Quicksilver

"You already have a personal connection? That's great, as long as he keeps your secrets. To protect your employer, change your look a little, and be sure Sly says you're a communications officer with an unnamed firm, not that you're a delivery messenger.

"Now, your appearance. Get a haircut. Lose the mustache and glasses. Wear a Giants ball cap. Chew a stick of gum and wad half in each cheek. Talk like a tenor... yeah, look and sound different. Just a few subtle touches and you're a stranger, even to friends if they don't pay attention."

Nate said, "It's already weird at work. I told my boss and he definitely does NOT want media attention, but he also needs me to drive. I'm afraid he'll upgrade another biker or, even faster, recruit a driver from a competitor. So I could be out of a job soon."

My guts churned. Could I take Nate in and support him? Was fleeing his only other option?

Nate said, "But for now, I'm nearing the prune zone. And we need to talk in private, Lydia."

He climbed from the pool and gestured to me. I followed him into the hall to the locker rooms and hugged him. We dripped together and kissed. He looked in my eyes. His voice was low.

"I'll go first. Romero will let me out a side door so I won't be seen following you. I'll go to your place the back way and wait for you. Folks here don't need to know about that route."

"Got it. And I'll get fresh milk at the grocery near here. Anyone watching my place will see me with a shopping bag. That may distract eyes from the gym. But you don't have to wait. I have extra keys in my purse. Just a minute..."

I fetched the spare keyring from the purse in my locker. He added it to the locker key pinned in his Speedos.

"I'd thought that since they haven't identified me yet, I might stay in my room at Suzie's for a couple days because I'll be less visible there than around your place where they'll watch for you. But I can't lead snoops there. I'll be known all too soon; my face will be public. I can't go back till the excitement dies down."

"I have a question Umberto might help with," I said. "Don't go till we hear him."

I kissed my lover. He followed me back to the pool. We did not bother to swim again.

"Umberto, as a marketing and publicity thing, how much effort and expense do you think the media or the babe's backers will invest in torturing me and Nate? How paranoid should we be?"

"A bunch of print and TV reporters will poke around but I doubt they'll put you on stake-out, and Nate's 'exclusive interview' will defang them unless the babe's studio wants to milk the story longer. Media attention spans are pretty short; drop salacious rumors about Wilona and they'll forget you to chase-em down. It's like chumming for eels. Want me in on it? It's a basic exercise."

"Shit yeah, a diversion would be super!" Nate said, "It's never too soon for us to be forgotten."

"Easily done," Umberto said. "Having her supposedly consort with a well-hung Sasquatch should draw eyeballs away from you."

"And for that 'exclusive interview'... after Lydia tells me her lawyer boss's suggestions, I'll talk to my own boss tomorrow about taking the afternoon off; shouldn't be hard, Tuesdays can be slow. I'll call Steinmetz to see if he can see me after I'm barbered. I might even make the evening news. But I should go now." He squeezed me. "Hope this crap ends soon."

Nate left to dress; I ducked to the exercise room to work my muscles some more. Stay sleek!

=====

I crunched, showered, dried, dressed, and shopped. I noticed nobody watching or following me as I walked home but a red van was parked in front of my place. Its doors popped open and two men jumped out, one holding a camera with flash, the other with a tape recorder and microphone, when I reached the house driveway. They followed closely behind me.

"Miss Barnes! Sunrise News! Tell us about the dramatic—"

"Stop!" I said loudly. I rang the owner's doorbell. Terry stepped out his door.

"Trespassers," I said. I had already warned him of possible intrusions.

He switched on a floodlight, drenching the house front and driveway.

"Get off my property NOW or I'm calling the cops. Come no closer than the sidewalk. NOW! Three, two, one..."

The vermin of the press stepped back. "Miss Barnes!" the one aiming a shotgun microphone at me called. "We know you were there! How close were you—"

"Stop!" I loudly repeated. The camera kept flashing. "I have nothing to say to you. You may learn something tomorrow. Goodnight now. Have unpleasant dreams." I stalwartly opened my door. I did not shake much.

Amateurs, I thought. That paper sure had not assigned first-stringers to me. And no TV crews were there. Maybe we would not be a big story after all.

=====

Nate was already inside, dressed in jeans and a black Tektronix tee, with Figgy on his lap. Both greeted me nicely. I changed into my sweat pants and a Chinese dragon tee.

I fed Figgy and fixed we humans an adequate meal. I poured us Chablis. Smoking hashish would not be prudent tonight, not with reporters lurking nearby. We ate and chatted about anything but the present. I released Figgy to his outside routine in a brightly lit backyard. Terry had switched on the floodlight, to deter further trespass, I assumed. Figgy did not stay out long.

We snuggled on the couch with fresh apples and TV news for dessert but saw only recaps and speculation, nothing new. Tomorrow would be different. I considered calling Mr Salman to discuss the situation but my phone rang and guess what? He had pre-empted me.

We exchanged fast formalities and then got into it. I told him of Umberto's input and he agreed completely. He asked for Nate; their conversation was brief, and bolstered Nate's mood. He passed me the phone. Mr Salman repeated tomorrow's game plan and bid us a good evening.

Nate kissed me. "We have a strategy. Let's see if it survives contact with the opposition. I'm glad Umberto and your boss are on the same page."

My doorbell rang. Shit, those assholes just do not know when to stop! I picked up a hiking staff I kept handy and went to the door, ready to bludgeon reporters. I looked through the peephole and saw... Milla, my little sister! Without her husband Ted! I opened the door, dragged her and her small hardshell suitcase inside, and closed up again. We hugged fiercely.

"You okay, sis?" She looked worried. "I saw stuff on the news and I had to check on you. I knew a phone call wouldn't do. Is this real? I parked my Volvo on the street and almost had to whack guys with my suitcase to reach your door." She brushed at her coat and long dress.

"What there is of it is real, yeah." I led her down the dark hallway to the living room. "It's a slow news week so they've got nothing better to do than torture us. By the way, introductions are in order. Nate, my sister Milla, all the way from Sacramento. Milla, my friend, the hero, Nate."

He eased Figgy to the floor, stood, and shook her hand. She held tight and examined his craggy face. She nodded.

"Lydia has mentioned you in letters, but few details, and she didn't say you were staying here."

"It's all pretty new," I said. "Figgy loves him so he's okay with me. Uh, I noticed your suitcase. If you're overnighting, you'll have to share the sofa with Señor Figueroa, if he'll have you."

Figgy sniffed at her toes and remembered her from a previous visit. He polished her ankles. I took her coat and poured us all wine. I put a Ravi Shankar ragas record on the turntable and set the sound low. We sat on the sofa, me flanked by Nate and Milla, with Figgy in her lap.

Nate and I recounted our situation and plans, often finishing each other's sentences. Couples do that; I am sure Milla noticed. She broke in when he mentioned the need for barbering before he faced a camera.

"I trim Ted's hair all the time, as well as most barbers can. You'll save time and money tomorrow if I clip you tonight. I can trim you almost as short as a crew cut and I can knock off most of your moustache tonight; you can shave the rest in the morning. Lydia, lay a bed sheet on the kitchen floor and center a chair on it, and get me sharp scissors and a big comb. You're wearing underpants, Nate? Strip down to them and be ready to shower afterwards."

For a little sister, Milla can be bossy. She did not let our folks push her around.

Nate went to my bedroom to undress. Returning in only black briefs, he looked very manly and muscular. Milla did not whistle but I am sure she was tempted. He sat upright. She trimmed his scalp and lip hair to almost nothing. I brushed the clippings off him with a kitchen towel.

"Shower now," I ordered, "and leave those briefs in the washer. You should probably wear something when you return." I winked at Milla. She winked back but otherwise kept a straight face. I knew she loved Ted dearly.

The Nate we saw next in well-filled jeans and tee was mostly transformed.

"Good job there, sis," I said.

"Thanks for the hedgework, Miz Milla," he said.

"Will Figgy still know him?" she asked me.

Figgy did not seem perplexed. When we returned to the couch with fresh glasses of wine, he moved from lap to lap, ignoring our chatter of here and there, of then and now and when. He approved of us all. Good!

Bedtime arrived. Milla took to the bathroom first. Nate hung dark blankets over the yard-facing living room window to block the floodlight and I put pillows and covers on the sofa for bedding.

We said our goodnights. Figgy stayed with Milla. Nate stayed with me. We made love quietly.

===== Tuesday, week 4 =====

The alarm rang us awake. I took to the bathroom for my morning ablutions. Nate shaved while I made breakfast for three. Milla emerged in a fresh long dress. Figgy ate kibble and ignored us. He can be like that.

I stepped out front and peered around. I did not see the news van nearby but that did not mean nobody was watching. I came back in; we refined the day's plan over coffee.

"I had a scare a few years back," Milla said, "so I took an evasive driving course. What we'll do in a few minutes is, I'll pack my suitcase. Nate, you'll have a watch cap pulled over your ears and dark glasses on your eyes. I'll pull my car next to your street door, sis, so you two jump in quick. If anyone follows us, I'll know and evade. The cop giving the course said I was great at losing tails. I'll roll these crazy city streets and drop you both off at your jobs. Nobody will trace you. I'll drive slowly past here, sis, to draw any chasers. They can tail me back to Sacramento. It'll be fun. And Ted awaits me."

Nate and I approved. So that is how we reached our jobs, but without chasers.

Dressed in my Business Bitch disguise, I only barely beat Mr Salman to the door. He half-smiled, put an index finger against his nose, and nodded. From him, that was almost an oration! He was the quietest lawyer I knew.

The office phone rang a half-hour later.

"Good morning, Salman and Johannes LLC, how may I help you?"

"So far, so good, Miz Barnes. I'll be off in mid-afternoon for the interview. Wish me luck. Bye."

That was fast! I guessed he had a few busy or distant runs this morning.

Mr Johannes' secretary Tracy and I lunched at a decent downtown diner. Her salad was smaller than mine. The poor girl really should not starve herself but I knew better than to offer advice.

Nate called just before closing time. "It's in the can. Me, the man of mystery, revealed little more than my name, and yours is already known. Sly promised to not spill any secrets and I think I trust him. We'll see what happens. I'll take a different bus and sneak in the back way."

"I can't hide now but I can hit the grocery for fresh produce and walk home as normal."

"Let's go wild tonight and call for a pizza delivery. Any wine left at your place?"

"Thanks to me, Almaden shows a healthy profit margin. That means yes."

"Okay, we'll probably arrive about the same time. See you soon."

Good timing today! I barely beat Nate to the living room.

A medium chicken-veggie pizza complemented the Chablis. The taped interview on the evening news did not disturb our appetites. Nate looked like someone else and spoke vaguely, telling only details that did not matter. He said I was a work friend, but not what work, or where.

He told of his lifeguard experiences in San Diego, laughing about other rescued celebrities who wished anonymity. He said several times, "I can't really talk about that". He hinted at litigation. He said he had no interest in any Hollywood offer. Sly did not obviously try to trick him.

Sly called him a hero.

"Heroes are scared to death but do it anyway because they must," Nate said. "I wasn't scared because I judged the conditions and knew what I could do. There are much more dangerous jobs. The real heroes are those who face unknown perils and risk their lives for us every day."

An entertainment-news segment followed the interview. Rumors were spreading about Wilona Smithers being seen doing something unseemly somewhere. Press weasels flocked to expose her. Nate and I made love on the sofa and roused ourselves for the late-night newscast. The interview was not replayed. Nate and I would hopefully be ignored soon.

I was not ignored right away. The phone rang while Nate was in the bathroom. I answered. It was Stan, my fairly arrogant desperation fuck.

"Lydia, you're famous. But what are you doing with that kid? If you need protection, I can—"

"You can do nothing. I've made my choice. Please don't call again." Click.

A painless dump-off? For me, sure. I did not feel hurt at all.

We played another match of strip chess, which entailed loud fucking. Figgy hid somewhere safe. Poor guy.

===== Wednesday, week 4 =====

The alarm dragged us to our naked breakfast. Cleansing and dressing followed; Nate said he would regrow his moustache. He snuck the back way and I paraded out the front a few minutes later. No reporters were visible. Whew.

Nate double-parked the Quicksilver pickup truck at our office door to take a bulky package to the airport. I buzzed Mr Salman, as instructed. He came out front to congratulate Nate on a fine performance. From him, that was like a sweep of the Oscars!

Nate was on my bus when I boarded after work. He gestured. I sat beside him.

"I think we're pretty safe now," he said, holding my hand. "I think we can risk the gym."

Julia was up front when we entered. She whistled loudly, two fingers at her lips. Romero came running. They grabbed us in a group hug.

"Hail the conquering hero!" Romero cried.

"Thanks for calling with the heads-up on that newscast," Julia said, pushing her bikini-covered boobs into him. I knew she was not serious, only happy. "You were great!"

"Well, now I look different and anyone who saw the show will recognize the new me till my moustache grows back but I hope they don't care. Who watches yesterday's news? I'll be happy as a minor entry in a list of 'whatever happened to...?' nonentities." He did not sound too glum.

Romero pounded Nate's back. "And you brought no nasty attention down on us! Julia and I can stay in business as usual! Just the way we want it."

"That was a major goal. I might have to stay watchful, to see if anyone's stalking me. But I could sure use a swim right now."

Nate and I went straight from our locker rooms to the pool. Umberto swam over to us and shook Nate's hand.

"Good job there! And you can thank me for sending the hounds on an exciting chase."

I hugged Umberto. "My boss thanks you, too. He didn't want the firm linked with this story."

Shahira swam to hug us. "So you guys are going on with life now?"

"I should find out tomorrow if I still have a job," Nate said. "I don't know if they'll keep me as a full-time driver when Glen's leg heals, or if I'll be a backup driver while mostly biking. On driving days, I'll likely have to come right here for workouts. And for the company, of course."

I squeezed his hand.

"I'll be glad to get back to my gaming circle," he continued, "and singing on the street on weekends. And I'm looking at a little tech school over in Polk Gulch, the Pacific College of Electronics. They have an affordable, compressed evening course for FCC licences, that's the Federal Communications Commission. This will help my career goals, give me a toehold in electronic engineering."

Sure, I knew what the FCC was, but this was the first I had heard that plan! And sure, Nate is entitled to his secrets and surprises. We haven't committed to anything but a couple's discount at the gym here. Where are we going?

We swam and chatted with the other gym rats in the pool now. We hit the exercise room to work-up more sweat, then showered and returned to the pool. Aaahhh...

We dried and dressed, him casually, me as a slightly softened Business Bitch. We were still cautious so Nate left by the side door and skulked the back way to my place. I waited a few minutes and strode out the front. The sun had not yet set.

=====

I was at my entry access when the driver's door of a gray station wagon parked on the street opened and a lanky, walnut-haired young woman wearing a long beige dress stepped out.

"Miss Barnes?" she asked. "Lydia Barnes?"

I sent her a stony stare. "If you're with the press, I have no comment."

"I'm no reporter; I'm Nate's sister Lyn. Is Nate here? His landlady Suzie gave me this address."

"Why should she do that? Does she know you?"

"We hadn't met before but I showed her letters he'd sent me, and his cards for my kids. She recognized his writing, and he'd written on the backs of Polaroids he sent with the letters. She said he was here with his girlfriend. Is that you? Is he here?"

Two children's heads peered from a backseat window. This 'Lyn' woman had walked halfway to me but stopped.

"Wait here a minute," I said. So Suzie thought I was his girlfriend. Hmmm...

I went inside and saw Nate waiting on the living room sofa. Figgy lounged in his lap.

"There's a woman outside," I said, "says she's your sister Lyn and that Suzie sent her here. Can you tell—?"

Nate unlapped Figgy and hopped up. "Lyn's here?" he broke in. "From San Bernardino? What the hell! Is she alone?"

"I thought I saw two kids in the car. It might be an Aspen wagon but I don't really know cars."

He squeezed me as he swept past. I followed in his wake like a fallen leaf caught in a whirlwind.

"Lyn!" he called. They ran together and hugged. Yes, their faces, builds, and walnut hair showed them as kin.

A boy and girl, both looking about eight years old, erupted from the station wagon and ran to the hugging couple, grabbing Nate's arms.

"Unca Natey! Unca Natey!" they shouted in unison. Nate released Lyn and scooped them up.

"Lori! Larry! What brings you to town?" Their arms circled his neck. "You guys in trouble again? Been chasing reptiles?"

"WE'RE not in trouble," the little girl piped, "YOU'RE in trouble."

"Mom says you're trouble, Unca Natey, " the boy said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm doing pretty good at the moment," Nate said, setting them down. They hugged his legs.

He enfolded Lyn again. "What are you doing here? Why the kids? And where's Jason? Oh wait; everybody doesn't know everybody yet." He gestured.

"Lydia, meet my responsible big sister Lyn, and hers and Jason's reprehensible twins Lori and Larry. Sis and monsters, meet Lydia. I'm staying with her now for safety. Lyn, what's up? Are you all alright? Is Jason?"

Lyn's arm wrapped around Nate's waist while the twins huddled against the adults. Their mother, and their uncle. Their beloved uncle, apparently.

"Jason deployed to West Germany for large-scale exercises, a lot more real than the little 'war games' you and your hoodlum friends play. Yeah, you wrote to me about them. Same kind of thugs you knew as a kid. We're here because I saw you in the news and you looked like you needed emergency help. Sorry to come unannounced but I felt rushed. I couldn't leave the kids behind, so here we are."