “Wow. No Board. Hard to believe,” Dallas muttered, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Then, apparently talking more to herself than to Gordy, she whispered, “Oh, what freedom! How I wish I – sorry, Gordy; never mind.”

  “Hmm. Wonder if” – he paused.

  “Wonder if what?”

  “Just thinking out loud. Maybe later.”

  “Okay. But I have a question about your plot.”

  “Sure. Shoot.”

  “Did Pam and JJ and Jake actually have their three-way?”

  Gordy smiled enigmatically. “Writer to writer, I deliberately left that open.”

  “Kind of a tease?”

  “Sorta, yeah. But mainly it was because I wasn't sure I could even write a scene like that, and I wasn't sure if my target audience could handle it. Maybe I could put one in the sequel.”

  “Oh, it's a piece of cake to write those kinds of scenes; I've done hundreds of 'em. And just between you and me, a lot of those don't use the BORN boilerplates, so I can't even publish them.”

  “Oh, too bad.”

  “Yeah. Some of 'em are so good, anybody reading 'em should go into an almost immediate orgasm – well, any woman, at least.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Wanna read one?”

  “Sure. When?”

  “Now, if you want to. I always carry a few with me, just to do some editing when I can.”

  “I'd love to, and now is fine; I'm here for the day, got some people coming by about 3:30, but other than that, I'm clear.”

  “And I'm good for half an hour; got an appointment at noon.”

  “Oh, geez; I'm sorry. You want to sit down? I should have asked you sooner.”
<
br />   “Sure, and no problem.”

  She flipped her beach chair open and set it down beside his lounge, near his feet, facing him. “Is here okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Okay. Lemme see.” She pulled a thick folder out of her bag and thumbed through the papers inside.

  “Ah, here's one. It's a three-way, one guy, two girls. Try that.” She handed it to Gordy with a sly smile, and he lay back and started reading.

  - 41 -

  November 18, 2012

  1:06 p.m. local time

  Auckland, New Zealand

  She picked up the satphone and heard an electronically distorted voice on the other end.

  “Congratulations, Kim Li. Amber tells me you and Derek did an exceptional job in Malaysia.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And I heard it was your knowledge of the culture that helped in pointing the investigators, press and all the triads just where the client wanted them looking.”

  “I guess so, sir.”

  “You guess so?”

  “No, I – I mean yes, sir, it was.”

  “Using the I Ching was a brilliant stroke. Was that your idea?”

  “Yes, sir, but only after Derek messed up and broke one of the chopsticks while he was poking it into his ear. I suggested that he break one of the four in the eyes and nostrils, too. So instead of just six possible hexagrams, that multiplied it to fifteen. I'll bet that'll keep everybody over there confused for a long time.”

  “And you and Derek got away clean, of course.”

  “Of course. The guns and silencers we used on the bodyguards will tie back to gang executions by another triad when they're found. We dropped them near the bodies right after we hit the target and dragged his body into the van for the chopsticks and the carving and the final dropoff. Took the van back to the parking lot of the restaurant; I don't think they'll even know it was gone for two hours.

  “And the documents Lolli produced got us out of the country with no problems, so Derek and I are having a quick holiday here before he goes back to his husband in Charlotte and I go on to Perth. And I'd like it if you'd give half my fee to Lolli; she did a super rush job.”

  “Ah, you don't need to do that, Kim Li; she's well compensated.”

  “Everybody can use an extra five mil. And I certainly don't need it.”

  “Tell you what. I'll ask her if she's okay with that, and if she is, which I doubt, we'll do that for you. But if not, you could give it to some charity, like maybe a micro-loan program somewhere.”

  “Okay. But let me know when you've got another job for me, maybe something trickier, more challenging?”

  “I'll keep you in mind. But keep checking the web site, too.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  “And enjoy your holiday in Perth.”

  “Right-oh, mate.”

  “And you'd best work on that accent.”

  “That was pathetic, wasn't it?”

  “God, yeah. Have fun and stay in touch.”

  - 42 -

  November 18, 2012

  11:27 a.m. local time

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  “Oh, my god, Dallas, that's incredible. But I gotta get in the water before I read any more.”

  “I noticed,” she said with a knowing smile. “Maybe you just need a looser swim suit.”

  “You may be right.”

  He climbed out of his lounge and headed quickly into the chilly Gulf water. Dallas followed, smiling to herself.

  “Ohhh, that's cold!”

  “Just what the doctor ordered,” she replied, still smiling behind Gordy's back. As he turned around, waist-deep in the water, she hid the smile and let her face go blank.

  “Now, this is what I call religious water,” he said.

  “Religious water?”

  “Yup. When people get in, a lot of of 'em holler 'Jesus Christ!'”

  Dallas laughed.

  “And when it gets colder, it's snowbird water, then tourist water, Canadian water and finally German water; they'll go in no matter how cold it is.”

  Dallas kept laughing.

  A few minutes later, Gordy said, “Okay; now I'm getting really cold.”

  “Ready to get outa the water?” Dallas asked, arching an eyebrow and smiling.

  “I think so, but I think I'll put on my overshorts before I read any more of that.”

  Dallas frowned slightly, but then smiled and said, “Good idea.”

  Moments later, Gordy settled back onto his lounge, overshorts in place, papers in hand, and dug back into his reading. Occasionally chuckling, occasionally pursing his lips, occasionally glancing at Dallas, occasionally wrinkling his brow and often squirming on his lounge, he finally finished, sat up, squirmed once more and handed the papers back to Dallas.

  “Wow. That's incredibly, uh, graphic. You do write well.”

  “Thanks. But is that sort of what you were thinking about?”

  “Pretty close, but maybe without the goat.”

  “Oh, geez; forgot that was in there. Easy to edit that out.”

  “But I don't have the – oh, what's the word?”

  “Balls?”

  Gordy looked at her, eyebrows raised, and said, “Well, that, too, but I was thinking more of the writing skills in that genre, some word like that. Like maybe talent?”

  “Or maybe experience?”

  Gordy's eyebrows shot up again. “Or that.”

  “They say, 'Write what you know,' you know.”

  “I know. Maybe that's it.”

  “Look, while you've been reading, I've been thinking. If you'd like to use that piece or something like it, one I could probably do in a couple of hours, or maybe we could even write one together, I'd be happy to do that, as long as I can stay anonymous.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  “Yup, really. And no cost.”

  “Wow. What can I say?”

  “How about 'Yes, thank you,' and 'I'd like that'?”

  “Okay. Yes, thank you; I'd like that.”

  Dallas held out her hand and Gordy took it.

  “Deal,” Dallas said, smiling and picking up her beach chair. “We'll work out the details. Here's my number; call me.”

  “I'll owe you. Thanks.”

  “We'll work that out sometime.”

  “You are a born writer – the word, not the acronym.”

  “Thanks. Glad I don't write police stuff. Then I'd be under the jurisdiction of the Commission on Police Stories, and they keep their writers much more under their thumb. Much worse penalties than writing clopfic.”

  “What? Reading it?”

  Dallas laughed heartily and said, “You may be right, Gordy,” and headed off to her appointment.

  - 43 -

  November 18, 2012

  11:39 a.m. local time

  Aboard Defiance

  In the Gulf of Aden

  “So how can it be a bad thing?”

  “Simple economics. When demand outstrips supply, either prices have to go up or there are shortages. So when it comes down to our business, we've got only a limited number of qualified people, and with all the new demand for our services, we're getting close to having to turn down new jobs or put dufuses like Derek in and hope they don't screw up.”

  “At least you gave him backup. Uh, what was her name again?”

  “Kim Li.”

  “They got the job done, didn't they?”

  “Yeah, with just a minor screwup. But he really messed up in Manila last month, and one of our best operatives got shot. Luckily, it was just a flesh wound in her shoulder, but she'll be out of commission for at least three more months.”

  “That's about right. When I got shot, it took me out for five solid months, and that was a shoulder wound, too.”

  He leaned over and kissed her scar. “That had to be a tough five months.”

  “Hated it. I got so antsy to be back out in the field, and I had to fight really hard to avoid getting addicted to the pa
inkillers they kept forcing into me.”

  “Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.”

  “This one?” She reached down and ran her fingertips along the scar on his left thigh. “The one you told me you got from an umbrella on the beach?”

  “You saw through that, didn't you?”

  “Yeah, I knew it had to be from a knife, but I didn't call you on that then.”

  “But I knew you knew how flimsy a story that was.”

  “Really? I thought you thought you got away with it.”

  “No, I knew you knew.”

  “You sure didn't show it.”

  “Training and experience, kiddo, training and experience.”

  “I bow to your training and experience, old man.”

  “And I to yours, Pam.”

  “Even though you knew I knew.”

  “Even though I knew you knew.”

  “So how did you get that scar?”

  “Sydney, '72. Long story; another time, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Ah, that sun feels good.”

  “And no tan lines. I'm glad you thought of this.”

  “Had it built for a sheik who leased the boat for a couple of months back in 2010. He wanted a place where he could have his harem sunbathe without the crew ogling, and right above the bridge here was the obvious spot to put it.”

  “Well, I love it.”

  “So did JJ.”

  Pam chuckled. “Yeah, she liked standing up and showing off for the crew.”

  “Yeah, she sure did. It helped with morale, that's for sure.”

  Pam laughed. “I know.”

  “So did she.”

  “Yeah.” Pam sighed. “I kinda miss her already.”

  “Me, too; she sure livened things up, didn't she?”

  “Yup, and she always did, even back when we were teens.” She lay back and sighed again.

  After a moment, Jake said, “I think maybe we're both getting a little antsy just cruising around waiting for another attack. Think you're ready to get started on your memoirs?”

  “I'm not sure; I guess so. But we'll have to be careful not to get into any classified stuff.”

  “Right. No rush, no pressure. But it should help fill the time.”

  “Yeah, it would do that. Tell you what; I'll get started making up some notes.”