Kitten
I knew damned well he didn't have a clue as to how to go about fixing things with Gina. I didn't tell him that though, because I believed in his promise. I believed in
him
. Anyway, I assumed that, between my conniving and his nerve, we'd come up with something. I suppose that's how we ended up sitting in the very same
Tim Horton's
where Gina gave me my first vibrator, both of us staring across the table at one another and at a total loss as to how to proceed.
"If only you didn't tell her not to look me in the eyes," I lamented in a low voice. "It was the worst thing you could have-"
"Yes, okay, you've said that at least thirty times since we left Montreal and, incredibly, it's still not helping, Kitten."
"Well, it was dumb."
"Not at the time."
"Shitload of good that does us now. Dammit, sweetie pie, you immobilized our only weapon!" I hissed. "How are we supposed to get her to listen to us? She'll run for the hills the second she
sees
us!"
"Maybe we can surprise her," he moped without much conviction.
"Gimmie a break," I mumbled, taking a sip from my coffee.
After a pause in our deliberations, he ventured, "Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way."
"How's that?"
"Well, we keep trying to solve this problem with the idea that we can use Sera on her, but maybe what we need to do is use Sera on somebody else."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean like a middleman. Somebody who she wouldn't see coming and could approach her on our behalf. Somebody we can program to say what we need said, but who will forget everything afterward."
"It won't work."
"Why won't it?"
"Because I know her. She'll run the second she understands that we've sent this person. She'll have nothing to do with it any more than she ever had anything to do with other strippers. When she blocks somebody or something from her life, she doesn't mess around."
He sighed, understanding the gist of what I'd said, his eyes wandering in disappointed thought as he raised his cup to take a drink. The cup froze, his eyes suddenly locked on something over my shoulder as his expression changed.
"Maybe that all depends on who we send."
I looked over my shoulder just in time to see the big police officer with the flat-top brush cut catch my Stevie's eye. His expression immediately changed to 'asshole' as he interpreted Stevie's direct eye contact as a challenge, naturally glaring right back. Then his expression slowly changed to a blank look as he stood there in a trance.
"Oh, shit," I breathed as Stevie got up to approach him.
A minute later, he had the officer sitting beside me at our table. People were looking, albeit while trying to hide the fact, and I had to convince myself that the last thing anybody would ever think about this situation would be the actual truth of what was going on. Stevie, I realized, had a lot more nerve than what I'd given him credit for; that, or he was crazy. Or both. Either way, I was going to kill him later.
Glancing at the officer's nameplate, he started with, "We have a job for you, Alger."
"... Job..." Officer Alger replied.
With a sarcastically raised brow, Stevie commented to me, "Oh good, we've got a smart one."
"Sweetie pie!" I warned with a hiss as I darted nervous eyes around at the people who were still surreptitiously looking.
"Relax," he told me with an infuriatingly casual tone before condescendingly addressing the officer again. "Yes, a job. Pay attention, now."
Five minutes later, we were standing outside in the parking lot with our coffees, watching the officer leave in his cruiser to go do our bidding, then forget all about us. Stevie waved him off with a carefree smile and I gave him a hard, backhanded slap in the gut.
"Hey!" he protested.
"You crazy jackass!"
"Jackass? I just solved our problem!"
"By using a police officer!?"
"He's the only person she'll be forced to listen to. Anyway, what difference does it make? He's no more a threat to us than Mickey Mouse."
"Mickey M-?!"
I started, changing my mind when I remembered some of his mummy's tales of the things he did in school. "Jeez, no wonder you almost drove your mummy insane! Let's just go!"
"I'll have you know my Mum loves me very much," he pointed out as he followed me to the
Caprice
."
I didn't reply because, with my back to him, I allowed myself a smile, one I couldn't let him see. His solution was brilliant but, since his dark and depressed personality had lifted with our bonding, the cavalier attitude that replaced it suggested the kind of personality that obviously shouldn't be encouraged. Daddy would probably love him for it.
However, even he was nervous later on when he turned the engine off in the driveway of my former home. Daddy's truck was in the driveway beside Peggy's car, Gina's
Vette