Holding the Tiger's Tail (closed for Nina)

[Fish_Tales]

Holding the Tiger's Tail (closed for Nina)

He lit a match and the room brightened. The match burned and its flickering light bounced on the walls, the flame swaying from the draft. The match kept burning down till it was almost at his fingers and then he dropped it to the floor.

“Endiki,” he said. “Switch the light on.”

The light in the room came on. It was a bulb hanging from a twisted wire and it too was swinging in the draft. He'd replaced the battery a few days ago, but he didn't know howlong it would last. The room was just a shed with four corrugated iron walls. It wasn’t much bigger than a tool shed, but much hotter. Everything was much hotter in Africa. In the centre of the room there was a large black man tied to a wooden chair. His shirt was stained in sweat and his fat body strained against the ropes holding him in the chair. He looked at the man with the matches.

“Please, I can give you whatever you like. Any money. Women. Gold. Anything. Let me go,” he cried. “Please…”

He sobbed. There were tears running down his fat cheeks and the snot from his large nose was running onto his upper lip.

The other man looked at him impassively. There were no emotions on his face. The only thing on his face was short stubble, only slightly shorter than his hair. He was white, but he knew Africa was not a place for long hair. Too many things could get into it or too many things could use it.

To capture you.

To hold you.

He knew Africa.

He raised his hand to silence the fat man.

Fucking bullies. Always cry when you catch them.

“Shut…. The Fuck…. Up…. Cunt.”

The fat man looked shocked. He was not used to being spoken to like this. He was the Defence Minister of the piss ant government of a piss ant country. But he was rich. Very rich. His wealth flowed from the blood and tears of his countrymen. He knew his debt was about to be repaid and if he didn’t do something, the repayment plan wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Please,sir…please…” cried the fat man again.

“Shut up!” yelled the other man.

He wasn’t big, but he wasn’t small. He just was. He looked like he was strong. In his case, you could judge a book by its cover.

He turned his head and nodded to the three black men he had brought with him. They were thin and dark, almost purplish black. They were Kawigi, the tribe that had been persecuted by the fat man’s regime. They came forward. They were scared. They couldn’t believe that the Devil they had feared was sitting in the chair in front of them, tied up, crying and begging for his life. How often had their people done this for themselves? How often had they seen others do it? Only to be shot or hacked to death and then their own forced to bury them in mass graves. That’s why they had gone to the white man.

The man who could do anything.

The Fixer.

Jack Kelly.

They had put together all the money they had. They had known it was not enough for Kelly. The person who had told them about him had also advised them of his minimum fee and it wasn’t even close, but they had scraped it together and naively sent it to him. Across the ocean. Five thousand Zimbas. To them it was a fortune, the savings of their whole tribe. It wasn’t even five hundred dollars of Kelly’s money. For them, it was their life and their dreams. But they had no choice. They had to try.

For them.

For their people.

For their children.

Or else there would be nothing to live for.

Nothing….

Kelly had come. He had lived with them, spoken with them and he had watched their tears. For three days he had been with them and even for the bush men attuned to the rhythm of life, both human and animal, he had been inscrutable. They didn’t even know if this man felt anything, if he cared. All he did was ask questions, listen to the answers and take notes. One morning, he was gone. He had just left without warning, leaving behind no message. These three men standing in the room with him now had been admonished by their elders, by their tribe’s people and by their families.

How could you have been so foolish? Now we have nothing.

Nothing….

Then, weeks after he had disappeared, the media started to report from the capital on assassinations of government officials and ministers. There was a bombing here, a shooting there. The whole country was in a state of emergency and the Defence Minister, the same one sitting here with snot running out of his nose, had been on all the media warning that the perpetrators would be caught and dealt with in the most brutal manner.

Of course, any Defence Minister worth his salt would think he was safe as he had the full protection and backing of the Police Force and the military services. Jack Kelly knew that. When people think they’re safe, they get lazy. They forget things. They continue to visit their lairs. Their fun places.

Their women.

Kelly had visited a woman. A beautiful woman. She was Kawigi and had been taken from her family and brought to the city to be the plaything of a killer. She had told him exactly everything he needed to know about the Defence Minister. He’d found her family and she was now safely back with them.

One day, when the Defence Minister had gone to visit his woman, she hadn’t been there. Neither had her guards. The fat man had gone in expecting sex, except he got Kelly and he wasn’t in a romantic mood. The only butt he had on offer was the butt of a pistol. The fat man had cried for help, but there was no one. For once in his murderous life, he could do nothing.

Nothing….

Kelly had gone back to the Kawigi, back to Endiki, the leader of the men who had decided that enough was enough. He'd said he needed to see them. Now, Endiki and two of his people stood here with the manifestation of their Devil in front of them, tears rolling down his cheeks and snot running out of his nose.

And Kelly.

Endiki was the tallest of the men and he took two strides and crossed the dusty floor to stand next to Kelly. He was taller than Kelly’s six foot. He stood so that Kelly was between him and the Defence Minister. Even as helpless as he was, the tyrant’s years of terror still caused him to be scared. Even when he was crying.

Pleading.

Begging.

“Sir, said Endiki, “what do we do now?”

Kelly looked to the fat man and then back to his client.

“I guess that’s up to you,” he said. “I know what I’d be doing.”

Endiki looked at him innocently, his eyes betraying nothing.

“You mean imprison him?”

Kelly laughed.

“Look at the size of him. Your people couldn’t afford to feed this fat fucker.”

Endiki stepped back a little, surprised by Kelly’s laughter and his language. The white man had always confused him even though he had seemed empathetic.

“Sir, that is all we can do. We cannot kill him, we are not like that.”

“You may not be,” he said, looking Endiki directly in the eye, “but it wouldn’t be wise to keep this man alive. It will give his supporters hope, a reason to fight. Also, I don’t think there’s much of a market for psychopathic murders with an interest in genocide.”

Kelly took a gun out of his pants. The Defence Minister started to wail loudly again.

“Please…sir….please…whatever you want….please…….”

Kelly looked at Endiki and rolled his eyes.

“As if,” he said loudly so that the Defence Minister could hear him, “I wouldn’t waste a bullet. Too quick.”

He turned back to the Defence Minister.

“How many Kawigi have you killed?” he said softly. “How many?”

“Sir, please…” cried the fat man. He was totally blubbering now. He had no shame. He wanted to live. Not like the people he’d murdered. Bullies were always like that.

Kelly knew.

“How…Fucking…Many?” yelled Kelly, the veins on the side of his neck sticking out.

Endiki took a step back. He was not used to this and there was still a fear of the Defence Minister.

“Sir, it was all for the country, sir…”

“Fuck me, I just want a straight answer. How many people did you kill?”

The fat man just wanted to please him now. To say anything that might bring him favour. Maybe save him. There was nothing to lose.

Nothing….

“I don’t know,” he cried, sniffling between breaths, “maybe thousands.”

Kelly put the gun back in his pants. He’d forgotten he’d been holding it. He held out his hand.

“Endiki, give me your knife please,” he said calmly. All of the tribesmen carried knives.

Big knives.

He heard Endiki unsheathe his knife and then he felt the handle in his hand. He looked at it. It was a big knife alright and its edge had been sharpened hundreds of times. It had probably cut the throat of hundreds of antelope, warthogs and many other animals. Today it was for the Devil.

For a big man.

A fat man.

A murderer.

“I think I’ll have to do the maths for you,” he said, just holding the knife casually. “In 1997, there were 1.6 million Kawigi in this country. Now, fifteen years later, there are just over seven hundred thousand of them.”

The Defence Minister was shaking his head with his eyes closed, tears pouring from under his closed eyelids. He was straining against his ropes, but there was nothing he could do.

Nothing….

Kelly walked closer to him and continued.

“So that means you’ve killed nine hundred thousand people in less than fifteen years,” he said. “Nine hundred thousand innocent people, whose only crime was to be born to a different tribe.”

Kelly was tossing the knife casually in the air and catching it by the handle. He liked that trick. Do it wrong and…. but Kelly never got it wrong. He kept walking towards the Defence Minister strapped to his chair. He was now only a few feet from the fat man.

He stopped.

“You said you had something you could give me,” he said. “Tell me.”

He stood in front of the sobbing fat man, looking at the knife. First one side of the blade, then the other.

Big fucking knife.

“Money….I have money,” he blubbered. “And gold. I have lot….of gold.”

Kelly nodded.

“That’s good,” he said. “Very good. How do I get it? It’s all in Switzerland.”

The fat man could see a chance. He regained some of his composure. He could see a chance. A small chance, but a chance nonetheless.

“I can wire it to you,” he said, his crying abating. “I can send it to your account.”

Kelly paused, as if in thought.

“Mmmmm. We can do it now. I need the account number.”

“I have it here,” the fat man said, some of his confidence returning. “In my head.”

Kelly nodded again. He looked like he was thinking.

“Ok.”

Kelly reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He pressed a couple of buttons and the screen came up onto the website of a bank. He typed in an alphanumeric string and then an account came up.

Kawigi Rebuilding Fund.

He smiled.

At least the office had set that up right. They’d been fucking up a lot lately. His helicopter better be there when this was finished….

Don't fuck up the helicopter.

Then he opened another website on his computer. This one was for a Swiss bank.

“Ok,” he said to the fat man. “Your account number and password.”

The fat man gave him the number.

“And the password?” said Kelly.

“Ungawa simba.”

Kelly smiled.

Let’s go lion.

How appropriate.

Kelly punched in the number and password and watched as the fat man’s account opened up. He watched as the details came up and he whistled. Two hundred and sixty five million dollars. The wages of genocide. Two hundred and sixty five million dollars would go a long way to helping Endiki and his people.

He smiled again to himself.

Two hundred and sixty four million dollars.

He pressed some more buttons and watched the screen as he transferred most of the money to the Kawigi Rebuilding Fund. When that was done, he transferred a million to another account.

His.

The website asked if he was sure as the fat man’s account would be closed if it was emptied.

Never been surer.

He pressed a button to continue the transaction and it was over in seconds. He left the browser window open on the Kawigi Rebuilding Fund account and then threw the phone to Endiki.

“Look at the screen, Endiki. That’s what you and your people have now. You’ll have more soon. I’m sure this government is ready to fall over and I’m sure you’re going to help it fall over. Then you will own everything again.” He paused. “Your people.”

Endiki looked at the screen and a single tear started to roll down his cheek. It was the first tear of happiness he had shed for many years, maybe ever. Kelly wondered how he even had any tears left to shed.

“Sir,” he said, “we can never repay you for this. Money can never repay what you have done.”

Kelly winced. This was the hardest part of his job. The gratitude. The emotion. He had done this many times, but he still found it hard.

He raised his hand and shook his head.

“The best way to repay me, Endiki, is to free your people and look after them. It’s going to take a long time, but from what I’ve seen of you and of them, you can do it.”

He smirked at Endiki.

“Not saying I don’t like your country, but I don’t want to be coming back in a hurry, so make sure you get it right.”

The tall black man understood. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”

Kelly turned back to the fat man. He’d stopped crying and the heat had already caused the dry snot to form a dry crust on his upper lip. He looked at the knife in his hand and then at the fat man. He shook his head and held out the knife with his arm extended. Endiki reached out and took it back. A loud exhalation of breath came from the fat man. He’d been holding it, waiting.

“Now,” Kelly said, talking to Endiki, but keeping his eye on the fat man. “I have one final problem to clean up and we’re done.”

He reached into his pants and pulled out the gun. He watched the fat man’s bottom lip start to quiver.

“But you said….” he started to say.

Kelly cut him off.

“Shut up!” he shouted. Then in a softer tone he said, “Endiki, you might want to go outside for a while.”

The tall black man nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Endiki and his two silent companions walked out of the door. When the door shut, Kelly turned back to the Defence Minister.

“No…. this is not right,” cried the fat man, “I gave you everything you wanted….no….please….”

Kelly pulled the slide on his gun. His face was impassive. This was another part of the job he didn’t like, but it had to be done.

“Not quite everything,” he said softly.

Endiki and his two companions stood outside the shed in the heat. The flies were buzzing around and they could see the vultures in the distance.

The loud shot from inside the shed startled them.

Now there was one less vulture.

And the others could eat.

[Nina327]

Imagery, flashes and bits of all kinds mixed with sounds. Sometimes they correlated and sometimes they didn't. They slipped and merged. Dreams were like that. Some vague echos of time past, dreams dreamed and life echoed itself in untold copulations of perception, merit and value.

Little tiny fingers touched her throat, her pulse. She brushed them away. A small voice, mature, female, heavily accented filtered in through her dreams. “Miss...? Miss Mia...? Are you ok?” She grabbed her pillow and plopped it over her face completely muffling herself. “Sleep... go way... mmm fine....”

Dreams and colors, sand an sky. Fragments of trees and rocks and water all speeding faster. Grass... she could smell the dirt and the grass in her sleep. And the pine. Always. She hated this part of the dream. It lasted so long and hurt so much.

“Miss Mia?”....

“No... go away...” her voice whimpered as she buried herself under the thick blankets. More dreams, she wished she could sleep without them. Horses without riders, chains and cages. The taste of dirt... the taste of meat, of salt, of copper, of men and women and animals; camels, dogs, boar, squirrels, bats, meal worms, crickets, cows, pigs, phesant... the taste of clover warm in the sun. She could feel the sun. Smell how it warmed the ground.

A little shake. “Miss Mia... Are?.......... Please be ok.”

“Five more minutes...........”

People, pictures frozen in time though they still moved without moving. Priests, Pharaohs, Kings, Queens, Dictators, Emperors, Chiefs, Leaders, Followers, Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, Brothers, Husbands, Wives, Siblings, friends and enemies. People. Guards, Soldiers, Footmen, Slaves, Couriers, Bakers, Blacksmiths, Policemen, Doctors, Nurses, Children, Sales clerks, Typists, Farmers, tree hugging eco freaks..... at least now they are thinking of the earth. People.

Shifting sand and bare feet. A precipice, a void... the earth and nothing.

Mia sat up panting. Wiping her sweat soaked hair from her face. Gods its hot in here. She untangled bare form from the sheets and blankets. Her nose crinkled as she rubbed the sleep from her face with both hands. Girl, you stink. Up up up. Shower time... time.. what time is it? Looking around she realized there wasn't a clock to be seen. Typical. She usually unplugged the little bastard timekeepers.

Half crawling, half lazy, half an hour later maybe and she was upright with both feet on the floor and eyes searching the nearly dark room. There was bright light at the edges of the window. So it was daytime. Ok. She needed a shower. “Mmmmm” but first a stretch; from nose to toes to fingers tip. Every pulled taught bit added its part to the long groan that accompanied her sleep weary frames resistance to waking.

Sniffing her eyes opened back up and there on the tiny two person table was a vase full of wildflowers. That wasn't all she smelled but the most prominent. Quickly looking the room over again her feet finally moved. She had to check, to see what else had been touched. Flowers, this fresh meant someone had been in her shit-hole motel room very recently. Somone... She checked through the kitchenette first finding the cream for her coffee and the pint of strawberries were gone. Well the fridge was empty but the only thing is has it in was cream and berries. Though the counter wasn't touched. The coffeemaker and the little coffee can were still right where she left them.

Back to the bed, well the mattress she set on the floor. She had disassembled the bed frame and put it and the box spring against the wall behind the little table. Most beds were not as firm as she liked them. Picking up her pack from beside it she dumped its contents and realized that all her cloths were in it, washed neatly folded. Even the ones she stripped off before going to bed. Those had been tossed on the floor. Then she turned to the mattress itself, lifting it, leaning it against the wall only to breath a sigh of relief. Her phone, the charger, her passport, wallet and necklace were all still right in the center of where the mattress would have been.

Kneeling and taking up the phone she tried to check the time but the phone was stone dead. So she gathered everything putting her things in their proper pockets of her bag and taking the phone and charger to the kitchenette. She plugged in her phone, opened the coffee can and just stood there breathing several long, slow breaths through her nose. It was not merely sniffing but letting the smell fill her, tickle memories and feelings. She loved the smell of coffee. This was why she had bought the tiny can. No freeze-dried insta-shit. Fuck that. There are too many things in life to enjoy than to deal with inferior... Well no not just coffee. Anything.

She scooped, measured, filled and fiddled savoring the fragrance of the ground beans while deliberately making the little pot of coffee slowly. Before turning back to the table, her pack and the flowers. Whomever left them apparently meant her no harm or was sporting enough to not attack her in her sleep. Well Mia, you either have some one to thank or someone to hunt but right now... go fucking bath yourself. Giggling she laid out her cloths and made her way to the shower trying to recall anything from her dreams. She turned the taps only to have her bladder remind her it still worked. So she flicked on the light and did what nature screamed for her to do. But... Sitting on the shelf in the shower was... A little bottle of shampoo, conditioner and a little bar of soap. Those were the other smells she couldn't identify.

Steam began to fill the room even with the door left open. Rising she stepped into the shower, moaning as the liquid heat melted sleep from her body. She stood in the false rain relishing every drop that massaged and warmed her skin. She could have stood there for hours, no she would sit in it for hours. Her stomach growled. Nope she wouldn't sit in it for hours. Taking up the shampoo she opened the bottle and sniffed, tentatively. A smile broke the line of her lips. It was light almost faint in fragrance but it was definitely a pseudo-spring-berry-smell. Whomever had been in her room was certainly peculiar, precise and... [i]Well almost motherly. [i/] Shaking her head she washed her dark locks, massaging her scalp and almost humming to herself. She leaned her head back in the showers spray to let the water cascade and rinse the soap out of her hair. Then she realized with her head back like this her hair brushed her backside.

“Oh my... how long... how long this time I wonder?” she went through the rest of her shower mechanically. Her mind thinking on when she checked in. She had taken the room farthest from everything and every one. She told the odd man behind the counter that he would be granted an extra thousand dollars if she was not disturbed during her stay. That she didn't know how long she would be staying but that he was to charge her credit card by the week until she told him otherwise. Grimacing, she hoped that the flowers were not from him.

-click-

She slowed her movements. It would do her no good to stop moving. With the shower running and the door open her best bet would be to act like she didn't know someone opened the door to her room. That someone walked up to and then beyond the bathroom door. She let out a soft moan trying to sound as though lost to the world outside her bath. It came out more a groan sounding of battered frustration. But it was a sound none the less. She sniffed. Whom ever entered smelled familiar but a face didn't come with the recollection. Then she heard humming over the sound of a heartbeat. Killers don't usually hum a merry tune while they waited.

Giving herself a rinse she stepped out of the shower without turning it off. She didn't disturb the curtains hooks nor let her bare feet squeak on the tile floor. No she wanted to catch whomever this was unawares. She heard the coffeepot being replaced in the maker and the hummed song grew in tempo while she crept, dripping and chilled closer. She was barely breathing by the time she covered the 12 feet to the.... housekeeper. An older hispanic woman clad in a soft pink uniform, a top knot for her hair and sensible white shoes. Turning around she retreated to the bath and got back in it letting the rush of water rewarm her skin. Not that the room was all that much cooler than her shower but still. Why the hell not.

So Mia, I don't think it was the manager brining you flowers. Letting the spray tickle her face she wondered just why in the world this woman did all this for her. Turning off the taps she stepped noisily from the stall and began the process of drying every drop of water from her skin.

“Miss Mia?!... Miss I am out here. Lucinda... I checked on you.” That voice. She remembered that from her dream. And the womans smell. How long were you asleep this time? Again the woman called out to her, only louder and a bit closer. “Miss Mia?”

“Sorry, yes, yes I hear you. I'll be right out.” Mia wrapped a towel around herself, grabbed another to dry her hair and exited the bath. Smiling happily but a bit anxiously the woman, Lucinda, was standing between the kitchenette and the table almost wringing the life out of her hands. Good going Mia! Even in your sleep you managed to scare the crap out of someone. Real. Good. Job. The woman turned fully toward Mia and she all but broke apart. She smiled and laughed and... cried. Oh God, no. Lucinda looked at though she'd like nothing more than to smother her in motherly kisses, worried kisses, checking her temperature with her lips kind of kisses but her feet stayed where they were planted. Almost fearfully.

Mia smiled, walked right up to the other woman and kisses both her cheeks. “Thank you Lucinda” her words nearly made it all the way out of her mouth before Lucinda did crack. She grabbed both Mias' shoulders, kissed her cheeks, checked her forehead and hugged her fiercely.

“Miss Mia, you look ok. I was so worried. I didn't know what could make you so ill you sleep so long. So deeply. I check on you every day. I threw away the rotten berries and milk after a time. I talked to the doctor nearby. He said sometimes people with fevers sleep a very long time. I checked on you. You were still breathing clear, heart beating strong but you sleep and sleep and sleep. I prayed for you. My church prayed for you and look. You are ok!”

Mia's' eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. What... the... fuck.... was that. Her first reaction was to pull away but she had no idea if that would make the woman stop or just... Just what? Holy crap, I didn't get a care taker, I got Mother Teresa! She took the woman by the shoulders and guided her back to sit in one of the chairs at the table. The woman almost bounced back out of it until Mia made a long shushing sound and pressed her back in to the chair.

“Just sit for a minute. I need my coffee. Shh. No. it's ok, sit.” She knew some people were just too damned nice for their own good. Lucinda was trying to get up and get her coffee for her or hug her or something. She hoped the woman would relax soon though. Mia crossed to the counter where there was a mug, steaming, inviting a sip. The soft color of the brew inside it told her that Lucinda came prepared. Mia pointed at the cup with a questioning brow raised.

“I brought that for you. You had coffee but no cup. The milk soured so I brought one everyday with milk and sugar. The way I like it so I don't waste if you are not awake again.”

Mia nodded half grinning as she wrapped both her hands around the mug and sipped. Closing her eyes she sighed to herself. As she sipped he leaned her hip on the counters edge. It was perfect. Just he way she liked it. Though she didn't have sugar in the room she did like it. She knew better though. Sugar in shit-holes just brought in ants and roaches no matter where in the world she was.

“Thank you, the coffee is perfect”

“I can bring you...”

“Shhh... you bring me nothing more. You have done plenty and I'm grateful.”

Mia crossed to her bag and Lucinda kept going.

“After three weeks the manager asked me to check if the room was vacant but it was not. You were yelling in your sleep. I pet your head. You looked so sweet. So I checked on you and then checked your room. You slept so long.”

Yea sweet, lucky you were not bludgeoned to death with a pillow. Wait 'so long'. Mia reached back and checked the length of her hair.

“How long is so long?” she asked.

“Miss? Almost six months. No one came to find you. No one called. And you slept and slept. I checked the news and you were not on it.” Her eyes had that sad look. She had missed someone greatly, still missed.

Opening her bag she dug out her other emergency card. A prepaid credit card. Shuffling things about she found a receipt and a pen .She wrote the four digit pin on the paper wrapping it around the card. It was untraceable aside from the store she had someone else purchase it in. Six months is a long time to worry someone, even unintentionally. Hopefully this can help her. If she keeps it. She's the type though that would faint and then give it to the church. Mia sighed. There were only a few people in the world that were actually good, inside and out. She wasn't one of them but the woman at the table was.

“I was so happy to hear the shower. You needed a bath” Lucinda crinkled her nose and adjusted the flowers. Laughing Mia handed her the card.

“You tuck that away” she stopped the woman from putting it in her pocket. “No. Here” She plucked the womans shirt forward, took the card and tucked in within her bosom. “Shh. No one knows you have that. Its for you. JUST you. For what ever you need. That is the only kindness I can repay you with. I wont be here to return your favor with favors.” she retrieved a $100 bill from her bag and placed it in the womans hand. “You tell the manager I tipped you with this, only this. He will laugh but you do not tell him about the card. Its for you. So you can keep helping more people.” Mia hoped the money would not change her. She doubted it would but stranger things had happened.

Mia picked up her cloths, crossed to the bath and dressed. It was quick. All this nice, nice crap was getting on her nerves. She returned to her coffee. Downing the rest of the cup and plucked the phone up. Depositing it in her pocket she looked over the room. It has served its purpose and she was done. Checking her bag she tucked the charger away, dug out socks and began putting her boots on when she noticed the woman just watching her.

“Where ever she is... She loves you just as much as you love her.” The woman nodded as tears formed.

“You are ok?”

“I'm fine, really. It's time for me to go. You keep the coffee too.”

She didn't look back. She picked up her bag and walked out into the midmorning sun. Bouncing down the concrete steps she almost skipped to the managers office and settled her bill. She refused to answer his questions or allow his hand to rest on hers. She just knew he didn't feel right. Who cares Mia, git gone. You know you need to blow off steam after sleeping that long. Her stomach growled. yes and eat!!

Back in the sunshine she strode down the street trying to remember just which friggin city this was anyway. It didn't really matter but it would help her decide what to eat. She stretched as she walked. She was always just a bit antsy after a long nap. She needed to find something to do, something to eat! Food, then find out whats going on in the world.

Looking down the street it dawned on her that she was not going to find good food in this neighborhood. The place looked like New York and Mexico City combined and threw up in the desert. Fuck its hot She squinted and leaned into an approaching sound. It would be good if she was right about what it was, and she was. The Harley pulled up to the flashing red light just as she reached the corner. Yup, he will do nicely. She strode her 5ft self in-front of his bike and around to his other side. She watched his eyes trail from her boots to her jeans to her skin tight Teeshirt to her hair. Smiling she inclined her head he did the same. I like it when people talk without all those effing words. Yes.. yes I do. She slid her leg over his bike. Slid herself along his back and her hands slithered around his waist.

“Where're you goin' Little Miss Muffet?”

“To a Tuffet or a spider... I'm starving!”

[Fish_Tales]

Kelly sat under the acacia, the savannah stretched out before him. The heat lifted from the dry, dusty yellow plains in a shimmering haze. He didn’t like waiting here because it was the only significant piece of vegetation in the immediate area. He could see the bush rise in the distance, about five or six kilometres away. There would be a place to hide there and shade to cool him, but they had arranged to meet here.

He looked at his watch.

Where the fuck are they?

The chopper was already ten minutes late. He wanted out and he wanted out now.

If they’ve fucked this up….

The office hadn’t been running well lately, but there was no excuse for this. It wasn’t acceptable. His life was at risk if he stayed much longer. Of course, they didn’t know quite how ‘hands on’ he was, but a job is a job and it should be done right.

Just fucking do it properly.

He had to get on the chopper and be back in Dar Es Salaam in three hours so that he could get their jet out of there. Solutions Inc. was based in the US, but he was looking to go home to Australia for some r&r. However, if he allowed the office to deteriorate much further then….

Maybe I’ll go back to work.

He was too soft. For all his exterior hardness and the demands of his work, he really was too lenient with people. He knew he accepted mediocrity from others when he would never accept it from himself, but it was a difficult thing for him to change. He had been a good ‘man manager’ during his sporting and military days, but that was all about leading by example and leading like-minded people with inner motivation and drive. When you looked after an office of pasty-faced desk jockeys, then things were a little different. They didn’t understand the issues that field personnel faced and they lacked the same motivation of more physical people.

You’ll have to get on top of it or someone will get killed.

He thought of the Defence Minister begging for his life in the seconds before his death, the pistol pointed at his forehead.

Someone else.

He lifted his eyes and looked towards the brush in the distance. If it was about six kilometres away, then it would take him about twenty minutes to get there in this weather and with his attire. He couldn’t run it flat-out because he needed something left in the tank when he got there. He didn’t know what he might face.

He looked at his watch again. Now the chopper was fifteen minutes late.

Fuck!

Kelly stood up. He couldn’t just sit here thinking about human resources issues. It would be only a matter of time before the remnants of the military regime worked out what he had done and he was only five kilometres from the scene of his latest….

….solution.

He dropped his backpack to the ground, unzipped it and took out a flask of water. He had a small sip. It looked like he might need to conserve it. He wouldn’t want to run out of water.

Not here.

It had been much simpler when he’d started working for the agency. The jobs had been smaller, less dangerous, more personal. They’d grown into something even he never imagined. He owned half the company now. They were global problem solvers. Answers are us. No job was too hard or too small. If the money was right. Despite his predicament, he smiled. He always had an answer.

Always.

Lately, it wasn't only the money that had to be right, the job had to be right too. It had annoyed the fuck out of Dale, but he’d kept his counsel besides a few arguments. Kelly wasn’t a saint, but the job had to be right.

“What’s right?” would ask Dale.

“Whatever I say is,” he would reply.

Dale would roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders. He knew Dale was doing jobs that he wouldn’t approve of, but he was not so judgemental as to get involved. Shit, he’d done his fair share of dubious assignments in the past. No more. It had to be right.

Whatever that was….

The heat focussed his mind again. He took one more small sip of water from the flask in his hand and then dropped it into the open backpack. It would keep it a little cooler rather than if he tied it to his belt and he’d be less tempted to drink from it unnecessarily.

I wish I knew where that chopper was.

Five more minutes….

He looked back again to the brush in the distance. He could make it there. He would make it there. Still, if he didn’t do something about the organisation, then someone was going to get killed. Probably not him, but someone. He couldn’t allow that. He’d become friends with most of his operatives. He knew their wives. Their kids.

Better fix it.

He picked his backpack up and hoisted it onto his shoulders. The sweat was trickling from his short brown hair and down his face. He had smeared Vaseline on his eyebrows so that the perspiration would run down around his eyes and prevent the sting commonly suffered by those exposed to the heat.

Looks like a walk then, Kelly.

This would be no walk though. He couldn’t afford to be exposed here on the savannah for any longer than he needed to be. He started at a slow jog and gradually fell into a rhythm. It was a three-minutes-per-kilometre rhythm. He knew. He’d done it thousands of times. He would run around fields, parks and athletics tracks, timing himself meticulously to know what cadence and effort delivered a particular rate of distance. He could do the same with swimming. If you did things enough, practised them enough, then the situation didn’t matter. You needed to make actions and skills mechanical. Robotic. Repeatable. Again and again and again….

This wasn’t a park or a track. This was life or death.

But he would make it.

He always did.

So far.

[Nina327]

Dirty, dust covered buildings had long stopped passing by her field of view. Asphalt and golden sand filled miles and miles with the dancing heat in all directions. The ride; long, straight. The machine and the man between her legs. All giving her mind so much to wander through.

She let her eyes drift through seeing and not. Looking out over desert sand where the heat and day dreams met, danced, and mingled like film negatives held by a shaking hand to close to a lit bulb. Mirages and dreams and memories and this blessed fucking heat all took her on nostalgic trips. Little snippets of her past and little thundering vibrations all worked to make her even more restless than this long nap did. What the hell were you thinking getting on the bike with him! That was just it. She really wasn't. Go, go, go... is all she was thinking.

Well all she was thinking over an hour ago. Now? Now she wanted to slip round the piece of meat between her thighs. That or take him by his pony tail and toss him off the bike so she could ride without having temptation literally tween her legs.

Too dangerous Mia. You are too wound up.

She laid her head on his back taking a deep breath and rolling her shoulders but her minds reel played on, in the present. Breath catching visions of her slipped round the front of this male. Both their pant seams shredded. Her back being imprinted with the gas tank cap as the vibrations and whatever heat he was packing drew out screams for the Harley's roar to devour.

She felt her hand being lifted from around his waist. Felt it slid down his stomach and pressed to the seam of his jeans. Ooh Goodie. He wants to play. Shaking her head she gave him a little squeeze and sat fully upright slipping her hands away. His head turned. Digging in her pocket she retrieved whatever loose bills she had left. A quick look and at least one was a fifty. She shoved them in his hip pocket and got her lips as close to his ear as she could.

“Only one ride today baby.”

She patted his shoulder and leaned back. Her hair whipped round hard stinging where the ends struck her cheeks. Eying his long pony tail she took a hold of it and slipped one of the bands free. What? He has 12 of them! She wrapped her hair up as much as she could in a messy tangled knot on the back of her head and then slipped one of his other bands farther along his pony tail. She watched his hand leave its grip and pull the bills from his pocket letting them flutter away in the breeze.

Apparently cash is not the form of currency Mr. Biker man wishes to be compensated with. Fuck. I didn't want a body count yet...
You got on the bike. You could get off.
I know I did and off? That would mean walking through this shit!!
Your talking to yourself again.
SO, I'm good company.

She sat up taller in her seat hands gripping the rear of the 'bitch seat'. She hoped it would go well. Maybe a bit of 'dodge the grabby fingers'. Right. She also hoped he gave her a reason not to be nice. A bit of a roll in the dirt while not even trying to play fair. That sounded good but she really didn't want this to get out of hand. Teach the pup a lesson and then get the fuck out of there. Right.

A speck to the horizon quickly grew into a mid sized biker bar. Of all the grand things to grow out here! His bike slid off the road, he held the clutch and goosed out his own rumbling “Honey, I'm home.”. Great. Just great. Right on cue four other men slowly ambled out onto the dust covered porch of the place. Now ya get to pick, Mia: Play along with him and only deal with him or rebuff him in front of his friends and piss them all off. Fuck.

Mia slid off the bike and dropped her pack behind it. She flexed her toes within her boots.

“Well, this place looks like I could get a tuffet and a spider. I just hope I didn't bite of more than I can chew.”

What they hell Mia!!!
Hush, I don't look threatening.

The grunt of a laugh behind her told her he didn't think so either. She stepped just forward of his 'guiding hand' walking up to the front steps. Raising her eyes she met and matched each of the emotionless gazes from the porch guard. Dammit. They're not ignorant hicks. Well one might be but not the other four...... make that five. Passing through their ranks she emerged there was another male behind the bar. Looking around she let sounds fill her ears. From the ticking clock over the bar to.. Six. another set of boot steps somewhere in the rear of the bar.

Quick strides brought her to the bar, pulling out the stool and nearly taking a seat. Thoughts of possibly ordering some food left as a large hand shoved her between the shoulders. Her toes left the floor as he pressed her chest into the bar and before she could look suitably frightened another hand found her hair, none to gently putting her face to its shiny surface. A long slow breath filled her lungs and retreated. Hips, cock and thighs pressed her into the bar.

“You sure this is how you want to play? It wont end well.”

It really was the only warning she would give them. The only way out she would leave. After all. Some people bluff. Not all but some. They test, push.

Male laughter peppered the room. Well. Not a bluff then. This should be fun.

Her hands slid forward feeling the belly of the bartender while the rest of her was being pawed at. Nodding to herself she agreed with her fingers. He was thick not fat. Her fingers spread and she started giggling.

“Have it your way.... Lets play.”

Shoving hard she heard his grunt as his hand was wrenched from her hair on his way to shatter several bottles along the wall with his backside. The smell of clear and amber liquids filled her nose almost instantly. Her hand found its way behind her back to grab the thumb on the paw holding her down and she pulled it back-wards letting her breath. Two seconds maybe three and her hands were on the pretty bar top shoving with all her might. The top of her head finding the tip of her rides jaw. His cry was one of the most unique she had ever heard. One of that much pain and suprise... She was now free and on her own two feet.

Now to find the smoker. She needed that one much closer than the others. Much closer. The mood in the room shifted. Tangibly. No laughter filled any of the faces she watched. Guarded curiosity flickered and played along their features and they closed ranks to protect the exit.

The one on the floor wailed gripping his mouth. She stepped away from the bar before the tenders hands could snatch her. One to her right stepped toward her and she stepped back again. yes, yes. Divide your ranks. Take the little girl on one at a time. Good boys. She licked her lips and stepped. He stepped. He wasn't the smoker. She didn't need to engage him. So she turned and fled to the pool table scooping up three balls from the table.

Her attention shifted. The sound of boots sliding on the floor and the metallic slip of metal on metal. The man in the rear of the bar was armed. As he emerged from the hall the popping sound of hard stone and human skull resounded sickly before she threw the other two balls at the glittering wall of glass bottles.

Three down, one following close behind and three in front. She cleared round the pool table only to skid on one booted heel, rotating herself to grab the arm reaching for her from behind and propelled him forward, past her into another man. Both crashing into one the of the few low tables.

Her pause, her turn left her directly in front of the smoker. His thick arms wrapped around her middle. Why they kept leaving her arms free she would never know. One hand latched into the hair at the back of his head. The other found his chin. Her eyes locked with the last man standing while her hands jerked in different directions. Her hand dropped to the leather Zippo pocked on the dead mans belt. Silver flashed in her hand before the body hit the floor. The last man standing stood unmoving.

Her fingers played with the silver case. Holding it up for him to watch as it glittered and sparked to life.

“Still wanna play”

His head shook from left to right. Hers canted to the side. A smile on her lips.

“Run.”

His feet carried him back wards and out the doorway. She followed him, slowly.

“I haven't forgotten you.”

She turned to the bartender. He was almost standing back to his full height, shotgun in hand.

“Catch.”

Time stood still as she watched the little flame spin through the air and land, spreading quickly along his liquor soaked shirt. The shot he was going to take would never happen. The human drive for self preservation wouldn't let him keep the gun in his hand. It also wouldn't let her stand there and watch. Her boots slammed into wooden floor boards all the way out the door.

The last man standing had started his bike and looked over his shoulder in time to see the fire ball chase her out of the building. She was faster than he thought. She barreled into his side displacing him from the saddle. I remember telling him to run. Throwing her leg over the bike she took off only slow ling long enough to snatch her pack from the ground.

The Harley's roar wasn't loud enough to devour the crystal sound of exploding bottles and screams. Nor that of flame finding so much fuel.

I'm still hungry.

[Fish_Tales]

Kelly sat in the company’s jet, enjoying the view. He looked down at the Atlantic below him, blue as far as the eye could see. People always thought of the north Atlantic; grey, cold, windy. The south Atlantic was a beautiful place; warm, calm, inviting. He still wouldn’t be home for hours yet….

He was tired from the journey back to Dar Es Salaam. It had taken him two days. His contact with the office had been minimal. He didn’t trust himself to talk to them. They’d mixed up the chopper times and destination coordinates. If the government had not been in such disarray then he would have been in serious trouble getting out of there. Fortunately, all of his work taking out some of their critical members had left them a rabble and they were all worried about holding on to power. He’d calmly walked out of there and arranged for alternative transport.

I need to do something about the office. I could have been killed.

At least the fucking plane was still waiting.

“Mr. Kelly?”

A young dark-haired woman looked down at him. She had two beers on a tray: Melbourne Bitter. Kelly was a man of simple tastes and most beers just didn’t do it for him. He liked his beer cold and bitter.

Shit, like my life has become.

“Thanks, Mel,” he said.

She was new, one of Dale’s hirings. He had to give him credit, he certainly knew how to hire them. She was tall and athletic and looked intelligent. He had flown with her only once before, for the job in Oman, but he’d been preoccupied then. She had a college degree. College. That’s what they called it in the States. Some sort of humanities. Maybe languages? He pushed it from his mind. Kelly wasn’t the sort of guy to think about women much. To be honest, he didn’t really think about women at all, not since Bali….

He shook his head and looked back to the woman.

At least you brought my beers on time.

He took both bottles from the tray. The sides were cool and wet with condensation.

Excellent.

She made a move to go.

“Wait,” he said.

He opened one bottle himself with a twist and then started to drink. He kept tilting the bottle and in less than fifteen seconds its contents had been drained. He handed the bottle back to Mel, her brow a little furrowed.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I’ll take my time with this one.”

She nodded and slowly turned to go, paused, looked back and then kept going back to the front of the plane.

Nice ass.

He rolled his eyes.

You could at least have admired her college degree.

He sipped on the beer, relishing the coolness and bitter aftertaste. He didn’t want to go back to Boston, but he couldn’t leave the office like it was. It was a mess. It was possible the business had grown too large, too quickly for the capability of the people that worked there. It was no longer a small “problem solving” business. They needed to be exact. They needed to be efficient.

Professional.

They were getting paid substantial sums of money by their clients and the projects were getting significantly more complex and dangerous. They couldn’t afford fuck ups like the one they’d just had. It would get someone killed eventually. He would need to sort it out. That meant going back to Boston.

But not for long.

He hadn’t told Dale yet, but he wasn’t only going home for a holiday. He’d been contacted by a prospective client. They had a problem, mining or something to do with the environment. He’d agreed to talk.

Why not?

He wanted to go home for a while. He was sick of where he lived. Too many people. Too busy. Everyone trying to be something. Kelly liked people who were proactive and capable, but he didn’t like people constantly tearing others down to make themselves look better. It seemed to be the habit here. He remembered his mother:

“You shouldn’t blow someone else’s candle out just to make yours shine brighter.”

He smiled.

He loved sayings like that.

Anyway, he wanted to get home. Relax for a while, and if he could do some work on the side then all the better. At least he wouldn’t be getting chased by the government there or rebels. Australia was still Australia. Other nations looked on Australians and their lifestyle with envy, but they didn’t realise that a lot of planning and effort went in to keeping it like that. They thought Australians were laid-back and without a care in the world. That wasn’t exactly true, but compared to other places, it probably was. He could get away from the noise. From the fame-chasers. The climbers. The obsession with money.

The showbags.

He smiled again, and looked out of his window. He couldn’t see land yet, but they couldn’t be far from landing, maybe another couple of hours.

He looked back up towards the front of the plane. He had just finished his beer and the lovely Mel was coming towards him with a tray again. There was a single beer on it this time.

Yep, she’s talked to Dale….

It didn’t matter. She looked fit enough to be scurrying from the front to the back constantly and if that’s the way they wanted it, then it didn’t worry him.

As long as the beers came on time.

Not like the chopper.

“Mr. Kelly?” she said, lowering the tray.

He put the empty bottle on it and then took the fresh beer.

“Um, Mel,” he said.

“Yes, sir?”

“My name’s Jack. This is the second time you’ve flown with me, so I guess you can call me Jack,” he said. “Every time you call me ‘Mr. Kelly’, I end up looking around for my father.”

“Yes, Mr…..I mean Jack,” she said.

“That’s better. How long till we get home?”

“About three hours, sir,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“The ‘sir’ can go too, ok?”

She coughed.

“Yes, then….Jack,” she said. “I’ll try my best.”

“I think your best will be good enough Mel,” he said.

She smiled and then turned and walked back down towards the front of the plane.

Unlike some of the other fuckwits I work with, Mel, I think your best will be good enough.

He put the beer to his lips and took a long sip from it.

A cold beer and his own company.

Perfect.

[Nina327]

“Downing, Delgado, Withers, Foreman, Archer, Peterson, Dawson, Merchant, Watson.”

East... she always went east when she woke up. Made sense. She always went west to sleep. Mia sat in her little seat on the train. Shuffling passports like playing cards. She was the only one for 8 rows of seats. The trip from Chicago to Grand Central wasn't a long one but it gave her time sitting still she didn’t need. It was unlike the ride on the Harley. That was cleansing. Going 120mph across the middle of the united States could do that. As could watching the body language of a 30-year-old grease monkey when some random chick rides a Harley into his shop at closing time, tosses him the keys and walks away with only a “Take care of her. Shes hot.”

She didn’t even think to run. That would be rushing. All the world rushed. For what? Meaning? Purpose? Change? Growth? So many blind to more than just their little interconnected bubbles. So why did she rush. Time. It didn’t matter and she wasn’t rushing. It was just FUN to go really really fast for no other reason than to go really really fast. This sitting still though. It just wasn't fun, comparably. It let her mind wander. To weird inane places.

Can one person change the world?
Fuck no.
MIA!
Ok, fine..... Wait. No. Not one person can change the world.
But history.
Fuck history. The President may sign the final draft but it passed many hands on the way, many influences.
So not people but government?
No.. even just single people. MLK, Mother Teresa, the pope, Gandhi. For the most popular at the moment. Or was that 20 years ago.........
Seriously!!!!
Oh shut up. Its true. It doesn’t diminish their power in the human psyche but alone they would be meaningless.
They were alone.
No, they were not. If a speech is given and no one listens it's just the babble of one man alone with his dreams. He had the power to speak in a way inspired and ignited human beings and sent ripples in time. IF the sick were healthy and had no need or belief in faith, hope, healing, prayer and the love of one woman; Would she have ever been inspired to give herself that way and set alight the passions in others?
The Pope, Gandhi?
You know I wont talk about religions but the meaning is the same. Without others they would not have the purpose they do.
You’re crazy.
No, I'm BORED!
So you want to change the world?
NO! I want to burn the whole damned thing to Pangaea!
But people.
Fuck people. Unless you belong in their bubble. Then they will care. Or not. People live in all this static rush. They look like ants but ants work together. People must get all this done by sundown. The suns sundown or theirs. Must change the world. Must make the most money. Must be the best. Must must must must must... grow, procreate and change and die in pseudo-togetherness.
So.... people should stop and smell the roses? You want to make them smell flowers or each-other?
No.. some are allergic.
You are an asshole.
Yes, but I'm right.
Partially.
Fuck partially, I should be agreeing with myself! Yes I am right. People don’t care where their food comes from or what their offspring do so long as its not embarrassing. They will teach hate and love with the same mouth just open a history book. They have done the same thing for 3 written centuries... but with better and better toys.
So. they are ants in bubbles with toys? Something is wrong with you.
Wonder what?
People?
Mhmm.
Then why are you going to Boston again? There's a fuckton of people there!
Camouflage.
You want to hide from people, with people cover?
Precisely.

Mia blinked and a little boy was standing there staring at her. One little hand on the seat in front of her the other playing with the hem of his red polo shirt.

"Hi" he said with the shy boldness people should never have strangled out of them.

"Hi" Mia replied, waiting. Wondering if he were already jaded, brain starting its pickling from all the shoulds and should-nots he wil have to learn.

"Mommy said you're crazy. But she fell asleep and I wanted to hear you tell stories. I'm Dawson." he rubbed his nose and touched her knee.

Mia only smiled and watched his little fingers feel the jean clad kneecap of his very first crazy person. Shaking her head the threw cautions aside. He would probably be scolded for talking to a stranger.

"I'm Mia." she started and then put on her best happily not crazy face and continued. "I'm not crazy. I just talk to myself when I'm bored."

"What's bored?"

"It's when you want to do something but cant figure out what your insides want to do because they are not all that happy with exactly what you are doing right then." She didn’t continue with her other dialog of boredom being the fact that you cannot eradicate foolish stupidity and the human desire to consistently fill your time with nonsensical bullshit. That even if you eliminate the immediate cause of stupid it just pops back up so why care and why be bored at all.

She watched him think about that and asked him a question before he could ask another himself.

"What are you doing on the train with Mommy today? Shouldn’t you be in school?"

He looked over his shoulder before answering. "We are goin' to visit Gramma cause she's sick."

Mia be nice.
Fuck nice.

"Do you visit her when she's not sick?"

"On Christmas but she was sick then too." his little face was sad... He was at that precipice of learning some new drama of life he may or may not ever want to remember very clearly.

"You know what Dawson?"

"Huh?"

“You should ask your mommy to visit people when they are not sick. Too.”

“But your supposed to visit sick people.”

“Yes, that’s nice but not JUST sick people. People appreciate visits when they are sick and when they are well enough to play. Now go on back to your seat and watch the clouds. Grown ups forget to do that too.”

“Bye Mia”

“Bye Dawson”

She sat back in her seat and watched the clouds. She didn’t watch him walk back down the isle or crawl into his mother's lap or lay his hand on her face or watch him look out his window. She already knew what would happen. She knew even one conversation changed the world. In ripples. Though not always as you would hope. Not always as you intended. If you even intended on changing the world with one conversation with one little boy once upon a train ride.

That little boy could be going to watch his grandmother die. She didn’t know. She did know though that he might remember their conversation. He might change his mother asking her to visit 'not sick' people and Gramma doesn’t die but lives for many more visits. He might grow up angry with her because they never visited Gramma in his living memory while she was well. Then again that might save him from having to visit some cranky old bat that hates her daughters son for being born. He might grow up and have his children visit people who are not sick or some other positive thing. Then again he could be hit by a bus or grow up and be a drunk and forget his whole childhood or remember it all and only do the correct thing. What is acceptable and repeat his parents successes and failures in his own way.

This is why she watches clouds and eats a single berry for eternity. Because nothing matters and every single thing matters. Everything has consequences. Positive or negative. Everything ripples. Yet nothing actually changes for so long that no one knows where the ripple started. No one cares. So she doesn’t anymore. She only does what she wants to do. Enjoying little moments all strung together while she tries to stay out of their way and not watch good intentions pave the way to hell.

Mia let out a long breath and began to hum along to a tune never written. She lifted her hand looking down at the passports.

“Mia Dawson it is.”

[Fish_Tales]

Mel drove the car and Kelly sat beside her looking out the window and resisting the urge to shake his head. Luckily, she didn’t have gloves and a little hat on.

Kelly, man of action, chauffeured by a woman.

Not that there was anything wrong with that.

Was there?

He watched the familiar cityscape pass as they drove towards the office. The phone had been ringing since they’d arrived and he kept ignoring it. He’d checked the caller ID and it was the office.

Probably Stacey.

Shit, she hadn’t even got the chopper coordinates right for him. He could have died. Someone else would have died. He could tell Mel was uncomfortable about him not answering the phone, but he didn’t feel like talking to Stacey. Mel could feel as uncomfortable as she liked, he didn’t feel like talking to the office yet.

Fuck her.

I wish.

No I don't.

“We really should think up a better name than Solutions Inc,” he said over the ringing phone.

“Pardon?”

“Solutions Inc. Like, I don’t think it’s an appropriate name. Bit of a wank really, don’t you think?”

Mel kept her eyes on the road. He was, after all, her boss. She didn’t want to make waves.

“Er, I’m not sure, sir, er, Jack,” she said. “I’m sure our clients know what it means.”

Clients? Lately their clients had been who could pay the most, at least Dale’s clients had been. Kelly had been doing what Dale called “social work.” He’d still made a million on the last job.

An easy job.

If they’d fucking picked me up on time.

He turned back to Mel, noticing a few of her dark strands falling out of place and onto her cheek. She was intelligent, but she was corporate through and through. Dale’s girl.

He’s probably fucking her.

“What was your major in school, Mel?” he asked.

“Languages,” she replied.

“What’s Solutions Inc. in Armenian?”

Mel quickly glanced at him and then returned her eyes to the road.

“I studied Chinese, Arabic and French.”

Kelly sighed.

“Are you ok, sir,” said Mel and then quickly corrected herself. “I mean, Jack.”

Kelly nodded and kept looking out through the windscreen.

“Yeah, I'm fine, thanks,” he said.

How did it come to this?

He wasn’t cut out to run a business that was there just to make money. He couldn’t run an office of pasty-faced desk-jockeys. More like he didn’t want to. He was doing jobs for money he no longer needed, for people he didn’t like, in places he didn’t care for. He needed something else. Something worthy. Even if it paid nothing.

He chuckled ruefully.

Especially if it paid nothing.

It would be the only way to clean himself, to absolve his heart of the stains, some self-inflicted, some forced on him and others just there, part of his being. He always felt responsible, as if it was up to him to right every wrong, to fix every problem. It was, after all, how he’d been led to this business, but the urge could never be sated. His life was like a locomotive with a team of men shovelling coal into it. He moved forward, but there was never enough coal.

Never enough….

The phone rang again and this time he just pressed the hang up button and killed the call. Mel looked over to him.

“Don’t you think you should answer it?” she asked.

He looked over to her.

“How do you say ‘fuck no’ in Chinese?”

She paused.

“There is no literal translation for that,” she replied cautiously.

Kelly shook his head.

“What a fucking useless language then.”

Mel looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you sure you want to go to the office?” she asked. “You seem stressed. Maybe some lunch or something stronger might be what you need.”

She was good. No doubt about it. Something stronger. Was it really that obvious he drank too much? She was probably going to warn them in the office that he was coming and that he was pissed off. He’d been feeling like more and more of an outsider lately. Like he didn’t fit.

Like a dinosaur.

Chivalry is dead.

No one does anything anymore because it’s right.

They do it because it pays.

The phone started to ring again.

Fuck me.

“That’s an excellent idea, Mel,” he said. “Drop me off at the diner across from the office building. I think I do need a little downtime after the flight.”

And a drink.

Being angst-ridden and confused was thirsty business.

She nodded, looking at him and then back to the road, listening to the phone.

It must be driving Miss Graduate Company Woman of the Year mad.

“I think that would be a good idea,” she said.

It was almost like it was his idea. She was good, but she still couldn’t say ‘fuck no’ in Chinese.

Nobody’s perfect.

The phone kept ringing.

[Nina327]

Mia slipped the key in the lock and turned the tumblers within. Grasping the knob she turned it so slowly that no sound escaped. Pressing the door she kept its hinges want to squeak at bay. Once the door was slightly ajar she slipped silently through the entryway. On the lightest of footsteps she crossed the modest hall to the only stairs in the apartment. Silence was all she heard in echo of her own lack of sound all the way up to the second level. She passed several closed doors till she reached the rear most door and opened it, reveling a bedroom that would much better suit a man than a woman. It was dark with ornate dark wood furniture, dark tapestries on the walls, shadowy hues upon the bed and iron sconces scattered about the room.

Three days. It took her three days to cross most of the country. It helped that she didn’t sleep. She won’t for a little while yet. Mia dove into her bed and rolled like a pup after a bath. She loved this bed. It would have been a complete joy to stay here again, in this apartment, but she couldn’t.

"Right now I am Mia Dawson not Mia Sinclair. Ms. Dawson doesn’t own this apartment even if everything here fits me. “She said to the long empty room.

Slowly she clamored back out and went to her closet, refusing to even look at the Jacuzzi tub in the bath. She pulled out two suitcases and packed several of her favorite things away. She would be back at some point, either selling the apartment to herself or something. She would figure it out later. She made her way back down the steps and out the door, hailing a taxi.

After three hours she had herself a plush room nearby, a membership to a small gym that wouldn’t talk about her strange workout routine and had bought a news paper. She could have gone with an IPad and every news paper available but she didn’t want to know what was going on all over the world. Well she did, she snorted to herself, she did want to know but why bother. Staying out of trouble meant not knowing what was going on. Not knowing meant not looking at anything but what was right in front of you, which is a good thing to do when you walk down a street as she was doing now. Looking would help her notice food.

Pushing open a door and bells clattered overhead; it was a cute little diner right on the edge of the business district. At the hotel she had changed into gray yoga pants and a white 'wife-beater’ shirt stretched across her ample breasts, all finished off with little white backless sneakers that she now rested in the booth seat across from herself. From her seat by the glass windows she could watch the people go by and imagine the mundane business going on in the buildings that made up the skyline outside. She opened her paper and spread it out. The classifieds were never hard to find and after 45 minutes, time who cares about time , went by she acknowledged the very harassed looking waitress. It wasn’t extremely busy in the place but having someone ignore you for almost an hour could make anyone a bit upset. She ordered a sandwich that proclaimed to have enough bacon to clog an elephant’s heart and looked around the establishment. It was coated in eclectic antiques from the Boston area, from sports memorabilia to fishing and railroad doodads. IT had vinyl red checked table covers and well worn dark wood. The one that opened this place would be proud that most of it was still original and obviously well loved by the current owners and patrons alike.

Smiling to no one at all she turned her attention back out the window to watch a car stop out front. She almost laughed out loud at the perturbed look on the man’s handsome face as he got out of the car. What in the hell could make a person that pissed off and that relieved to see a diner? She wondered to herself, also wondering if anyone else would notice the sheer volume of rage he had in his eyes. Possibly not. The rest of him, even his facial features were schooled into a calm veneer. He was probably one of the businessie types from one of the buildings in the skyline. More than likely from one of the upper floors given that he got out of the passenger seat of the very nice car. He obviously didn’t like to be driven around; why else would you sit in the front rather than the back. She watched his muscles play under his cloths as he walked. She would bet her entire worth on the fact that he absolutely didn’t have shoulder pads squaring him up like that but his whole outfit downplayed his physicality’s for what she could only think of as a power position within a company, that whole ‘professional casual’ mix.

She watched him come in breathing deeply as he scanned the room. Interesting Business men don’t quite do that. Perhaps past military experience? It really didn’t matter though. He sat himself away from, well, as ‘away from’ everyone else as you could in here and set his ringing phone on the table. Mia looked back out the window to see the car he exited from take a right into the alley. Hmm. Waiting she wasn’t surprised to see it come back and park just two blocks down facing the diner. She tried to go back to people watching out the window and perusing the paper but his phones ringer was one of the most annoying sounds on the planet, and Mia had heard some annoying sounds in her time. She watched him pick up the phone; look at it and his shoulders dropped an inch. Don’t uppity office types have assistants to answer phones? She giggled to herself. It probably was his assistant. God that fucking phone is annoying!

Her food arrived; she was half starved but that idiotic ringer, What the hell was that tonality choice? Wake the dead? kept her from diving into her meal. Everyone in the diner had paused at one ring or another to stare in the newcomers’ direction. Mia very methodically, very slowly, soothing her flared temper, folded up her paper with her current selection on the outside. She slid out of the booth, tucked the paper under her arm, picked up her plate and walked across the diner.

Mia walked slowly. Schooling her features, irritation was not a face she wanted to show upon first meeting someone that was probably more irritated than she was. She deliberately took the long way round the diner and by the time she got to his table she radiated calm. She set her plate down and slid it in front of him like a server would. It caught him off guard as much as she needed it to and pushed his phone farther away from him. One seemingly long look told her all she really needed to know. As well as the fact that he didn’t yell. So he handled being interrupted much better than she did. In that instant she smiled, stepped a foot on the bench beside him, sat herself on his table and used her paper to brush his phone closer to her and farther from him.

“You,” she began as her hand fell on his phone, clearing it from the table behind her back to her other hand. “Now have a lunch date.” She grinned and held the phone back far enough where a gentleman wouldn’t reach. He would have to go over her thigh or across her chest and she doubted ‘Mr. Businesspants’ would be quite so forward. Her eyes left his as her fingers found the cancel button for his incoming calls. The phone was locked but that feature was accessible.

Looking back to him she shook her head and slipped the phone under her behind farthest from his reach. It was either that or slip it in the elastic of her panties on her hip but she didn’t quite know him that well, or at all. The phone rang again.

“Persistent little fucks, whoever they are.” She added to very muffled sound of the ringer. It was a much easier sound to take once it was not so loud and coming from her butt. She reached out and took half the divided sandwich and gestured to the other half before taking a bite. Mia completely ignored the world as she chewed shaved steak, bacon, smoked provolone cheese and house made mayo on toasty soft bread; long moments later she swallowed and looked down at him. “What? It’s good. You should try it. It’s probably… well it might be better for you than the shit you’re drinking” she added looking at the amber and bubbles in his glass. Her nose already told her her food would be better than drinking during the middle of the day... or night or any time really. But she didn’t drink so she was rather snobbish about it.

“I’m Mia by the way; it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She added to the tension in the air before taking another bite and letting satisfaction of really bad good food drown out the annoyance of the phone.

[Fish_Tales]

Keep cool.

Kelly was now in a game with the phone, a game of attrition. He could turn it off, but that would mean losing. He could switch it to silent, but that would also be losing and Kelly didn’t lose.

Ever.

He knew it was childish, but the phone wasn’t going to win, so the ring tone from hell followed him into the diner. The bells above the door tinkled as he walked in.

Great.

More fucking noise.

Kelly scanned the room, trying to find the least busy area in the diner. Phones, bells….the last thing he needed was chatter or, God forbid, someone possibly even talking to him. He coolly walked around the tables to a spot well away from most of the people in the diner. He wanted to smash the phone, smash the bells, smash anything.

Anything.

He didn’t, of course, he was going to win, not the phone.

Fucking piece of shit only brings me bad luck anyway.

Kelly saw the least busy area and started to move towards it when a blond waitress came quickly towards him. She always moved quickly when she saw him, which wasn’t often these days. He was away on business or spending time at home in Australia regularly, so he didn’t see her often.

Nowadays.

“Hi, Mr. Kelly,” she said with a wide smile.

He looked at her and sighed.

“Deb. How many times I have asked you to call me Jack?”

“A few, Mr. Kelly,” she said, still smiling.

He shook his head slowly.

“I really don’t need this now.”

“Oh,” she said, “Like that is it?”

He nodded.

“Like that.”

“Well, find a seat and I’ll bring you a beer…er…something to help you think,” she said.

He smiled a very small smile at her.

“If I actually liked women, I’d like you the most,” he said. “You know that.”

His phone started ringing again.

Fuck me.

Deb’s eyes focussed more closely on his and she paid no attention to the phone. She knew he’d answer it when he was ready and not a moment before. Kelly had earned the right to do whatever he liked, whenever he liked.

Not that he would, but he could.

If he wanted to.

“Yep,” she said moving off again towards the bar, “good to know I’m top of your least disliked list.”

Kelly pursed his lips and then he went to sit at what appeared to be the quietest area in the diner. The phone had stopped again, but it wouldn’t last long. Mel would be in the office now and she’d be talking to them about him.

Kelly’s in a mood.

And they would all be slightly worried, but not too worried. Kelly always fixed things and took the responsibility on himself and they’d become accustomed to it. They would weather his initial tirade and then nothing would come of it.

Not this fucking time. They could have killed someone, fucking up like that.

Deb was at his table as soon as he sat down. Her thigh pressed into his shoulder lightly and she placed the beer on the table. She placed her hand on his very softly.

“I hope that helps,” she said.

He nodded.

“Yes, that’ll help.”

She slipped away quickly. The diner was getting busier and she always spent too much time looking after Kelly. Well, not too much time, she could never do that. It was never enough for her. But other people didn’t know or understand what it was with her and Kelly. She wasn’t old, but she was worn. Life did that to you. It used you up and if you weren’t careful or lucky, you’d be used up and spat out with nothing to show for it.

Used up and invisible.

Except she hadn’t been invisible to Kelly….

Kelly watched Deb try to serve the other people in the diner, all harassing her. He took a long sip of his beer and narrowed his eyes slightly watching the people. All thinking they were more important than her. Smarter than her. Kelly knew better….

Deb had once been married. Kelly wouldn’t have called him a husband in the strictest sense, but that is the term society uses when two people become married and they are male and female. And at the moment in time, they had to be male and female. Who the fuck decided that?, thought Kelly, but he let the thought go from his mind.

He was angry enough as it was….

The phone rang, but he took another pull on the bottle of beer and watched the room, taking in the different people. The dark haired woman reading the newspaper seemed to be removed from it all. He always felt like that.

Removed.

His eyes left the dark haired woman as he saw Deb shuffle to another table….

Kelly had been coming to the diner for a couple of years and Deb had always been courteous and respectful in a fun way. One day he’d noticed the bruises on her arms, just visible under the short sleeves of her blouse. Kelly had let it go. It wasn’t his business and he couldn’t go around helping everyone. Deb had seemed fine and they interacted normally.

Then one day, she came in with a black eye. She’d expertly made it up, but it was still visible. Now, Kelly didn’t have a degree in social work or domestic violence or in anything remotely to do with that, but he did know that once a wife beater gets to the stage where they don’t care if the damage is publically visible, then the victim is at real risk of being seriously hurt.

Kelly didn’t care. Really, he didn’t.

Alright.

He cared.

A bit.

How is a man supposed to concentrate on his beer when he knows his favourite waitress is getting beaten up by her own husband? It just wouldn’t do, he’d thought at the time. So, three years ago, he’d invited Deb for a coffee. Well, she’d had a coffee. He’d had a beer.

Of course.

They talked about things. Growing up. Study. Her husband….

Kelly could hear the phone trying to penetrate his thoughts, but he ignored it….

It hadn’t been like he’d had to draw it out of her. Once the floodgates had opened, he’d heard about it all. A waitress, even an attractive one like Deb didn’t often get much of chance to talk about herself. How her dreams had faded, how her life had changed. She was attractive, but she was in her thirties. A waitress. A woman. Over thirty. Invisible.

As she spoke, Kelly had felt guilty. He’d known her for years, but he hadn’t known her. He enjoyed listening to her story and watching her feel….heard. So he’d listened and listened and listened more.

He’d listened to what she’d done. He’d listened to what she wanted to do. It had stuck him: her dream at that moment was to just get by, without getting harassed, beaten or abused. Kelly was a good listener, or at least he pretended to be. He didn’t like talking so listening was the main part he could play in a conversation.

So your husband causes the bruises and black eyes? He won’t let you leave? He finds you does he? Maybe it’s time for him to leave?

She hadn’t understood at first. Leave? Her husband wouldn’t leave. Kelly had nodded and smiled. Well not of his own accord….Maybe he shouldn’t have a choice? Maybe he’d decide to leave if he was asked?

Nicely.

She’d looked at Kelly for almost a minute. This wasn’t the Kelly she knew. He’d always been nice and polite, but he’d never looked so….hard. She’d placed her hands on his and a tear had rolled down her cheek.

She’d thanked him for listening, but had said that her husband was a big man with bad friends. She knew that Kelly cared, but really, a man like him wouldn’t be able to do much. She thanked him for listening and caring and even just for wanting to do something….

Kelly had placed his beer down and spoken quietly and evenly to her with a cold smile on his face.

I’m not a nice guy, but I like my beer. I can’t have my favourite waitress being hurt. It’s all about the beer you see. I’m good at….changing people’s minds.

Her hands had tightened over his.

She knew.

She could tell.

He was….different. Not normal….but not unusual. He was just….

Good.

In the end, the husband’s mind hadn’t changed easily. A malleable mind had not been one of his attributes. Kelly had convinced him that he’d be better off without a wife. And his apartment. And his car. In fact, Kelly had convinced him that he’d be better off living somewhere else.

Far away.

And then maybe his arms wouldn’t hurt so much. Or his legs. Or his ribs.

Hope you get better soon….

The phone started ringing again. Deb had placed another beer next to it.

Three years later and Deb now only had two years of study to go and she would be a teacher. She looked happy and they had the occasional meal together, but his schedule made it impossible for them to regularly catch up.

“Yeah, like I give a shit,” he mumbled to himself, taking a pull on the fresh beer.

He rolled his eyes at himself. Who was he kidding?

Yeah right.

The phone started again and Kelly wondered if the battery would run out soon. He wished it would because then he could win by default. He felt like dropping into the deep fryer or throwing it against the wall, but again, that would be losing….

A plate with a sandwich slid in front of him and his phone was swept away with a newspaper.

“I didn’t order….”

It was the woman with the dark hair. She picked up his phone and placed it in her small hand, the one furthest from him and then slid in next to him. He looked at her, saying nothing, a slight smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“You,” she said with a grin, “Now have a lunch date.”

It wasn’t a girly grin. It was the grin of someone confident and mature.

For just a moment, Kelly thought of reaching over her for the phone, but that would be rude, considering he would basically have to lean over her body and contact would be unavoidable. Then, she quickly placed the phone under her butt cheek and it began to ring. It sounded less intrusive already, but it made his decision for him. He wouldn't be reaching for the phone.

Yet.

“Persistent little fucks, whoever they are,” she said.

He kept looking at her sideways and raised his eyebrow.

“They are. Now that’s an interesting way to lower the volume,” he said quietly. “It does mean, of course, that answering it could get me arrested.... but it may well be worth it.”

She picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite and seemed to relish chewing it slowly.

“What? It’s good. You should try it. It’s probably… well it might be better for you than the shit you’re drinking.”

He laughed.

“Ah, yes. I’ve been told that,” he said. “But we desk jockeys don’t need to be too healthy, do we?”

“I’m Mia by the way; it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She took another bite, methodically chewing the sandwich.

It did look good….

“I’m Jack,” he said, “and I still haven’t worked out if it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He took another pull of his beer. Deb was hovering, but she didn’t want to interrupt. He knew she would be surprised he was talking to someone.

He looked back to the woman.

Mia.

“I was just wondering what to do about that phone,” he said. “I could turn it off, but that would be easy. I hate losing my nerve against a phone.”

He paused.

"And I never do things easy."

She looked at him, chewing delicately. She had balls. Well, no, she didn’t. The Americans had a word for it.

Chutzpah.

But her's was a cool chutzpah, not a “look at me” style. She would be used to being looked at, she didn’t need to invite attention.

“So why are you sitting next to me with my phone under your butt cheek? I don't usually let women sit on my ringer till at least the third date.”

[Nina327]

“Well, Jack. I happen to be the opposite. If there is an easy way to do things I will find it and right now, the easiest way to make this annoying phone stop annoying me is to commandeer it.” She winked and chewed more while feeling the waitress watching them.

“Oh, if the only thing I get on a third date is to sit on your ringer, that would completely explain the doting waitress and little miss waiting for you out in the parked car.”

“Eat.”

Mia watched him for a while and chewed a delicate bite. Well, not exactly so much as watch but measure, calculate and observe. Openly. Purposefully.

People didn’t like being looked at, scrutinized and evaluated. They would react in some fashion and that would tell her something, always: Desk jockeys don’t have shoulders like that.

Ring – effing – ring again.

Mia smiled, stood up and pressed the little icon that would make the ringer stop and allow her to speak to the person behind the annoyance.

“Jack’s phone, he’s disturbed at the moment…………”

The woman on the other end began babbling and Mia raised an eyebrow. Lowering the phone she asked him “You are the boss right?” Nodding with a smile to his reply she put the phone back to her head she cleared her throat. “Listen Miss. Jack is having lunch and I… Pardon? No. You seem to think I know you… I’m sure you wouldn’t want your boss to think you just start talking to anyone that answers his phone.” The phone went dead silent so she continued. “Right now, he’s eating and you are not calling back, understood?” She didn’t wait for a reply. She just pressed the end call button.

She snorted at the thing in her hand and attempted to sit back down in booth opposite Jack but they were uninterrupted almost instantly by the phone.

“Someone needs an ear cleaning and English lesson.” She laughed at the phone and him while her quick fingers methodically disassembled the electronic device and laid out each piece along the center of the table. Orderly. Meticulous. Like one would lay out pieces of a firearm for cleaning. Habit.

Smiling at the line of pieces she let out a delighted sigh.

“Silence is much more preferred than unnecessary noise.”

Grinning at the incredulous look on his face Mia turned her attention to the waitress watching them and crooked her finger. She blinked as the woman nearly jumped in response. Mia turned on the ‘nice’ to her tone before speaking. She would be in the neighborhood for a while and it didn’t due to piss off the staff at an establishment that carried bacon and fresh goodies.

“I would adore cheesecake right about now. A huge slice or two little ones, if you please.” She requested sweetly and propped her feet up in the empty seat space next to her lunch companion.

[Fish_Tales]

He liked her.

It was silly to think that, especially for him and especially after only a quarter of an hour, but he liked the woman who’d put his phone under her butt and then wise-cracked him. For all of her….chutzpah….she had respect and she did it in good humour. He smiled at her, bemused, but enjoying it.

She was chewing daintily and eyeing him in a way that suggested more than just ogling.

“Oh, if the only thing I get on a third date is to sit on your ringer, that would completely explain the doting waitress and little miss waiting for you out in the parked car.”

He chuckled and glanced towards the window of the diner and Mel was indeed waiting in the car outside the diner.

Well, fuck me.

He looked back toward Mia and grinned.

“I’m afraid you have me pegged incorrectly, ma’am," he said, raising his hands and shrugging, "I generally don’t like women and they rarely dote on me.”

He looked over at Deb and hoped she wouldn’t come over just at that time to make a liar of him, but fortunately she was occupied with the other people in the diner. Not everyone just ordered a beer or ten and kept to themselves.

The phone rang again and then Mia stood up. She pressed the answer button.

Fuck me.

He almost smiled as she answered it.

Almost.

“Jack’s phone, he’s disturbed at the moment…………Listen, Miss. Jack is having lunch and I… Pardon? No. You seem to think I know you… I’m sure you wouldn’t want your boss to think you just start talking to anyone who answers his phone. Right now, he’s eating and you are not calling back, understood?”

He raised his eyebrow when she hung up.

“Maybe I can win my phone battle….now that I have an ally.”

The ringing commenced again as he finished speaking and she mumbled at the phone. Kelly then watched as the lady called Mia started to take his phone apart. She was dextrous, he had to give her that, and very quickly the phone was dismantled expertly into smaller and smaller pieces and laid out neatly on the table. She seemed happy with her work and sat back, relaxed.

“Silence is much more preferred than unnecessary noise,” she said.

“I guess I may have some of that sandwich after all,” he said, pulling the plate towards him while taking a long swig of his beer and glancing at Deb as the signal for another. “It’s not like anyone’s going to call me….now.”

Oddly enough, Kelly didn’t feel pissed off with her at all about the phone. In fact, if anything, she’d done him a favour. When it came to the physical execution of anything, he was a doer, it suited him. Instances like the phone, times that required communication or some sort of emotional input, those weren’t his forte. For a man who made a living being the worst kind of “fixer”, he really was reticent to hurt people’s feelings.

I’ll shoot them dead or punch their lights out, but I won’t hurt their feelings.

He rolled his eyes to himself.

So no, he wasn’t mad. Not even annoyed. She’d helped him by taking control of the situation. He glanced down at the disassembled phone and he knew that eventually he would have to handle the situation in the office, just not right now.

Or maybe not.

Maybe Mia wants to come with me.

He looked again at the disassembled phone strewn in front of him and smirked.

I can bring back whoever I fucking well like.

Deb came to the table, picking up his empty bottle and depositing the fresh one. He nodded to her and smiled.

Geez, I meet helpful ladies.

Kelly picked up the half of the sandwich Mia had offered him and took a bite, not a large one, but larger than any of the bites she’d taken.

He chewed it thoughtfully and methodically, the way he did most things. It was good, but food was food to Kelly. He found it more a utilitarian necessity rather than a pleasure. Eating meant sitting down and being still for a few moments, one of the few things Kelly wasn’t good at.

And hurting people’s feelings.

He swallowed the piece of the sandwich.

“Miss Mia,” he said with a smile,” maybe it is a pleasure to meet you, after all.”

He paused for a moment to have a pull on the fresh beer and then continued.

“I think you’re like me, as in not from around here. I’ve never seen you before and I remember faces…..especially ones like yours.”

His eyes were looking directly at her. He didn’t feel self-conscious saying that. She was gorgeous and she would know it. It didn’t make sense to say anything to the contrary.

He grinned at her. He would definitely remember her, pale and fine boned, sharp features framed by black hair. He bet himself he could pick her up with one hand.

Might have to try that one day, once we know each other better.

She had steel though and he admired that. Steel and humour. One thing Kelly had learnt was that courage and strength were not dependent on size and this woman was the perfect example.

If she’s smart, then I’m really fucked, he thought.

He frowned to himself.

Please don’t let her be smart as well, I’m not supposed to like women.

He finished the last part of the sandwich and he hadn’t spoken for a few minutes, but it didn’t seem to matter. He hadn’t lost her and she hadn’t lost him, they were just….being.

You seem to know something about electronics,” he said finally, as he looked down at the table. “Or, at least you know how to take it apart.”

He looked at her. He liked her. She could probably tell that, though he hoped not.

Mia gestured to Deb, who shuffled over quickly.

“I would adore cheesecake right about now,” she said. “A huge slice or two little ones, if you please.”

She was respectful and polite. He winked at Deb.

Shit. She’s nice too.

I’m fucked.

Kelly had a plan. Not a smart plan. Not a normal plan.

But he liked her.

I’m fucked.

He slowly took another pull of his beer. He had a plan.

Great.

A plan.

Trouble.

Don’t do it. You’re talking to a woman and you know what happens when you talk to women….

“You know what this means, don’t you?" he said. "I’ll have to apprehend you and take you back to my office and force you to put that damn phone back together, no matter how long it takes, even if we have to do it through dinner and I get to listen to you and drink beer. I don’t care how hard it is for me, I’m quite stubborn like that.”

He smirked.

She rested her feet on his seat.

Chutzpah.

Please....

Don’t let her be smart.