Safe in the Lion's Den

I glanced at Portia, and then over my shoulder at Sophia, and smiled.

"C'mon, let's try some of this down home cookin'." I urged. "All of this talk about fried chicken and meatloaf's made me hungry too!"

We were greeted by a pleasant hostess with a charming Southern drawl.

"Welcome to Mama's Place." she said with a smile. "How are y'all doing on this blessed day?"

"We are as fine as Dixie sunshine." I replied cheerfully. "I hope you are as well."

We were seated - with Portia and Sophia sitting across from me - and a few minutes later, our server arrived and dropped three menus along with our silverware, in front of each of us.

"What can I get y'all to drink?" she inquired.

Portia and Sophia exchanged glances, and then looked at me for assistance.

"Three sweet teas, please." I replied. "Light ice in mine. Do you have any hushpuppies by any chance?"

"We sure do, Sweetie." she replied. "It's a standard appetizer here. I'll bring an order with your drinks. Be right back."

"What in the hell are hushpuppies?!" Portia demanded. "And why did she call you 'Sweetie?' And why did you ask for ice in your tea?"

"Hush puppies are shoes, right Jack?" Sophia inquired. "Why is she bringing shoes to our table?"

"She's not." I replied with an amused laugh. "Hushpuppies are a standard appetizer in the South, particularly at fish camps. I can assure you, she will not be bringing us an order of shoes or real puppies, I promise."

"Fish camps?" Portia echoed.

The waitress promptly returned with our drinks and a basket of deep fried Southern deliciousness.

"Here you go." she said warmly. "Are y'all ready to order?"

"I was trying to explain what hushpuppies are," I responded, "and why there is ice in our tea. We'll need a few more minutes, please."

The waitress laughed and nodded.

"Not from around these parts, are they?" she observed. "Take your time. I'll check back in a few minutes."

We opened our menus and were greeted with so many delicious items, that Portia seemed overwhelmed.

"It all looks so good!" she exclaimed. "Fried chicken, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, I can't decide!"

"Well, while you're trying make up your mind, try the hushpuppies." I suggested, reaching for one myself. "Mmm, delicious! By the way, try the tea. It's a good batch."

Sophia took one herself, and bit into it.

"Oh my God, these are so good!" she exclaimed. "Deliziosa! Oh Mama, you must try one!"

Portia took one as well, and bit into it. Her eyes widened as she chewed.

"They ARE good!" she agreed enthusiastically. "I still can't decide if I want the chicken or the meatloaf though."

"Well, why don't we all get the meatloaf, and I'll order some fried chicken too, so we can try them both?" I suggested. "And be careful; you'll fill up on those hushpuppies if you aren't careful."

"Sounds good to me!" Sophia piped up.

"You thought those were good," I added, "try the tea."

Portia smiled and took a sip. She seemed genuinely surprised.

"What is this?" she inquired, her eyes widening. "It's not what I was expecting. Is this actually real tea with ice in it?"

"Yep." I replied. "It's brewed on low heat or in the warmth of the sun, a ton of sugar is added, you let it cool down and voila! Sweet tea. Europeans drink hot tea because of the cold, wet winters. We chill ours because of the hot, humid summers. It's the official drink of the South."

"It's really good." she responded. "So are your mush puppies."

"Hushpuppies." I said with a grin, as the waitress returned to check on us.

"Have y'all decided yet?" she inquired.

"Sort of." I replied. "We can't make up our minds between the meatloaf or the chicken, so we'd like both. Can we get three orders of the meatloaf and gravy, and a basket of the fried chicken on the side?"

"Of course you can, Sweetie!" She answered enthusiastically. "And what are your sides? It comes with mashed spuds and gravy, so you get another side; your choice."

I saw the look in Portia's eye, and before she could open her mouth, I looked at her and spoke.

"Spuds are potatoes." I explained.

She nodded.

"I was wondering." she admitted, as she looked back at the menu. "What is this fried okra?"

"Something you definitely don't want to try." I warned her. "Trust me."

The waitress looked at Portia intently.

"You aren't from around here, are you Honey?" she observed. "I just love that accent. Where are you from?"

"Europe." I interjected, and being deliberately vague. "We met online, and she and her daughter decided to come see America for themselves. It's our first date."

"Well curdle my buttermilk! I do declare!" she exclaimed. "I hope y'all have a delightful time during your stay, and welcome to America."

I chuckled as she left, knowing full well the questions that were coming my way. It was then that something caught my attention. It's more of a reflexive action now, but I am always scanning my surroundings; continually on the lookout for anything out of place. It's just something that years of training or time in the field drills into you. As we were being seated, I had noticed a man at the bar, looking our way. I glanced over in his direction, and I was disturbed to see him still staring at us. As I made eye contact with him, it suddenly got a lot more disturbing.

He stood up and moved in our direction; a bit unsteady on his feet. I didn't know why, but he had an issue with us for some reason. This was of course, cause for concern. Not just because he might have ill intentions toward us, but also because if something happened, it would draw attention to the two lambs under my care. I knew I should have stayed on track with my original plans and headed straight home, but no; I had to be accommodating, and get input from my guests like a nice guy, instead of simply taking charge and getting the job done like I should have.

I glanced around as the man approached, sizing up my surroundings in the event this all went south. To my surprise, he didn't accost me, but instead went straight toward Portia. My hand went straight to the 9mm beneath my shirt in response, just in case.

"What do you think you're doing, wearing that hat in here?" he demanded. "It's offensive."

"Back off!" I said quietly, but sternly. "We don't want any trouble."

Portia gave me a confused look, as the idiot continued.

"Your kind aren't welcome here." he spat. "Take that off!"

With that, he made the biggest mistake of his life; reaching out and pulling the ball cap from Portia's head.

She stared at me in disbelief, as I saw the rage starting to rise in her face. Who was this peon to treat the prime minister in such a manner? Before she could react, however, I was already out of my seat, and my right hand clamped around his throat, squeezing as hard as I could. He wheezed, as the air to his lungs was restricted and the blood flow to his head was cut off.

I then grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, pulling his left arm painfully behind his back and forcefully escorting him toward the exit. I shoved him out the front door so hard he lost his balance and crashed headfirst onto the sidewalk. He stood up; blood trickling from his forehead, and glared at me.

"I'm gonna kick your fucking ass, you pony-tailed faggot!" he bellowed, as he charged at me; swinging his fists wildly.

Normally, I would have blocked his punch with one arm and brought the other one around to snap the bones in his forearm and put him out of commission, but I really didn't want to make a scene. Instead, I grabbed his wrist with one hand, and punched him with a hard uppercut to the solar plexus with the other. He dropped to the ground and proceeded to expel all of the beer he had consumed over the past three hours onto the sidewalk.

I glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and grabbed him by the collar, pulling his head upwards.

"You listen to me, you stupid son of a bitch!" I spat, as I thrust my badge in his face. "You have no idea who you just assaulted in there, or who you're fucking with now!"

He could only groan in response.

"If you ever put your hands on me or her - especially her - again, I will fucking kill you!" I snarled. "Do you understand me?"

He nodded weakly, and I let go of him.

"Call a cab to take your drunk ass home." I instructed. "If you're still here when I come out, I will take that as an active threat, and fulfill my promise. DON'T make me do that. I hate paperwork."

With that, I turned on my heel and went back inside. I arrived at the table just as the waitress returned with our food.

"Sorry Babe." I said to Portia as I slid into the booth. "He and I had some business to take care of. Hope you weren't concerned or anything."

"Not at all, Guy." she replied casually, as she put the cap back on her head and pulled her hair through it. "We could all see through the glass that you had it all under control. Great way to stay under the radar... as you say, by the way. Isn't that what you're always lecturing me on; don't draw attention to yourself?"

I nodded sheepishly in reply, and the waitress gave us a quick wink.

"I don't know who you are," she whispered, "but you have a great guy here. I know you just met, but your auras are already starting to merge. You're going to get along quite well. I can feel it in this grandma's bones."

Portia looked at her and smiled.

"Yes," she replied, directing her gaze at me, "I do have a great 'Guy.'"

The waitress smiled back.

"Oh, I almost forgot." she added. "The manager told me to tell you that dessert is on her. We've had problems with that jerk before. Never enough to get him trespassed though. I think you taught him a lesson he won't soon forget."

"Do you have peach cobbler by any chance?" I inquired, trying to deflect the conversation.

"Honey," she replied with a beaming smile, "we have fried chicken, catfish, okra and hushpuppies. Of course we have peach cobbler!"

"We'll take three then." I said with a grin. "Portia, if you think this food is great, just you wait until you have some genuine Southern peach cobbler."

About forty five minutes later, we were full of some of the best food I'd eaten in a long time, and we each had a large Styrofoam "to-go box" packed with whatever we couldn't finish; meatloaf, chicken, and of course, a generous portion of leftover peach cobbler that filled its own container.

"That was good!" I said with satisfaction, as I inadvertently burped. "Excuse me, yikes! I haven't had cooking like that in quite some time."

"It was wonderful!" Sophia exclaimed. "I've never had food like that before."

"I'll have to take you guys to a fish camp." I responded. "You'll like that too, I think. No pasta there at all!"

"What is a fish camp, Jack?" she inquired. "I heard you mention that before."

"Well," I replied, with a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, "all the fish get tired from all of that swimming, so they set up rows of tiny tents along the riverbank so they can rest and hang out."

"No way!" she burst out with a giggle. "You're teasing, right?"

"And when they get up in the morning," I continued, "there's a big, captain fish giving all of the other fish orders, and they all stand on their tails and salute with their right fins."

Sophia laughed at this point.

"Now I know you're fooling!" she snickered. "Fish can't salute."

"Fish camps started out as literal campsites on lakes and rivers, where people would clean and fry their fish." I explained. "I guess at some point they started selling it, and the name stuck. You can find them in town, but the really good ones are family owned, and usually on a body of water. There's one in the woods along a creek about three miles from my place. I'll take you."

Portia was noticeably silent, as I conversed with her daughter. We reached the car, and as I opened the passenger's door for her, she finally spoke.

"Thank you, Jack." she said quietly.

"Oh, no problem." I replied with a smile. "I was getting kind of hungry myself."

"That's not what I meant," she explained, as she climbed inside, "and you know it. I meant about the guy that came up to our table. I saw the look in your eye when you went after him. It was personal."

"It's my job to protect you." I said simply, and shut the door.

I was trying to avoid where this was leading, but as I got into the car myself, she continued.

"I feel very safe with you." she continued. "I've had lots of details assigned to me over the years, but no one ever treated me with the kind of personal attention that you have shown me and my daughter.

"You respect me, Jack. You respect both of us. I'm always just told to go there, or stand in a spot, but you seem to value my opinion. Both of ours; and that wild story about the fish camping by the river and saluting their superiors was funny. You're good with Sophia too. No one else has ever cared about her. She's just an annoying- how do you say... 'sidekick' for them to look after. Watch the Prime Minister's little brat, you know?"

"She's no brat." I said quietly. "She's a good kid, and she's smart. I like her. I'm no Mary Poppins by any means, but I'll do my best to keep her entertained too, while you are in my care."

"Who is this Mary Poppins?" she inquired.

"Oh, I know who she is!" Sophia interjected from the back seat. "I saw a movie about her. It was kind of funny."

"Not sure which one you saw; there were two," I responded, "but they were both based on the books. My mother got them when she was a little girl. Since I'm an only child, she left them to me. You're more than welcome to read them when we get back to my place if you'd like. I have her 'Raggedy Ann and Andy' books too."

"Thank you." Sophia replied politely. "I like to read, and since I'm fluently bilingual, I really like to read in English. It's good practice."

I smiled at her, and then turned back to start the car; sliding my Ruger into the rigid Blackhawk holster that was mounted on the side of the console. I could see Portia looking at me intently in my peripheral vision, so I caught her eye as I sat back up. She didn't say a word, but instead smiled warmly. I smiled back, as I threaded my way around the parking lot. I checked my watch, and was surprised to see that it was already 1:35 in the afternoon.

"Looks like our day is mostly shot." I observed. "If we hit the parkway now, we'll be in the middle of nowhere when it's time to get a room for the night. Why don't we just find a motel now, and I can take you two shopping to get some more clothes. I need a few things myself.

"I was going to take you into town in a couple of days for this anyway, so we may as well do it now and get it out of the way. Any objections?"

"Shopping, yay!" Sophia hollered.

"I'll take that as one in favor," I said in an amused tone, "although I've never known a woman to turn down an opportunity to go shopping, before. Portia?"

"It's your show," she replied, "but you're right. If you want to buy us some new clothes, I'm not saying no."

We all laughed, and I looked around.

"This is a busy place." I observed. "There has to be a Wally World around here somewhere."

"What is 'Wally World?'" Portia inquired.

I laughed in response.

"It's a big store." I explained. "It's a full-sized department store with a grocery store on one end, and a lawn and garden shop on the other. We can get practically anything there. You need some clothing ensembles, I need a cooler and some ice for our leftovers, and whatever we happen to see along the way. Hell, by the time we're finished shopping, it will probably be time to find a motel. You guys are gonna love this."

I spied the familiar sign, and headed toward yet another shopping complex. Portia looked around in bewilderment.

"What are all of these places?!" she gasped. "This can't all be shopping! This is as big as an entire town!"

"What you call towns over there," I explained, as I pulled into a parking space and turned the car off, "are what we would call big neighborhoods with a proper name, like 'Larkhaven' or something. Our towns are the size of your districts; our cities the size of your provinces. Most of our states are bigger than most of your countries. It would take you three days or more, to drive from coast to coast nonstop.

"As long as it's going to take us to get home, when I show you on the map where we went and how it relates to the rest of the country, you won't believe it. I think you'll understand why I wanted to take the interstates most of the way."

Portia glanced at the structure alongside us, her gaze drifting from the garden center all the way to our left, to the grocery store all the way to our right.

"This is one store?!" she gasped incredulously. "This is bigger than an Indian bazaar!"

"And as I keep trying to tell you," I explained, "you really have no clue just how much space we actually have here. My place is just over two hundred and fifty acres. That's around one hundred of your New World Order hectares."

"A hundred hectares... but... but... that's a TOWN!" Portia protested.

"That's my yard." I responded. "And no homeowners' associations for fifty miles. My property also butts up to an eight thousand acre-plus state park, so you won't believe how remote the Lion's Den is. You're in for a rude awakening, Portia. C'mon, let's go inside. I want you to see just how we really live here. This isn't some sort of made for TV bullshit. This is how we live."

I grabbed a shopping cart, and we entered the store. Portia and Sophia both gazed in wonder, at the layout; trying to grasp just how big this place actually was.

"Let's get you two some new clothes!" I exclaimed, as I steered the cart into the center of the store. "Portia, did you bring any dresses?"

"Just one." she replied. "It's a cocktail dress though, for formal gatherings. Does that help?"

"It does not." I sighed. "That dress probably cost more than the average car. It'll stand out even more than your pants suits, where we're headed. You need some sundresses, jeans and tops.... and sneakers."

We wandered through the department, with Portia trying on a few pairs of jeans and some cute tops. We eventually found ourselves in the dress section, and it abutted the Young Miss department, so I suggested to Sophia that we find some clothes for her, although I suspected she was a little more in tune with Western fashion than her mother.

"I just want to look at these dresses if it's okay." Portia suggested.

I surveyed the area. Sophia and I were only going to be about twenty feet away, and well within eyesight, so I nodded.

"Okay," I agreed, "but don't wander off."

"Okay Papa." she giggled.

I poked her playfully in the ribs and smiled at her.

"I mean it." I whispered in her ear. "Stay put, and if you get the least bit nervous or suspicious, put on your sunglasses and pull the brim of the hat down to block your face, and call me, okay? We'll be right over there."

Her look changed to a more serious expression, and she nodded.

"Okay Guy."

She began perusing through the dresses, as Sophia and I headed for a nearby display of jeans. I kept watch out of the corner of my eye, and relaxed a bit, as she seemed to enjoy shopping unrecognized for once. And then it happened: The unmistakable shriek of a Karen, in full-on, 'I want to see your manager' mode. My gaze drifted to see the stereotypical Karen, complete with an angled bob haircut, approaching Portia. I immediately went on full alert; my hand slid under the back of my shirt and rested on the P85, as I slowly motioned for Sophia to push the cart and follow me back toward her mother.

"Excuse me!" the woman demanded. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Portia was standing with the dress pressed against her body, eyeing it for size in the mirror, and looked completely perplexed at the woman's tirade.