The A to Z Challenge – J is for – “Just a little thing I forgot to mention…”

It was our once-a-year ritual.

Pick a mountain, and hike over it. The harder the trail, the better it was.

There were five from the original group of eight, from thirty years ago, brought together by the first Gulf War, and kept together as support for each other as we tried, and sometimes failed, to reintegrate into civilian life.

It had saved me.

It had not for Benny, Jack, and Roland, and as hard as they tried, and as hard as we tried to save them, it was as sad as it was tragic, not only for us but for those they left behind.

Over the years we added, and lost, new recruits.

This year there would be six, the original five, and a new recruit, a woman that Wally had recommended, and though there were no rules barring women, it just never seemed to be a potential candidate.

Until now. Josephine or Jo had seen service in Iraq and was known to Justin, who worked off and on in a veteran’s hospital as a counselor. He could see the signs of a deteriorating soul and asked her if she would like to join a bunch of fools tackling a trail sensible people would leave alone.

A girl joining five guys in the forest, I could see how that might look, especially when he told me. Both of us were surprised when she agreed to come along. The only hitch, she would be coming with me to base camp.

I just hoped it was not another pathetic attempt on his part to matchmake. In all that time, since returning, I had not had a successful, or long-term relationship, simply because I didn’t want to share the burden.

The others were more successful in varying degrees, but rarely mentioned it when we got together. I was happy for them, but it was not for me.

Josephine arrived, precisely at the time she said she would, in a vintage Mustang that sounded like it had a V8. Josephine was once a mechanic, and according to Justin, had rebuilt the car from the ground up after finding it in a hayloft.

It looked brand new,

I was out front tossing stuff into an SUV when she pulled into the drive. From there I watched her extricate herself from the driver’s seat, a tall thin girl with long blonde hair, and that Scandinavian look about her.

Nothing about what I saw in front of me screamed battle veteran.

“Ken, I presume?”

I was not sure whether we should shake hands, hug, or what. Instead, I just stood back and nodded.

“Josephine, or Jo?”

“My real name is Betty, but I hate it, so either will do.”

How do you break the ice with what appeared to be an ice maiden?

“Justin said you were looking for some excitement. I’d hardly call our little group exciting, but you never know. There might be a few bears to wrestle.

“I hope not.”

“Don’t worry. These bears are not all that dangerous if you leave them alone. Have you heard of the expression, ‘don’t poke the bear’. Very apt in this case. Want to toss your kit in the back? I’ll get off the driveway and you can park your car in the garage. Nice car, by the way. Always wanted one, could never afford it. Still, a man can have dreams.”

She smiled, but I think my prattling was a sign of being nervous in her presence, a common complaint of mine. I just never did understand how to talk to women about normal stuff.

I wondered, for a moment, if the bears were all we would have to worry about, because as we were going inside, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large black SUV parked just down from the front of my house, window down and a man, smoking a cigar, looking directly into my yard.

It was not the first time, I’d been in a few scrapes and on the end of some surveillance, but this felt different.

I guess I’d soon find out.

…

It was a two-day trip and we would be stopping in Iowa City on the way. There was a light conversation for the first half-hour, as we both realized, we were not conversationalists. Perhaps if we had more in common.

But the silence that fell over the cabin was not an uneasy one. She closed her eyes and appeared to sleep. I drew the straw to drive the first leg, she the second.

I’d not noticed the black SUV, but that didn’t mean it was not somewhere behind us. I deliberately parked around the back of the diner, then told her I needed to look at the engine to check if we were leaking oil, which it did sometimes, and watched her go inside.

I knew surveillance tactics. Put a tracker on the car, and then you can follow at leisure.

I felt around all the spots a tracker could be hidden, and after almost believing there wasn’t one, I found it, tucked under the driver’s side door in a slot meant for the car jack, then attached it to another car.

Black SUV would be out there somewhere. It was moot whether he would fall for the trick.

Jo was sitting in a booth with two cups of coffee.

“I hope you like fried chicken.”

“My favorite, but then, anything fried is my favorite.”

She smiled, but I could see the sadness. I wonder what had happened to her, but I was sensible enough to know not to tug at that string.

“Up for the next leg?”

“Yep, but it’s going to be a little more sedate than I’m used to. Unless, of course, you want to get there early.”

“No, slow and steady is fine with me.”

How do you keep an eye on what’s behind you without looking like you’re keeping an eye on what’s behind you?

Jo never looked in the rear vision mirror, except if she was changing lanes, or passing another vehicle. Other than that, she looked to me like she was pouring her whole soul into the job at hand.

It wasn’t until we were almost to Iowa city before I thought I saw the black SUV and then lost it as she turned to go into the motel. On the way, I changed the reservation for two adjoining rooms, and dinner to be brought in. I used the excuse that it would be better not to go out, that way we could get an early night, and start the next morning.

I wanted to be the first at the base camp so I could bring her up to speed on how things worked. And the quirks of the rest of the hikers.

Then, after dining in her room, I left her with a six-pack and some awful TV show.

Back in my room, I dug out my laptop and did a search on her name, on the off chance the internet might yield some answers.

There were a lot of Josephine Littleton’s oddly enough, and over 15,000 hits. I had to scroll six pages before a single line caught my attention. Local Deputy Sherriff has assault charges dropped.

A click on the URL led me to a newspaper article, the Rio Grande Sun, dated six months ago, with a photo of a man in a Deputy’s uniform, who looked something like the man in the SUV, and a woman that was definitely Jo.

Married before she went to the war when she came back, he found it difficult to handle her and like most spouses who have no understanding of the problem, react. Some leave, after trying to reconcile the spouse they now had versus the one before and failing, very few resort to more direct action. Deputy Grady reportedly assaulted her. Her word against his, and against the law in a small county where they would close ranks, she had only one option.

Drop the charges or leave. She left, no doubt hoping to get away from him, but he would have contacts, and no trouble tracing her. Did she know he was following her?

It might be a subject for conversation tomorrow.

I was woken by the sound of a thump, something hitting the wall between our rooms, and raised voices.

I got the adjoining rooms just in case I needed to get in to see her if she was having the nightmares we all had. I unlocked the door and stepped into the room.

There was a man on the floor, groaning, and Jo, in pajamas, sitting on the end of the bed, tears flowing down her face. There were also red welts on both cheeks, from being slapped.

The man looked up at me. “Walk away. This is none of your business.”

I glared down at him. “Too late, I’ve seen your face, Deputy Grady. Now it is my business.”

I looked at Jo. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head, no.

“What happened here?”

Grady rolled over and stood up, flexing his body as if to tease out the aches and pains. I assumed it was he who hit the wall.

“We were having a conversation, and she unaccountably shoved me into the wall.”

“Before or after you hit her.”

She raised her head and looked at me. “Leave, like he said. There’s nothing you can do for me.”

“Save yourself a whole world of pain, too,” Grady added, with the sort of gloating tone only a small-town cop could do so well. The big man in a small world.

“I’m not leaving until I get the truth, Grady. But I will give you a little information for free. Be thankful you can get up off the floor. I know something about the pain Jo is going through. You don’t, you could never understand. When you assaulted her, she could have retaliated, but instead, she cared enough about you to leave before she did. Right now, you just got the reprieve of your life. To be honest, I expected to see you slit from groin to throat and your heart tossed in the trash can, and she would have done that eyes closed and without a second thought.”

I was laying in on a bit thick, but this fool really didn’t know how lucky he was. When I lashed out, I hurt five people, badly, and I hadn’t realized what I was doing until Justin told me to stop.

Jo looked at him, the look of surprise on his face, then me, then back to Grady.

“You never understood, and you didn’t care. Get the fuck out of my life, and don’t come back, or I will kill you.”

He glared at her.

“What the hell is wrong with you? We were fine until you went away. I told you not to go. You didn’t have to go.”

“You were smothering me. You, your mother, and that awful sister. I thought a few months away would clear my head. It did far worse than that, and I need help, not you.”

“You were fucked in the head before you went away. God, to think I wasted my time trying to make something out of your pathetic life.”

He looked at me. “You’re welcome to her. I’m done.”

He picked up his cap off the floor and jammed it on his head, then headed for the door. I opened it for him. “Don’t let me see you again, or you will feel the full force of the US military machine rolling right over the top of you.”

“Fuck you too, asshole.”

I closed the door after him and leaned against it.

She looked at me. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve been there and done a lot worse. But I think you just took the first step on a long road to recovery, you admitted you need help.”

“I did, and you have no idea how that feels.”

There were still two bottles of beer left so I opened them and handed one to her. “Here’s to the first day of the rest of your life.”

The A to Z Challenge – I is for – “If you had but one wish”

It was one of those moments.

Across a crowded dance floor, your eyes meet, and then that tingling sensation down your spine.

A girl who could be a princess, who might be a princess in any other lifetime, and a girl who might just outshine Annabel.

And then the moment is gone, and I could not be sure if it really happened.

“You seem preoccupied.” The almost whispered voice beside me belonged to Annabel, who had mysteriously disappeared and as mysteriously reappeared by my side.

“Just checking who are the pretenders and who are the aspirants.”

Annabel and her parents had a thing about people, who had money, who didn’t, who aspired to be part of society, and those who thought they were. It was a complication I didn’t need.

“Does it matter?”

Interesting observation, who was this girl, and what have you done with Annabel? I turned slightly to observe what some might call my girlfriend, but I was never quite sure what I was to her. Perfect in almost everything, I noticed one slight flaw, no two, a smudge in her make and hastily applied lipstick.

Did it have something to do with her mysterious disappearance?

“Perhaps not. We can be gracious no matter what the circumstances.” A moment, closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, as if preparing for a death-defying leap into an abyss. Then, with an enthusiasm I certainly didn’t feel myself, she said, “Let’s mingle.”

Being with Annabel could be an experience in itself, the way she carried herself, the way she radiated warmth and humility, and then sometimes when in high dudgeon, you wanted to be anywhere else. Today, she shone. I could see the write-up in the social pages of tomorrow’s newspaper, exactly where she wanted to be. Relevant.

I knew the drill, as consort, to be one pace back and one to the side, being aloof but not aloof, on hand to provide the comment that complimented Annabel’s narrative.

I had suggested that we might take to the dance floor, once around the floor to make an impression, but Annabel, being 3 inches shorter than me in heels, was reluctant. Not because she couldn’t dance, well, that’s not exactly true, it wasn’t one of her strong points, but there were more pressing things to do. She didn’t say what they were.

To her equals she was all smiles and politeness, to the aspirants she was gracious, to the pretenders, short but sweet. In political parlance, we would be pressing the flesh. In any political arena, I suspect, she would excel.

Then, suddenly, we chanced upon Mr. And Mrs. Upton, and their son Roderick. I’d seen them once before, at Annabel’s parent’s house when I had been invited to dinner and had noticed, in front of him she was quite animated. This time her expression changed, and it was one I’d seen before, one I thought was exclusively for me.

I was wrong.

Although that look disappeared as quickly as it came, and she had reverted to the usual greeting, she did take Roderick’s hand when she was re-introduced, and while to all others it seemed like the second time she had met him, I could see it was not.

He looked uncomfortable, and, as he made a slight movement, I could see a smudge of makeup on his lower jaw, and lipstick on his collar, in a place that would not normally be seen. It was simply a quirk of fate.

By the time I’d processed what I’d seen, we were meeting the next person.

The princess.

“Miss Annabel McCallister, I presume?”

Annabel, suddenly, seemed flustered. She usually knew everyone at these affairs, to the extent I thought she had a bio specially researched for her, but the princess apparently was not on the list.

“You have me at a disadvantage. Whom might you be?” The tone was slightly brittle, the cheeks slightly reddened, and she was annoyed and embarrassed. Someone’s head will roll for this.

“Frances Williams, or the Boston Williams.” An offered hand, taken and then released. When Frances saw her puzzled look, she added, “I belong to the distant branch who live across the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Crumbling castles, and once upon a time, tea plantations.”

And then I committed the ultimate crime, I spoke. “Surely you do not live in a crumbling castle?”

Annabel scowled, Frances laughed, “Oh, no. Daddy’s spending a few million to fill the cracks so it isn’t as draughty.”

Interview killed stone dead. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Frances. Perhaps our paths might cross again.” In which I read, I hope they do not.

Frances was a girl who could play Annabel at her own game, and quite likely she would win.

We did the obligatory waltz, her strongest dance, and it was one of fluid motion and great concentration, in order to shrug off the Frances factor. After that, she said she needed a few moments to get some air, and it was probably perverse of me to think that finally, someone had bested her.

I had no interest in further mingling and found a quiet corner in which to view the proceedings and contemplate where the princess had disappeared to.

Apparently not as far away as I thought. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

I guess I could feign ignorance, but the princess was all-knowing and all-seeing, and now beside me, close enough for another tingling sensation in my spine from the timbre of her voice.

“A tryst with Roderick, I suspect.”

“Handsome lad, cheeky grin, just enough nervousness that someone would suspect they’d been shagging.”

I turned to look at the amused expression. “Who are you, really. You’re definitely not one of the Boston Williams.”

“No. They’re too stuffy for me. My real name is Cherie, not French, but I can speak it if you like?”

“Probably not. Mine is schoolboy at best. How did you get in here?”

“A rather enterprising waiter, and a hundred dollar note. Most of these twits wouldn’t know the real thing even if they fell over it.”

“An attention-seeking journalist then?” She would not be the first, to try to see how the so-called other half lives.

“Perish the thought. I just love these affairs, the people, the atmosphere, the food, and the drink. And meeting people like you, a contradiction in every sense. You don’t want to be here, and yet here you are. You don’t want to be with her, and yet you are. Duty? Obligation?”

“All of the above.”

“And now you know she’s having a dalliance.”

“What rich and famous couple are monogamous? You read the papers, its musical beds. It comes down to how much pride you want to swallow for the sake of family, business, and appearances.”

She shook her head. “That’s not you. Humor me, come to the Cafe Delacrat tomorrow, 10:00 am. We’ll chat.”

I took Annabel home, and it was like nothing had happened, and she was not seeing anyone else. The girl, if nothing else, was a consummate actress, and had I not seen the evidence, I would still think I was the only person for her. But she was inordinately happy, and I had not been able to do that for her for a long time.

Perhaps it was time to move on.

I nearly decided to stay in bed and not go to the Cafe Delacrat, but the thought of seeing the princess once more was the compelling argument to go.

When I got there, a few minutes before the hour, she was not there, and I thought to myself, I had been tricked. That thought magnified when it came to a few minutes after when the waiter brought out the latte. The coffee aroma was good, so it would not be a wasted visit.

And, like the princess she was, she arrived late. Dressed in a yellow summery dress with flowers, red shoes and handbag, and the obligatory scarf and sunglasses, she looked movie star stunning. She sat down, and the waiter was there before she finished squirming into the seat.

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

“Latte.” He probably knew, but I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

“I didn’t see you arrive, otherwise…”

“Very few people do.”

“By the way, you look amazing.”

“What? This old thing. It’s been sitting in the back of the closet since I last visited San Gimignano. Have you traveled?”

“Yes.”

“Man of few words. Compliments women. Apologetic. That girl is not for you.”

“And you might be?” I was wondering what her motives were.

“Me? No. Too old, a bit of a lush, certainly not monogamous, and frankly, you could do a lot better. In fact, you deserve better.”

“Then…”

She was watching the other side of the road, the front entrance to a rather pricy hotel in fact, as a taxi stopped and two passengers got out. When it drove off, I could see a man and a woman, and when I looked closer, I saw it was Annabel and Roderick, holding hands and looking very much in love, as they literally bounced into the hotel. No baggage, 10:00 am, no prizes for guessing why they were there.

“How did you know?”

She shrugged. “I know she is not the one for you. So, if you had but one wish, who would you wish for? I’m sure, over time, there has been a girl who stole your heart. We all have one, in my case, probably two, or three.”

Who was this woman, my fairy godmother?”

Yes, she inspired me to think, and closed my eyes to go back to a time in university when I ran into this amazing girl who spent far too much time helping others than to worry about herself. We spent a lot of time together, and yet we were not together in that sense, as much as I wanted to be. I sense though it was not the time or the place for her, and, after two years, she simply disappeared.

“Miranda Moore.”

I hadn’t realized I’d said her name out loud.

“Yes?”

I opened my eyes and looked up to see the very girl, a few years older but no less attractive than she was then, apparently a waitress at that cafe.

“Peter?”

“Miranda? Wow. I’ve been looking for you, high and low. What happened?”

“My mother died and I had to go home. It’s been a few years of hell, but, like you say, wow. Looking for me, you say?”

“High and low.”

“And now you’ve found me?”

“I’m not letting you disappear on me again. Can we…”

“I finish at noon. Come back then, and I’m yours. God, it’s so nice to see you again.”

The A to Z Challenge – H is for – “Have you any idea…?”

Most children, when they turn 18, or 21, get a car as a present for their birthday. In fact, I had been hoping, in my case, they would buy me a Ferrari, or at the very least, an Alfa Romeo, blue to match my older sister’s red.

Hope is a horrible thing to hang on to.

Instead, I got a seat at the table.

Not an actual seat but joined the other 7 family members that comprised the management group for the family-run business. One would retire to make way for new blood, as they called it.

“This is how it works and has done for a hundred years. In your case, you will be replacing Grandma Gwen. You will be given an area to manage, and you will be expected to work hard, and set an example to your employees. There will be no partying, no staying home when you feel like it, and definitely no getting into trouble. And for the first three years, you will sit, be quiet, listen and learn. One day, down the track, you will become the CEO.”

“If we’re still in business.” It didn’t take much to see that the company was struggling, as indeed many others were in the same industry, cheap imports and changing tastes taking a huge toll.

But we had been making exclusive and distinctive furniture for a long, long time, and discerning people who wanted a reminder of an elegant past still bought it. Part of my training, before I got that seat, was to learn the trade, and like all members of my family, could build a chair from start to finish.

It was part of the mantra, lead by example.

…

On the second day in my new role as manager, I arrived at the office, grandma Gwen was throwing the last of 50 years’ worth of stuff into three large boxes.

It was no surprise that she was resentful at being ousted to make way for me, not that she needed the money, but because even approaching 90, the last thing she wanted to do was retire.

I got the cold stare when she saw me, and, on her way out, a parting shot, “Don’t get comfortable, sonny, they’ll be closing the doors in three months, even sooner. Your father hasn’t a clue how to run the place.”

Out on the factory floor, the eight specialist workers didn’t exactly give her the goodbye I expected, showing that she didn’t have their respect. The foreman, Gary, the man who had shown me the intricacies of the work, opened and closed the door for her, shrugged, and headed back to the office.

The others went back to work.

When he came into the office, his expression changed from disappointment to amusement. He had said, years ago when I was very young, I’d be sitting in that office one.

Now I was there, though the chair, plush and comfortable when new about 50 years ago, was now as old and tired as the office’s previous owner, was hardly a selling point for the job.

“Told you you’d be sitting in that chair one day. That day is here.”

“Maybe not for long, though.”

“Don’t pay no mind to Gwenny. She and your father never got along. She wanted to sell the business 20 years ago when it was worth something, but your Dad wanted to keep the worker’s jobs. It’ll be a different story in a few years, once we’ve all gone. No one wants to be an artisan anymore. And wires, it’s all about furniture in boxes, all veneer and plastic, and a two tear life.”

“Shouldn’t we get a slice of the veneer and plastic market?”

“Can’t beat the overseas factories at their own game. The trick is to diversify, but to do that we’d need to retool, and repurpose factory space and that costs money, big money.”

With all that stuff I learned at University, economics, management, and design, it might have been better to have taken the medical path, but I had been convinced to lay the groundwork to take over the company one day.

Back then, it wasn’t a possibility the company would not go on forever. It seemed odd to me that my father hadn’t said anything about the situation Gary knew so well. Did he not listen to those who knew most?

“So, what’s the solution?”

“That depends on you.”

This was not the job I signed up for.

What did I know about furniture?

It didn’t matter.

It was about manufacturing in a world economy, and the point was, that we could not compete. Like the car industry, there was nothing but foreign imports and rebadged imported items made overseas.

So what was my role?

I was sure that every conclusion I had come to, everyone else around the table was painfully aware of too. A short discussion with my elder sister confirmed it.

It was like being aboard the Titanic and watching it sink firsthand.

That seat at the table was in an ancient wood-paneled room with a huge table that seated 24, a table and matching chairs reputedly hand made by the first owner of the company, my so-many times great grandfather, Erich.

The room reeked of wood polish, the mustiness of age, and a deep vein of tradition. Paintings on the walls were of every CEO the company had, and the first time I was in that room was the unveiling of my father’s portrait.

It was like stepping into a time warp.

Alison, my father’s PA was just finishing up setting the table for the meeting that morning. She had Bern around for a long time, so long I could remember her when I was a child.

She looked over as I stepped into the room.

“You’re just a little early.”

“Just making sure I know where I’m going.”

“Are you nervous?”

“No. It won’t be much different from sitting down to a family dinner, only a few less than normal, and I suspect there won’t be too many anecdotes.”

“It can be quite serious, but your father prefers to keep it light, and short. Your grandfather on the other hand loved to torture the numbers with long-winded speeches and religious tracts.”

Small mercy then.

“Where do I sit?”

“Down the end in the listen and don’t speak seat. It’s where all new members sit for the first year.”

That was twice I’d been told.

There were eight family members, the seven others I knew well, some better than others. I’d seen arguments, words said that were better unsaid, accusations, and compliments. I’d seen them at their best and at their worst.

It would be interesting to see how they got along in this room.

It started with an introduction and mild applause at my anointment to the ‘board’.

Then the captain of the Titanic my father as the current CEO, read out the agenda.

No icebergs expected, just plain sailing.

I sat, and I listened. It was easy to see why it was plain sailing. The family had made its wealth generations ago when our products were in high demand, and we had been living off the wealth generated by astute investment managers.

But even so, the business could not keep going the way it was without being an ever-decreasing drain on resources.

We needed a plan for the future.

“Now, if there’s no more business…” My father looked around the table, his expression telling everyone there was no more business, and stopped at me.

Was that my cue?

“I’m sorry, but I can’t sit here and pretend this place isn’t going to hell in a handbasket.”

“It may or it may not be, but that is none of your concern.”

The tone more than suggested that I should stop, right now. Of course, if I had the sense expected of me I would have, but if I was going to make a contribution, I might as well start now.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on here? We need a plan for the future, we need to be doing something.”

All eyes were on me.

I’d never seen my father so angry. At that moment I thought I’d pushed it a little too hard. To be honest I don’t know what came over me.

He glared at me for a full minute. Then as if a thought came to me that moment, there was a slight change in expression.

“Then, I have a proposition for you. I want you to work on this plan you say we need to have, what you think will be best for the company, and the family, for everyone, for the future. I believe everyone here will agree on something, as you say, that needs to be done.”

There were nods all around the table.

Then, looking directly at me, he said, “if there is nothing else. Good. Our business is done.”

The A to Z Challenge – G is for – “Got a moment to myself”

Here’s the thing … good guys come last

It’s as simple as that.

The thing is, we had all been taken in, and no one, well, there was one person who had an inkling, but I didn’t take her seriously, simply because it was the girl who cried wolf once too often.

And, consequently, the ramifications could have been very serious.

Was that the price for deciding to take people at face value, that we would eventually discover their true nature before it was too late?

I’d lived in a house full of people who trusted no one, and who was always prepared to believe the worst in people.

My parents trusted no one and consequently suffered relatively lonely lives.

My sister, Davina, was not so bad but underlying every decision that was to do with people, she would have them investigated within an inch of their lives, and that too, had been very costly for her, especially when they found out. It ended three marriages and estranged two of her three children.

As for me, I made the decision not to be like them, and it had served me well. By and large, everyone I knew and had dealings with was fine. But even with this happy-go-lucky attitude, I still found it difficult to find what one might call the woman of my dreams.

That’s why, when Helen appeared one night at a party I’d only just decided to go to at the last minute, I thought my luck had changed.

How do you ‘run into’ the one? Was it an accidental bump, excuse me, and then a lingering look as she sashays off, or is it reaching for the same glass of champagne, with the consequent touching of hands?

There are an infinite variety of ‘first’ moments, moments that left lingering thoughts of ‘who was that woman?”

There is that thought, could it have been a contrivance to get my attention? If it was, it did.

It was a large banquet hall, and there were plenty of places to hide, and I wasn’t particularly interested in staying until our paths crossed. But was my curiosity enough to make a move?

To begin with, it was not.

I shrugged it off as a one-off moment, something to remember from an unremarkable gala that proved, once I arrived, why I had been hesitating in the first place.

Old people displaying their wealth, young people flirting with the rich and famous. I was, perhaps, a little rich, but definitely not famous, hence the reason why a bevy of eligible girls was not beating a path to my door.

There were three others of my ilk there who fitted that bill and willingly took the heat for me. One, Augustus, last name unpronounceable, had that Latin, dark, sultry look going, sauntered over after he had witnessed the ‘meeting’.

“I see you’ve met Helen?”

“She stole my drink.”

“All part of the plan, Ian. She just tossed away another of the pretenders, and if you play your cards right, you might be the next.”

“Pretender?”

His smirk was imprinted on his face and never changed, amused, or annoyed. “You know you can be such a prat sometimes.”

It had been said, more than once. “Do I want to play my cards right?”

“She is interested in a mysterious way. I asked her out, but she seemed disinterested, and as you know, I only ask once. Aside from that, we want to know who she is, really.”

“And you think she’ll tell me?”

“You’re not a player, Ian, and have that perfect aloofness thing going, one that can drive a certain type of girl crazy. I think she’s one of them.”

“Then how do I find her?”

He shook his head. “That’s not how this will be played. She has to come to you. Aloof, remember, Ian, aloof. Now, I must be off. Say hello to Davina for me will you?”

He’d seen her crossing the room and had no interest in sparring with her. For some reason, she just didn’t like him. Or was that because he spurned her? I never could get an answer from her.

Aloof.

I could do aloof, though I was not sure how that would seem interesting to a woman like her.

Aside from my belief that as beautiful as her would be remotely interested in me, aside perhaps from the family wealth that one day I would inheritance s point Davina took great pains to remind me.

And that was something I wasn’t looking forward to.

There was an art to mingling at these affairs, on one hand, the obligatory meet and greet of our contemporaries, deference to our peers, letting them know we were upholding the proper values, and respect as was warranted by our position, and on the other, a casual greeting to those who were on the fringe of our society.

I’d learn the lessons from Davina when she deemed it I was ready, but the truth is, no matter what age you are, you’re never ready for this.

There was a third category, those that came up to you, wishing to make an acquaintance, whether it was for publicity, or for prestige, it was impossible to tell, then and there, sometimes it was a matter of reading the social pages to find out how your name gad been taken in vain.

I preferred not to talk to any of them unless it was absolutely necessary.

Or someone you knew brought them to you, which then, out of deference to them, sometimes put you on the spot.

Nnn chose that path, selecting another person who was known to me, Alison Burkwater, a rare, unbiased reporter, to slip in under the radar.

Not realizing I was the eventual target, I watched them stroll through the crowded floor, stopping momentarily for an introduction, or a polite exchange, Alison gathering information for her next article before they headed in my direction.

I was with one of my father’s oldest friends, Jacob, his wife, Mary, and one of their three daughters, Amy, whom I knew would be pleased if we were together, but fate seemed to keep us apart.

I watched Helen, almost entranced by the fluid motion she moved, reminding me of a cat just before it pounced on unsuspecting prey until she was standing in front of me, unaware that Alison was speaking.

“This is Helen Dunbar, over from England, checking us Americans out as the British do.”

She then introduced each of us, leaving me till last, deliberately.

Each had a comment, or a question, so when it came to me, I asked, “Holiday or business?”

In my experience, they usually said both, but if she was here, it was business, making contacts, getting a feel for the market. Perhaps even at this age, I’d become cynical

“Both.”

Suspicion confirmed. “But I hear you are an unofficial tour guide, and I am in need of someone to show me this great city.”

Flattery, no doubt. And a smile from Alison, a nod to the time when she had written a bad piece about the city, and I took the trouble to prove otherwise.

To one side I heard Jacob excuse himself, and the others left with him. Alison’s job done, she left us together. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Davina deep in conversation with the family’s head of security.

Davina had so little faith in me.

“Perhaps that might be a topic we could discuss over coffee later?”

“Tonight?”

“Unless you’re otherwise engaged?”

“No.”

There was a slight exodus from the main hall, an indication that unusual for a gala like this, there would be dancing. It was a pet pastime of the host, an orchestra had been commissioned, and it was to be a nod to the old days.

“Do you dance,” I asked?

“It was part of my finishing school curriculum that nearly finished me in more ways than one. Long story, but yes.”

“Would you like to lead a poor boy around the floor and make him look good?”

She smiled. “I know you are pulling my leg, but I’ll bite.” She held out her hand, “Take me away before I change my mind “

Dancing was a social etiquette that was forced on me, and I was, for a long time, dreadful at it. It was only in my last year of middle school that a girl by the name of Wendy Whiles took the nervous bumbler with two left feet onto something that might make Fred Astaire proud.

She also introduced me to other more interesting things teenagers did, albeit in the comfort of a very expensive hotel suite, rather than in the back of a car. I thought I’d loved her, but she was not interested in wealth and fame, and I didn’t blame her, though I still insisted someone paid her a large sum of money to break off whatever we didn’t have going.

All her lessons paid off, and I found myself almost floating on air as we waltzed around the floor deftly avoiding the others brave enough to take to the dance floor.

“Do you do this often,” she asked, not long into the routine.

“No.”

“You dance well.”

“Only when I’m not talking. Arthur Murray didn’t include how to handle chatty girls on the dance floor.”

Any other girl I was sure would have been insulted. I could be like that sometimes. I called it being blunt.

“A new experience then.”

“Can’t count and talk at the same time?”

“And yet you dance so well.”

“Flattery will get you only so far.”

We finished in silence, and I thought I had ruined my opportunity, though for what was questionable. I should have been content to dance with one of the most beautiful girls at the ball.

She took my hand as we left the dance floor and headed toward the bar. That walk felt natural, holding hands, and the feeling there was a connection between us. She had not forced it, I had not looked for it, it had just happened.

She drank club soda. She said she didn’t drink alcohol, and it seemed logical. She was effervescent enough without any aids, unlike some of my friends who needed drugs and copious quantities of alcohol to get into a ‘groove’. I could take it or leave it and did the latter.

We picked a quiet corner.

“Why are you really here?” I asked. Start with the hard questions first.

“Sometime told me about this rich, handsome, bored young man who hates galas, and the mating rituals that go with them.”

“And yet here you are?”

“Secretly,” she whispered, “my real name is Rapunzel, I escaped from a tower, and am here to rescue anyone who needs rescuing. Do you need rescuing?”

I did, but I did not want to incur Davina’s wrath. And then I thought about the possibility, that she might just be bait for something more sinister. It was improbable, but Davina had impressed on me that there were a lot of nasty people in the world, and sometimes it was hard to see through the facades.

If she was evil, then it came beautifully gift wrapped.

“Rescue does involve a rather full-on security detail as well, and, the filling out of paperwork that would take till dawn to do.”

“I assume then, that weedy little man pretending to have a quiet drink over there is one of them.”

She nodded in his direction, and I recognized him instantly. “Warren. Dangerous as a cut snake. Even I keep my distance from him.”

Another glance, impassive expression, it would be interesting what she was thinking at that moment.

“So, what do you do for fun?”

“An occasional waltz with the most beautiful girl at the gala.”

“And…?”

“My life is ruled by responsibility. If you’re looking for fun, there are six other very eligible young men here that will be happy to fete you, and indulge your wildest dreams?”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” There was an invitation there, for what, I suspect would be whatever I wanted, but Davina’s voice was well and truly planted in my head. If it’s too good to be true…

I smiled wanly and finished my drink. “That is a luxury that I can only dream about. Thank you for the few brief moments of possibilities.”

Not an hour later, from a distance, I saw two men in civilian suits escorting her out of the building. There was no disguising their true identities, ex-military, or military police.

Odd for a girl that looked like her to be involved with such people.

A few minutes later Davina appeared beside me. “I could have told you that girl was trouble.”

“Looking at her, I thought the exact opposite.”

“You need to be more careful.”

“Warren was there. I’m sure he could handle her. I made sure I was in a position where if trouble came it would have to pass him, and I have the taser in my pocket. What was her crime.”

“None apparently. Some high-ranking Generals’ daughter out for a lark. Now come back and talk to Amy.”

The A to Z Challenge – D is for – “Did you hear that?”

It started with a phone call, a phone call that I never expected to get.

I was one of those people who went through life, almost invisible. It was not what I wanted, it just happened.

I was not the sociable sort, at school I tended to spend my time studying and then being labeled a nerd, I didn’t make friends, except for those who wanted help with their homework.

Few friends in elementary school, fewer in middle school, and none in college, that is no one that you could call a true friend. They were more acquaintances that were there for the help I could give them, but no one that would invite me to parties, or to just hang out.

That continues on into university. Except there were several new acquainted that were a little more than that, though not quite BFFs.

There was one, in particular, Anna, who was one of the study group, the one who needed the most help, someone who had been wavering on returning after the first year.

My trouble was that I liked her more than she liked me, my opinion of course, based on what I called the indifference factor, but perhaps I had more expectations than she did

She was doing uni because it was expected of her, not because she wanted to be there. She could take it or leave it, and the last time I spoke to her, she was going to leave.

And when she left to go back home, it was the last time I expected to see or hear from her.

Until that phone call.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

A dumb question, nothing of course, but I wouldn’t tell her that. I was still in shock that Anna would call me, for anything other than school, if at all.

“Not a lot.”

“Good. How would you like to housesit with me?”

House sit? Surely she had a dozen others who would do anything for her. She was that popular and well-liked. And would probably be far more amusing than I ever could be.

“If you like. I had no idea you did house minding.”

“I don’t, but an aunt is going away for the weekend, and she wants someone to look after the cat. I hope you like cats. And gardens. It has a nice garden.”

Cats I could take or leave. Gardens, it was probably a birdbath, two beds of roses, a large tree with a seat under it, and neighbors peering over the fence.

But it was a weekend somewhere else other than my little room, and Anna would be there. Maybe I could try to get past my shyness and actually talk to her.

“OK. I’m in. Do I need to bring anything?”

“No. I’ll send you the address and see you there at 5 pm. Friday.”

Why did I get the feeling I was being set up?

That feeling of impending doing followed me down the path from the front gate to the front door.

Far from the house being a small thatch cottage, based on the address she gave me, it turned out to be a three-story manor house with a large outhouse that looked to be once a stable and coach house

It seemed far too large to be a house for one person.

When I rang the doorbell, I expected a butler to answer the door, but it was Anna herself.

“Nice place,” I said.

“Too large and too hard to maintain. Were trying to convince her that she would be better off in something smaller. But you should see the back.”

Based on the front garden which could happily grace the front cover of any country living magazine, I couldn’t wait.

She let me pass and closed the door behind us. It sounded like the vault was closing and there would be no damage until the timer released the locks.

Inside, the whole place reeked of heritage and antiques, and the personality of its owner. The walls had paintings, table tops had old magazines, the seats worn leather, and worn carpet squares covered floorboards that creaked when you walked on them.

At the end of a long corridor was the kitchen at the end if the house, after passing several sitting and dining rooms. It was a very large house and raised a very important question.

She had not mentioned any family or relatives with anything like the wealth this house exuded. In fact, she had often implied that she was just an ordinary person.

This was anything but ordinary.

I caught up with her on the back patio, just off a large sunroom, to view what had to be an acre or more of manicured laws, garden beds, and trees. All it was missing was a maze.

“Do you actually have a secret life?”

“I was always told not to advertise our wealth.”

“Isn’t showing me this, a form of advertising? After all, I’m apparently from the wrong side of the tracks.”

“I trust you.”

“But you don’t know me, or anything about me.”

“Why do you think you’re here?”

If I wanted to make an educated guess, my first thought was to set me up for something, for the very reason she was aloof, and people like her, and those she kept company with, were not people like me associated with.

I was surprised not to see the two girls I’d once nicknamed ‘the dynamic duo’, Melissa and Winona, with her. Maybe they would turn up later.

My second thought, the most improbable reason, was that she wanted to get to know me, but, why choose a place like this? To make me feel small, grateful, impressed? Ten minutes in a Cafe was all she needed to find out what she needed to know about me.

An alarm bell went off when I asked her where I could get a drink of water, and she said, the kitchen, but didn’t really know where it was. I got an instant bad feeling.

That was followed by a bang that I thought came from the rear of the house.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“You hear all sorts of noises in places like these.”

If she wasn’t worried, neither was I.

Then the door chime rang.

“You expecting more visitors?” My internal fear factor was rising exponentially.

“No, but I’d better find out who it is, just in case.”

I shrugged and headed towards where she indicated the kitchen was, the rear of the house, what I would call an educated guess

After I found the kitchen, not technically at the rear, I returned to find my worst fears had come true. Not only the dynamic duo but also their boyfriends, Chad and Lester, two of the worst bullies from school days.

“Well, look who it is.” Chad was particularly menacing.

A glance to the side, it was hard to tell if Anna was looking pleased or neutral, but she wasn’t surprised. I glanced in Anna’s direction and all I got was a tilt of her head.

“Shouldn’t you be down the country club trying to prove you’re a new version of your drunken bully of a father?”

His smile turned into a very angry look. “Don’t go there, Scanlon.”

“Why are you here then?”

I expected to hear Anna had invited them. Instead, “we’re here to make sure Anna doesn’t make a mistake.”

“I don’t need your help or advice Chad. In fact, you should leave.”

None of the four looked like they had any intention of leaving. “Not until we’ve impressed upon both of you, the error of your ways. We thought you were smarter than this or did Scanlon force himself on you?”

She shook her head, not necessarily in anger, but more in despair. “I don’t know where you get your ideas from Chad, but you are very much mistaken. So, I will only say this once more, Chad,” she added quietly, “otherwise you will find yourself in a world of pain. Leave now while you still can.”

Chad, being Chad, was the master of ceremonies, puffed up as he had been in the schoolyard when he was about the unleash his gang on some poor misguided fool, usually me, or one of three others. But it was Melissa who spoke instead, “You go teach Scanlon a lesson outside by the pool while we have a talk to Anna.”

Lester took the cue, came over, and grabbed me by the shoulder. I thought about trying to shrug him off, but Chad was across the room before I could initiate anything. Best to leave calmly and sort it out outside.

I gave Anna a last look, but she was wearing her poker face. Had she set this up? It seemed as though she hadn’t, but then, it didn’t look like she was worried about the dynamic duo.

I shrugged.

Intentional or not, Chad and Lester were about to learn a very valuable lesson, and revenge, at least on them, was going to be sweet.

…

The A to Z Challenge – E is for – “Everyone has a secret”

How many people do you know have their front door smashed in at the crack of dawn, followed by a swat team, armed to the teeth, swarming through the house ready to put down any resistance?

Just the suddenness of the cacophony of noise, the shouting, and the sheer threat of death, left me firstly shattered, and secondly, in fear of being accidentally killed, especially when there were six guns trained on me.

When the all-clear came, when no one else was discovered in the house, one of the suited men came back and motioned the six to take a step back and raise their weapons.

“Get up.”

If I was expected a ‘please’, or an apology, both would be a long time coming.

“Where is she?”

I barely had time to catch my breath and try to stop shaking. Six guns were still pointing in my direction, and those holding them no less wanted to shoot me for any reason whatsoever.

“Who?” There were two girls in this house.

“Don’t be obtuse, Mr. Jacobs. Obstruction will get you nothing but a stretch in prison with some very unsavoury characters. Where is she?”

The notion that they could be looking for Liz was as preposterous as the day was long. I had known her for five years, since we both left the same company, unhappy with the pay and conditions, and moved to a new company, deciding to stay together, first as a team, and then I was hoping would be something more intimate.

It had to be someone else, like the odd woman who had ingratiated herself with the group I was with, and ostensibly left the bar with me, but only as far as the car park. Perhaps, if we were being observed, it might have been construed as something else.

“Can you give me a name, at least?”

“Elizabeth Morgan.”

Liz? She designed computer games, and I helped with the programming. Other than that, she went to church every Sunday and visited her folks in the next county every second Saturday. I’d met them on numerous occasions, and they were just ordinary people.

“Why on earth would you be looking for her?”

“That’s classified, Mr. Jacobs. All you need to do is tell me where she is.”

“I don’t know. The last time we spoke, she was heading off to the market to get groceries.”

“Which was?”

“About an hour ago.”

A woman put her head in the door, and said, “she’s nowhere on the property, sir.”

I recognized her immediately as the woman in the bar, and suddenly realized she had been subtly interrogating me about Liz, trying to find out where she was, and why she wasn’t there with me.

She glared at me, then disappeared.

“Who are you?” I asked. “FBI, CIA, NSA?”

“Why would you assume that I’m from any of those agencies?”

“Your friend who put her head in the door. I might not have realized who she was last night, but I do now. You think Liz has committed some sort of cybercrime, don’t you?”

“So, you do know what she’s been up to?”

“No. But you just told me. And I suspect a man by the name of Champion has been feeding you scurrilous lies, but you don’t need to say anything more. You’re right, I do know what this is about, but I know whatever he said to you to get here isn’t true, but, then, he has more money or more low friends in even lower places than we have, so do your worst.”

Liz wasn’t a criminal, nor was she guilty of anything except claiming the rights to her property. Champion, though, always maintained that anything she created while working for him was his. True enough, we all signed the contract. But what she created was after she resigned and we were working on a new project together. Now, to get around that, he was claiming her work would be a violation of national security. It would, if it was in his hands, and that was never going to happen.

“It would be good for everyone if she just surrendered and pleaded her case if what you say is true.”

An interesting change in tactics.

I looked him up and down. Just the sort of man who would sell out to the highest bidder. Champion was good only at one thing, knowing how much a person would sell out his principles for, even his mother if it came down to it. Everyone had a price. Unfortunately for us, it would seem, he didn’t know ours.

He shrugged. “Perhaps so time in a dark hole might loosen your tongue.”

Dark hold indeed.

To be honest, I thought he was joking, but he was not.

I was put in a small room with no furniture or anything to sit or lie on. There was just a cold, damp and hard concrete floor, designed to make you so uncomfortable, you’d sell your soul just to get away from it.

There would be some hard choices to be made here. Would I sell out Liz, would I do everything I could to stop Champion who was intent, now that he had what he wanted, in getting rid of anyone who might have a claim.

She had said this was what would happen, and I didn’t believe her. No surprise then she was gone and didn’t tell me.

But if they were to ask me, and I was in that frame of mind to tell them everything I knew, there wasn’t much I could tell them. I think that’s what she had once told me was plausible deniability.

She had been trying to keep me safe, but didn’t realize that my captors didn’t really care whether I knew anything or nothing, they wouldn’t believe me and were going to extract the information they wanted by any and all means available.

Something I definitely wasn’t looking forward to.

It was impossible to stay awake. I was trying to, just in case they came and took me away while I was unconscious.

Despite the hard, uncomfortable floor, I fell into a fitful sleep, and it was appropriate that I would dream of Elizabeth.

I remembered the first time I met her, being introduced as an assistant programmer, the look of contempt she gave me, and the messenger. I’d never seen anyone that focussed on their work.

It took a month before she would let me look at the code, and then only small sections at a time. It was complex, and way beyond anything I had been involved with, which surprised me how it was I got the job.

She said, one morning, and I agreed, that a more experienced programmer was required.

Until I told her five lines of code needed a slight change otherwise there would be a rather interesting result. I was not only a programmer, I had once worked with a scientist whose field was space and time, not exactly time travel, but he theorized that we could move from one place to another through what were essentially wormholes.

I thought he was working on a script for a television show.

My job was to create a data warehouse, and while doing so, did some reading on the side.

I had also seen the coding behind a prototype machine that was supposed to create the wormhole, but it was too complex for me to understand.

But the code Elizabeth had was almost identical but mixed up. When I told her, she said I was an idiot who wouldn’t know what day it was, and demanded I leave.

Two days later she came to my apartment, apologized, asked me to return, and on the way asked a thousand questions.

At that time, I learned the scientist I worked for was her mentor, and that he was dead, ostensibly from a heart attack. She didn’t believe it, and that’s where I got my introduction to the arch-villain Champion.

From there it evolved into something more special, but the constraints of work and her idea of romance seemed to make it more like a rollercoaster ride and I didn’t press.

So, I was, for the time being, content with my dreams, one of which was playing in my head now.

She had appeared, coming through a sort of haze or distortion, and was standing above me, smiling.

It couldn’t be true, and yet it seemed so lifelike.

She knelt down and took my hand in hers, and whispered. “Wake up, sleepyhead, it’s time to go.”

I could smell the aroma of her perfume enveloping me.

When I went to open my eyes I found they were already open. I gently squeezed her hand, and it was real.

“Elizabeth?”

“Yes. Now. We really have to go.”

“Where?”

“Stand up, and I’ll show you.”

I let her pull me to my feet and she gave me a hug, and whispered in my ear, “I love you,”

Now I knew it was a dream. She had never intimated such feelings before.

I’d play along. “It’s impossible to escape this cell.”

“Is it?” She took a step towards the distortion, “Come.”

I followed. Then, the next moment, I was in the dining room of her apartment”

“What just happened?”

Before she could answer, I lost consciousness. Last thought, it was too good to be true.

…

The A to Z Challenge – D is for – “Did you hear that?”