Buckeye and the Babe

by Olivia Gaines

  On the monitor, a flash of a car showed on the screen and she recognized her mother’s Mercedes. Gabriel had altered the scanning system so she could operate the gate remotely from any room in the house as well as with her phone. She pressed the button, allowing her mother’s entry, meeting her at the front door.

  “I’m sorry to just pop in, but curiosity got the better of me, and I had to see where you were living,” Constance said, stepping over the threshold. “Plus, I miss you.”

  “Mother, I was just at work yesterday,” she replied, returning the hug. “I took the day off to supervise the movers.”

  “Oh, everything has arrived,” Constance said, looking about the living room.

  “Yes, come on in, welcome. Let me make you a cup of tea.”

  “I’d love that, along with some tea cookies if you have any,” her mother added, walking about the three-bedroom home. “I don’t see your husband. Is he still at work?”

  “He is,” she said, not mentioning his work was in the other room. She knew her mother well enough to understand what this visit was about. As the kettle heated up, she went to her new office and retrieved the scrapbook she had completed of their journey just a few days ago. She’d worked extra hard on it each evening to have it ready especially for this moment.

  In the kitchen, she added her mother’s favorite loose tea to a diffuser, placing it in a teacup, not a mug, on a matching saucer, with a color-coordinated napkin, and a bit of milk. Lemon tea cookies were placed on a serving platter, accompanied by a few wedges of cheese, and grapes she drizzled with clover honey.

  Constance stirred the tea, looking at her daughter with motherly eyes. She offered a practiced smile, which meant she had questions on Cabrina’s judgment about the decision she’d made for her life. Unlike Tameka, she couldn’t slap the shit out her mother and tell her to mind her own business, but she had something better. Like the conversation with Josiah and Mary, she waited patiently for the opening to state her case.

  “Darling,” Constance started with the sympathetic look she often gave to homeless people begging her for spare change. “I just want to make sure this is what you want with this man you barely know. Honestly, how much can a sociologist with the government make?”

  “I’m happy Mother,” she said. “This home is paid for free and clear, plus I make a good amount from my online business. Once I sell my townhouse, it will add substantially to my nest egg. My car is paid for and I have more clothes than I can ever wear. My furniture is paid for so your concern for more worldly possessions is really not a point of interest for us. This feels so good to me.”

  “Every crackhead you meet will tell you they felt the same way after their first hit of the pipe, but after that, their skin starts to peel, and their teeth fall out...I’m only worried that Aisha’s disappearance made you do something drastic,” Constance said. “I know, I know, but a mother worries.”

  “Aisha is fine. She is a mother now,” Cabrina said.

  “So, you did see her. We figured you were going to find her and see for yourself,” she said. “Cabby, I know you hadn’t been dating and this man just popped up out of nowhere. A sociologist. Really, darling. He will never be able to give you the life you are accustomed to!”

  “Thank God for that!” Cabrina said. “I don’t want that life. Mother, I don’t want your life. Let me show you the life I want.”

  She opened the scrapbook that her husband had given her as a wedding present. The page opened to a photo of her and Gabriel’s wedding pictures with her bridal party, which made her mother sigh at the beautiful gown she wore. Cabrina turned the page to show photos of their dinner at Cut and the ridiculous check for the cowboy sirloin, wine, and side dishes. Each page cataloged a visual image of her adventure with Gabe, including the hypnotist show and them onstage pretending to go under the man’s suggestive plays. She turned the page.

  Constance marveled at the amount of food on their plates in Flagstaff while having lunch at Oregano’s. She cooed and fawned over the photos of her daughter riding the tram in Sandia Peak knowing her child was terrified of heights. Image after image Cabrina explained as she showed off the Cibola National Forest, the Blue Hole of Santa Rosa, and half-naked Gabe getting out of the water.

  “He is a fine-looking man and in a good shape,” Constance added, touching the blue water in the picture.

  Constance’s green eyes sparkled when she laughed at the picture of Paunch and Judy popped up on the next page in Amarillo.

  “Is that man trying to lick the colors on that nasty car?” Constance asked.

  “Yes, but that is nothing,” she said, flipped the page to reveal Paunch in the Batman cape and cowl and the life-sized sex doll with the eyes rolled up in its head and the tongue lolling to the side. Constance roared with laughter as her daughter recounted the tale with the on-the-road stalkers. The page again was flipped.

  A stop at the Clinton Presidential Library revealed a photo of Gabriel praying with the angry old man, plus a second shot of the men hugging. The next page showed them getting ribs in Memphis plus their tee shirts.

  “I’m proud of our tee shirt collection,” Cabrina said, tossing the 12-inch page in the book to the next images of her and Gabe in various tees including the loud purple ones.

  “Mother, the place even had purple milkshakes,” she told her. “Look, this is Aisha and her husband Zeke, along with their parents, Josiah and Mary. That is Michelle. She is beautiful.”

  The next image showed Cabrina holding Michelle. The loving look she gave to the child brought a tear to Constance’s eyes. Her daughter had never wanted to be married nor have kids, which is why she found the whole situation to be odd. That was until she saw the photo of her holding the baby.

  “You are going to make a great Mom,” Constance said.

  “I have no choice but to be one,” she said. “I had a great Mom myself.”

  They continued to go through the large scrapbook as she showed her mother pictures of herself on the back of an ATV, the deer that Mann was gutting, and the adorable round Nate Jr. The last pictures in the book were of her and DeShondra, along with Isiah, having lunch. A picture of passed-out Gabe on the couch made Constance chuckle. The very last images in the book were of the women at the kitchen table for Sunday scriptures as well as one of Cabrina and her parents having dinner with her new husband. She closed the book with a sigh.

  “Mom, if he gave me all of that in ten days, imagine the life I am going to live in the next ten years,” she said tearing up.

  “I am so happy for you, Darling,” Constance said. “You are going to have a great life.”

  Of that, Cabrina had no doubt. Gabriel Neary was flawed, a food addict and a minister with a mission unlike any she’d ever known. His boss, Lester Holtman, had been to the house to introduce himself and gave her the official code name of “the babe.” He wished them a happy life and explained how critical the work Gabriel did was to the nation’s security. She too would be given a stipend to become his confidential informant and second set of eyes once her business opened.

  Their life would be unorthodox, slightly disorderly and next week, her husband was going to teach her how to shoot a gun. She never knew when it may come in handy, but the one thing she did know was that whenever the time came and the government called them into action, Cabrina would be ready. To the remainder of the world, she was Cabrina Neary and he was Pastor Gabe Neary. However, to the CIA, they were known as Buckeye and the Babe.

  “This is going to be an amazing life,” she said with a smile. Her mother believed her because the scrapbook was proof.

  “Hey, what is up with that numbskull friend of yours, DeShondra? She is going to be the last one to get a man and settle down,” Constance said.

  “Mother, you will not even start to believe what I’m going to tell you next,” Cabrina said, grinning at the story she prepared to share about Gabriel’s brother, nicknamed Bleu, his grass, and the penchant the man had for Bourbon.

&
nbsp; - Fin -

  Enjoyed the story? Don’t forget to leave a review. Here are some questions that may help you get started.

  Book Club Questions:

  Why do you think Cabrina didn’t explain to her parents what Gabriel did for a living?

  Did you get a sense of how controlling her parents were of her and Aisha’s life?

  The fight between them was long overdue, but did you feel Tameka was justified in hitting Cabrina?

  Do you feel that Cabrina should have heeded Gabriel’s warning about Paunch and Judy?

  Did you get a better understanding of Gabriel’s ministry?

  Zeke’s breakdown was also long overdue. How did you feel about the way Gabriel comforted his brother?

  Bleu, Grass, and Bourbon

  Chapter 1- Counting It Down

  The paperwork sat in his hand like a twenty-ton weight. It took less time than he’d imagined for the transfer from the London field office to Louisville, Kentucky to come through. Ten years he’d spent working in the muck, getting dirtier than he’d desired, dealing with the filthiest in human nature. He was sick of it all. The idea of a nine to five sitting behind a desk would be a welcome change. He was uncertain how his lady love would take the news of him moving so close to her could play out, but he didn’t care. It was time for a change and he was ready for what was coming next, even if she hadn’t called to officially tell him the life-changing news. In his soul, he already knew. In preparation, he instructed his brother Gabriel, who was also his silent partner, to find a new home for him in Louisville to suit his needs. Whether he’d gotten the job or not, he was still planning to move.

  He opened the envelope, looking at the papers charting the new course for his life. There were three positions available in Louisville. One was in the warehouse, counting containers and taking inventory of confiscated weapons, drugs, and moonshine. The second was in Industry Operations as the assistant director ensuring that all firearms and explosives were handled and stored in a safe manner. The third job put him on the road at least twelve days out of the month. That one he didn’t want.

  Opening the manila envelope, he sighed as he saw the words “Congratulations Assistant Director.”

  Good. A desk job. Management. Pay increase. Solid hours. A regular life. He would need that with what was coming down the pike.

  “Suit up,” Stoli Manchester called out. “We got a lead on the Faulks.”

  “What is the intel?” Isiah Neary asked the Special Agent in Charge, John Ramos. The very last thing he wanted to contend with before departing the London offices was a week in the mud watching pickup trucks go in and out of barns in the woods. The chiggers, ticks, and mosquitos alone were the neighborhood welcoming committee and he was done with all of it.

  “The Faulks are moving a shipment of AR15s, C4, meth, and some pretty nasty shit in the next week. We have to get boots on the ground, surveillance in place, and a course of action to stop that truck and bring these dogs to heal,” Ramos said.

  “When do we leave?” Isiah asked.

  “In 30,” Ramos said. “Grab the essentials, be in the truck and ready to move.”

  Isiah knew the drill. His rucksack was always packed with fresh clothing, his favorite coffee, and a snuggly blanket for the extremely cold nights which were inevitable. He also carried a small bottle of his favorite Bourbon to take a sip of when the mission had ended and everyone on his team was packed up and ready to come home. They always came home. This trip would be no different. I am coming home. He looked down at the manila envelope.

  The paper felt heavy. The equipment felt heavy and even the phone in his pocket seemed to weigh him down. Before each mission, he made a habit of calling his father, telling his mother he loved her and touching base with his brothers. Today was no exception.

  He held the device in his hand, looking at the screen, wanting in his heart to make one other call, but fear held him steady. To his surprise, the person he wanted to call was calling him. Inhaling deeply, he slid a thick, callused finger across the screen, starting the call.

  “Go,” he said into the line, trying not to draw any attention to himself.

  “Isiah?” DeShondra Leman said into the phone.

  “Yeap, I hear you. Go,” he said again.

  “I assume by your brusque tone that you are in a room and unable to speak to me,” she said.

  “Affirmative,” he said, his heart thudding in his chest at the sound of her voice.

  “I was hoping we could get together and talk,” she said softly.

  “I am headed out for a week and won’t be back for seven to ten days at a minimum. It is a risky mission, so speak while I can hear you,” he told her.

  DeShondra needed to speak with him face to face. She didn’t wish to discuss such delicate matters with him over the phone. Her hesitation wasn’t something he had time for at the moment, but she needed a bit of comfort so he did what he could surrounded by nosey ears.

  “Baby, tell me what you need to me know. I’m out of time here and have to roll out,” Isiah said in hushed tones, trying to add a hint of affection to the call so he didn’t sound like the designated asshole.

  “I don’t want to discuss this over the phone,” she said.

  “Speak. I have to leave in less than seven minutes,” he firmly stated.

  Inhaling deeply, she wanted to phrase it just right, but she’d never been one to beat a dead squirrel after she’d poisoned it in the backyard.

  “The rabbit died,” she blurted out.

  “Okay,” he replied.

  “You do know what that means correct?”

  “Yep, but ain’t nothing I can do about it right now,” he said, watching Ramos circle his hand overhead for the team to rally around him. “I’ll be back in a week. We can talk then.”

  “Isiah, I don’t know how to handle the news let alone your reaction to it. I am full of hormones and emotions, and quite honestly, a little scared,” she told him.

  “Understandable, but at the time we were making our decision to take the risk, do you remember my words to you,” Isiah asked her.

  “Yes. You said that if this day came, you would be here for us both,” she replied.

  “My words have not changed,” he said. “I’m out of time. We will talk when I return.”

  “Sure,” she said, her voice laced with disappointment at his reaction to the news. What did I expect, him to start passing cigars out in the office? I don’t know what to expect myself.

  “Do you know what it is yet?”

  “No, it’s too soon,” she said.

  “I want a boy, but if it’s not, I guess I will learn to sit through tea parties and how to do hair. Chin up, we’ll talk soon,” he said, clicking off the line.

  His heart was thumping in his chest like he’d taken a fresh hit of cocaine. His vision was shadowy, and he felt his way down the hall he’d come in and out of for ten years. He dreaded the same run into the hills to a dirty cabin filled with men with bad aim who left lemonade all over the toilet seat. The week would be full of crappy food, poor conversations on improper ways to handle a vagina, and of course, right-wing mini militias who purchased millions of dollars of weapons and contraband. He’d been on this Ferris wheel one time too many and he was ready to throw up.

  While he loaded his gear into the back of the Suburban, the papers were left on Ramos’ desk. He’d give his notice when they got back and pack his few items and prepare to head to Louisville to start a new life. An uncharacteristic smile covered his bearded face. “I’m going to be somebody’s Daddy!”

  He needed to call the Arch Angel before he rolled out. He had measures in place in case anything was to ever happen to him, but this was a new entry into his journal of life. His heart was still thudding as fear gripped him. Isiah Neary needed a moment.

  “Ramos, I need two minutes,” he said, opening the back door.

  “Make it fast, Neary,” Ramos called back.

  He punched in the number, calling his
brother, who answered immediately. There was a great deal to tell him but he only had the two minutes. Gabriel needed to know about the changes coming up in his life.

  “Hey,” Gabriel said.

  “Hey back,” Isiah paused. “A couple of things. The paperwork came through and so did that phone call we discussed in Vegas.”

  “Oh really? What’s the plan?”

  “I am headed out for seven to ten days on an op, and I don’t have all my ducks in a row, you know, with the house in Louisville and small matters. I just wanted to make sure that you had my Power of Attorney in case, you know, the shit goes South,” Isiah said.

  “Everything is in order,” Gabe replied.

  “If...you make sure they are taken care of all the way through,” Isiah said. “Also, get me addresses and basic info. I know you found three farmhouses, I need at least four bedrooms.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to you, Bleu,” he told him. “Stop being so full of gloom and doom. We have work to do. I put in an offer on the big white house in Louisville. I should hear back in a day or so.”

  “Gabe, I have to think differently now. I’m going to be somebody’s Daddy,” Isiah said.

  “Congrats! Call me when you get back,” Gabe said.

  “Neary, we are rolling now!” Ramos called out.

  “Moving!” Isiah said, climbing back in the vehicle. He disconnected the call to his brother, covering his mouth with his hand. The smile he had to hide. A promotion. A new baby. A good woman that talked way too much, and a new chapter all in one day.

  Yeah, a little farm just outside of town with a fish pond, loads of Kentucky bluegrass, and a room for my Bourbon collection. No toys in Daddy’s Bourbon room, though. A different kind of adrenalin pumped through him, but right now, his head needed to be in the game and not on DeShondra Leman.