CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER ~ by B.A. Linhares

Josh drops his arms and pushes me toward the door. “Feed me woman!”

We shuffle down the stairs and I flip my hair back and stick my tongue out at him.

“What was that for?”

“I’m not your slave,” I say, a little too harshly as I’m trying to recover from Josh’s (friendly) hug. Sean always said, “feed me woman” he never offered to help me prepare the food or clean up afterward. Little things like that stay with you.

Josh says, “I was joking. What are you, a woman’s libber?”

“No. I was kidding around.” I drop my eyes, watching my step.

I flip on the hall lights as we reach the bottom of the stairs. There’s water all over the wooden floors and the oval foot rug in front of the door is soaking wet.
“Holly crap!” I step off the last stair and place my hand on the wall, taking care so I don’t slip in my sandals. I turn the foyer light on too and see that the puddle of water is huge. “Oh my gosh. This is worse than I thought!”

“I tried to tell you.”

I check the front door to make sure it’s locked, and try to punch in the secret code and on closer inspection, I see that the thing was messed with. I turn and look around wondering if anything is missing. Josh follows my gaze. I push past him and look around the living room. It looks fine.
“Is something missing?”
I circle the room. “Not that I can tell. Josh, somebody totally messed up our security system. Check it out, the plastic cover is loose and it’s not working at all.”
Josh takes a pen light out of his pocket. “The wires are pulled lose. Better call this in. This is a crime scene.” He takes out his cell phone. Then he pauses and looks at me. We stare at each other. We’re both thinking that if he calls the police we'll have another big media scene to deal with.
He says, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

I nod. “I think we should call Agent Brody.” I look down. “First I better clean this water up. It’s going to ruin our wooden floors.” I flip on all the lights on the first floor.

Josh kneels down and rolls up the rug. “Is it okay to drape it over the porch railing?”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll get a mop and bucket,” I say unhappily. I'm not unhappy just because I have a crazy person stalking me, it's because I really don't want to deal with this mess.
While I fetch the mop and bucket from the closet in the half-bath, Josh rolls up the wet rug and drapes over the railing on the front porch. He closes the door and watches me mop. It takes about a hundred swoops and I have to ring out the mop numerous times. I have a case of Cinderella syndrome and there’s a definite mood alter is in the air. This is great. I have to do housework while Char and Sean hang with the rich and famous. Josh and I don’t say anything the whole time. I return the cleaning stuff to the closet and take out my cell. I guess it's my house so I'm the one who needs to call Agent Brody. I stand in the living room and punch Ivan’s saved special number.

Josh sits on the arm of the couch and asks, “You calling Ivan?”

I nod. Ivan picks up on the first ring and I don’t even have to tell him anything. He just tells me not to worry. I hang up, look at Josh, and slide my phone in my pocket, raising my shoulder in a shrug. “He’s already on it,” I say and motion Josh toward the front door.

Josh looks surprised. “We can just go?”

“Yeah. Ivan said he's deal with it. He knows where we are going.”

Josh looks surprised. “He does? Did he say who broke in?”

“Nope! The FBI strives on super secrecy.”

Josh pushes the door open, letting me go first. “Nосле!”

I know that means ‘after you’ in Russian. I learned that on my first day in class. I enter the kitchen and I flip on the lights. Josh ambles restlessly around the kitchen looking around for something to do.

“Take a seat.” I gesture at the stools tucked under the kitchen island. “I need sustenance,” I mutter and head toward the refrigerator. I look toward the back window as I open the refrigerator door wondering if Ivan is out there. I stick my hand inside fridge pushing stuff around trying to decide what to eat. Keep it simple. Sandwiches.

Instead of sitting down, he comes over and stands beside me. “Whoa,” he says looking inside of our jumbo refrigerator. “Can we just pull some stools over and graze?”

“Sure, you want a fork or do you prefer to eat with your hands?”

“Is a shovel out of the question?”

I start pulling out food containers and Josh holds out his hands.

“Yoh, let me help.”

“Okay, um, set these on the island.” I pass Josh several sealed plastic container and he places the one by one on the island.

“What’s this?” He holds one up and I see that the label is blank.

“Who knows. I guess Pop didn’t bother to write what’s inside. Just set it on the counter.”

“It might be a science project. That’s what my mom calls stuff in the back of our fridge.”

I smile and bending at the waist to look at the stuff on the shelf inside the refrigerator door. “I’m not big on condiments,” I say, and then pause and look at Josh. “Do you like condiments?”

“I like pickles.”

I turn the jars so I can read the labels. “Let’s see, we have sweet, sour, hamburger dill, gherkin, kosher, and bread & butter.” Josh comes back over and stands behind me and I step aside. “You decide.”

Josh bends over, studying the choices. “Dang, this isn’t a kitchen, it’s a grocery store!” 

“Tell me about it. Our pantry looks like a mini-Safeway and that silver stainless steel door next to the pantry door, is a walk-in freezer. There is enough frozen food in there to feed a small army. Pop says we’re set for any disaster except nuclear fall out.”

Josh just shakes his head at me and pick up the kosher pickles and then a jar of green Spanish olives stuffed with garlic cloves. He reads the label, makes a face, and puts the olives back.

 “Oh, while you’re in there, I’ll take a Pepsi. Help yourself to whatever you’d like to drink and anything else you want.” I take the lids off everything.

Josh clutches the pickles in the crook of his arm and takes two Pepsis out of the soda dispenser. He closes the fridge with his hip and sets everything on the bar by the pile of food. He looks at me as if to say what next.

“Want to slice the roast beef?”

“Okay. You like thick or thin slices?”

I shrug. “Thin is better for sandwiches.” I pull out a cutting board and head into the pantry where Pop keeps an on going supply of homemade cookies and goodies. I suddenly feel like I have all this nervous energy. I guess the nap helped a lot. I haven’t felt this good all week. I was starting to think I had Swine Flu or something. I return and see that Josh took it upon himself to fetch a carving knife and is expertly slicing the roast. I set the container of cookies on the bar. “What’s your favorite cookie? Chocolate chip or oatmeal”

Josh looks up from his carving. “Yes.”

I laugh. “Are there any foods you don’t like?” I ask, hoping to avoid talking about Sean and Char. I’m enjoying hanging just out with a cute guy named Josh O'Dell. Why would I want to bring those two into the conversation.

He looks up and smiles. “I’ll eat anything except liver and Brussels sprouts,”

I make a face and shiver. “Ewe, organ meat!”

We bust out laughing at the innuendo. I toss a head of lettuce and he catches it like a football. “Do you want pumpernickel, white, wheat or whole grain,” I ask crossing the floor.

“You have pumpernickel? I love pumpernickel!”

I get a loaf of pumpernickel bread out of the breadbox and join Josh at the island. I take out four slices and glance around at all the stuff on the countertop.

“What the matter?”

“I forgot plates, duh.” I cross to the cabinets take out a couple of plates and place them on the countertop then pass Josh two slices of pumpernickel and a set of flatware. I twist off jar lids. “Um, did I mention that I’m going to be Pop’s assistant for his catering business?”

“Wow assistant to a master chef. That’s pretty cool.” Josh spreads mustard and mayo on his bread. “Is this going to turn into a career move for you?”

“No, just a way to make some cash. I still plan to go to college.” I pop open a container of left over macaroni salad and sniff the ingredients. I make a face, turn around, and toss the salad in the sink, running the water and garbage disposal. I return to make my roast beef sandwich and see that Josh already spread mustard and mayo on my bread and added lettuce and tomatoes slices. “Thanks.”

 “I noticed at your party that you like the works,” Josh says, and opens the pickle. He spears one with his fork and places it on the edge of my plate.

Wow, an attentive guy. There is a God. I pass Josh the roast beef and then help myself to a couple of slices. I pop open the metal container full of potato chips and place them between us.

“Your dad gave me his business card,” Josh says as he cuts my sandwich in half diagonally, and then his. Josh also takes a bite of one of his halves and he after swallowing the food, he says, “I passed it on to my mom.”

“Cool. Thanks.” I nod my head and take a bite of my sandwich. I’m starving. Josh helps himself to a few chips and some cheese. We grow quiet and my thoughts return to the issue of our front door being open and the security system being busted. I smile and pass him a napkin.

He wipes his mouth. “Anyway, she’s pumped because she throws parties and fundraisers all the time. She uses various local catering companies to feed the masses, but invariably something goes wrong.” I open a container of an assortment of cheese chunks and pop a square of cheddar into my mouth. “For instance, last month, she had a women’s luncheon at the church and a male stripper showed up.”

My mouth is full so I bug my eyes. I’m not really listening to him. I’m freaked out about our front door. I glance toward the back door and at the kitchen door.

“Anyway, from now on, Mom promises to only use Chef CAB for all her catering needs.”

I put my hand in front of my mouth, which is full of food, and ask, “Not to change the subject, but do you think Ivan knows who broke into our house today?” 

Josh follows my gaze. “I think it was your Mom. I noticed that your room was freezing.”

Sorry. I can’t laugh at Josh’s little joke. I look at him with sad eyes and his grin fades. I drop my eyes. You could cut the air with a knife. I suppose he assumes I’m in a playful mood and it’s okay to joke around, but if he thinks that I take the strange chilly episodes lightly he’s dead wrong.

I need an attitude check.

I silently put my sandwich down, go over, and open the back door. I look up at the sky. I take a deep breath and talk to God. Okay. I get that Josh is trying to be a funny so I don’t worry. I like him more than anyone. Way more than I ever liked Sean. But, there’s always this barrier keeping me from opening up to guys about what I’m really feeling. Like right now. Do you know what I mean? Of course you do. All I’m asking it to please make it so I can talk to Josh openly so we can be close friends and so we can get our heads around this investigation…assignment...thingy. I mean without me freaking out every time the dialogue gets deeper into the woods…

“Hey Cookie? I’m really sorry for being a jerk just now.”

I turn around slowly and return to the bar. “Forget it.” I smile at Josh. “Um, do you want to eat out on the patio? It’s not too bad, the rain cooled things off.”

“Sure, why not?”

We take our food outside and we settle across from each other at the little round patio table. A cool breeze flows the over our skin and the air smell fresh and clean. It’s as if Georgetown has gone from Indian summer to fall in the past few hours. A bug that lands on the table. We both swat at “Got him!” Josh tells me happily and wipes his hands on a napkin. I light the citrus scented candle Pop keeps out here to repel insects. “Good idea,” Josh says digging into his food. After a few more bites, he says, “This is really good.”

“Oh, baby you ain’t tasted nothin’ yet if you think that roast beef sandwich is good! My Pop is the best chef in the world, bar none.”

Josh laughs. “You should make a commercial for his catering business.”

We come up with several goofy ideas for catering advertisement, laughing so hard we can barely breath. After that, we don’t talk again until we’ve eaten the rest of our food. Josh sits back in his patio lounge chair placing a plate of potatoes on his lap, Pepsi in hand. He offers me a chip and I take one. Josh takes a sip of Pepsi.

“So,” I ask, pointing at him with the potato chip. “What do you want to talk about?”

Josh turns his head toward me chewing. He swallows. “You feel like talking about what happened that got you so upset today and have that nightmare?”

I pick up my Pepsi, sit back and run my tongue over my front teeth praying there’s no food stuck between them. “Em, not really. Just thinking about it makes me mad.”

“You promised to fill me in on all the drama. Besides talking about stuff will help us with the investigation.”

“Okay. You’re right––as usual.” I blow my next breath. “It wasn’t just what happened today that got to me upset. I think it’s all the stuff that’s happened over the last nine months or so combined with all of my other problems.” I laugh. “Huh, actually make that my whole life, which has a never been what you’d call normal. Mom was rarely home. If we wanted to see her, we had to fly to Austria, a neutral country.”

“How many times did that happen?”

“Hardly any. Only twice.” I reflect on the two trips Pop and I took during my lifetime. “Seventeen years seem like one.” “No offense to Pop, but growing up with only one parent around most of the time made me feel cheated.” I can feel Josh watching me and I raise my voice in frustration. “Having people stare at you all day and being the brunt of Char’s gossip grapevine sucked!” I pick up a crumb and throw it to the mocking birds gathering on the yard. “What kind of person does that to their best friend? Char is turning into a real b-word.” I look over at Josh and frown. “I’m cursed.”  I wipe my fingers on my jeans and look out at the backyard, just staring off at nothing for a moment. I have an idea. Let’s talk about my stalker. That’s a more interesting subject and I won’t have the urge to cuss so much.” I pick at a plastic nub on the arm of my chair. I really want to go somewhere, get out of the house, but I guess we have to wait around for Ivan.

Josh laughs a little. “Momma always says, what goes around comes around.” He waits a beat and says, “Don’t take this wrong, but what does growing up with only one parent have to do with what’s going on?”

I lift on shoulder. “Doesn’t one bad omen lead to the other?”

Josh flings crumbs at the birds and says, “No, your case is more like Murphy’s Law, anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

I nod my head. “Yeah. I guess. Ironically, I think about my problems and compare them to the people affected by Katrina…”

Josh shakes his head side to side. “Why? There so completely different. Just saying, you can’t practically compare an act of nature to losing your mom the way you did. Sure a lot of people lost loved ones in that horrible storm, but, it’s like comparing apples to oranges.”

I sigh. “So, why do some people go through really difficult times and others seem to have it so easy? Is it bad karma? Or do you think they bring bad stuff on themselves?”

“I think a lot of what happens in life is fate. It’s also about choice,” “I think we learn from the consequences of our actions.”

“Pop says we learn mostly from our mistakes,” I say, “of which I make a lot of. My latest mistake was thinking that I could hang onto a good looking boyfriend. What’s hard is that there’s no reason or logic to life’s ups and downs. They just hit you up side of the head and make you feel like a train wreck.”

“If I’ve learned anything in my short life, it’s that life is chaotic. You can choose to go with the flow or fight to fix whatever knocked you on you butt. Do you want to walk on the sunny side of the street or stay in the shadows.” Josh pauses. “We have our whole lives and a lot to look forward to.”

“Truly,” I murmur, and close my eyes for a second thinking I’m seventeen years old, what do I have to look forward to...? My trip to Florida is about it. I picture Sean and Kelly in front of her house. Even though I’m upset about having my pride badly bruised from being dumped by Sean—deep down I’m glad. I don’t have to deal with him and his neediness anymore. I have a funny thought and laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking that I ought to send Kelly Albright a thank you card and flowers for taking Sean.” I look at Josh. “Josh, Sean isn’t the nice guy people think he is.”

Josh nods knowingly. “Believe me, Palmer’s reputation will catch up with him.”

I guess it’s true about guys bragging about their sexual activity to each other. I wonder if Sean lied about us. I shrug him off and focus on my strange dream. Werthoust’s face flashes before my eyes. Then Valentine’s. They are one and the same. No. Valentine isn’t Agent Werthoust. Was Fredrik Koshechka in Austria when Mom disappeared?

“Josh, I’ve been thinking a lot about what Agent Werthoust asked me. You know, about seeing anything strange or any peculiar people while we were in Austria. The same night he asked me that I see the old man at the Checkmart. Then Ivan and his team of special agents show up and tell us some weirdo x-KGB dude might be spying on us because Mom is Russian and worked with the US government—”

“The KGB is defunct.”

“I know, that’s what we’re taught in school, but after my most recent dream and nightmares––I get the feeling that somebody foreign has been watching our family for years.”

 “Dad said they don’t know for sure it’s x-KGB. It could be Middle Eastern terrorist.”

 “I’m just going by what Ivan told us. He said the President and the Pentagon are involved. They have “chatter” too…my guess that means the people behind this are talking amongst themselves.”

 “I suppose it could be a pocket of disgruntled KGB guys.”

“Just hear me out,” I say earnestly. “I don’t want to forget the details of my dream before I have a chance to write them down.” I go ahead and tell Josh the details about how I fell and hurt my head nine years ago. Josh listens and makes a face.

“When we went back to our suite, I think there was a man in the elevator—in my dream he looked just like Valentine.” I take a deep breath. “And when I connect all the dots they point to this old man I keep seeing around town. Why is he wearing heavy clothing and using disguises? Is there something I’m not seeing?” I picture the man in my dream, it hits me like a ton of brinks, and I sit forward. “Oh crud. Think about it, Valentine can’t hide the heart-shaped birthmark unless he wears make-up or a hat––”

Josh says, “Could be Valentine’s just a perv and the bad guys haven’t shown up yet.”

I sit back and mull over that. After a few minuets, I hear Josh laughing to himself and I bug my eyes at him. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking about Palmer.”

I hold up my hands palms out. “Whoa. I’m finished talking about him.”

“I know. It’s just that when I overheard Billy Brennan in gym class today going on about how Sean was groping some hot babe at CB’s on Saturday night, I thought man these guys will make up anything to look macho. It’s just that...no, you’re right just forget it.”

I watch a little crease between Josh’s eyebrows deepen as he folds a napkin in half, making sure all edges line up, and places it on his thigh. The silence is starting to make me feel really uncomfortable.

“Josh, tell me,” I say, letting out a pent up breath. “I can take it.”

“Well,” he says reluctantly, “you saw Palmer and me talking at your birthday party. He made it sound like you were the only girl on earth for him. He told me he spent over a hundred dollars on the watch he bought you, but that you were worth even more. I thought wow, this guy is head over heals for Cookie Blakely. That’s why I didn’t believe Brennan today that and he’s always shooting off his mouth. But this time—I believe—Billy was telling the truth. Basically…they were saying that you are a PT. Hey, I’d be happy to teach Palmer a lesson.”

Hearing this from Josh raises my blood close to its boiling point, but I keep my cool. I cross my arm over my chest. “Don’t waste your energy.”

We’re silent for a moment then Josh says my name softly and a little smile appears on his lips. “If it’s any consolation, I hear that Kelly is a total skank!”

A little giggle makes the corner of my mouth twitch. “No she isn’t.” I pick up a chip and zing it at him.

“Plus she never baths either. We’re going to call her stinky.”

“Nice try, but it’s too late. My friends already told me that Kelly Albright is really nice.” Under my breath I add, “And she’s beautiful and swims like a fish…and I’m just me––boyfreindless––if that’s even a word.”

On that note, I jump up and start clearing off the table. I stack our plate and blow out the candle. “Sorry folks, but there are some things I’m not willing to do to keep a boyfriend around.”

Josh stands up abruptly and starts helping me clear the table. He places out silverware on the plates and picks up the potato chip container.

“So I guess it’s all my fault! Yep, I pushed Sean away one too many times so now I hope he has someone who will take care of *ALL* of his needs... if you catch my drift! Well I guess it’s out of the bag now, the whole school knows that I’m official still a virgin.” I realize I’m ranting and snap my mouth shut and wish the ground would open and just swallow me up.

We don’t say anything for several minuets. Personally, I think I’ve said enough. Josh—on the other hand—appears to be thinking about something. I sneak a look. His lips are pressed together in a tight line causing two very sexy dimples in his cheeks to appear. He’s probably trying to figure out how to get me (the most messed up girl in the universe) out of his life. I open the door to the storage closet off the patio (where we store yard tools and supplies) and rip off a small garbage bags from a roll. I hold it open as Josh tosses in our trash and scraps. Then I twisty tie the top. Josh takes the little bundle from my hand and finally breaking the deafening silence. He asks, “So, you still up for going down to the LOC?”

“Um, sure,” I say, glancing around the yard all of the little lights are on and the sky is a deep purple. “It’s not too early?” Shocked that he still wants to be around me.

 “A little bit. But I just wanted to make sure your were up to it.”

“I’m up to it, Josh. We have to work on our investigation.”

“Great. My dad gave me his police pass and called ahead to clear it with the night clerk, we can stay as long as we want.”

“Cool.”

I slide the glass door open and Josh holds up the garbage bag.

“Should I take this out to the alley?”

“Sure, that’d be great.” I pause just inside the door and glance at the chef clock. “Speaking of Dads, I wonder if mine will be back anytime soon.”

Josh pause on his way to the ally and shouts, “Should we stick around until?”

“No, he trusts me in your capable hands.”

Josh doesn’t get my little joke.

I jab my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll leave him a note.” I close the door and watch him though the pane. He seems distracted by something in the yard. Then it dawns on me that he’ll need the combination to open the gate. I open the door and run up behind him.

Startled, Josh jumps and swings around and raises his hands in a marshal arts move, still clutching the little garbage bag.

“Sorry,” I say, and suppress a smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He points at Mom’s overgrown rose garden and we squat down and squint through the shadows. Beggar kitty is peering out at us.

I squeal. “Hey, kitty.”

Josh calls, “Here, Beggar! Come here!”

The kitten immediately runs right to Josh and starts rubbing against his legs, purring at full volume. He follows us to the gate. After I open the lock, I pick up the kitten while Josh opens the gate and tosses out the trash. While we’re out in the alleyway, the surveillance van pulls under the street light and parks by our fence, where it was last night. Josh and I creep down to the street and hide next to the corner of our privacy fence.

I peer around the corner. The sign on the van now has pictures of giant wrenches and pipe pictures instead of flowers and says, Bob’s 24 Hour Plumbing Service. I whisper, “They keep changing the sign.”

“They don’t want to draw attention,” Josh says in a low voice.

One of the eyeball camera lenses rotates slowly toward us as if to say, howdy-do. I have the urge to wave, but I don’t want to give us away. I snicker. “What a joke. All of those doodads on top give them away.”

“Yeah, but think about it...who would want to try kidnapping somebody while there’s a rig full of hulking dudes armed to the teeth watching every movement?”  He nods. “I still shiver when I think about my altercation with Ivan the other night...”

“You have a point.”

I lean toward Josh and whisper, “Speaking of…I wonder if Special Agent Ivan Brody or any of his team will emerge from inside and tell us who broke into the house.”

Josh says, “That would be nice.”

We wait for about five minutes, but nobody come out of the van. Beggar starts squirming, his claws are digging into my arm. I nudge Josh. “Let’s get outta here.”

Josh locks up the gate and we hurry back to the house. Josh consults his watch and says, “We have a little time to kill before leaving for the Library of Congress.”

“Good. Mind grabbing the dishes?” I ask, and take the kitten inside with me and set him on the kitchen floor. He rises up and wanders over to the small TV on the rolling cart. “Mind if I check the weather forecast?”

“Be my guest.”

Josh clicks on the television and surfs around before finding the weather, just wondering about that storm that blew through here. He stops on a local news channel then crouches down next to me and pets Beggar. “I’ll make Beggar a little snack,” I say, rise up and opening a cabinet. I take out a bowl and look at Josh. “Um, do me a favor and make sure Beggar doesn’t take off through the house. Pop would have a fit if he pees.”

Josh keeps a hand on the scruff of Beggar’s neck while I slice off a small slab of roast and cut it in tiny squares. I set it on the floor with a bowl of milk. While Beggar chows down, we keep an eye on him and tidy up the kitchen and listen to the meteorologist tell us that the Freak storm was due to global warming or climate change. Josh and I both laugh.

I finish up, stroll over, and check on Beggar. I laugh. “He’s licking the paint off the plate.” I take it over to the sink, rinse it off and put it in the dishwasher. I dry my hands and look at Josh. He’s watching the TV and holding Beggar in his arms like a baby.

Josh says, “Check this out.”

I walk over and see a picture of my mom in the corner of the screen. The broadcaster says, “Breaking news. One of our sources called the station a yesterday and said he talked to someone who had information on Agent Eva Sheahan-Blakely, the deceased American CIA operative. After meeting with our source,  we feel what he told us is legitimate. Nevertheless this information on Blakely is vague at best. The mysterious man agreed to talk to me, but he would not let our crew film shoot my very brief interview that took place at an undisclosed place in Georgetown. The man I met is Russian and has a large statue. He’s in his mid-sixties, very fit, and very pleasant in demeanor. All he said was that he was quote––sorry for any angst his actions may cause and he hoped the American government would cooperate with his wishes––whatever they are––unquote. I spoke with the authorities working the ongoing investigation and they said that through chatter on the Internet they were aware of several unnamed foreign agents that were making serious threats to US agents and their families. Anyone with information, please contact the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Also in the news is the trial of Jerome Sanchez, the disgruntled runner up of American Idol…”

Josh picks up the remote and turns off the TV. I the reporter’s words play in my ears: very pleasant demeanor…does that mean he doesn’t plan to kill me as well? Did he kill Mom? I hang up the dishtowel and feel a quick icy cold blast of air on my face. Mom? I glance around expecting to see Mom in the room. But of course she isn’t…

“Better put kitty outside,” I say, blinking back to the kitchen. I dash off a quick note to Pop letting him know were I am and not to worry that I am with Josh O'Dell. After attaching it to the fridge door with a magnet, I turn around and stare at the black TV screen. I’m tempted to turn it on and see if there is more news on Mom. Josh sets little Beggar outside, brushes the fur off and locks the door. He sees me frowning at the TV.

“Wow, so my stalker went public…sort of.”

“Cookie, how do we know if it’s your stalker?” Josh shifts little Beggar to his other arm. “It could be anybody who worked in Intel.”

“True. But the description sure sounds like my Valentine…I mean the old man.” I cringe. “What wishes do you think this man wants the American government to cooperate with?”

“I have no idea.”

I wave at the back door. “I bet Ivan does…though he won’t tell us because everybody who works in the government is so tight-lipped or ambiguous.”

“Isn’t that why we’re doing our own investigation?” Josh scratches under his chin and I notice his five o’clock shadow. “Yeah, but  hey, at least we have perfect weather for the next few days,” he says cheerily and I remember why he turned the TV on––to check the weather––we just happened to see the news report on Mom’s case.” Josh looks at his watch. “Hey, I didn’t realize the time. We should head out pretty quick.”

“Okay.” I turn off the lights and we head down the hall and pause at the foot of the stairs.

Josh asks, “Mind if I use your facilities?”

“Sure, you can use the downstairs restroom. I’ll run upstairs and collect our stuff.” While upstairs, I brush my teeth, swish some mouthwash, and use the toilet. I dash into my bedroom, shut down my laptop and get our stuff. After a quick mirror check, I trot down the stairs and hand Josh his satchel. I ask, “Ready?”

Josh sweeps his eyes around the room. “Don’t you want to turn off some these lights?”

“Nope, my father is afraid of the dark.” I say, tongue in cheek.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER ~ by B.A. Linhares

 

I gather up my notebook and pencil and put them in my backpack. I pause and check my Sean watch. Gym class is in ten minuets. Everybody will want to know about what happened last night. After gym is swim practice. Kelly and Sean will be there too. My stomach begins to churn as I think about what it will be like to confront them. I feel like I’m gonna hurl. How can I just saunter out to the pool and see Sean after everything that’s happened? Maybe I won’t go. So I miss one practice. No, I can’t just not show up. I mean Coach Thompson’s been so understand and all about me missing summer practice. I should go directly to Coach Thompson's office and talk to her. She’ll know how to handle the rumors Char is spreading like wildfire. I guess outside the classroom Josh and me part. I picture him heading in the opposite direction wishing we didn’t have to part. When he’s gone out of sight, I turn and walk toward the door that takes me to the garden. I stop by the bust of Aristotle and read the quote under his chest.

Happiness depends upon ourselves.

I let out a long sigh and zip it up my backpack.

Josh nudges me. “Cookie, are you all right?

“Yeah, why?”

“You look like you’re a million miles away.”

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking that I need to talk to my swim coach about something.”

“I’ll walk you over if you want,” Josh says as he helps me hoist my heavy backpack on my back. He is so sweet.

I smile. “Okay.”

We go out into the hallway and Josh starts to turn left.

I grab his arm. “Wait, I know a short cut. Follow me.”

I turn right and we go the way I did on Friday.

Josh holds both doors open for me. I really like having him around. Oh, crap. Jimmy Beal is just outside the door, sitting on the top rail, waiting for me, I’m certain. He glares at Josh as we breeze by as if he’s invisible.

Beal screams, “Hey, Josh and Cookie! I need to talk to you!” He jumps down and keeps yelling for us to stop.

“So about tonight,” Josh says, “do you want me to pick you up or do you want to maybe come over early?”

I smile tightly and keep on walking. Josh is at my side. I love that he’s ignoring Beal and keeps talking. I glance over my shoulder and see that Beal is loping across the grass headed in the opposite direction. I say, “Come over as early as you can.” I’m not going to worry about asking him about eating with us. We’ll improvise.

We turn toward the gymnasium. Josh holds up his arm and consults his watch. “I’ll call you when I get home and let you know when I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Great.”

“I figure we can work on the fact sheet and time-line then drive to LOC after it closes.”

 “Warning…” I whisper, as we approach a group of black kids hanging out by a water fountain. As we skirt by them, Josh nods his head boldly at them and most of them mutter “wassup man”. Josh stops to say something to one of them.

I get a whiff of pot and speed up a tad, avoiding eye contact with the boy standing at the end of the railing. I’m not a racist. I just feel better keeping space between me (a blossoming young woman) and boys I don’t know. Call it survival instinct. I walk slowly and hear feet pound on the elevated walkway. I turn and see that Josh is running to catch up with me.

“Had to say hi, since I missed three days last week,” he says breathlessly. “They’re on my basketball team.” For the next few minuets, Josh yammers on about the layups and who scored more lay-up shot, which got more air…yada-yada. “I found out that we are undefeated.”

“Well, good for you guys,” I say, wanting to get back to talking about tonight. I hastily say, “Hey, I have a feeling Ivan’s two goons will probably follow us all night.” Before he can say more about dumb basketball (which I detest), I roll my eyes and add, “I know. I shouldn’t call them goons. I’m sure they’re very nice men. I just can’t get used to having my very own Special Agent and bodyguards. How did someone like Agent Ivan Brody––clearly an important Federal Agent––wind up assigned to little ole moi?”

Josh says, “Dad told me why. It’s because Ivan is number one on the President’s “S” list.”

I draw my mouth down in a bow to show my surprise. “Why is Ivan on the President’s shit list? You’d think he would be on her “A” list. I mean, Agent Brody comes across as someone who should be on missions to take out terrorist leaders. Really bad people. I just have one old dude that could pass for Santa Claus following me around in a taxi cab.”

“We don’t know what Valentine is up to. I wouldn’t underestimate the guy. Look, you have to promise to keep this to your self.”

“Okay. I promise. Scouts honor.” I hold up my two fingers.

“Well, while working a case seems Agent Brody has a tendency to be a maverick. He majorly breaks the rules and goes off on his own. I read on the Internet that during Ivan’s last assignment, he pushed the “proverbial envelope” a little too far and caused a rift between the President of China and our Ambassador. So the Secretary of State asked him to pay his dues by watching over you and Mr. B until they can assure your safety. The Bureau calls it “babysitting”.”

“Babysitting. Geez, Ivan has to hate that.”

“Well...”

After a few steps, I stop when I realize Josh stopped walking. I turn around, frown, and walk back to him. I look up at his big brown eyes and feel a jolt. “What is it?”

Josh places his hands on my shoulders, looks me right in the eyes, and backs me into a little nook between the building. His hands feel very warm through the material. I’m glued to the spot as time and space cease to exist. I think that he’s going to kiss me or something.

Josh drops his hands and says, “Cookie, I don’t think Ivan hates watching over you one little bit. When he came by this morning to pick up my dad, Mom spoke with him. She told me Ivan said that everyone that knew Eva had a ton of respect for your her. In fact, Ivan said that he requested this assignment––not sure if that’s true. Anyway, he told Mom that he feels honored and compelled to be there for you guys, and he’ll do everything in his power to get to the bottom of this. ”

“I kind of got all that last night from him.” I watch the corners of Josh’s mouth curl up in a smile. “And?”

“It’s just that he’s being heckled by the other agents and it gets on his nerves.”

I smile and push by him. I stroll over to the entrance to the girl’s gym and lean my back into the door. “Well, I, um, better go. I have to dress out.”

“Later.” Josh takes a step backwards and holds his hand to his ear like “call me”.

I nod. “Bye.”

I go inside and pause to read the sign taped on the glass part of the door leading out to the pool.

DUE TO A BACTERIA BREAKOUT IN THE POOL

ALL SWIM MEETS ARE CANCELLED

FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK 

SEE COACHES FOR NEW PRACTICE SCHEDULE

Gross! Wait a minuet...this is good news, I don’t have to see Sean or Kelly. I lean back and look up. Thank you God! After several volleyball matches, I go looking for Coach T. anyways to discuss those scholarship apps. She’s in her office. She says that there are no stimulations that she knows about, and gives me the apps. We have another little nice heart-to-heart chat, and then I head to my car at a fast clip. It’s been a strange day. I want to get home and chill before getting with Josh. I stop next to my Mustang, unlock the door, and toss my backpack on the floorboard. As I back out, somebody yells, “Nice wheels!”

My hand goes up automatically. I can’t help but smile and wave I love my Mustang.

“YO! COOK”

I swivel my head and see Char actually running toward me across the parking lot. She has a white sucker stick between her glossy lips and her boobs are bouncing under her purple glittery shirt. She slumps against my car and removes the grape Blow Pop from her mouth trying to catch her breath.

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is running with a sucker in your mouth?”

She pants a few times and fans her face with her hand. Her short brown hair is flat and wet.

“What happened to you new hair-do?”

She tucks the sides behind her ears. “I decided I don’t like the curly look. Bobby said he thought it looks stupid.”

“What do boys know about hair?”

Char takes a compact out of her purse and checks her appearance. “Hey Cook,” she says smoothing down the stubborn curls on the top of her head. “I wanted to talk to you regarding the rumors about Sean and that new chic.”

I sit down in the passenger seat and I remove my sunglasses from the rear view mirror. I ask nonchalantly, “What are you talking about?”

She burst out with a shrill kind of giggle. “Oh. My. God! You haven’t heard. God, you do live in a total mind warp. Okay. Wait until you hear!”

I get out of the car and slide my sunglass on. In my head, I’m screaming, DUH! Thanks to you it’s all over the school! I stand there and glare at Char behind my sunglass. I can’t believe it. She is actually jumping up and down with excitement. She can’t wait to tell me about this. She has ZERO decorum. She pauses and stares at me for a second and I ask myself. If Char knew about the horrible things Sean said to me would she be more sympathetic. What am I thinking? She probably does know every sordid detail. Char could wheedle information out of the KGB. I push my sunglasses up on my nose with my middle finger. “Um, Char, it may surprise you, but I really don’t care to talk about Sean right now. Okay?” I slam the door and skirt around the back headed toward the driver’s side. To avoid conflict and confrontations, I have a tendency to stuff my true feelings and thoughts––I do really! It’s all about fight or flight. That is until someone or something sets me off. This is one of those times.

Char follows me. “I understand sweetie,” she says in her baby-talk-voice.  “Sean told Billy about you and he having a wittle spat about s-e-x.”

I spin around and Char takes a few steps back.  “What? Uhhh! SHUT UP!” I rip off my sunglass and take a step toward Char. “Sean told Billy about our break up!”

Several people nearby shoot us wary glances.

I get in Char’s face and hiss between my teeth, “What else did Sean say?”

Char jumps back. “Hey, don’t yell at me, I’m just the messenger. Char glances around, as if she’s looking for someone to come to her defense.

The girl opening her car door across the way, says, “Whoa people, cat fight about to happen.”

 “Whatever, Char,” I say, about to cry. “Consider our friendship over and done.” I turn my back to her; put my sunglasses back on and yank open the door and check the temperature. My head starts throbbing. The aspirin have worn off.

Char keeps talking, “When Sean couldn’t reach you, he freaked!” She sounds all panicky as if she’s actually telling the truth. I try to tune her out. She comes over and says, “Cook, Sean called Billy’s cell trying to find me to find you.”

I pull my head from inside the car and open the door wide to let out the hot air and look at Char with dagger eyes. How many times has she played me for a fool? Uh, like a million.

“Sean still loves you. This is all a colossally misunderstanding…” Char smiles. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you…” She leans against the side of the Mustang and starts running her mouth about it not being her fault that Sean and I fought.

I hold up my hands. “Look, I’m really tired of this whole BS. I could care less about Sean and his new whore. I just want to go home and forget him!”

Char laughs. “Whoa, you said the “w” word.”

I roll my eyes and climb behind the steering wheel.

Char squats down and looks at me with big sad eyes. “I seriously tried to give you the heads up about them, but you never returned my calls.”

I shrug and fire up the engine. “Been busy.”

She smiles slyly. “Hey, right. Forget those two. I hear you’ve moved on. Word is you’re hanging out with Josh O'Dell…he’s looking oh so fine.”

I can’t help but smile. It’s true, Josh does look fine and I have been spending most of my time with him lately.

Char sticks the purple ball that is tiny now, back in her mouth and twirls the white stick between her fingertips. “Spill.”

I chew on my bottom lip and stare at her a minuet, debating if I should confide in her or strangle her. I decide the jail time wouldn’t be worth it. Hum, on the other hand, if I pay attention to what she has to say just maybe I can garner the whole story on Sean and Kelly and somehow use it to my advantage. Besides...Char has the attention span of a cat. If Billy shows up, she’s outta here. Who knows when or if I’ll get the chance to talk to her again? I turn off the engine, get out and close the car door. I cross my arms over my chest. “Okay, spill it Char. Tell me everything you know about Kelly and Sean.”

Char glances right and left as if to see who’s within earshot. “Well, I really don’t know that much about Kelly because her family just moved to Georgetown, like, two weeks ago. Her father is…um…pretty important…I think her father works at the Capital or something like that.”  

Char pauses trying to remember. She puckers her perfect brows and holds the nearly gone sucker between thumb and finger, tapping it on her pursed lips; either that or she’s trying to frame something juicy that is total BS. I bug my eyes at her and bite my tongue. ALBRIGHT, you airhead, speed it up!

Seeing my irritation Char knits her forehead and says, “Oh, screw it, I can’t remember his last name right now. All the guys are gaga because Kelly is, like, totally stacked and drives a Mercedes sports car.” Char emphasizes the word ‘stacked’ by sticking out her chest. “When she showed up at CB’s on Saturday, all the guys were drooling—except my Billy of course.” Char shrugs and waves the sucker around, emphasizing her story. “Guys are vulnerable and weak that way. Your recent break up put poor Sean in a tailspin. He was a wreck. Especially when he saw Josh pulls up at your house Sunday.”

I bug my eyes at Char. “Oh poor baby!”

I want to scream, “SHUT UP” again and smack the sucker out of her hand. Doesn’t she care one iota about my feelings? I fight the urge to just lose it right here in the parking lot in front of everyone and rip Char’s head off and kick it over the fence. Instead, I simply slide behind the wheel and unlatch the convertible top. Char keeps talking. From inside the car I can only make out a little bit of what she’s saying. I don’t really care anymore. I get out again, and struggle with the convertible top. “Hello. It’s easier if two people help.” Hint-hint.

Char comes over and helps me for about a second. She almost breaks a nail and steps away from the Mustang. She examines the damage and says, “Kelly said that she couldn’t because Sean was coming over all week.”

“Why?’ I only halfway listen to her babbling so I don’t understand.

“Aren’t you listening? Sean is helping arrange some of the heavy furniture in Kelly’s bedroom––or something like that. And Taylor—you know her. She’s the cheerleader that’s on your swim team. Taylor is going over to Kelly’s house to see if she wants to try out…”

I struggle with the cover and throw up my hands. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but could you give me a hand with this?”

“Sorry,” Char says, waggling her fingers to show me her French manicure.

I smile tightly at her, tug the cover over the top, and then work my way around the trunk, snapping down the canvas cover. Luckily, I have no fingernails to speak of.

Char says, “Sean told Billy about last Friday in your car—” She stops mid sentence as if deciding how much she should tell me.

I wave my hand. “Don’t leave anything out on my account Char. Heck. The media will probably report it on the eleven o’clock news tonight.”

Char continues, “Sean said that he was in love with you…”

I stop snapping and turn around to face her squarely. “Oh, puh-lease, Sean isn’t in love with me! He wants to get into my pants!”

“Fine whatever, but he was extremely distraught last weekend.”

“Distraught?”

“You ignore him all week. He said it broke his heart that you refused to even talk about it.”

From the corner of my eye I see her standing on her tiptoes, chewing on the bubble gum that comes buried in the center of her sucker. She puffs out her cheeks and a small lavender bubble squeezes between pink glossed lips, then she bites down popping the bubble.

I finish snapping down the cover and lean on the side of the Mustang. “So if Sean was sooo “distraught” why was he sucking face with Kelly at CB’s?”

Char shrugs. “That’s not entirely Sean’s fault. Billy and I took him to CB’s, to cheer him up…and Kelly just happened to be there.”

This is too much. I tap my chin with my finger. “Hum…so Sean said I broke his heart?”

Char nods her head and blows another bubble.

“Well, let me translate that for you…Sean Palmer is a selfish slime ball liar! Because I refused to sleep. He left me alone in the parking lot! And because he was soo HORNY, he latched onto Kelly Albright hoping she will take care of his needs. If I old enough to bet, I’d bet she has done just that.”

A look of revelation comes over Char’s face. “That’s it—Kelly Albright.”

I roll my eyes skyward. “Kelly just happened along at the right time!”

“Okay, I confess...that’s pretty much the way it went. But you can’t put all the blame on Sean. I mean, get real. Who stays virgin theses days? What’s the big deal?”

“I’d tell you Char, but you’d never understand.” I lean against my car and cross my arms trying to look cool, calm and collected. At least the little tree next to my space gives me a little shade from the sun.

Char blows another purple bubble and sucks it back into her mouth. Then she says this loud enough for anyone within fifty feet to hear. “Inquiring minds want to know why staying a virgin so freaking important to you? I’ll keep it secret.”

Char MacDougal could keep a secret if her life depended on it. Okay. This confirms my worst fears that the whole freaking school now knows that I’m a still a virgin. I cringe and glance at the people around us. Is it my imagination or is everyone looking my way.

Char step closer to me and tugs on my hair. “I’m serious Cook. What you tell me stays with me.” Char frowns; no it’s more of a pouty face. “Cross my heart.”

I speak softly, “You don’t have a heart.”

Char stomps her foot. “Yes I do!”

I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. “Look. Just forget it,” I tell her sternly and put my hand on the door handle yanking it open. “I have to go.” I turn and shake my finger in her face. “And from now on––what I do with my life is my prerogative.”

Char draws back her head. “Damn, what did you do with Cook?”

She holds up her hand and I smack it away. Then we girl hug. What do you know? For once I’m standing up to Char and it’s as if she suddenly sees me in a new light. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll show me some respect.

Right.

“B-F-Fs for life,” Char says, stepping back looking me up and down. She doesn’t wait for my snide comeback. “I like the new improved Cookie.”

The sudden blaring of sirens fills the air. Startled, we both scream and look out across the parking lot. The line of cars trying to exit the school is in gridlock. The people in their cars and walking around get on their cell phones and Blackberries. Char and I run across the grass and stand next to the chain-link fence to see if there was an accident. A string of yellow school buses and five police cars are vying for the front access. Across the way, my bodyguards are inside their black car with the darkly tinted windows rolled up tight. I imagine the engine is running and the AC is on full blast.

“Holy crap!” Char shouts and takes out her cell phone. Mine is in my car inside my backpack. She holds up her finger and says, “I have connections.” She punches Senator Brennan’s saved direct line and puts the tiny cell to her ear. She frowns. “Damn, it sent me to a full mailbox!”

I go over to my Mustang, find my cell and power it up. I punch in Agent Brody’s number. Then I click off thinking what can he do?

I the closest people sitting in their car ask me, “What’s going on? Was there an accident?”

I shrug. “Don’t know, but it looks like we’re stuck here for awhile.”

My cell goes off. There’s a strange number on my screen. I put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Agent Ivan Brody. Cookie? You just called me and hung up. Are you okay?”

“Yes. um, sorry,” I say, speaking in a low voice as I back away from the crowd. I turn my back and cup my hand around my mouth, “I accidently hit your number.” I explain about the crazy situation here and Ivan tells me he will find out what is going on and call me back. I click off and Char sees me walking over.

“Senator Brennan called me back. All anybody can do is wait to find out what’s going on. It’s too hot to sit in my car so we lean on the little shade tree. Char is in no hurry to leave, one because Billy is at football practice and she doesn’t dare be seen without him glued to her side. And two her snooping addiction is too strong to leave without being one of the first to know what is going on. She really should become a journalist.

Speaking of curiosity… I look at Char and ask, “So, is that all you got? I mean on Kelly?”

She looks at me and smiles wickedly. “Well, I hear her family moved here from LA, they bought that mansion near your house.”

I nod. “I heard.” I reach out and pluck a leaf off the tree.

“Oh, and she’s an expert surfer. Zak told me she competed with the top women surfers in Malibu. You probably saw her on ESPN.” Char hip bumps me. “You like surfing, right? Kelly can give you some tips before you go to Cocoa Beach!” I give Char the evil eye and she says, “Just kidding. God, lighten up all ready.”

I say, “Great. Being a pro surfer means she swims like a fish.”

Char sticks out her chest. “Billy and the guys said if she wipes out, her big ta-tas will keep her afloat.” Char leans forward and starts cracking up. The wad of purple gum flies out of her mouth. It lands in an oily puddle and starts melting on the hot asphalt.

She shrugs. “Oh well. It lost all of it flavor and my jaw was starting to hurt.” She lowers her voice and says, “Did you know that Kelly had an abortion? I heard that she had an affair with a college professor, three times her age, in LA.”

“Char, you don’t have to say mean stuff about Kelly on my behalf.”

“Okay I made all it up. Kelly is as innocent as driven snow. Like I said, you two have a lot in common.” Char’s cell goes off and she practically drops it trying to put it to her ear. “Hi, Senator Brennan?” She slaps on a huge toothy smile and waves at somebody behind me. Then she wanders away to talk to Billy’s dad.

I turn around and see Lindsey Morgan in her new baby blue convertible Beemer—or is it Bimmer? I heard via Char that she won it on a reality show. “So you want to be a super Model.” Or something to that effect. Whatever, I’ll take my classic stang over a Beemer any day. Lindsey pulls up parallel to my car and guides the gearshift into park. Her long straight hair is blowing in the soft breeze. Even though Lindsey is attending Harvard next year, she has hopes to travel the planet and be the next super model in her spare time she also wants to cure hunger. All this information was in her acceptance speech as the senior class president.

Lindsey slides her Ray Bans down on her perfect nose and peers over the tortuous shell frames with big blue eyes and dark lashes. “Hi Cookie. Awesome car—what is that a Mustang?”

I open my mouth to say “yes” and Lindsay looks past me and says, “There you are Char! Billy sent me looking for you. We’re all going to my house for a swim.”

“OH. MY. GOD Lindsey,” Char squeals and dances around the Beemer. “Your car is so hot!” Char touches her finger to her tongue then put it on her butt. “Give me a lift over the sports field?”

“Hello,” Lindsey says, pushing up her sunglasses. She leaning across the seat to opens the passenger door for Char. “That’s why I’m here. Get in silly. Billy and Peter already left. There hot and thirsty, if you know what I mean.”

I’m hoping they take off soon. I’ve heard enough about Kelly and Sean to last me a lifetime.

Yes!

Just before hopping in Lindsay’s car, Char looks at me and blows me a kiss. “Love you later!”

I smile sweetly and wave. I watch Char get in and tug at the hem of her shirt. “Damn him, I can’t go like this.” She pulls down the vanity mirror then whips out her lip gloss from the $200.00 Betseyville Metallica purse (Billy’s mom bought her).

The line of cars exiting the front of the school, keeps them from leaving just yet so I move around the trunk, pretending to smooth the convertible cover and hear Lindsey say, “Come on!”

“So tell me again. Where is Billy?” Char asks fluffing her hair with her fingers.

“Billy on the way to my house with Peter. Later, we’re going to my parents club for dinner. Sean and Kelly are coming too. That is if we ever get out of here!”

“Can I borrow an outfit?”

“Of course.” Lindsey says. Then she lays on the horn hard and the cars part like the red sea, letting her drive through.

I picture Sean hanging around Taylor’s pool with, Kelly decked out in a bikini, and jumps into my Mustang, shut the door and fire up the engine. I look around, back out going against traffic, and weave through the empty spaces between the new temporary classrooms. As I turn the corner by staff parking, I’m going a little too fast and lay a little rubber. Yikes. I hope my tires are okay. I pat the dash. “Sorry little Mustang, but I’m FUMING!” I pray nobody saw me speeding. My yellow Mustang sticks out like a sore thumb. I drive down the narrow access road behind the school, fretting about security cameras. Behind the lunchroom, I jet past a row of dumpsters out the rear exit, through the truck delivery gates. I completely evade the sucky after school traffic. I glance in my rear view mirror thinking, wow, from now on, that is the way to go.

Once I’m on a regular street, I put in a CD and let out a long breath. I vow to NEVER speak to Char again—well––for at least a week or two. Over the years, I’ve learned to forgive Char’s screwy personality, but I’m over her BS. I drive past the school entrance and my two bodyguards, standing next to the black car. I grip the steering wheel and raise my eyes to the rear view mirror. The two guys are getting into the car.

I speed up and hold my breath as I pass a big garbage truck and head down back streets toward home. It a four-way stop, look up at the sky, it’s completely covered with heavy gray clouds. Now I wish I hadn’t put my convertible top down. Oh well, I’ll be home in less than five minuets. I turn right and see that the black car is behind the garbage truck. This is so weird.

I take out the CD and turn the radio on full blast. I don’t know the words, but I sing along with the first song that comes on. It’s a woman singing about her cheatin man. I blink back hot tears and focus on the lyrics. What is it with country and western songs?

a humongous moving van pulls in ahead of me off one of the side streets. It has California plates. Holy crap, could that be Kelly Albright’s stuff arriving? Its break lights on come on at the stop sign on Elm and R Street, and I press down on my breaks. The moving van just sits there unmoving.

I toot my horn. “It’s a four-way stop. Let’s go people!” I hear a clap of thunder in the distance and a sudden gust of wind blows my hair in a swirl. Black angry clouds are forming overhead. Uhhh! That’s all I need.

The driver of the moving van turns on his right blinker and inches through the intersection, making a wide right turn. The song on the radio ends abruptly and dramatic background music sets the mood for the top of the hour news. A deep voice says, “The temperature in DC reached into the high nineties today. Expect thunderstorms tonight.

I roll forward and come to a full stop, checking left and then right for oncoming traffic. A car is coming so I wait just encase they don’t stop. I half-way listen to the news and watch the car heading toward me. The car has its left blinker flashing. I recognize the car. It belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Palmer—the window is down and Sean is behind the wheel. Kelly’s blond head is on his shoulder. So it’s really over.

And now for breaking news: Two security guards tried to apprehend a suspicious looking man dressed in a black overcoat and black derby styled hat today while he cut through a chain length fence at Georgetown High School today. Police were called to the school, but the man somehow escaped. A suspicious looking package was found nearby the hole and an ASMAT team was called to the scene. If you know anything or saw anyone meeting this description, call the FBI Hotline or your local police department. Do not approach him. He is armed and dangerous.”

I blink. “Wait a minuet... what did he say about a man in black?” I turn up the volume and strain my ears.

“Stay tuned for the latest stock...”

“Uh! I missed it!”

I flip the radio off and follow Sean from a good distance. Sure enough, vanity license plate says “Diplomat Palmer”. To think that I almost lost my virginity in that very car, a couple of times… I lose it as Sean turns on Maple Leaf Lane and parks in the circular drive in front of the Albright’s mansion. The moving van is parked on the narrow street blocking through traffic. I stop a few houses down and see that my bodyguards are right behind me. Oh well too bad. We’ll have to turn around to get out. The sprinkler system is on at the Albright’s, and when Sean gets out of the car, the front of his pants gets soaked. I sit there stunned, tears running down my face, but have to laugh at this. Kelly runs over and turns off the water and they go inside. I envision getting out and marching up to the door. “I hope you know that this squelches and hopes of reconciling with me, Sean Palmer!”

A horn blows behind me and I jump. I resist giving him the finger—that’s so immature. I swipe at my face with my hands, glancing in the rear view mirror at my bodyguards, Mutt and Jeff, and put the Mustang in drive.

Feeling numb to the core, I turn around and go home. I turn off the engine and sit there staring out the windshield at the garage door. I don’t pull inside since I’ll be going out later. I close my eyes and start thinking about everything. Faces spin round and round through my mind. It as if I’m on a tilt-a-whirl: Sean, Kelly, Char, Pop, Josh, Agent Werthoust, Ivan Brody, Mr. Jackson, and Mom they’re all talking at once. The old fruitcake stalking me winks and I block him out and picture Josh only. Josh O'Dell is sweet; he’d never ever say mean things to me or treat me the way Sean did––like a piece of meat. Hum, where did that thought come from? It’s true. Some guys think they are all that and Josh is just—sweet and kind and…

It starts sprinkling rain.

I get out and put up the convertible top. I notice the two men have pulled into a space across the street in front of Rosie’s house. I can’t see through the darkly tinted windows, but I feel their eyes watching me. A bolt of lightning crashes nearby. I grab my backpack and scurry up to the house, pausing on the porch. I glance up at the gathering storm and began to wonder if my life will ever be normal again. I feel sorry for the two guys sitting in their car, but hey, that’s what they do. The rain is really coming down now and the wind is blowing it sideways. I’m starting to get really wet. I insert my key and let myself in then quickly punch in the security code.

“Pop?” I call out dropping my stuff by the stairs. No answer. I look at my reflection in the mirror above the table in the foyer. I’m a wreck, my face is all blotchy from crying and my hair is a windblown tangled mess.

“What’s this?” I reach up a take down a note taped to the mirror.

Hi Love, hope you had a great day at school. I am at the International Trade Center until about 8:00 tonight. I’ll fill you in later. Hey, I got a gig for us - catering Senator Ethan Andrew West and Mary Bess Rothschild Wedding. Check it out on our nifty Chef C.A.B.’s Catering website.

Lots of food in the fridge,

Love, Pop

I fold it and poke it in my pocket. I was so lost in my thoughts; I didn’t notice that Pop’s van wasn’t in the driveway. Ivan never called me back. I wonder if the surveillance van is still outback. I didn’t even think to look when I drove in. Now I’m glad Mutt and Jeff are outside.

“Cool!”

I smile and glace around. I have the whole house to myself. I really need some “me” time right now to re-group or whatever. I crawl up the stairs, go into my room, and drop my backpack on the floor next to my desk. I start the Goo-Dolls CD Josh gave me for my birthday and turn up the volume so I can hear it over the hard rain smacking against the windowpane. Thunder booms in the distance. I toss the note on my desk and power up my laptop and look out the window. The van is gone. Okay. Maybe it’s in a different spot.

After I use the toilet, I change into sweats and a tank top, clomp down the stairs, and go into the kitchen. It’s spotless as usual. I peer out the back window to see if Beggar might be out there getting wet. He’s either taken off or hunkered down somewhere. I hum as I get some grub––a large piece of apple pie and melt cheddar cheese on top in the micro. I grab a fork and a big glass of milk, go back upstairs, and get on my computer. I eat and check out our new catering job. Last Saturday, Pop got online and purchased a domain name. ChefCABCatering.com. Using a simple template, I built his catering business website and database. We think it looks very professional. I look at Pop’s note again: Senator Ethan Andrew West and Mary Bess Rothschild Wedding. Hum, it sounds very ritzy. I research Andrews and Rothschild.

“Whoa. Richey-rich-rich.”

I read about them and finish my snack. Then get up, take my dishes downstairs, raise them off, and put them in the dishwasher. I return to my room, stop, and stare out the dormer window. It’s baaack. I get Mom’s binoculars and crawl inside the window. I can just make out the roof of the surveillance van through the rain and oak tree branches.

My cell beeps telling me I have new messages. There was so much going on I completely forgot to check.  I take it out of my backpack, scroll through the menu, and listen to them in the order they came. Sure enough, Pop left me a couple about his plans. I stupidly consider that Char came to her sense and called to say she was sorry. Fat chance. She’s livin 'La Vida Loca.

Whoa. Sean called. I listen to his message. It a perfect explanation as to why he was with Kelly Albright’s house. He promised to help them move yada-yada. Oh what a good neighbor. Oh wait; you don’t live in her neighborhood. I know what you’re up to Sean, stop lying. I delete his message and set my phone.

Stop thinking about them, do something constructive, says the little voice in my head—concentrate on Mom’s investigation—

and pull out the center drawer. I dump the stuff inside it and place it upside down on the bed. I run my fingers over the name stamped or whatever on the bottom panel. “Are you my relative?” I put the roll-top down, and then step back letting my eyes roam over the bulky desk. It looks almost ominous to me it. I stare at it until my vision blurs and it seems to pulsate as if it has a life of its own. I shiver and yawn. All of this constant worrying has zapped me. It’s going to be another late night. At least my head doesn’t hurt right now.

I look at my bed. Maybe if I lay down for just a moment. Stretching out on my side, I prop the drawer on my chair and stare at the ornate designs painted on the front and side of the desk. Could this desk hold family secrets about Mom? Exhaustion drops down a weight so heavy onto my body I can’t keep my eyes open. My lids feel like they’re weighted down by bricks and my head feels fuzzy, and numb. Valentine’s face flashes before me as I drift off. I’m at the Checkmart. He’s wearing the big black spy coat and Dick Tracy hat. The collar is turned up. His eye winks like one of those Cracker Jack prizes that changes or moves as the image is viewed from different angles. I see him in a dark elevator…

Half asleep, I murmur, “No…don’t want to think about him…”  

I hear Dr. Susan say, when you feel scared or depressed, think about the good things in your life. Josh’s soft brown eyes replace the man in black. It morphs into Ivan Brody’s handsome rugged face. His crew stands around him with their hands on their hip. They look like a bunch of super heroes and they’re outside watching over you. You’re safe and sound.

I drift deeper and deeper into sleep, and dream about our Labor Day trip to Florida that’s coming up really fast. Even though I’ve never physically been in or seen an actually ocean in person, I’ve surf boarded over giant waves a thousand times in my mind. I imagine what it will be like lying on my stomach on surfboard in a bikini on a beautiful tropical day. I’m paddling over the top of salty rolling waves; the sun warms my bare shoulders. I stand up balancing on the surfboard as I slip into a fluid curl and into blackness. Suddenly, I am no longer in Florida on a surfboard. I’m lying in fluffy white snow petrified with fear while Pop removes my skis. He smiles down at me looking worried. He asks me if anything hurts. I’m small. Eight years old. I shake my head “no”. Then I feel something wet on the side of my face. I look at Pop and quickly pretend it’s just snow melting. It happens when snow is stuck in my hair. I reach under my ski cap, touch my temple and look at my fingers. They’re covered with my blood and I’m terrified. I ask, “I’m I going to die?”

Pop examines my head and presses a clean handkerchief to the wound. “Of course not love. It’s not deep. Just a tiny scratch. Head wounds bleed more than others.”

If only I’d listen to Pop’s forewarning. He said the intermediate slope was a lot harder to maneuver than the beginner bunny slopes. But I can do it, insisted. So he let me try. It was so steep. I lost control of my skis and went off the course. I slammed headfirst into a tree stump buried in the snow. He carefully pulls me to my feet. I wobble so he holding my hand tightly. With my free hand, I push our floor number on the shinny brass panel of button. We’re in the elevator we always rode up to our suit in the Alpine Chalet Resort in Austria. Pop loosens his grip a little and puts more pressure on the handkerchief that’s against my temple. I whimper and he explains it’s to stop the bleeding. “Does it hurt a lot Cookie?”

“Not that bad.” I force a little smile, but my lower lip quivers defying my false bravado.

The elevator comes to a jarring stop and the doors open. A large man dressed all black smiles down at me as he enters. I look up. He’s wearing a funny black furry hat. There are binoculars like Mommy’s hanging around his neck on straps. I shudder, but continue to study the man as if he were a creature from outer space. He cocks his head and the overhead lights illuminate his eyes. The white area and the pupils are visible they look shine wetly. Coarse jet-black hair frames his wide ashen face and his eyes look like dark pits beneath thick bushy eyebrows.

It’s the boogieman.

He nods hello to us, reaches across me, and pushes a button. I hold my breath while he pushes the same number as us with a hand in a black leather glove. The letters F and K are embroidered in the space next to his thumb in white thread. The bookie man’s room is on the same floor as our room. He steps back against the wall I raise my chin slightly and look up at his face. He looks down and winks at me while removing his funny looking hat. The elevator doors close. He folds the hat into a small black square and puts it in a pocket on the side of his long overcoat. I stare openly at him and him at me. I want to look away from his piercing stare but I can’t. There’s a small red heart birthmark above his left bushy black eyebrow. It’s the only thing with color in my dream. As the elevator starts moving I feel dizzy. I sway. Everything looks fuzzy for a minute then it passes and I’m okay.

Pop’s voice breaks the quiet. “My daughter had a little skiing accident. Nothing a band aid and some hot cocoa won’t fix.” I drop my eyes and scoot in closer to his side. He squeezes my head a little tighter and tells me softly, “We’re almost there sweetheart.”

I force a smile and a sharp stab of pain shoots through my scalp making me bite down on my tongue. I can taste blood in my mouth. I moan. and roll over and go back to sleep.

The elevator stops and the wall in front of us splits open, I start shivering uncontrollably. I’m scared. Something bad is going to happen. I force my legs to move as we step forward, leaving the elevator, and enter a big hallway. The man follows us out of the elevator. He says something, but I don’t understand it’s in a foreign language.

While Pop fumbles with our skis and the room card, I watch the man. He pauses down the way and turns to look at me. Then everything goes black again and my dream changes yet again. I’m much older now, a teenager. I’m alone in the Alpine Resort again, next to the door to our suite. Someone is watching me from the shadows. Suddenly I am thrown into a new dream. I’m at school sitting beside the pool. The black taxi is on the other side of the boundary fence. Now I’m looking out my bedroom window. Valentine is standing in our backyard. He’s in Safeway. He’s following my Mustang––at CB’s. He’s stalking me relentlessly everywhere I go. I’m back at the Alpine, out in the hallway. I hear a muffled scream on the other side of our door.

I cram my hands into my ski jacket pockets looking for my card key. “MOM,” I call through the door while trying to unlock the door. My key won’t work. I bang on the door. “MOM, OPEN THE DOOR!”

“Hey! Cookie!”  Strong hands grab my wrist. “Cookie, wake up. It’s just a nightmare!”

I open my eyes. Josh O’Dell is looming over me. I get a whiff of his citrus aftershave. He smells better than any guy I’ve ever known. I think great Josh is big and strong. He can help me knock down the door. I blink my eyes and he’s gone. I open my mouth to call for him—but nothing comes out. I’m so cold. I close my eyes and pull the covers up to my chin.

Josh shakes me a little. “Wake up Cookie, you’re dreaming.” His eyes are like saucers and he’s breathing hard. I feel his breath on my face it smells like cinnamon. What’s he do here in my room?

I rub my eyes and sit up on my elbows groggily. “Josh?”

“I woke you up because you were screaming in your dream.” He’s wearing blue jeans and a nice collarless navy shirt. He comes back over beside the bed.

I scoot back and lean into the headboard. “Huh?’ I glace at my digital alarm clock is blinking 12:00. The electricity must’ve gone off. I only wanted to lie down for a minute or two. I guess I fell asleep. What time is it?”

Josh consults his watch, “Almost seven.” He dashes around my bedroom, checking behind the door and in my closet.

I shut my eyes and try to do the math, but my neurons won’t compute. I open my eyes and look at him.

He waves his hand and I see that he’s holding his cell phone.  “I called three times and left messages each time. I was this close to calling nine-one-one.” Josh closes my closet door and holds his finger apart about an inch.

“Sorry. I must’ve zonked out. I never heard my phone.”

“I didn’t know what to think. I got worried and came over here.”

“I’m fine.”

“Cookie, you’re front door was wide open when I got here!” He says breathlessly. “I heard you screaming so I ran upstairs. When I go up here I saw that you were having a bad dream…you know what….” he says, and turns to go. “Stay put for a second.”

“Why?” I lean forward. “Josh, are you going?” I throw off the covers, realize I’m not exactly dressed for company and pull them back over my thin tank top.

“To check the other rooms.” He pauses in the doorway, picks up my umbrella, and holds it like a sword.

Josh looks at me. “Don’t move. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I hear Josh opening and closing the doors in the hall and jump out of my bed, blinking myself out of sleep. My brain still feels fuzzy as grab jeans and a sweatshirt and goes inside my closet close the door and change. I come out and run a brush through my tangled hair avoiding my temple at all cost. The three aspirin will probably wear off soon, but for now my head doesn’t hurt at all. I go over and peek around the door casing. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“Not sure.” Josh paces the hallway once more, and then glances over the railing. He turns around and walks up to me. “I wanted to make sure nobody was lurking somewhere waiting to ambush us.”

I try not to laugh. This sounds so absurd. I recall my dream. Or does it. Step back and Josh comes into my bedroom and leans into the window seat, peering out at the backyard intently. “Looks like it stopped raining.”

I sit on the edge of my bed and slide on my sandals.

He holds his hands to the side of his face. “Did you know that the surveillance van is gone?”

“It is?” I blink a few times still trying to process why our front door was open, that Josh is here looking for a perpetrator, and analyze my weird elevator dream. Was it about Valentine or did I just put him there?

“Maybe your dad left the front door open. Could he be in the garage or at neighbors?”

“Huh?” My gaze goes to the roll top desk. I picture Pop’s note. “No, Pop is at catering job consultation for a wedding reception.” I sit forward, prop my elbows on my thighs and my hair falls forward. “He’s meeting the couple or something.”

Josh looks over his shoulder at me and backs out of the window. He crosses the floor and stands in front of me, looking perplexed. “Just wonder why your front door was wide open.”

“I know I shut it. I distinctly remember locking it and setting the alarm.” Agent Brody’s instructions rang loud and clear.

“It’s cold in here.”

“Maybe my mom ghost opened our front door.” I’m joking, but I half-way believe that this could be a possibility. Truth is stranger than fiction. At any rate, Josh doesn’t laugh at me little joke.

I ask, “Was there a black car parked out front?”

“I don’t know. Why?” He pauses and nods his head. “Oh right. Your bodyguards.”

I sit up and gather my hair to one side. “Yeah. They followed me home from school.”

The news report about a bomb and man cutting through the fence slides through my memory like a snake. I shiver and look at him. My overhead light is bright behind his dark head. He sits down next to me. This is the second time he has been on my bed in less than a week. Does he even know about that? Josh turn sideway over bringing his face very close to mine. Josh’s eyes travel my face. Hello. My stalker is the last thing I want to talk about right now.

Josh frowns.

I touch my face remembering the milk and pie I had earlier. “What? Do I have food on my face?” I wipe my mouth with my hand wondering if I have a crusty milk mustache.

“No,” Josh says slowly and with all seriousness, “I was picturing how your looked when I came into your room. You had your hand on the side of your head.” He places his hand on the side of his head. Then his eyes go to the side of my face. He raises his hand and gently pushes back my hair.

“Don’t!” I jerk away from him and stand up abruptly. I don’t want him to see the scar and have to explain my fears.

Josh looks up at me surprised.  He says “Sorry. I just…”

I shake my head. “I’ve been fighting off a headache and I’m a little over emotional right now.” His expression tells me that he’s old enough to get that these symptoms mean it’s that time of the month. I blow out my next breath. “Josh, tell me again why you drove over here so early.”

His eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean? I just told you. We made plans to go to the LOC. Did you forget that I was coming over?” He sounds perplexed.

 “No…um, of course not, I’m just a little confused…I didn’t think you were coming until after eight o’clock.” I sit back down on my bed keeping my distance. Not because of Josh. I don’t trust my feeling for him.

He says, “Cookie, we never set a time.”

I know. I just wanted to change the subject.

He pauses. “Look, I can go if you don’t want me here.”

“No. Please don’t go. I was just curious as to what made you come over so early.” I don’t want Josh to think I am unappreciative of all his help. I mean, without him I would—no doubt—flunk Advanced Chemistry.

Josh nods earnestly. “I left school and heard on the radio about the bomb and the weirdo cutting through the school’s fence. I was actually helping some distant family friends of the move in a block over from here. We stopped when it starting raining. That’s I called you…you know the rest of the story.”

My jaw drops. “You were at Kelly Albright’s house? With Sean Palmer?”

“Yeah and some other guys were there helping too. Why?”

“Long story.”

Josh sees my irritated expression. “Oh, sorry. Sean mentioned in so many words that your two aren’t speaking right now.”

“Sean said that to you? That we’re not speaking right now?”

“Uh, not directly. I overheard Sean say it to Mrs. Albright.”

I swipe at a lone tear threatening to roll down my cheek.

“Everybody was talking about your Mom.”

I wave my hand thinking why do I even care. “Josh, Sean and I are not going out anymore. We broke up Wednesday.” I pull tissues out of the box next to my bed and blow my noses.

Josh gives me a minute.

After I wad up the tissues and toss them into my little wastebasket, he asks softly, “Are you okay?”

 “Yeah.” I shake my head and rub my bare arms. My room is still freezing. Josh glances around the room and blows into his fist. He feels it too. I already told Josh that I think that it’s Mom trying to send us a message of some sort. Even so, I’ll let him bring up the fact that it feels like an ice box in here, every time he comes over.

I get up, pick up the drawer, toss the stuff in, and slide it back in place. As I push back my roll-top desk and wake up my computer, Josh rises up, grabs his book bag leaning against the far wall, and pulls the spare chair over next to my desk chair. He sits down next to me and I click out of Pop’s website. Josh takes his notebook out of his satchel. “Um, I didn’t get anything done since I was over at the Albright’s...”  

I flick a look at Josh and say, “Um. Me neither.” I sigh deeply and sit up straighter. “We need to talk about my stalker and my dream.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

I smile. “Anyway, was I really screaming that loud?”

“Let’s just say I couldn’t climb the stairs fast enough.”

I look up at the ceiling and make a face. “Yeah. What the heck. Right?” I feel Josh watching me and I turn and look at him.

“Tell me about your dream. I’m told I’m a pretty good listener.”

I drop my eyes and stare at my hands as I mull over how much I should tell him. Just give him the basics of the dream. I lay out my dream following the fall in the snow.

“So this guy in your dream looked like Valentine?”

I nod “yes” and show him the pictures I took in the Mall. I open the book Mr. J gave me and we compare the two faces using my magnifying glass. “Check it out. They have the exact same mole on their nose.”

Josh holds the glass over the black and white photo of Fredrik Koshechka and then the color print-out. “Oh yeah.”

“The dude in the Mall is definitely wearing a disguise.”

“Wait a minute. This is where you tell me that I’m under a lot of stress. That it’s normal to dream about someone I’m thinking about constantly––that I’m just imagining all this…”

“No. Why would I? I can clearly see the likenesses. Same dark eyes, bushy eyebrows, height, build the birthmark. His age checks out too.” Josh turns on the lamp next to my bed and studies the pictures some more. “You said that the man in the elevator looked younger, less gray in his and fewer wrinkles around his eyes.”

“I’m just playing devils advocate. Mr. J said we had to go there because we need to trot out weak arguments.”

“Right. And on top of all that, I had a really awful day today.”

“Yeah. News flash. I had to deal with a lot of crap today as well and I say we have a match here.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m the son of a cop. Remember?” Josh holds the magnifying glass up to his eye and mumbles, “The only good part of today happened in Mr. J’s class while I was with you Watson.” 

I feel my face heat up and turn to face my monitor screen.

Josh lays the fuzzy color picture next to the grainy black and while photo of the KGB Agent, Fredrik Koshechka. “Even though these are pretty bad quality, I’d say that it’s definitely the same dude Agent Blakely.”

I smile at Josh. “Thanks Agent O’Dell.”

“You did all the work.”

“Thanks for not blaming my strange dream on my “wild imagination” or anxiety.”

“So Char broke the camel’s back.”

“Well, on top of everything else, Char and I got into it out in the parking lot this afternoon because of the rumors she was spreading about Sean and Kelly being an item.” Wow, Josh is very perceptive. “So you knew all along.”

Before he can answer, I throw up my hands and laugh. “Of course you did. You were over there helping. Plus all the sordid details about Kelly and Sean were flying around school today.”

“I don’t normally listen to the prima donnas, but now that I’m involved…yeah,” Josh says in almost a whisper. “I sort of got that you and Sean weren’t an item anymore when I saw them today. Let’s just say they were pretty chummy.” 

 “Ewe! Stop! I don’t want to hear any more.” I put my elbows on my desktop and cover my ears. “Uh…you know what. I don’t care if they’re doing it like bunnies. I’m moving on.”

Josh laughs at this. “Bunnies huh?”

I laugh too. I look at Josh “Hey, I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

Josh
smiles. “Are you kidding? I’m a bottomless pit.”

“Well, we have a ton of food in our fridge.” I stand up, grab Josh’s hand, and pull him out of his chair. “I’ll fill you in on all of the drama while we stuff our faces. But you have to promise not to tell a soul.” I picture Char hanging out at the pool with Sean and Kelly. “Knowing Char, the whole world probably already knows my most intimate secrets by now.”

“I don’t know your most intimate secrets,” Josh says, and then pauses.

I laugh and mentally see him kissing me.

Josh’s cheeks are bright pink. “Wait…did I say that aloud?” 

“Yes!” Lucky he can’t see my thoughts.

He shrugs. “Oh, well…um, even more important…show me how lucky you are to have a Chef for a Dad…I’m starving!”

I grab my cell phone and stick it in my jeans pocket.

Josh

says, “I sort of like being a mushroom. You know, left in the dark and fed Bullsh––”

I clamp my hand over his mouth. Then I wag my finger playfully and say, “Okay, but after I tell you what’s going on in my totally screwed up life...” I turn to go and Josh grabs me from behind, in a hug. He wraps his arms around my waste and I completely forget what I was about to say. We pause a second and just happen to be standing in front of my full length mirror under an overhead light. I look at our reflection. I can’t breath. Josh’s eyes locks with mine, they’re dark and intense. I would love to know what he’s really thinking right this second. His eyelashes look long and thick and his chin has a Don Johnson shadow. Just like in my dream on my birthday eve.

Oh my gosh, Josh is so cute! I think I’m falling in love with him.