"I see how this works," he said. "Four eyes, four ears, four arms, one brain. Who does the thinking?"
"If it's a tactical situation — me," I said, as we got into his car. "If we're making a plan or trying to work something out, it's whoever has the best idea. It just looks like we're not discussing it, because it happens so fast."
"Also," Neeka said, "we're so in tune that whoever thinks of something first, that's usually what we do. We never argue. Well, almost never. Sometimes Sam will want to do something that I think is way dangerous, but since it's her skin, and she always manages to pull it off, I would have a tough time talking her out of it."
"Like the tank business," I added. "I had an idea, but I didn't know it would work until I had checked out the tank. When I hit it with my hand and heard the sound reverberate inside, I thought I had a chance if I could smack it hard enough with something heavy."
"Getting him to turn and follow us was just luck," she said. "I didn't really expect him to follow the bike, but when he lost sight of Sam, I must have been his most tempting target. Nice car, by the way."
"It's boxy, but it's a classic," Steve said, patting the dashboard. "I got it used, of course. But the resale should still be high when I'm ready to trade up in a couple of years. And it runs good, too."
"You drive it very well," Neeka said, "If a little slowly. You need to speed up if you want to keep up with Mrs. Reynolds."
"Don't listen to her," I said. "She thinks anything under a hundred is poking along."
"Yes, I know. I saw her shoot the gap between those patrol cars. Neeka, you can sure handle a bike." Steve sounded genuinely impressed and I felt a brief flash of jealousy at hearing my boyfriend compliment another girl.
"Thanks!" Neeka replied. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear someone say that. Usually all I hear is 'Oh my God! Slow down!' and some loud screaming from the back of the bike. It's really annoying."
"Careful there," I said. "Next time, I might just take a taxi."
"Ha!" she laughed sharply, "And I'll be there a half hour before you, telling everyone how you were too chicken to ride with me."
"Riding with you is a religious experience. I pray every time. Of course, all I ever pray for is to get there in one piece."
"OK! OK!" Jim shouted us down before we got rolling. I was a little disappointed, to tell the truth. Neeka was giving as good as she got and that was both unusual for her and a good thing, as far as I was concerned.
"Oh, let them go on," Steve said. "Having them slag each other off is better than listening to them complain about my driving."
"You drive just fine, sweetie," I told him.
"Yeah," Neeka said, giving Jim a poke in the ribs to keep him quiet. "If we run too late, we can always order a pizza to be delivered at the next intersection."
Steve fell far enough behind Mom so that I thought for sure we had been left behind. It was a surprise to me when he pulled into the parking lot at The Olive Grove. Apparently he had known where we were headed. I guess that was just one more thing that had gone on without me knowing about it.
By chance, Steve parked the car very close to the spot where I had taken down the guy who tried to kidnap Sheriff Foster. I was looking at the car parked in that spot, remembering that night when Steve surprised me by running around and opening my door for me. I was briefly embarrassed at the possibility that he thought I was waiting on him to do that. I was certainly capable of opening my own door and I wasn't one of those girls who get huffy if a guy doesn't try to anticipate every little thing I want them to do for me. When he reached out a hand to assist me in getting out of the car, I tried to be gracious about it and took it, leaning on it as though I needed the help. It cost me nothing, but to Steve it meant his courtesy and assistance was appreciated.
I was learning that in a relationship, it isn't how you feel about each other, but how you make each other feel. Not in the big obvious ways, like making love, or telling someone you love them, but in little ways. Sometimes, the small things matter the most. One moment of unthinking pettiness can undo ten moments of tenderness. Rudeness and discourtesy are corrosive. They eat away at relationships until they fall apart.
As soon as I stepped out of the car, I found that all my philosophizing was beside the point. Walking across a gravel parking-lot in heels while trying to look sophisticated is impossible. I held onto Steve's arm and gratefully accepted all the support he could provide. We strolled casually across to the front door and you would never have guessed that he was carrying most of my weight. By the time we got onto firm footing again, I had retracted any bad things I may have made about big lunks with bulging muscles. They can sure come in handy when you need them.
Once inside, I found that Connie had been reassigned from Waitress to Hostess duty. She was holding the door and welcoming everyone as they came in. I was the next to last in line and she spared the hunk behind me only the briefest flirty smile before she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me like I was her long-lost sister.
"Sam! How are you? Oh, I'm so glad to see you!"
The 'Mr. Morton' dress I was wearing was more drape-and-hang than cinch-to-fit. It wasn't designed for enthusiastic hugs. When she let go, I had to check to see if anything had popped out.
"I'm great, Connie. How have you been?"
"Wonderful! I'm so glad you came tonight. I've been wanting to call you, but I've been so busy I just haven't had time. After that fantastic party and the pep talk you gave me, I was so excited, I couldn't wait. I checked with the college first thing Monday and they have a summer session that will be starting in a few weeks, so I enrolled in it. It's remedial stuff, mostly. Designed for borderline students like me, I'm afraid. But I can use it to get my average up and get back up to speed before the Fall semester starts."
"So if the summer session hasn't started, what have you been doing to stay so busy for the last three days?"
"Studying! I went back to the textbooks I didn't read before, and I sat down to read them without thinking of them as coursework. It's made a world of difference! I keep finding out interesting things that I want to know more about. I've been haunting the library like Banquo's ghost."
"Like who?"
"A product of a guilty conscience. That and a new interest in freshman-level Shakespeare. But nevermind that. I'm so glad to see you again. Thank you for getting my head turned around. I feel like a new person."
"You're welcome, but you're the one doing all the work. Is this why you're not waiting tables?"
"Indirectly. Uncle Sergio got mad when I was late for my shift, but when he found out where I had been and what I had been doing, he made me the Hostess. It's easier and I get to leave early so I can go home and study some more after work."
"But no tips?"
"Oh, we don't get to keep our own tips. They go into a pot and everyone gets a cut. This is a family business, remember. None of us is going to starve."
"Well, I might, if I don't get some food pretty quick."
"Oh, I'm sorry. You're in the back room. It's this way. I'm just so glad to see you. I had to tell you all about it. I've been so into my books that I even missed the excitement this afternoon. Did you get to see any of it?"
"You mean The Dragon and Ace fighting the stolen tank? I missed seeing it on TV until just a little while ago. I must have caught the umpteenth rerun." The media didn't know Neeka's nom de guerre, as she put it, but I figured it would do no harm to drop it. If it spread as I hoped, it would become something that 'everyone knew', but no one knew how they knew. If anyone traced it back to me, I could always claim to just have heard it somewhere else.
"I had no idea people like that even existed, never mind one living here! Everyone who's come in tonight has been talking about it. It's the most exciting thing to happen around here that I can remember."
"Really! Does anyone think they know who she is?"
"No! No one has a clue about either of them. They're just a mysterious pair of superheroes who appeared out of nowhere and vanished before anyone could talk to them. We had to move Sheriff Foster into the same private room as your party to keep people from pestering him."
"Foster is here?"
"Yes, I hope you don't mind. There is plenty of room. The room seats twenty. He and his wife came in about forty-five minutes ago. They should be on their dessert by now."
"No, that's fine. I'd like to say hello to him."
I got my chance right away. When Connie showed us in, Sheriff Foster was standing by his table holding his napkin in his hand and chatting with Mom. A cup of coffee and an untouched dish of tiramisu sat at his place on the table. He must have been asking after me because Mom gestured at me and I walked right over.
"Good evening Sheriff," I said. "How are you tonight?"
"Just fine, Sam. Just great. You remember the Mrs?"
"Yes. How do you do, Mrs. Foster?"
"I'm doing very well, thank you. It's good to see you again." She reached out her right hand to me and I clasped it with my left. She held on well beyond the brief grasp and release that usually passes for a handshake between women in polite society. I got the impression she wanted to tell me something, but not here and now.
Her slight emphasis on 'again' could have meant 'since this afternoon' or it could have referred to our earlier encounter in the parking lot. I couldn't tell which. I smiled and nodded, trying to acknowledge whichever she meant, as well as her familiarity. I broke her gaze and she released my hand at that. I turned to her husband, whose normal down-home charm seemed to be worn thin by all the attention he must have received. I felt sorry for him, but he chose public service, and the public life that went with it. I just wanted to remain anonymous.
"I hope you don't mind us trespassing," he said. "We just had to get away for a bit. The phone at home won't quit ringing and I needed a break."
"Not a problem, Sheriff," I replied cheerfully. "We all need our private time and space."
"Well, rest assured I will make sure that yours is protected," he said, in a confidential tone. "This will die down in a few days. People will get over the novelty of it. Some of them will even understand that they shouldn't flush quail they don't intend to shoot."
His folksiness rang a little hollow, but I got the message. He had said much the same thing during the press conference. He meant that he would try to make it clear to people that I didn't want to be a celebrity and trying to drag me into the spotlight would most likely lead to me having to disappear. Neither of us wanted that. I wanted to go on being The Dragon, and he wanted to be able to go on preserving and defending the peace, knowing that if things got bad enough, he could call for the cavalry to save the day. I was a safety-net for him. There were few others in his position who had that. It must have been a great comfort to him to know if he had to call for help, doing so would make him look good, not bad. That would be very important to a politician who relied on the public's perception of him for re-election.
While I came to understand this only at that moment, he must have figured it out much earlier. I looked into his eyes, wondering how much it meant to him and how far he would go to keep my identity a secret. He seemed to understand my concern and he set his jaw and tried to put on a determined and resolute look. He did rather well at it. It looked exactly like the last set of campaign posters I had seen plastered all over town.
I stifled a grin and stuck out my hand to him. He took it without hesitation, even though he almost flinched when I closed my fingers around three of his and he looked like he was thinking that with a flick of my wrist I could probably tear his arm out of the socket. I squeezed gently and let go without doing anything to intimidate him.
"Your coffee will get cold," I said. "Please sit down and finish your dinner."
After a couple more pleasantries, he did just that. Mom and I went to our own table at the far end of the room and joined everyone else. Steve had put my cushion down and was holding my chair for me. This time, with his help and the heels, I was able to get up on it without waving my butt at everyone.
The service was impeccable, if not as entertaining as when I coaxed Connie into letting me play with her. The food was excellent. I had the Italian sampler plate — lasagna, manicotti, and angel-hair pasta with clam sauce — and polished it off so quickly that I had to wait for everyone else to catch up.
As I waited, I wondered what people out in the main room were saying about our afternoon adventure. The walls of the private room were hardly sound-proof and I could hear the murmur of voices on the other side. I cocked an ear toward the wall behind me and tried to make them out.
It was like tuning in a distant radio station. If I focused on a sound, it seemed to get louder and louder until I could hear it clearly. The first thing I heard was a man's voice saying, "No. Never. That's final." The tone was harsh, but I could tell it was Uncle Sergio's voice. I realized that I was listening in on a conversation he was having with someone in his office, which must have been on the other side of the wall. Then I heard another voice. It was arrogant and smug as hell, and dripping with insincerity.
"Sergio, you know you really don't have a choice in this. We've tried to be as polite as possible, but you are just going to have to accept the fact that you have new partners in this business. Do I need to have Mr. Jones here explain things to you in a more personal way? Maybe he should take it up with another member of your family? Your wife? Maybe that lovely niece of yours?"
There was a long silence before Uncle Sergio said in a tone of resignation and sadness, "No. That won't be necessary. I'll go along. What do you want?"
"There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Mr. Jones, step away from our new partner. He's decided to be reasonable after all."
There was another pause; then the same insincere voice went on, "I'll give you a list of the distributors that you will use from now on. Also, we will expect a monthly payment from you — in cash — of $2,000 for... insurance. You see, we're not greedy. But if you ever fail to make a payment, the amount automatically doubles from then on. If you ever miss two payments, Mr. Jones here will get, ah, 'intimately acquainted' with certain family members. Do you understand these terms?"
"Yes."
"Good. Of course, if you should have a change of heart in the matter, and perhaps decide to discuss the details of our partnership with the local police, rest assured that there is no hole deep enough or dark enough for you to hide in. We will find you, and we will... but there's no need to get graphic about it, is there? I'm sure you understand the consequences perfectly without me spelling it out for you."
"Yes, damn you!"
I didn't wait to hear the rest. What I had heard so far was enough to make my blood boil. I had to do something about this, and quickly, before the two men got away. I had no idea what. Or how. My suit was in the dirty-clothes basket at home. I hadn't expected to need it again so soon and I certainly hadn't expected to need it tonight.
I turned to Steve and whispered, "I have to go to the ladies room. I'll be back in a minute."
He got up quickly and pulled my chair out for me and helped me get my feet back on the floor without jumping down from my perch. When I started around the table, Neeka got up to follow me. I stopped halfway to the door of the room and said, "No. You stay here. If both of us go, it will be a dead giveaway. We'll blow our covers and that will be the end of it. Just give me your scarf."