High-Caliber Concealer Page 6

  “If it were just me, I’d probably chance it,” said Nikki with a sigh. “But it’s not just me. A lot of women could be arrested, or worse, if Carrie Mae gets exposed. The CIA doesn’t take too kindly to others playing in their sandbox. At best, they’d probably call what we do ‘industrial espionage,’ at worst they’d call us traitors. And what about all the women we help? I’d be risking a lot on the chance that Z’ev loves me enough not to blab.”

  “I fully understand what’s at stake,” said Mr. M. “But as someone who was in the CIA and loves a Carrie Mae agent, I think that maybe Z’ev could be trusted and that breaking up with him seems unnecessary.”

  Nikki sighed. She didn’t want to have this argument again. She didn’t want to point out that Mr. M had been retired from the CIA by the time he’d married Miranda. And she didn’t want to point out that he was assuming an awful lot about how much Z’ev cared about her. “Well, don’t worry, I’m not throwing anything away. And seriously, he has to be home for more than forty-eight hours before I think we can consider it a relationship—good or otherwise.”

  “I see your point,” said Mr. M. “What are you going to do with your time off?”

  “I was thinking about going to see my grandma. Mom’s been pestering me about going, which means Grandma’s been pestering her.”

  “I thought you got along with your grandma?”

  “I do! I’ve been meaning to go. It’s just that all the holidays end up being with my mom too, and you know my mom.”

  “Drives you nuttier than a Christmas fruitcake,” agreed Mr. M.

  “And getting vacation time hasn’t exactly been easy. Clearly, I should have thought of unpaid leave earlier.”

  “And how would you have arranged that?”

  “I would have told Jane she had to go on vacation, which would obviously have resulted in a fistfight in the front lobby.”

  Mr. M laughed. “Obviously.” There was a tiny, far away noise from Mr. M’s side of the call. “OK, that sounds like Miranda. I’d better go pretend I’ve been in the recliner the whole time.”

  “Mr. M! You should be in the recliner.”

  “Miranda took my phone,” he protested. “I had to go get a burner out of the garage. Gotta go, bye.”

  Nikki set down her phone and purse and looked around the kitchen. There had been a time, between college and this job, when she had lived with her mother and an empty house sounded like heaven. Now, she missed having someone to talk to. She thought about calling her mother, realized that she wasn’t that lonely, and dialed her grandmother while reaching up into the back of the freezer for some ice cream.

  “Connelly residence,” said her grandmother on the third ring.

  “Hi, Grandma. It’s Nikki.”

  “Ah, Nikki, my favorite grandchild.”

  “I’m your only grandchild, so that better be true,” said Nikki laughing.

  “Don’t check the fine print, honey, just accept the compliment,” said her grandmother, not quite laughing.

  Nikki pictured her grandmother, Peg Connelly, standing in the kitchen of her farmhouse, short, gray hair fluffing out around her ears, probably barefoot and wearing jeans with some heinously pastel plaid shirt from Wal-Mart. It made her nostalgic and it made her feel the emptiness of the apartment even more. She yanked out the ice cream and shut the freezer door with a round house kick.

  “I’m glad you called, honey,” said Peg. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I feel like I’ve hardly spoken to you in the last year.”

  Nikki ignored the shooting stab of guilt. “It’s been a really busy year. But it turns out I’ve got some time off and I was thinking about coming up for a visit.”

  “A visit? Well, that would be great. When do you think you’ll be here? I’ll have to clean up your room.”

  Nikki ignored that comment, since her grandmother’s idea of horrible filth barely registered on Nikki’s scale of unclean. “I was thinking I would drive up, so…” Nikki stared at the calendar, trying to math out miles to days. “Maybe, Wednesday?”

  “Wednesday is fine, but I don’t think you should drive up,” said Peg. “Not by yourself. I don’t think that would be safe.”

  “Mmm,” said Nikki. “You make a point.” She flipped the lid off the ice cream.

  “You should check the flights and let me know when you’ll arrive. I’ll come pick you up in Spokane.”

  “I’ll have to think about that,” said Nikki, opening the cupboard to look for a bowl and then realizing that they were all in the dishwasher.

  “OK,” said Peg. “You can email me when you’ve got some flight numbers and let me know when you arrive.”

  “I think we can still say that I’ll be arriving on Wednesday,” said Nikki.

  “Great. I can get your room clean by then. Or, you know, you can call me when you land at Seatac because I’ll leave for Spokane when you leave Seattle. There aren’t any direct flights from LAX to Spokane are there?”

  “I don’t know if there are or not,” replied Nikki. She pulled out a large spoon and levered out a chunk of ice cream.

  “You’ll have to look into that.”

  There was a pause as Nikki said nothing and tried to juggle the phone while bracing the ice cream against the toaster for better leverage.

  “Well, honey, I’m so excited that you’re coming to visit!” said Peg. “It’s really good because I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something kind of important.”

  Nikki paused with the spoon half-way to her mouth. Her mother had been hinting that Peg might be looking into selling the farm, and the idea of selling the family home made Nikki want to cry. She did not think she could face talking about it right now. Her mind flipped through a rolodex of responses. Then the doorbell rang.

  “Is that your doorbell?”

  “Yes,” said Nikki.

  “Well, you’d better go. I’ll see you on Wednesday. Bye, honey!”

  “Bye, Grandma.” Nikki hung up the phone, set down the spoon, and reached for her gun. She flipped open the app on her phone that was tied to the web cam that watched her door. Jane waved up at it.

  “Hey, Jane,” said Nikki opening the door.

  “Hey,” said Jane, breezing into the apartment with take-out bags. “I bought Chinese and then I thought maybe you would want some too.” She set the bags down on the kitchen counter next to the ice cream. “But we can always start with dessert.”

  “I’ll take the Chinese first,” said Nikki. “It’ll give the ice cream time to soften. Where are the girls?”

  “Ellen’s at her kickboxing class and Jenny went to the range to blow off steam. They said they would be by later.”

  Nikki pulled some chopsticks out of the drawer and opened a container that turned out to be Mongolian Beef. “Jane, do you ever think that we ought to get out and meet other people? Maybe associate with someone who isn’t Carrie Mae?”

  “We do. We go to the gym, and you go to the linguistics group, and I have my Comic-Con friends. We see other people.” Jane’s hand paused over the Moo Shu Pork. “Why?”

  “I’m not trying to break up with you, Jane. I’ve just been thinking a lot about my life lately.”

  “You mean you’ve been thinking about breaking up with Z’ev again,” said Jane rolling her eyes. “You’re not going to do it. I don’t know why you keep talking about it. You look into his big brown eyes and you go all gooey and you don’t do it.”

  “Yeah, but I should,” said Nikki. “He’s kind of incompatible with this job. He’s a real danger to Carrie Mae.”

  Jane shrugged. “He is. But you’re making it work.”

  “I’m making it work,” Nikki repeated. “But my bigger question is: for how long? I keep thinking life would be easier without him. And then I start to ponder what else life would be easier without.”

  Jane stared at her, a worried crease forming between her eyebrows. “And, um, when you have these thoughts, do any particular names spring to mind? Do you have
any ideas about how you would like to get rid of the names on said list?”

  “I’m not going on a killing rampage,” said Nikki.

  “OK, but if you decide to go all Val Robinson on us, I’d like some prior warning.”

  Nikki thought about saying that sometimes she thought Val Robinson’s lone wolf approach had some real merits, but she knew Jane would blow a gasket if she so much as suggested it. Also, Val hadn’t been an indiscriminate killer. She simply got rid of the people in her way. It was just that at one point, Nikki had unfortunately been in the way.

  “So have you decided what you’re going to do with your two weeks off?” she asked changing the topic.

  “Jenny keeps saying we’re going to Cancun,” said Jane, looking doubtful.

  “Won’t the tan interfere with your preferred Goth lifestyle?”

  “It would, if all of my Goth friends hadn’t moved to San Diego and started having babies. Plus, I do carry sunscreen at all times.”

  Both their phones chirped and Nikki leaned over to check the message.

  Coming in—don’t shoot me.

  “I wish Jenny wouldn’t text that every time,” said Jane, sighing. “The mobile companies can look at those texts if they want.”

  “They should get in line with the NSA,” said Nikki with a shrug. “It reads like a joke.”

  Jane looked unconvinced.

  “Hey, y’all,” said Jenny, breezing in, smelling faintly of Dolce and cordite. “I brought some really fresh berries for dessert.” She plunked the bag down on the counter next to the ice cream. “In case you want to try something healthy for a change.”

  “Yeah, we probably don’t,” said Nikki. “But they’ll go good on the ice cream.”

  Jenny shook her head and investigated the Chinese food containers, selecting the grilled vegetables and chicken option. “So what are we talking about?”

  “Breaking up with Z’ev and what to do on our unpaid leave,” said Jane, making a sour face.

  Jenny wrinkled her nose. “Honey, I don’t want to be mean, but it’s time to shit or get off the pot.” Then she pointed her chopsticks at Jane. “Cancun.”

  “The problem is,” said Nikki. “that I don’t know whether to… Can we use a different metaphor while we’re eating?”

  “You had a perfect opportunity with Kit Masters,” said Jenny. Being the son of an agent, he was covered under the immediate-danger-family-clause. Z’ev had cancelled your vacation plans at the last second, and you were even mostly broken up due to that phone issue. It was the perfect opportunity. It would have been like the break-up win of the century—dump Z’ev, find someone new in a week, and have that someone new be a European rock star. I’m telling you, it was the break-up trifecta and you blew it.” Jenny shook her head sadly. “Anyway, my point is that the problem isn’t knowing what to do. You know what you should do. You just don’t want to do it.”

  “You really think I should break up with him?” asked Nikki and watched Jenny and Jane exchange glances filled with the telepathy of previous conversations.

  “Yes,” said Jenny, taking a deep breath. “I do. He’s a threat to Carrie Mae and to you, and the only way that you’re making this work is because he’s never around, which is making you miserable.”

  Nikki looked at Jane, who nodded and then smiled apologetically. “Ellen feels the same way, I suppose?”

  “I’m sure I couldn’t answer that,” said Jenny, who had clearly been spending time with Mr. Merrivel, “as we do not speak about you behind your back.”

  Nikki laughed and threw one of the fortune cookies at her. “Yes, you do. Behind my back, in front of my back, beside my back.”

  “Well, there’s more of us,” said Jane, practically. “We have you surrounded. What are you going to do on your leave?”

  “I’m going to drive up and see my grandmother in Kaniksu Falls,” said Nikki.

  “That should be fun. You’ve been saying you need to visit her,” said Jenny scooping some white rice out of her dish and into Jane’s container.

  “It’s rice,” said Jane rolling her eyes. “You can eat rice.”

  “It’s white rice. It’s devoid of nutrients.”

  “It should be nice to visit,” said Nikki, ignoring the dietary squabble. “But I think she’s going to ask if I want to buy the farm.”

  “She’s going to ask if you want to die?” Jenny looked up, startled.

  “What?” They stared at each other trying to figure out where the conversation had gone wrong. “No, she owns a farm. I think she’s starting to feel too old to take care of it, and she’s thinking about selling.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, we had to work that out with my Granny. We were all so sad the day we had to take her cows away.”

  “I don’t know what you have to do to get your cow license revoked,” said Jane. “And it’s possible, considering how deeply Southern you are, that I don’t want to know.”

  “That is a slander on my heritage and my Granny,” said Jenny. “You’d better watch yourself young lady or I will not teach you how to get free drinks in Cancun.”

  “I know how to get free drinks,” said Jane. “I just have higher standards for my breasts.”

  “Ladies,” said Nikki, “before this turns into a fistfight, can we focus on the really important question?”

  “Sure,” said Jenny, “What is the really important question? Is Z’ev getting suspicious?”

  “What?” Nikki laughed casually. “No, I was going to say, chocolate syrup or berries on the ice cream?”

  Jane’s phone let out a chirp and she picked it up to read the incoming text.

  “Can I have all of them?” asked Jane, setting the phone down. “That was the office letting me know that my mainframe access has been suspended for the next two weeks. This sucks, guys! I don’t want to be on unpaid leave. It goes on our permanent record. It’s not fair.”

  Jenny leaned over to give her a hug. “I had to turn in Freddy.”

  Nikki winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Jenny.”

  “It’s OK,” said Jenny, straightening her spine and putting on an obviously brave face. “We did the crime; I can do the time. Besides, I couldn’t take an M-16 to Cancun anyway.”

  August IV

  The Cantina Band

  Kaniksu Falls • Tuesday

  Nikki paused at the four-way stop, considering her options. The problem with taking a road trip to find oneself was that she wasn’t really lost and now she had arrived in Kaniksu Falls and was heartily sick of the company, but still no closer to any decisions. It was 7:30 p.m. on a Tuesday, which meant that her grandmother would be firmly ensconced at the Bingo hall for at least another hour. A flash of headlights behind her indicated that she’d taken too much time even by polite Washington standards. She took a left and headed for the tavern sign she could see cycling through a pattern of lights that formed an arrow pointing at a dark building barely visible in the dusk of day and smoke haze from the nearest forest fire. She could get a drink and a burger and then go home to her grandmother, who was almost certain to have pie.

  The bar was called the Kessel Run and it was decorated in a plethora of twelfth man football flags and kitschy alien crap.

  She thought about calling Donny. Theoretically, he would also be in town somewhere. After their brief rendezvous in LA, she figured they had a lot of catching up to do. And she really did want to talk to him, but not on the phone. Phones were never secure these days. Nikki scanned the parking lot. There was only one car, a boring blue four-door. Nikki shook her head. She couldn’t understand why anyone would drive a car so devoid of personality. She couldn’t even tell what kind it was—Oldsmobile? Buick? It was the equivalent of the high-school wallflower, going out of its way to not be noticed. Volvos were like the AV club, full of weird boxy angles that no one understood, but were beloved by the in-crowd. Sports cars were the popular kids. SUV’s and trucks were the jocks. This car was so blah, Nikki wanted to key it just because it would be cha
racter building for the car.

  “That car was me in high-school—totally forgettable.” Shaking her head again, she went inside. Nikki pushed aside a cardboard cutout of Harrison Ford, listing into the doorway, and sat down at the bar. Aside from a trio sitting in the back near the jukebox, she was the only one in the place.

  “What can I get you?” asked the bartender, putting down the sports section and placing a menu in front of her.

  Nikki considered ordering a glass of wine, but thought that she already stood out enough as it was. She glanced at the bar menu. It was heavy on the fried substances and beer. “Um ... How about a gin and tonic and a,” She shifted a grease spot on the menu with her thumb, “Wookie burger? You know, as long as it’s ethically farmed Wookie.”

  “Curly fries or wedges?” asked the bartender, ignoring her attempt at humor.

  “Has to be wedges, doesn’t it? Wedge to Red Leader and all that?” The bartender stared at her blankly. “Curly fries are fine,” she said.

  “Back in a second with your drink,” he said, tucking the pencil behind his ear and then ambled toward the kitchen. Nikki surveyed the bar in the reflection of the ornate Budweiser mirror behind the taps. Grimy would have been doing the place a kindness. Everything seemed slightly sticky, like the concept of occasionally washing the bar rag that washed everything else had never been properly explained to the employees. On the other hand, if the three patrons at the back of the bar were anything to be judged by, then this place was a fancy night out for most of the clientele. The first man wore a grubby John Deere hat without a trace of Ashton Kutcher irony, a scraggly goatee, and a pair of Carhartt’s so filthy the only clean space was behind the knees. Which she could see because he had one leg angled out from his chair and he was bouncing it with the kind of nervous energy usually seen on those with a severe caffeine addiction. The second man was clearly in his Sunday best of acid-wash black jeans and a blue button-up work shirt with a collar that must have been a hair too tight, because he kept tugging at it after every sip of his beer. How either of them had managed to scrape up an association with the girl who perched uncomfortably on the third chair, her arms crossed over a green cardigan and white blouse, was probably one of the mysteries of the universe. She looked to be in her early twenties, Hispanic, with thick, shoulder-length black hair, and big dark eyes that Nikki could tell had been crying recently. In Nikki’s opinion, she was far too pretty, too well-dressed, and too young to be with either of the men. The two men seemed to be arguing quietly, but the more they spoke, the further away the girl leaned and the more she seemed to hunch in on herself, as if trying to become invisible in her chair.