Jet
finished the last of her orange-tinted champagne and contemplated the empty
glass for a second with a frown upon her face. It didn't take her long to
refill it with a touch more orange juice than last time.
“Thanks.” It might be true, but dammit,
sometimes the truth really hurts. I didn't hide it in my voice. Apparently my
downtrodden expression triggered a kinder, gentler Jet.
“Geez, didn't mean to get your knickers
in a twist. I was jesting. See? Ha ha. He's with you because he loves you, and
you're with him for the same reason. The fact that the gods smiled down upon
him while he served those two tours overseas and gave him the opportunity to
find you again after almost a decade should prove that to you.” She leaned back
upon the butter-soft leather and put her feet on the armrest, crossing her
narrow feet. Her green toenails made me wonder if she was hiding some sort of
fungus or other blight since it was such an ugly shade of nail polish. Almost
olive but nearly lime, it was an eyesore regardless.
“I puked on him. In public. When he
asked me to be mischief to his mayhem. That's kinda major. I don't think he was
really contemplating the possibility of vomit covering him when he and I
reconnected.”
“That's his fault for not considering
all the possibilities and repercussions of asking you to marry him. Sure, he
probably gave thought to the holdover hippie and the flock of black sheep in
your family tree, but that was probably the extent of his thought process.”
I smirked over my glass. “You are such a
ray of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day.”
Laughter broke free and she agreed with
her usual self-confidence. “Oh, I know. So are you going to do it? Gonna go
head-tripping and discover you were Elizabeth Tudor in a past life?” She licked
her cherry red lips then sipped her mimosa.
A look of contemplation graced my face
as I thought about it. “Yeah. Why not? I bet Dmitri was Robert Dudley. If not,
I can always pretend.” I saluted her with my champagne flute.
“You do know Lizzie and Dudster didn't
marry, right? She became an old, embittered harridan and he married her
cousin.”
“Jet,” I replied as patiently as I
could, “please just stop while you're ahead. You're harshing my buzz.”
She laughed. “Whatever. You're gonna
take my advice and go see the head tripper. You know you are. It's that or some
pagan and scifi influenced shindig that will incorporate things you never knew
existed.”
“You're probably right. A hundred bucks
and an hour of my time versus Willow picking out something a Klingon bride
would be proud to wear. Such a hard choice.” I mocked a sigh, Jet laughed and
we got giggly drunk before noon.
Chapter Four-
Four o'clock rolled around and Jet
sobered up enough to drive home. I walked her out to the treed semi-circle
driveway to her little purple Beemer. The hip pocket of the blue jeans I wore
began to vibrate furiously as my cell phone rang. A glace to the screen
revealed it was Willow. I flipped it opened and spoke.
“Hallo. What can I do you for?”
Her voice rushed out in a panic. “Mike
is in town. He just stopped by looking for you. Said he heard you were here. I
totally blanked and told him no, you lived off Currant Way nowadays. He left
about five minutes ago. He remembers what your car looks like. He'll find the
house.” My heart thundered harder with each word that fell out of the earpiece
and sank into my brain.
“Oh my god. Is Dmitri still there?” Please say no, please say no, please say no. Please tell me he left to come
home about five minutes before Mike arrived. Tell me I'll see Dmitri before
Mike...
“He came in the back as I closed the
front door. He asked me who it was, and I told him. Dmitri just left – I called
you as soon as he drove off.” My lingering buzz was gone. My free hand clutched
Jet's arm in a hermit crab-like vice grip of sobriety.
“I gotta go.” Thunder pounded in my
ears.
“Okay honey,