Текст книги "Alien in the Family"

Автор книги: Gini Koch

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

CHAPTER 16

ROOMS WERE ASSIGNED, luggage was handed out, and people settled in. Martini and I went to our side of the floor. It was pretty much a mirror image of Chuckie’s suite, including the full wall mirror I’d missed before.

“See the big mirror?” Martini asked as he came up behind me. “We don’t take our top off in front of the big mirror unless Jeff is the only other person in the room.” He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck.

“Mmmmm, okay.” He switched to nibbling my neck, which doubled as my main erogenous zone. “Whatever you want.”

“Thought you were going to argue.” His tongue was tracing a pattern.

“Uhhh . . . oh, God, Jeff . . . ohhh . . .” So much for arguing. Maybe later.

He spun me around and kissed me, and I melted against him. I was ready to go for it, but he pulled away after a few minutes. “I have to make sure the room’s safe. And,” he added morosely, “my parents will arrive any time.”

“Okay.” What good was a suite if we weren’t going to get to have sex on every available surface? But I decided voicing that thought wouldn’t be fair. He’d been as ready to go as I was.

Martini hypersped through the place and checked for bugs. We all had an alien-detector now, thanks to Chuckie. Nothing found, human or alien. I was shocked, but I figured the foray into Catering had alerted the rogue that we were onto him or her, so she or he was lying low. Or causing havoc elsewhere.

“So, what’s your plan?” Martini asked me after we’d hung up our clothes in the walk-in closet that was part of the humongous master bedroom. This hotel room was larger than the Lair, let alone the apartment I’d lived in before I’d met Martini. Our meager assortment of clothing looked sad and lonely in the huge closet.

“I want to go shopping.”

He laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He pulled out his wallet. “Uh . . . do I have to go?”

My turn to laugh. “No, not if you don’t want to.” He handed me a wad of cash. “Jeff, I have my own money.”

“Right, and there’s more of it in your hand. It’s not cheap here from a cost standpoint.” He looked worried. “Do you need more?” He opened his wallet again.

“I have no idea, but stop throwing money at me.” I wondered how much of this was because Chuckie was right next door and figured a lot of it.

“Okay, you have the credit cards, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t think I want to use them here, just in case.” Just in case I’d have to look at the bills a month later and ask myself why I’d bought something I could only wear in one place and spent that much money for it. I’d been here a lot more than once, after all.

“Well, do if it’s something you really want.”

“I really want you in something other than a suit.”

“I thought you liked how I looked in the suit.” He sounded hurt.

“I do. I like how you look naked, too. I also liked how you looked all of the two times I could get you into jeans.”

He shrugged. “I don’t feel comfortable in them.”

“Did you wear suits as kids, too?” I asked with a laugh.

Martini looked embarrassed. “Yeah, we did. We were at the Embassy a lot . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked miserable. “I’ll wear whatever you want.”

I hugged him and felt like a total jerk. “Oh, Jeff, I’m sorry. You look great in the suit, you know I think so. It’s not like we’re going to a playground or something.”

“So, when we have kids, you won’t want me in the suit at the park or anything?” He sounded panicked.

“Baby, stop. We’ll worry about it when we have to.” I felt like crap for making him feel like crap. This wasn’t exactly going as planned, not that I’d had a plan. I nuzzled his chest. “I think you’re just as handsome when you’re dressed casually. But it doesn’t really matter. It’s not the end of the world. If you didn’t want to wear a tux for our wedding, that would be a problem.”

“No, I’m fine with a tux. White or black?”

“I don’t know.” The panic about my lack of a dress, or even the idea of a dress, hit me. “I sort of wanted to decide once I knew what I was wearing.”

“Well, shop for that here, too.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Vegas. Lots of weddings. Lots of shops with dresses. Take the girls and go shopping.”

A thought occurred. “I don’t want the girls, actually.” I dug out my phone. “James, you guys settled in?”

“Yeah, girlfriend. Nice digs. I’ll give the C.I.A. this much—they live for the first-class treatment.”

“I think it’s Chuckie more than the agency.”

“Maybe so. So, what’s up?”

“You, um, indisposed right now?”

“No, we’re not having sex. Paul’s tired. ACE is really upset and it’s worn Paul out. Why?”

“I want to go shopping, I want someone whose taste I can trust along with me, and Jeff doesn’t want to go.”

“Calling in Gay Fashion Support, are we?”

“You know it.”

“It’s one of the reasons I know you’re smart. I’ll come up. I don’t want you wandering this place by yourself.”

“You wandering is okay somehow?”

He laughed. “I’m a guy.”

We hung up. “James will be here in a minute.”

“Well, at least you won’t be by yourself.”

“You can come if you want to.”

“Nah. I hate shopping.”

“I know, you’re male.”

“James is male, too.”

“James is a former fashion model. He understands clothes. And the need for clothes. And how to be sure what you buy looks good.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. And if he were straight, you two would already be married. I’m real clear on that.” He gave me a grin. “Happily, he’s not straight.”

“Or even bi.”

“There is a God, and sometimes He likes me.”

There was a knock on the door. Reader was there, not in the usual Armani issue. He was in more casual slacks and a buttoned shirt that was designed to be worn out, not tucked in. He looked great. “Ready, girlfriend?”

I pointed. “See? See this look? Imagine yourself in it.”

Martini sighed. “I’m trying. It looks better on James.”

Reader shrugged. “Jeff, you’ve got the body structure and the looks to pull off just about anything. Even a Speedo.” Martini looked panicked.

“Um, no Speedo.” He could indeed carry it off, but I didn’t relish the idea of every straight woman and gay man within eyeshot leaping on him. He needed trunks. Long trunks. “I like my men in trunks.” Although tight trunks weren’t out of the question. My mind started having a field day.

Reader laughed. “Aww, come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“No Speedo,” Martini said emphatically. “But I like where your mind’s gone,” he added to me with a grin.

Reader shook his head. “Paul can carry it all off, too, not that you’ll ever see it. It’s a cultural thing, babe, so stop worrying about it.”

I leaned up and gave Martini a kiss. “Okay, I’ll stop. See you in a while. Call me if your parents show up and are upset I’m not here. Call me if anything’s happening. Call me before you hit Chuckie for any reason whatsoever.”

He laughed and kissed me again. “I’ll call. But figure you have a few hours to kill. Have fun while you can, okay?”

I grabbed my purse, gave him one last kiss, and then we were out the door.

Got to the elevator and Reader put his arm around my shoulders. “Alone at last, lover.”

CHAPTER 17

WE BOTH CRACKED UP. “Yeah, I feel so illicit.” I put my arm around his waist. “Too true. So, where’re we headed?”

“Oh, show me the shop with that top in it. You never know, maybe I’ll have the guts to wear it.”

“Will do.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Great bridal shops here.”

“Yeah. And yeah. Help me.”

Reader flashed his cover-boy grin. “Of course, what are friends for? I’ve been giving it thought already.”

“You have?”

“I knew you weren’t. Not enough, anyway.”

“Teach me, oh very wise one.” We arrived at lobby level and walked out of the elevator. I examined everyone we went past, but no one looked familiar or wrong, not that I had a lot of faith in how I’d determine wrong anyway.

“I don’t want you in some billowy tent.”

“What are you, my mother suddenly?”

“Nope. I’m your Fashion Adviser. And trust me, with your figure, we’re looking for something that doesn’t hide the fact you’ve got curves.”

“I don’t want to look fat.”

“You’re not fat. You’re also not a stick. You look like a woman. We want to enhance that. Besides, you’d be amazed at what’s out there. We do want a low neckline, of course.”

“We do? I’m going to be in some sort of a church.”

We were in the casino now. It was loud and flashy, bells were ringing, people were making noise, the hustle and bustle was at a decent hum. I smelled smoke and booze and money. It was only Reader’s grip on my shoulders that kept me from wandering to an active craps table. The two guys who’d checked me out earlier were at one and seemed to be winning. One of them looked over his shoulder, spotted me, grinned, winked, and nudged his buddy. Who also turned around and gave me the grin-wink combo. I felt myself blush.

Reader sighed. “Focus, girlfriend, focus. We have a goal. Gambling later. Wardrobe now. Flirting with guys not in our expanded circle never.”

“Okay. So, low neckline why?”

He laughed. “Because you have a great rack. And this is the best time to show it off. Besides, it’ll make Jeff happy.”

“It will?”

“Trust me.”

As we headed toward the side of the casino that connected to the mall area I felt someone watching me. I looked over my shoulder. There were a lot of people there, but no one really stood out. I looked at the craps table. The two hunks weren’t there any more, so it wasn’t them.

“I told you to stop flirting with strangers.”

“I’m not. I felt someone watching me. Us, probably,” I added. After all, of the two of us, the one more likely to get stared at was the former top male model. I looked around again to see if someone was staring at Reader and just including me in the eyeballing. But again, no one stood out.

“You’ve just got pre-wedding jitters,” Reader said as we got to the escalators that took you out of the casino and to the mall that connected the Mandalay Bay with the Luxor.

We got off the escalator, and the reason for my feeling we were being watched appeared. “Nice to see you folks again,” Mister Joel Oliver said cheerfully as he snapped a few shots of us.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Reader was. He stopped, still holding onto me, and flashed the cover-boy grin. “Smile, girlfriend.”

“Why?” I asked as I did as I was told.

Oliver sighed and lowered the camera. “Because happy, smiling, and clearly posing people aren’t interesting shots.” He gave Reader an impressed look. “I understand why you ‘retired,’ but really, the fashion magazines of the world are missing you.”

“I’m flattered,” Reader said, still smiling the smile that put everyone else’s to shame. “But leave us alone or I’ll call Security on you. No cameras in the casinos.”

Oliver shrugged. “We’re not in the casino. Besides, you being here is gonna be great publicity soon. I can see the headlines: Alien Conspiracy Heats Up Vegas.”

I was glad Reader had a firm grasp on me, because I wanted to tackle this guy to the ground. “You’re high.”

Oliver shook his head. “Nope. Keep fighting the good fight, though.”

“What fight would that be?”

“Protecting the weak and the helpless from the evil from outer space. I mean, that’s your group’s stated mission, isn’t it?”

I wondered where Chuckie, or my mother, might be and whether I could get them to arrest this man. Then again, I’d had a lot of training in how to treat someone who sounded like a loon. Just talk to him the way most of the people we’d gone to school with talked to Chuckie.

I laughed. “Dude, you’re crazy. No wonder you work for the world’s worst tabloid. You probably still live with your mother. In her basement.” I nudged Reader. “Let’s leave the conspiracy loon alone with his theories.”

“Sounds good.” Reader stopped smiling and hailed someone. Someone in a uniform that had Security in big yellow letters on it. “This man’s accosting us, sir, I think to take pictures of your slot machines.”

The security guard moved in, and Oliver moved on. “Good one,” he called after us. “I’ll see the two of you again. Soon.”

“Well, that was fun. Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Nope. Tim gave us all the intel on that guy before you and Jeff got to the briefing. Reynolds is researching him. He’ll be neutralized or defanged soon, I’m sure.”

“Neutralized? As in killed?” My voice squeaked.

“I doubt it. Stop worrying. Let’s shop and get your mind onto relaxing things, like spending Jeff’s money.”

I decided Reader was right and spent the walk to the shop he’d spotted trying to relax. I did this mostly by window-shopping, which Reader was happy to let me do. We strolled along, looking at all the glittery things that insinuated I should save them from a life of boredom in the shops and take them home to a life of adventure in my closet. Considering what seemed to go on in my closet, maybe I had an obligation to bring the Elves something from Vegas.

The only time I’d ever shopped in these stores was when I’d been here with Chuckie. Not all of them were high priced, but most were. However, I had tons of Martini’s cash with me, and his charge cards, and by the time we’d wandered past about a third of the mall I was getting kind of excited.

Reader spent most of this slow walk discussing body types and why he wanted me to look at either cocktail length or mermaid-style dresses that were more on the minimalist side than poofy and overly adorned. I couldn’t really argue. I wasn’t tall, so something with a long train would look ridiculous. Something with too much foof on it was going to make me look like a doll. I had my doubts about mermaid, but I was willing to try anything at this point.

We finally reached the shop with the top in it. It was a really sexy top in a store full of really sexy clothing. “What were you doing in here?” I asked him while we looked for my size.

“Browsing.” He grinned. “No, I don’t cross-dress, and neither does Paul.” He shrugged. “I like clothes. It’s how I spent most of my former life, in and around clothing. And it’s nice to see something else other than freaking black and white Armani all the damn time.” He sounded like I felt.

“Yeah. You know it’s bad when I’m in jeans and an Aerosmith T-shirt and I feel exotically dressed.”

“Exactly. You wouldn’t believe the whining I got from Paul when I bought what I’m wearing now.”

“He’s not cheap, is he?”

“Hardly. He just doesn’t understand why I’m not thrilled to be in the suit twenty-four/seven. I’m not joking, it’s cultural.”

I found my size and thought about this. “James, do you think it’s just them, just ‘our’ A-Cs, or do you think all of them on the home world are that way, too?”

“No idea. I’ve never given it any thought.” He was quiet for a few moments while we looked for a skirt to go with this top and something to go under it—he hadn’t been kidding, it was sexy, glittery, and extremely sheer. “You’re thinking we could spot the enemy agents by how they don’t alter what they wear?”

“Something like that. I’m freaked by the idea that I could go back to the room and it wouldn’t really be Jeff up there.”

“Yeah. This whole damn thing bothers me. I’m with you. The timing’s beyond strange. By the way, have you gotten your bridesmaids lined up?”

“Um, no. Why?”

Reader sighed. “I knew he hadn’t told you yet. Jeff’s already got his side asked.”

“Who?”

“Christopher’s best man.”

“Naturally.”

“Right. Jeff’s also asked Paul, me, Tim, and Jerry.”

“You and Paul I expected. But Tim and Jerry, too?” Not that I minded. After all, if I figured out how to hide that I was marrying an alien from Amy, Sheila, and Caroline, I’d have five girls. If all of them could make it, which hadn’t been confirmed yet because I was so far behind.

“I stopped him before he asked the rest of the flyboys.” I looked at Reader’s expression. He was serious.

“Oh, my God. Is this normal for them?”

“I don’t know. Paul and I aren’t really married. Same reasons no one else is. He offered me the Unity Necklace, by the way, but we discussed it, and it just seemed as though we’d be creating problems. Either it would’ve started a lockdown on A-C and human relationships, or we’d have been okayed by Richard because we weren’t going to have children, and that would have made things worse for everyone else. Jeff’s sisters were all married before I joined up, and Paul’s sisters are younger than Michael and, shocker alert, they want to marry humans. So I have no idea of what a typical A-C wedding looks like.”

“No weddings have happened in the time you’ve been with Centaurion?” This seemed hard to swallow.

“They have, but none that I’ve been invited to.”

“I might not have five girls.” Wow, that made me sound like the most friendless soul in the universe. “I mean, I have five. I think.” I had plenty of friends, just not that many I wanted in my wedding.

“Who besides Claudia and Lorraine?”

“My friends Amy, Sheila, and Caroline. Only . . . Amy’s in Paris, Sheila’s got three kids, and Caroline’s in D.C.” And Caroline would ask why I wasn’t marrying Chuckie. Again. She apparently hadn’t liked the reason I’d given her already. “And none of them know I’m marrying an alien.”

I started running through my other sorority sisters—I could ask them, but none of them had a clue what I did now, and none of them could be trusted with it, either. Also, like Caroline, the rest of the girls knew Chuckie and, unlike Amy and Sheila, they all liked him. I knew without asking that if I called to ask any of them to be in my wedding, the first question would be why wasn’t I marrying Chuckie. It had been the first thing Caroline had asked, after all. And those kinds of conversations somehow always led to horrific fights with Martini.

This brought up another problem, which was how Martini was going to handle my sorority sisters’ attendance at our wedding. Only some of the girls would go with the idea that Martini was so great looking that it was natural I’d said no to Chuckie. The rest of them would point to four years of him and me being inseparable and really question what the hell was wrong with me. Guilt—always ready to remind me that I’d been too dense to realize Chuckie had been serious when he’d proposed the first time, when he’d taken me to Vegas for a week—was joined by its new bestest bud, Stress.

“I’m so screwed.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Reader said reassuringly. “If Tim, Jerry, and I have to be unasked, we’ll all survive.”

“I want you up there.”

He stroked my face. “You don’t have to be scared. I’ll be there, whether I’m nearby on the altar or in the pews. I promise.” He pulled me to him and hugged me. “Jeff’s not picking up how frightened you are, is he?”

“I think he thinks I’m worried about other things, not the getting married part.”

“You’ll be good at it. Being married. I know you think you won’t be, but you will.”

“But I still like Chuckie. I . . . I’m afraid I might be in love with him, at least a little.” I hadn’t meant to blurt it out, hadn’t planned to tell anyone, and I knew I’d done a pretty good job of hiding it because Martini wasn’t on a rampage. But it was true.

I was relieved that I’d managed not to add the word “still” around the “be in love” part. The realization that I’d been waiting for Chuckie until Martini had shown up wasn’t one I was proud of, even if said realization had come after Martini had proposed and I’d said yes. A part of me really regretted Chuckie proposing, clearly and comprehensibly to me, after I’d already met and fallen in love with Martini. And all of me felt like a rotten person and a worse fiancée for thinking about any other man when I was engaged to the greatest man on the planet.

Reader kissed my forehead. “I know. It’s obvious.”

“Oh, great. So I’m hurting Jeff for sure?”

“No. It’s not obvious to him, not even empathically, or if it is, he understands. I don’t even think it’s obvious to Reynolds. It’s obvious to me.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Because the pressure you’re under would make it incredibly appealing.” He gave a bitter laugh. “My parents have no idea of what I do, they just hate the fact that I gave up a great career—a career I’d been working at since I was three years old, by the way—to do something vague with people they have nothing in common with. They don’t understand what I see in Paul, other than the fact that he’s great looking. But it wasn’t as if I’d dated dogs before. They’d just managed to accept that I was gay when I ran into the A-Cs.”

I hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But I know what you’re going through. I have a couple of old boyfriends I’m still sort of in touch with. And they’re in touch with my parents. And there are days, hell, girl, there are weeks, when I wonder if it would be easier to just go back to my old life.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Same reason you haven’t left yet. I love the man. I also know what we do is a lot more important than standing in front of a camera looking good and making clothes and accessories look good.” He hugged me again. “And instead of getting to just fall in love with Jeff and deal with all the normal things a couple goes through, like I did with Paul, you two have been busy saving the world from bigger threats than Paul and I had to deal with during our first year together. Not to mention you have the fate of every A-C under thirty riding on your nuptials. Kind of a lot of pressure, at least from where I sit.”

“His mother hates me, too.”

“Well, maybe not hate, but I know what you mean. And I’ll bet Reynolds’ parents love you.”

“They do. I’ve known them since we were thirteen.” And I knew, without any doubt at all, that they’d make awesome in-laws, great grandparents, and they already got along fabulously with my parents.

“I’d guess they knew their son was in love with you, too, and were happy about it, or at least hoping you’d come around.”

“I don’t know. Probably. Everyone but me seemed to know.” My heart felt tight. “I did so many things because of him, things I didn’t even realize would be important when I was older. I never say the wrong thing to him, I never have to be something I’m not, no one’s going to give me a test to see if I’m good enough to marry Chuckie. And I’m going to hurt him so much by marrying Jeff.”

“Or hurt Jeff by marrying Reynolds. Yeah, that’s the way it works. But,” he leaned me away from him a bit so I could see his face, “I think you made the decision already. Before you knew you had the option. You’ve always had an option other than Jeff. More than one.”

“Christopher.”

“That’s one. Or just leaving the whole business behind.”

“I guess.”

“Of course, I think if you did, he’d come after you.”

“Yeah, Jeff does have a little bit of stalker boyfriend in him.”

“You like that.”

“I guess so.”

“No, you do. I know you’re not as confident as everyone else thinks you are. Hell, I’m not, either. We both know how to pretend effectively. So does Jeff. You think you’d have said yes to Reynolds if he’d proposed before you met Jeff, but my money says you would have said no.”

“How so?” My money didn’t say no, but maybe Reader was right.

Reader shrugged. “He’s too laid back for you. That’s a great trait in a close friend, and for some a great trait in a mate. But you’re attracted to Jeff because he’s intense. That happy, jokey, ‘it’s all good’ attitude is a sham, and you know it. Reynolds never loses it—I’m sure he can, but I interacted with him when Reid was after you. He was as upset as the rest of us, more so, really, but he never lost his cool, never panicked. On the other hand, if Jeff had kept his cool you’d be dead.”

“I suppose.” It was something to think about, though I knew Chuckie better than anyone, and there was absolutely an intense side to him. I was just one of the few people who ever got to see it. Because Chuckie only let the people he really loved and trusted see that side, which was why Reader didn’t think it was there.

Chuckie was indeed laid back, but he’d learned how to be, how to keep his cool when bullies wanted him to lose it so they could pound on him. The drive that made him constantly successful came from the intense part of him. I knew the intensity was there—I’d seen it up close, personal, and naked, after all.

Guilt, of course, chose to share that my being with Martini in front of him was probably trampling Chuckie’s heart. Guilt also reminded me that, despite Reader’s thoughts to the contrary, if I’d been even remotely clued in, I’d have married Chuckie and never have met Martini. Stress suggested it was only a matter of time before Martini figured this out, too.

Because Guilt was an Equal Opportunity Emotion and didn’t like to pick sides, it shared that the moment Martini realized I might have even a shred of regret related to marrying him, his heart was going to be trampled, too. Stress also mentioned that there was no way Martini wasn’t going to pick up that I’d been thinking about having had sex with Chuckie, and that he’d be less than thrilled that my thoughts about sex with Chuckie were and remained extremely positive.

“James, I’m honestly not feeling any better about this.”

Reader hugged me yet again. “Someone always loses in a love triangle. That’s the way it works out. You just have to be honest with yourself—who do you love more? Who do you want to spend the rest of your life with? Whose children do you want to have?”

“What if I say Chuckie?”

Reader was quiet for a moment. “If that’s your real answer, I think my plan would be to get you and Reynolds as far away from Jeff as possible.”

“I don’t think Jeff would try to hurt either one of us.” Because he’d be too hurt to do anything other than walk away. “Christopher might, of course.”

“You trying to tell me I need to charter a jet? Or just grab the fastest car we can get our hands on?”

I looked down. No Unity Necklace. I’d gotten used to looking at it any time I’d felt romantically insecure in the past months. But it was now part of a metal ball of spying badness. I knew I’d never be putting it on again. I looked at my hands. No ring, either. Nothing that said who I belonged to, or who wanted me to belong to him.

I looked at the picture on my chest. Steven, Joe, and the rest of my boys stared back at me. What would the guys in Aerosmith suggest at a time like this? The first song of theirs that popped to mind was “Love in an Elevator.”

I laughed and looked up at Reader. “No. I do love Chuckie, and I always will. But . . . no one compares to Jeff.”

Reader grinned. “Good to hear, girlfriend. I wasn’t looking forward to that particular road trip. I’d have done it, mind you. Like I told you when we met, you’re my girl, and I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

I hugged him as tightly as I could. “I love you, James. I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I never want to find out.”

“No worries, I promise you’ll never have to.” He patted my butt. “Now, go try on the clothes. You’ll feel better, and then we can get out of this store and find your wedding dress.”