Chapters 19 - 25

CHAPTER 19

“Training meeting tomorrow morning, eight a.m. sharp,” Rico later said to Jennifer, some time after leaving the dojo. “That includes Joey. Got it?”

“Yes,” she replied. Oh Jacob, what a sacrifice for two women who get up before six a.m. seven days a week! “She might be busy tomorrow. Why don’t you tell her? Chicken.”

Rico conveniently ignored her. “You’ll be taking notes about what we conjure up.”

“Why so formal, boss?”

“Well, for future certification of agents, we need to document training hours. And, to write some useful manuals if we come up with some nifty stuff.” And for continuity when I’m … gone, he thought.

“Eight a.m. it is,” Jennifer said. Standing to leave, she kissed him gently on the cheek. “You okay with you know what?”

He nodded and waved his hand dismissively. He knew she meant about the flashbacks. Occasionally, he mumbled to her about them. They were getting more intense. He wondered what brought that subject up. He realized that probably the slightest change in his demeanor made her think that he had had an episode.

“I’m fine, woman.”

She only half believed him.

“Remember, Honey, not too many fig bars before ….” She rushed around the corner before the fig bar aimed at her hit the wall.

 *     *     * 

Eight a.m. came as rudely as usual for Rico. He started to ask himself which genius made such early plans before remembering who the guilty party was. At least he had retrieved the equipment from storage the night before.

“Sorry for being a little late folks,” he said. “Please, take your seats.”

He displayed a floor plan of the building they were in. Everyone paid close attention to the procedures he outlined for surviving a hostile entry. He demonstrated how the portable, spring-actuated, bullet-proof shields were to be used. Once cornered, he instructed, with no plausible escape route, they were authorized to offensively engage until they could disengage. That was the only recourse to the fundamental concept of never allowing oneself to be cornered. But survival was survival. Things tended to happen after all, and one didn’t just lie down and die; an admirable fight against Murphy was a requisite.  

The staff agreed that if all the non-lethal measures at their disposal had failed, then they owed it to the client to use lethal force. There was not a high probability; but they agreed, though they all knew that a lawsuit could break the company if Rico didn’t have enough coverage.

Rico went on to demonstrate the use of a stun-gun, sleeping gas, electric net, and other non-lethal incapacitating instruments. He mentioned the type of round they were to carry. The zap round had all the penetration characteristics of a lead round, but normally inflicted only a non-lethal, temporarily incapacitating charge. Legally, it still fell in the category of deadly force. The upshot was that a fired round that didn’t otherwise hit a vital organ would only cause sufficient muscle disturbance to allow time for disengagement—even if the assailant was on PCP or other similar substance—eliminating the need for continuing fire and a possible long, dragged-out wrongful death suit.

Still, each agent was to carry at least one magazine loaded with standard hollow point rounds; clearly marked as such.  

The last portion of the training involved familiarization with the numerous types of surveillance and intrusion detection devices Rico had installed in and around their building—laser and motion detectors, infrared and standard cameras, a wireless Internet accessible camera network, as well as audio monitoring. He had been busy after all.

The crew studied the device layout schematics on the screen—minus some super high tech devices he would keep to himself, just in case. But they weren’t looking at any equipment they hadn’t used before, until Rico pulled out one of two highly restricted pieces of surveillance devices. He was keeping the second unit stored for a particularly sensitive mission, which would also remain undisclosed for the time being.

He placed what seemed like a small portable DVD player/viewer on the conference table. Two things that differentiated it were a small joystick and a switch protected by a plastic flip cover.

“This device will only be used when a penetration is probable by high danger individuals or suspects, if you will. The legal consequences would otherwise land us in the poor house, or jail. Once you suspect or can confirm an action against the location you are using it at—normally a safe house—you flip this cover open. The light on the tip will flash green if it is ready. If it is, you flip the switch. If it isn’t, wait for the self-diagnostic program to correct the malfunction, and then flip it.”

“And it does … what?” Joey asked impatiently.

“Someone switch on the big screen please.”

The controller’s six-inch screen wouldn’t be as impressive.

Sarge obliged.   

“Watch this,” Rico said, grinning. He flipped the cover open; it flashed green. Then he flipped the switch and the plasma screen flickered slightly. The roof of their building appeared first, then several others, then the city block, then almost the whole city. It would have kept going if not for Rico pushing the hover button on the control.

“Will you look at that, we have our own eye in the sky,” Sarge blurted.

The two women looked at each, rolled their eyes and shook their heads.

 “Yep, this little black box can digitally record four hours of high fidelity video. But the flight time on the hover cam is only fifteen to twenty minutes. If it can be parked on a tree or something before flight power dies, you can still monitor—and record—for the remainder of hard drive space. It can also transmit a live video feed for monitoring and recording indefinitely on these dedicated battery backed-up hard drives.” He pointed at three small suitcase-sized plastic carrying cases. “The default operation is a vertical take-off and hover, directly above at 300 feet.”

He paused to take a deep breath before continuing. “Now this is why this machine is highly restricted.” Rico maneuvered the hover cam and zoomed into some windows. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get clearance for a model with laser audio monitoring.”

“Oh, too bad,” Jennifer teased.

Then he aimed a laser onto a particular car and locked on. At the push of a button the camera zoomed in on the license plate and the machine dropped to a height of 500 feet. It followed the vehicle without any input from Rico. GPS equipped vehicles could be located and tracked from even greater distances.

“I’ll bring it in before the SETI people get flooded with UFO sighting calls. Remember, this device is to help track or identify a hostile … so we can run the opposite way. And, of course, to provide the law what they need to prosecute whomever manages to … well … rub one of us out, to use an old cliché.”

“Yea, real old,” Joey murmured as she eyed the view on the screen. The craft had turned toward their building again and was guiding itself to the tiny landing pad Rico had placed on the roof. The GPS and artificial intelligence programming enabled it to find its own way home. It would sit there on the pad recharging its batteries via solar panels until needed.    

“Isn’t this slight overkill, Jacob?” Jennifer asked, Joey and Sarge nodding in agreement. “This is NSA and HID stuff,” she concluded. She meant the National Security Agency and Homeland Intelligence Directorate, charged with providing the president with substantial intelligence information on which to base national security policy and response.

“Yes, it would be if I wasn’t doing it for an article,” Rico said matter-of-factly. “And you never know, the shelter says they have four tricky cases for us to take on starting tomorrow.” That seemed to allay their concern that he had lost a screw. He was telling the truth … mostly.

“Have you received permission from the local police, Jacob?” a very concerned Joey inquired.

She wouldn’t tolerate anything even remotely illegal—at least by choice. Magnanimous as she thought he was, it really wasn’t a concern. 

“As a matter of fact, I forged an agreement with the LCPD chief of police. If I provide them a receiver,” he pointed at the cases, “that receives all images we see. The catch is that we must agree to deploy it in the event of an Amber Alert or other serious emergency. I figured it was a win-win scenario. I love those deals!”

Joey would trust and verify—the late Ronald Reagan’s Cold War philosophy at work—and call a certain Chief.

“For now, I will carry this extra controller with me. If I’m out of the office I can deploy it remotely … in the unlikely event we ever need it.”

Secretly, he worried that a legal opportunity to test it fully wouldn’t present itself, risking drawing attention when he did test it like he had to. He forgot about the current state of affairs and the increasing problem of abductions nationwide.

At the end of the meeting, Rico told Sarge to attempt to make an undetected after-hours entry into the building sometime during the next four days. Then they would iron out any bugs or fix any blind spots in the entry detection sensor layout.

CHAPTER 20

Rico was driving back to the office after returning two clients to the shelter from a court appearance. He had the sudden urge to get out of town and sight see. He rang Joey and asked if she wanted to go to Caballo Lake for some jet-skiing.

As much as she wanted to spend time with him, she asked for a rain check. He wondered what she could possibly have on her agenda that was more important than him. Jennifer’s chirpy request in the background to join him soothed his bruised ego.

Jennifer privately asked Joey if it was okay. She hesitantly said yes, but no itty-bitty bikini permitted. Jennifer agreed, much to Joey’s surprise. Weeks before, she would have lectured Joey on insecurities and envy. Now she was beginning to understand the benefits of modesty—less ogling for one. Besides, an unsightly gash across her belly near the belly button didn’t show well, except when recounting war stories to the girls.

Rico drove to the storage facility and hitched up the jet-ski trailer.

Jennifer had forwarded the office phone to her cell and was patiently waiting with a nicely packed picnic basket. She made no effort to conceal how thrilled she felt to have him all to herself for spell. It was just like old times.

Joey bid Rico an extra affectionate farewell, while Jennifer hopped in the passenger side.

“You behave yourself,” Joey directed Jacob.

“Always,” Rico answered as he hopped in the truck.

If that is not the lie to end all lies, Joey thought, shaking her head and looking skyward. Please don’t strike him down, Lord! 

Jennifer talked incessantly about vision, strategy and other things. Rico just nodded in agreement here and there. As they approached the lake, however, she stopped mid-sentence as she stared wide-eyed at all the water. She had expected a little watering hole. Colorado’s snowmelt this year offered generous amounts of water. The Rio Grande likewise saw higher levels of released water, for which Texas was very thankful. Unfortunately, that still didn’t address the long term water issues in the region.

Joey would be pleased to know that her husband had insisted that Jennifer put on a wet-suit. Jennifer didn’t have to know that he did it only to minimize the gawking by the other water sport enthusiasts, and maybe him. Of course, the wet-suit did nothing to alter her curvature. But he didn’t have a gunny sack to offer her, so that would have to do.

He annoyed Jennifer when he asked to see her belly scar again.

She refused. “You know better.”

“Sorry, just wondering why you don’t try those new surgeries.”

Sure Jacob, don’t you have a flashback and ruin our time together. “Five others is enough surgery for me thanks. Can we get off this subject and go have some fun now?”

Two hours of tricks, and plenty of wrecks, on the jet-skis helped both of them forget that day Rico and she had to wait for a medivac flight, her insides laying on top of her while he shielded her from ricocheting rounds. All he had been able to do was brush her disheveled hair off her face. Wide open, scared eyes told them both she was a goner. He had cried and cried, even when the others told him to shape up. 

Now here they were, exhausted and happy to forget. He had said he loved her then, not expecting to have to explain in what way. The other commandos hearing that only threw fuel to the fire when she bounced back in short order. With bulldog ferocity she volunteered for Afghanistan again to quench the rumors she wished were true.

Rico had called it suicidal tenacity and flew in a rage. He was on the way out with or without her.

On the way back to the dock Jennifer exhausted herself with laughter, while Rico tried everything possible to flip her off the mini surfboard he was towing her on. It was his turn to laugh when she finally went sailing into the water.

The unrestrained laughter felt good. He was going to have to let himself cut loose more often. He determined this day that his head pain, and other matters, weren’t going to control his life every second.

The two grabbed a bite at a little shore-side diner. It was Rico’s turn to talk incessantly. Jennifer didn’t know what to make of it. Sometimes what he said was way out there, while other things made perfect sense. It gave her goose bumps to see glimpses of the Rico she had once known. This was the Rico who would let his hair down—mostly when the two were on a stroll, whether in the middle of a desert, on a beach, or on a military installation—talking about family and sentimental stuff. It had always gnawed at her how he would change as soon other people came into the picture, almost as if he was ashamed of her interest in him.

They locked eyes for a few moments and studied each other. In an eerie sort of way each knew what the other was thinking at that moment. Are we the same people we were before? And if we are, is that good? And if not, do we know who we are?

She thought to tell him that he was still the light of her life. He wanted badly to tell her that even though Joey was now his wife, she still meant the world to him. As it was, they comforted each other with the unspoken affirmation of a loving look. And they had been commandos? Well, at least she had.

They finished eating and walked to the truck, hugging each other like buddies. Jennifer wondered whether Joey would think it proper; and wasn’t sure she cared.

 *     *     * 

Thirty minutes north of Las Cruces, on the way back from the lake, Jennifer found a reason to forget about what Joey might think. Joey called and said the police had initiated an Amber Alert—a police initiated alert when a child was abducted. The time lapse was ten minutes from a confirmed abduction from Young’s Park.

Rico worried that he wasn’t ready to deliver on what he had told the police chief. He pulled the truck over. Jennifer booted up the laptop to use as a monitor. The screen on the surveillance remote monitor was designed for portability and stealth, not detail, which is what he knew he would need. He hoped it would be enough detail; someone’s life was on the line. Rico readied the hover cam remote control device.

“We’re airborne, Joey,” Rico said into the VOX microphone. “Do we have a vehicle description?”

“A red, late model, maybe 2012, Dodge Caravan. A playmate witness saw a moon roof on it. Our friends from the park called it in.”

Good job. Rico and Jennifer studied the landscape video being transmitted by the hover device that had taken flight seconds before. Rico’s heart felt tight. He knew that the ten minute plus head start could put the vehicle well on the way to El Paso and then no-man’s land, Mexico … or anywhere else.

He also knew the Border Patrol checkpoints would have been alerted and on the look out, but there wasn’t one to the south. And what if there was a car switch. Could it be an organized thing? Things like that were circulating in legislative circles, but confirmation was hard to come by.

“There!” Jennifer almost screamed.

She pointed at a vehicle, really a speck, on the dirt road paralleling I-10, the Interstate they were on. The two quickly switched seating positions and Jennifer gunned the engine. Rico confirmed the partial plates witnesses gave.

They were more than fifteen minutes away at legal speeds. They neared the exit to Doña Ana six minutes later. Rico had called 911 and patrols were on the way, but he sensed something wrong with the picture.

He had studied the screen and zoomed in and out many times. A vehicle that looked like a Cadillac, Escalade drew his attention. But it was way back near the edge of the screen, farther back from what they had confirmed as being the suspect vehicle. But the Escalade seemed out of place out in the desert hills he knew so well.

“Turn left, Jenny.”

“But, Jacob the van is just blocks from here … that way!”

“Left. And hurry!”

He was strangely collected now, his minding working at hyper-speed. He called the police again for a helicopter. It was out of commission and units were at least ten minutes from where he had specified. The dispatcher corrected herself and said a Border Patrol chopper had volunteered and was on the way, ETA ten minutes.

Rico felt they didn’t have ten. He watched the Escalade pull over and the driver walk into the desert. Rico zoomed in. The guy was looking into … a cave of some kind.

I know where that is!

Rico guided Jennifer through arroyos and various short cuts, cringing each time the Mesquite bush thorns scraped along the sides of his beautiful truck. He had no choice; he wouldn’t be able to direct police ground units to the location with any precision. He was going totally by instinct and a visual memory borne of hours and hours exploring, or escaping, while a teenager.

The man, he had zoomed in enough to tell, was now going back to the Escalade. Rico’s blood pressure rose. The man was going to get something to transfer the kid to the car, Rico was sure. A powerful pang of fear and anxiety hit him. What if he was misunderstanding what he was feeling, or what if his brain was being creative again? He may have sent valuable patrols after an uninvolved person, the Cadillac driver.

He felt slightly comforted when he saw the patrols on his screen evenly split, two nearing the red van three miles away and three others headed toward the Escalade, which Jennifer and Rico were closing in on. At least they had the confirmed suspect vehicle covered … just in case.

The man Rico had observed on his screen was bending into the Escalade when Jennifer brought Rico’s truck to a stop some fifty feet away. Rico had already retrieved a 9mm he always carried in the locked glove box. He jumped out of the truck. The man that had been leaning into the Escalade looked at them quickly and dropped the phone he seemed to have been about to use. Then the man reached into his vehicle.

“Hey mister, get out of here!” Rico yelled, about to walk toward the man. Before Rico knew it the man had raised a weapon and fired a round. The man had yanked the trigger and pulled right, hitting the windshield. Rico cursed about that. Then as he pulled back to get behind the door, the man shot another round into Rico’s open passenger door. Rico cursed again.

“Jacob, for heaven’s sake, take him out! Why is he shooting?” Jennifer screamed.

She was confused as to why Rico was reacting the way he was. She had fought next to him before when they faced multiple aggressors using automatic rifles. Rico didn’t flinch back then.

“Just get down!” he instructed as he hid behind the door.

Just then a round went through the door panel and into his thigh. He had just caught a bullet, something she wasn’t aware of right away.

Jennifer saw him  wince.

Blood gushed out onto the door panel and then the seat. For the first time Rico didn’t give a hoot about stains in his truck.

“Police … detectives, hold your fire!” Rico yelled at the man.

The man’s hand seemed to be trembling. Pretty shaky bad guy, Rico thought, mashing the pressure point of his leg with his left palm.

“Police?” the guy yelled back. “If … if …you are police officers … let me … see your badges.”

“OK!” Just as Rico waved his wallet above the door frame, and Jennifer waved hers out the window, they heard the Border Patrol chopper.

“Oh, man, just in time,” Rico said to no one in particular. “Jenny girl … take over will you? Disarm the guy and quickly go see what’s in the hole he was looking in.”

He was the boss. Rico grabbed the jumper cables from under the seat and busied himself with a tourniquet. His thinking was getting fuzzy very quickly.

Meanwhile, Jennifer walked calmly toward the man and easily coaxed the guy into handing over his weapon. She rushed to the hill the man pointed to as he said, “She’s in there, in there!” The man was hysterical.

By this time she calculated that Rico was going into shock. She waved aggressively with one hand as she talked to the dispatcher on her cell and requested medical help for a gunshot victim. “I need a medivac for one, no two,” she said, correcting herself as she yanked a board covering a hole in the hillside. A sand-covered, very pale-looking twelve-year-old girl cowered in the hole.

Jennifer peered at the man who had shot her friend. He was frantic. Jennifer busied herself rendering first aide to the girl. The duct tape that covered her mouth was not the problem. Dirt had collapsed and was suffocating her.

The Border Patrol agents arrived quickly and took over rendering aid.

Jennifer was ready to collapse herself. Returning to the truck, she found Rico trying to apply the defibrillator pads to the already unconscious Escalade driver. The excitement had been too much and he had gone into cardiac arrest. An arriving Doña Ana County Deputy quickly took over for Jennifer, who had managed to resuscitate the man.

Three people weren’t going to fit in a medivac so she loaded Rico up and flew in the truck to Memorial Medical off I-25 in Cruces. She almost collapsed on top of him as he lay on the gurney outside the Emergency Room.

An hour later the news media reported that, through a combined effort of community members and highly efficient inter-agency cooperation, an abducted victim had been rescued and two suspects arrested.

The governor was to visit the victim’s family and hold a press conference to inform them and the public what he was going to do about the issue of abductions.

The reporters also made mention of a misunderstanding between two coincidental passersby that had led to gunfire. One thought the other was there to transfer the victim as part of a trafficking ring or something of the sort. The district attorney was quoted as saying no charges would be filed against the man who injured another man and damaged the same man’s vehicle.

Fortunately for Rico, his wound was more superficial than it had looked. The shooter had only been a scared bank executive who had happened to notice something strange while looking through binoculars at potential future real estate, and had gone to investigate. Rico was glad that the news agencies had respected his need for privacy, but the mention of the damaged truck really hurt, now that he was going to be fine.

Joey insisted he get over the truck, and being shot by a banker. She sent the truck to the body shop to stop his whining. What to do about his ego she didn’t know. Maybe he needed the humbling.

The hover cam had returned on its own as the manufacturer designed it. Joey was glad she didn’t have to deal with damage to that. But, she also wondered for the first time whether this team could handle this much excitement very often. Soon enough, many more clients than the six they had—and the police—would end up thanking God that the little crew that could, would.    

CHAPTER 21

Two weeks later, back at the office from a checkup at the hospital clinic, and after a nap, Rico finally did what he was supposed to have done weeks before. He would only be dealing with terrible bruising if he had. He contacted a sales representative for a military and police sales company that had developed a prototype for bulletproof, full-body armor.

He identified himself and gave his authorization number. The representative made a connection between the name and magazine articles by Rico. Rico told him that he was interested in writing a review article and wanted to purchase five prototypes or final versions if they were available. The rep told him he was a fan and to call the next day.

By noon the next day the rep had already received permission to ship five units at $2,000 each, half of retail. The apt sales rep didn’t miss a beat and sold him on testing the just developed prototype helmet that was proving to be quite effective; those could be loners only. On a whim Rico ordered five of them with a damage deposit of one grand each.

After conferring with a senior exec to clarify Rico’s clearance status with Homeland Security, the order was approved. The rep emphasized to Rico the need not to exceed the intended caliber of round when he conducted his tests. Rico considered the warning reasonable; though he would more than likely test it for himself.

As much as he needed the stuff, had Rico realized even such a minor purchase would trigger the flag he feared, he would have waited to order the armor. In the CIA’s operations center at Langley, the computer initiated a low-level flag. Special software received input from companies that manufactured various kinds of chemicals and arms or explosives. The software also monitored security devices and equipment sales, though only in general terms. All follow-up actions fell to the FBI, NSA, HID, local authorities, or a combination thereof.

When a flag event appeared, a threat analysis ran automatically, which then initiated different levels of response actions. The officer in charge examined the flags for Rico: a high tech surveillance device, an armored Smart Truck, cutting-edge body armor, and a plethora of sophisticated communication equipment. It merited a simple query and wire dispatch to the other agencies in case they were already running some black, or covert, operation on him—or with him.

Fortunately for Rico, his company showed up as registered and clean of any violations, plus this possible alert was only one in thousands that landed on the follow-up pile of one of many exhausted agents’ desks. The query report sounded no alarms anywhere and appeared dead with only a simple memo forwarded to the Regional Homeland Intelligence Directorate—the one on Rico’s front steps in El Paso, but still not fully operational. This action marked the item of interest as having been dealt with, awaiting final disposition.

For two weeks Rico kept himself busy looking for a suitable permanent safe house. He found a solid possibility that he would be making an offer for—already forgetting his promise to consult the wife, and partner, about major purchases. How could he explain he was even looking anyway? The apparent paranoid need for one would surely raise questions about his mental state. He’d figure out how to tell Joey later.

As the sales rep promised, the body armor equipment arrived two weeks later, delivered to the office before Rico returned from breakfast. Curious, Jennifer broke open the large box. The appearance of the odd-looking body armor intrigued her. If she had not been told to expect them, and then not seen the shipping list, she would have thought they were just some interesting weighty, spongy, sweater-like shirts.

The helmets were full-faced, motorcycle types and wouldn’t have garnered a second look either. But they were nice though. The wearer could lift up the front flap to expose his face. They also had a built-in WI-FI radio and communication system, an added feature Rico would be very happy about.

Jennifer had stuffed everything back in the boxes, placed them in Rico’s office, and filed the warranties and receipts by the time he showed up. She had also stacked some unopened boxes, electronic gizmos Rico had ordered weeks before, with the rest. Had she opened them as well, she would have been quite surprised by the sophisticated, cutting edge—and very pricey—radio equipment Rico bought.

She might have started asking questions about why they needed this NSA grade communication equipment—two-way radios sewn into light-weight mock turtleneck shirts. They used nanotechnology; a throat microphone that picked up even barely audible speech; sound output via built-in vibrating devices in the neck area of the shirt; an optional wireless ear-canal device was also included. That shipment of encryption-enabled transceivers, a set of five, exceeded ten grand. Rico used his personal credit card to conceal the expense from Joey.

Jennifer didn’t pay much attention to Rico when he walked in the front door. She was engrossed in the somewhat complex technical literature that came with the armor.

“Earth to Jennifer,” he ribbed softly.

“I’m busy, can’t you see?”

“Well excuse me!” Rico intoned . He went around the desk to give her a squeeze and a peck on the cheek, but more to stick his nose into what she was reading. “Hey! That looks like the specs for the armor I’m waiting for.”

Jennifer nodded as she pointed toward his office. He dashed off like a kid at Christmas.

Joey had finished her stretching and workout routine at the dojo and walked in. She found it odd that her husband wasn’t sitting in the front office yapping away with Jennifer. She too found Jennifer trying to decipher some pamphlet that read, “The Science Behind Carbon Tube Armor.”

“Jacob!” Joey called out.

“Over here, mujer,” he answered chirpily in Spanglish.

He had been rather melancholy for a couple of weeks since the shooting, which she figured was at the root of it. She eyed Jennifer for a clue as to why he was so upbeat all of a sudden.

“It’s his Christmas,” she murmured without looking up to see Joey’s questioning face.

Joey went into the office and found Rico modeling a new sweater in front of the full-length mirror, posing like Mr. Universe.

“Wow! It makes you look a little fuller. Even gives the impression you have a chest and muscles.”

“Actually, this sweater accentuates my muskles very well, thank you.”

Very funny, she thought.

He tossed her one to try on. She rubbed the strange material. It felt rubbery, not the woolly feel she had expected. It was heavier than it looked too.

“I can’t put this on in here,” she whined, not wanting to undress in an office.

“Oh, don’t whine, just close the door in case Sarge comes in.”

Reluctantly, she obeyed.

“Wow! This is weird stuff, Jacob. It feels like you’re not wearing anything. I can feel the weight, but the airflow is amazing! I figured it would be hot as heck.”

“That’s not the only part that’s true about it. It’s also touted as ‘form fitting.’ Look in the mirror,” Rico instructed with a smirk.

The thickness and the clinginess of the material gave her a fuller, perkier appearance. The cutting edge carbon fiber was making a big splash in the security business, though not for that particular reason. The chest and back areas obviously contained added material; it just happened to have the nice shaping benefit.

 According to preliminary field tests he had studied, they exceeded expectations. Rico was about to provide input from his own, unbiased testing methods—rather dramatic ones at that.

“Not bad. Of course Jennifer is gonna look like an Amazon woman,” she added.

“Yea, like that girl in … in … Tomb Raider … What was her name?” he mused aloud.

Joey grabbed another of the sweaters from the box and tossed it at him. “Angelina Jolie … but, that’s  not what you’re supposed to say! You’re supposed to say, ‘Oh! But honey, no one can compare to you.’ Or something like that!”

She purposely took her time slipping on the pants portion of the set.

“Hey! Rico thought. That’s not playing fair!

“Hey Jennifer, check this out!” she announced as she stepped out of the office to model for Jennifer.

“Oh, girl! That almost looks like you could wear it to a party. It’s like that vinyl stuff women wear. It’s weird how the material helps you look so much … well … perkier!”

“Girls! This is body armor! Not lingerie  or party clothes!” Rico announced loudly from the other room.

“Oh, be quiet and come out here so Jennifer can see the new, more muscular you!”

“!Estas loca, mujer!”

Just then Sarge walked in: his jaw dropped.. A red-faced Joey scrambled back into Jacob’s office. Since Joey tended to dress conservatively, he had not realized how curvy she was.

Jennifer laughed hysterically. She finally stopped long enough to remind Sarge that the protein shake he liked was waiting in the kitchen.

Joey avoided eye contact with Sarge for the next few days. Even though she didn’t stop being affectionate, it would take her a little time to get over her embarrassment. Jennifer found it so very amusing.

“Sarge!” Rico called through the closed door.

“Yea,” he said, his tone revealing that he was still somewhat embarrassed.

“Working lunch at noon and firing range after that at about … three thirty.”

Rico stepped out of the office and closed the door, leaving the still red-faced Joey acting like she was busy. Rico looked at Jennifer who was grinning. To avoid another laughing fit, he motioned to Sarge to follow and the two hurried into the conference room.

Rico briefed Sarge about a high-risk client they were about to pick up and the new armor and equipment that they would be testing just for these kinds of clients. At least that was Rico’s story.

Minutes later, back in his office, Rico loaded up some weapons and told Joey to get her side arm. It was nine-thirty a.m.

His tone let her know that she needed to acquiesce quietly. She watched as he withdrew a box of real bullets from the safe. Why was he not going to use the non-lethal shock rounds they normally carried? She noticed his pensive mood as he put on his shoulder rig and readied his 9mm Glock to holster. 

Rico reluctantly packed a piece every day, but normally in a hip pack or small tote bag. The holster tended to be bothersome, but Joey rather liked seeing him wear it. He had a good idea about it, her friskiness tending to correlate with the days he wore it. He wondered if things would change after today.  

“Jennifer, Joey and I will be at the range. We are going to be indisposed. Except for emergencies or urgent calls from government types, don’t ring us.”

His tone to her wasn’t any more placid.

“Want to trade?” Joey whispered to Jennifer as she walked by.

“No thanks! I think he has male PMS,” Jennifer answered with a wink of good luck.

“You’re fired!” Joey said, echoing Rico’s oft repeated dorky phrase.

“Thank you!” Jennifer  said. “I’ll be in Hawaii.”

The newlyweds drove north toward the Doña Ana Mountains.

Joey grew impatient at the extended drive. It was rough going after leaving anything that resembled even a dirt road miles behind. She had really important things to do. But this didn’t seem a like good day at all to pick a fight about priorities with her … husband. Silent, fervent prayer for patience proved more constructive. Of course, she had forgotten that patience was granted by God when asked … and tested through trials … and refined by fire.

Once at the site, Rico unloaded a scarecrow looking thing he had pieced together with milk jugs and chicken wire he had grabbed from a construction junk heap. He had fitted his scarecrow with one of the armor shirts.

 “Save that thing after this for Halloween,” Joey said. She didn’t celebrate this particular holiday, but she wanted to break the silence.

“OK. If it survives,” Rico said, slightly annoyed, thinking she was serious.

He hung the odd looking contraption on a mesquite bush about fifty feet away. He looked around the surrounding desert to ensure he wouldn’t attract attention—or worse, accidentally hit someone with a stray round. At a real firing range, he’d have had prying questions to answer. The arroyo, a floodwater cut waterway, would serve just fine.

The half-filled water jugs caused the branch the scarecrow was on to bend over and sit flat. He let out an expletive as he saw it and walked to fix it. Joey had asked him to be respectful regarding the minimal and very rare, but still there, expletives he would use. He didn’t care to be courteous at the moment. She wisely chose to ignore him.

“I’ll shoot first. Your gun will probably shred it,” he said after setting the scarecrow upright again.

She just nodded, looking up at the cloudless ten a.m. sky and wiping a sweat bead.

Rico practiced a holster draw. He missed both shots. Shaking his head, he re-holstered and drew again, then fired. Both hit center of mass. The hits were good, but he knew that his draw was getting slower than molasses.

“Let’s see the damage,” he murmured as he walked toward the scarecrow. He wasn’t expecting anything close to the manufacturer’s hype.

“Not bad. None of the jugs broke,” Joey commented, analyzing the impact points.

Rico nodded with concealed relief.

“OK, Joey, it’s your turn,” he said, situating his behind on the tailgate.

Joey was ready. With lighting fast speed she drew her thigh-holstered Desert Eagle and tossed the scarecrow end over end with three rounds that sounded like one long ear-piercing shot.

“Hey, you all right?” she said, moving toward Rico while re-holstering the sizeable handgun.

He had slumped over on the tailgate, appearing to have fainted. He was just asleep. Joey quickly opened a bottle of water and forced him to sit up.

“What?” he asked as she slapped him gently on the cheeks.

“Fell asleep … or fainted?” she whispered.

“Oh! Don’t be silly. Una siesta solamente. Hey where’s the thing?” he asked as he looked around.

Joey signaled him to stay and left to retrieve the scarecrow. “Looks like that stuff’s magic!” she announced.

Rico examined the results. “What was the load?”

“Standard, low penetration hollow point, minimal powder load.”

“It might have been a quirk. That fifty cal round should’ve torn this thing to shreds. All it did was pop the top and evacuate the water from the impact.”

Joey nodded in agreement.

“Put the armor on this plywood, and I’ll give it a couple of rounds with mine,” Rico said. “The real thest will be against some rethistance on impact.” He didn’t notice a few labored syllables from his mouth. Joey did.

“How about if I do that and you sit?”

She was being motherly and risked annoying him, but she didn’t care. To her surprise, he acceded without a word, and with a shaky hand offered her his sidearm.

“Honey, there’s a soda and a doughnut in the cooler,” he mumbled.

She grabbed them for him. He gobbled them quickly as she took the armor-attired piece of wood and leaned it against the arroyo wall. Without fanfare, she fired off three rounds. Each one landed on chest center, give or a take a nanometer. She took the board to Rico. There were only minor pressure indentations where, if the armor had not worked, there would have been pinky-sized holes; only three little black rings were faintly visible.

“Try yours just for kicks,” he said. He repeated the statement more loudly when she leaned over and raised the cup of her ear protection off one ear.

Without a word she went to hang the board, walked back, and stood at the ready. She drew, again with lightning speed, this time firing four rounds in rapid succession.

She retrieved the board. Walking back toward Rico, she studied it. Three rounds hit dead center without penetrating the carbon fibers; the fourth round was a rare miss. Of course, it was clear from the results, the dented and distorted piece of plywood, that any wearer’s internal organs would not have survived the vicious impact of the larger and more powerful rounds.

“Well …” Rico commented as they gathered the shells and some extra trash they hadn’t brought. “… at least the guy wouldn’t need stitches.”

“That really wouldn’t matter in the morgue, would it?” Joey’s unexpected subdued tone threw Rico off.

What’s up with you?

She didn’t give him a chance to say anything as she hurried to make sure she beat him to the driver’s seat. Not that she was in a driving mood; she figured he was in no condition to drive. It didn’t elude Joey that her partner seemed less tense now. The fact that the armor actually worked seemed to have something to do with it. She didn’t think it was such a big deal. It was a curiosity that the equipment worked as advertised, but she also knew that no one in their company expected any actual need for the stuff. They had, after all, agreed that only in extreme cases would they take on any high-attack probability clients—ones that were at high risk of a planned attack even for short time frames. It began to nag at her why this had been so important to him. She planned on asking, perhaps later.

  * * * 

Rico had just dozed off in his office recliner when Sarge knocked on the open door and woke him.

“It’s twelve, boss.”

“Figured that,” Rico said, as he headed to the bathroom. He noticed that Jennifer was not at the front.

“Can you page Joey? Tell her we’ll be headed back to the firing range in about two hours.”

Sarge nodded and took care of it right then. He was as proficient as Jennifer at the administrative stuff, but unlike her, hated every minute of every day in the weekly rotation. He liked the outdoors, with lots of room for constant motion.

“ADHD,” Rico had murmured to Joey at least once. Must have been difficult for him during the constant hurry up and wait operations they used to go on, Rico was sure.

“I bet she whined to get out of it, right?” Rico commented, heading out the door toward the deli.

“Boss, you know your wife well. But, I didn’t say a word.”

“I’m gonna tell her you told me all the whiney stuff she blurted on the phone. Speak of the devil! Here comes Joey and the other she devil!” Rico said raising his volume as the two women approached.

Joey ignored the comment she knew was intended to illicit questions. Instead, she squeezed her husband firmly and kissed him tenderly on the lips. How it annoyed him when she wouldn’t play into his little game. She squeezed him mainly to get close enough to check his eyes under his sunglasses, but also because in spite of everything she still gushed like a school girl when she saw him.

She grabbed a hold of his hand to check for shakiness. Rico was fully aware of her motives and actually appreciated it—this time.

“Excuse me!” Jennifer chirped, sliding in to give Rico a hug and a feather peck on the lips of her own.

That annoyed Joey. Friends or not, she and Jennifer were going to need a heart-to-heart talk soon. She could easily kiss him on the cheek like the Honduran women do.

Jennifer quickly gave Sarge a solid squeeze too, but no kiss. Even with him her close hugging bothered Joey a little. She would do that even though Sarge tended to be on the tentative side when she did, especially in front of his wife. He hadn’t figured out that being eye-popping gorgeous like Jennifer didn’t make a woman loose. Besides, if he really knew his wife, he would have realized that she didn’t have the least bit of concern about his affectionate coworker’s intentions.

“All right girls,” Rico said. “We men have appetites to attend to. And Joey, don’t forget. We go out to the range again at about three.”

“If I have to and if Tina’s soccer game is over. You said you would be there. I’m sure you remember it starts at two,” she said. She shot him a look that hinted at what she wanted to hear, or else.

“Yea, well of course I remembered,” he said, sounding convincing.

CHAPTER 22

 The two men slipped into a booth at Gino’s Deli.

“OK, Sarge, what’s in that head of yours?”

“Did you really remember?”

“Remember …?”

“You know … Tina’s soccer game.”

What does that have to do with the price of tea in China? For heaven’s sake! Rico was annoyed but figured it was a somewhat reasonable question. Sarge wanted to know whether he was working with a liar. That was fair.

“Are you kidding?” he said , running a hand through his hair. “These days I’m lucky to remember my name. If it wasn’t for those two, I’d be in a world of hurt.” That was more than an accurate assessment. “Between Joey and I, there’s this eerie connection. She already knew I had forgotten, but she … let me off the hook. Are all wives like that? Was that just to soften me up for something?” he trailed off, speaking more to himself than Sarge.

Sarge found himself resisting the desire to delve into the couple’s connection thing some more, but he didn’t want to push the sharing thing too far; Rico could draw the wrong conclusion. The secret need for intimacy among men hadn’t exactly become part of the common American consciousness as yet. Sarge wasn’t any more equipped to tackle the vast divide between the psychological needs of men and their bravado—especially men of valor such as himself—than anyone else. But he sure could use some advice on creating better chemistry with his wife.

“So, what’s the plan?” Sarge asked, sipping on a third refill.

“I’m testing the armor that just came in. Joey and I have determined that the stuff really works. But now we have to test how capable or conscious the wearer would be after impact.”

“Normally too incapacitated to stay in the fight,” added Sarge, thinking ahead. “How exactly will you be testing that?”

“I have this life-like, remote control, full-sized robot. It can measure the severity of impacts and somehow gives a response capability factor.”

“Yea, right.”

Rico was not about to leak clues. He knew Sarge would not participate if he knew what was really going to happen. Since he had a somewhat limited capability of sustaining stories fabricated on the run—oddly enough—Rico just nodded and evaded more questions by getting up to get a fourth refill. Spin had grown to be a socially acceptable practice for the common man, joining the politicos in mastering it; discernment was never more difficult than now. Even then Rico’s faint recollection of a mother’s admonition to honesty and truthfulness tightened his stomach each time spin, or an outright lie, left his lips. Perhaps one day he wouldn’t have to deal with regrets.

When he got back to the booth Rico subtly redirected the discussion. “So, how’s your idea of taking two or three clients shopping at the same time working out?”

Sarge didn’t want to change the subject, but he wasn’t going to test the boss’s temper. Reluctantly, he said, “It has actually worked out great. I decided to use them as look outs for each other.”

Rico raised a brow.

“I had each one study each other’s spouse’s photo. So now, when one is relaxed and browsing the others give me an extra set of eyes.”

“Whoa, porque no pense yo de eso. Smart move hombre. (Why didn’t I think of that.) 

Rico tended to be conservative with praise when it came to adults. For some reason it was different when it came to children; he praised every little thing. He always wondered why. This tendency served him well winning over the girls at home and other youngsters at the alternative high school, where even the tougher characters softened a bit. But with adults he tended to expect excellence in the work product, and wasn’t about to praise good work. This often didn’t serve him well. So this day Sarge was pleased his boss was pleased.

“I also had a break-through with this kid ... Mario,” Sarge offered.

Sarge had been pressed into service a few times when Rico couldn’t make it to teach the fifty-minute life skills class. It was an innovative idea that offered community volunteers several opportunities to bring their life experiences into the classroom to expand the students’ horizons.

Sarge said , “Yea, he came up to me and said hi, then shook my hand!” Sarge paused a moment reflecting. “I think ... unless it was my imagination ... that he was going to give me a hug.”

“You gotta be kidding me? I’ve worked on that kid for two months now, and you get to be there. You bum!” Rico got goose bumps thinking about the sight. “He shook your hand?” he said, trying to seem interested.

Sarge gave an affirming nod, adding a smile.

“With no blade in it?”

Sarge shook his head that time.

Mario, barely in seventh grade, had grown so angry at the world that he had almost killed his abusive father with a knife and a bat. Insufficient mental health services and two years in a juvenile reform institution staving off attempted rapes didn’t help the least bit. Every man after that was a prime target for his wrath. Especially, Hispanic looking ones like his dad.

Apparently, the boy’s surprise defense of his mother had only temporarily startled his father. The fear that gripped him at seeing the rebellion in his son’s eyes that fateful day had apparently been short-lived. Now that Mario was out from behind his protective steel bars, ironically, the man was on the prowl in search of revenge. The police were legally powerless and out of resources. They couldn’t follow the boy for even a few hours, much less days and nights.

Rico, against his better judgment, acceded to Joey’s pleas. He took on the job pro bono and gave him a shadow on and off from then on. It had been four weeks and Rico was getting weary of the logistics it took to manage the coverage; even with the boy enrolled in the alternative school where Rico spent that hour or two every day—usually tutoring in reading and Social Studies.

Joey had found that very odd; did he have a hidden desire to be a teacher?

Rico was concocting a plan in his mind even as Sarge and he spoke. They finished their lunch in silence while Rico’s mental gears churned and engineered a skeleton plan.

Minutes later, back in the office, Rico convinced Joey to physically drag him out of his office at the appropriate time for the soccer game.

Being glad to have him back in a chirpy mood, she wasn’t about to turn down the offer. She was glad Jennifer had left because she would have for sure said something smart-alecky and annoyed him. Minutes before, Jennifer had responded to a call from the contract security company they used for external building security and back up at the rental apartment that served as a temporary safe house. It turned out to be a simple case of mistaken identity. 

At the soccer game they had trouble getting to their bleacher seats because practically every person made sure to stop Joey to say hi. Rico thought that waves would have sufficed. Perhaps it was from feeling awkward about the attention they drew. Then again, perhaps the slight tinge of jealousy, and loneliness, had something to do with his unease.

He really didn’t know anyone anymore. Everyone he had known and associated with was dead or had moved on, literally and metaphorically speaking. The few former acquaintances he had already run into didn’t count as friends. They had seen each other around was all that could be said. He wondered how in the world they could remember his face and name.  

They finally sat at an empty spot on the bleachers and chatted while they waited for the game to start. Joey yelled and waved at Tina as the team passed by. Totally disallowing the coach’s stern verbal admonition, Tina left the lineup, bolted to the bleachers, and gave the two a hug and a kiss. She took off just as quickly and got back in line under the coach’s semi scowl and shaking head. Tina’s drooping shoulders gave Rico a pang in his stomach. Apparently, she only had self confidence when Joey was nearby. 

Watch it coach. You’d better drop it, the wanna-be father-hawk thought.

Just in time, the referees called the teams onto the field to shake hands for the game to begin. To Rico’s surprise, and angst, Tina left the line again and flew through the bleachers to hug a person neither of them had met. Joey whispered to him that she looked like Tina’s mother. She knew this only because she had nosed around Tina’s stuff and found a tattered picture. To Joey, the lady barely resembled the pretty Asian face in the photo.

Tina, pointing to them as the lady looked where she pointed, gave them a clue that Joey was right. The hollow-eyed, frail-looking lady shook her head as she pried her hand loose from Tina’s, who was begging her to move next to Joey. Rico readied himself to deal with the coach when Tina got back on the field. Fortunately, she seemed to have surrendered any attempt to reform the little rascal who had no respect for the important things. The coach just hurried her best player—who happened to be Tina—from the sideline onto the field. 

Joey was worried about a possible emotional meltdown from Tina. Both their fears diminished when Tina dashed back to the field wearing a big smile. The milder than expected scolding she got from the coach didn’t even faze her as she nodded understanding. Joey’s face glowed as she watched her little girl.

Rico actually enjoyed the game. It helped him to forget some of his troubles. He figured the soccer dad thing wasn’t too bad.

The lady, who was indeed Tina’s mom, left after a short conversation with Tina. She was on probation, again, earlier than expected. She felt too ashamed to meet the woman who had apparently assumed her role. “Later,” she promised Tina. A promise no one expected her to keep.

Joey and Rico would have to broach the subject of a sure meeting, and maybe the mine-laden topic of adoption, eventually. Good things could be costly.

CHAPTER 23

 Sarge was at the office waiting for them. It was time for the real world again.

“Stay here until I call you on the radio. I’ve got things to get ready at the range after Tina’s game,” Rico instructed him.

Both of them were glad clouds were rolling in. Unexpected, spectacular thunderheads appeared on the horizon.

“What do you want me to do while I wait, boss?”

“Rosangelica will … Speak of the devil,” he murmured as she walked in from her afternoon class. “You can help Rosangelica unpack and test-run the five new laptops I bought. Setting up the wireless connection on them should be simple. If you have trouble, call the tech center.”

“I have no earthly idea what we need more computers for ... but okay,” Rosangelica quipped. 

“For the kids at school to borrow, for homework,” Rico said, an eyebrow raised as he looked at Joey. Are you training her or what? He thought. 

All he could do was say bye to Rosangelica and leave; he had important matters to deal with.

Joey followed dutifully. She knew he was up to something. Her suspicions were confirmed when he drove directly to the desert after watching Tina’s team demolish the other, courtesy Tina’s three goals. And Rico didn’t make a stop for a remote robot like Sarge had mentioned to her. She didn’t want to perturb him by asking anything. The ride was pleasant, though absent verbal communication. Her thoughts were on having seen in person for the first time Tina’s mother—just out of jail—who surprised Tina and her. Was she about to rip Tina away from her?

“This place will do for the firing range,” Rico announced, reminding her of another stressful issue.

He called Sarge on the cell phone walkie-talkie and gave him the coordinates for the GPS locator. Sarge arrived fifteen minutes later. Rico and Joey still hadn’t spoken a word during the wait.

“Well, it’s out here,” Sarge commented when he arrived.

“You and Joey will be staying here,” Rico said. “When I tell her on the radio to get ready, that means I’m ready to send out the armored dummy.

You got that right, Joey thought, trying to conceal her concern from Sarge.

“You’re both gonna stay behind the vehicle when you’re firing ... in case something goes wrong. To test reflexes after impact, it’ll be firing at those boards over there.”

“How many rounds do I fire?” Sarge asked.

“One to start with … then what I tell Joey on the radio.” He nodded to Joey who was already retrieving the radio box.

She quickly retrieved an earpiece from the radio box and placed it in her ear under her ear protection.

Good, she’s in all business mode, he thought.

Lord, you gave me a … something … husband, she thought.

Rico disappeared around a sharp corner in the arroyo wall and parked the truck. Within ten minutes he gave Joey the heads up that he was ready. Sarge gawked as a very life-like, expensive-looking robot lumbered into view. Rico had stuck a car cell phone antenna on the helmet’s top.

It seemed to Joey that he had practiced because he looked very convincing. Once he even acted as if a leg froze up and then broke free.

Why am I not stopping this? She wondered.

Sure, she had seen the stuff work, but to actually get hit to test it? Silent, fervent prayer flowed from her lips.

Rico signaled for one shot to the right shoulder.

She paused to calm her nerves, then turned to Sarge and unemotionally as possible relayed the instructions. Milliseconds after the shot’s report, Rico let out a few choice expletives into Joey’s earpiece. Joey’s heart skipped a beat or two before she could inquire about the robot’s status.

He told her it was fine.

Nothing muscle cream couldn’t handle she effectively rationalized … so far.

That was the test round for pain. He called for one to the left shoulder and a follow up to center of mass. He informed Joey that this time he would be returning fire and to have Sarge duck after firing. He waited patiently and directed her again after she didn’t move. She finally relayed the firing instructions.

Rico’s mind instantly processed that Sarge’s aim was as good as ever. The hit to the left shoulder and chest registered almost instantaneously with a slight puff of dust to the shooter, pain to the target. Disregarding the pain for another fraction of a second, he managed to fire three rounds of his own.

The two shots he fired, before the full impact of the blunt force registered in his mind, hit center of mass in the people-shaped plywood boards. The third went wayward, into the ground as his wrist had moved down when he doubled over. Even though it was quite painful, he was surprised at how much less it was than what he had expected.

The robot ceased to look like a robot as it stumbled forward. Sarge let out some choice words of his own as he rushed to help Rico.

Joey had seen the impact, and though she knew it had not likely penetrated, her knees felt like rubber. She stayed leaning on Sarge’s truck listening, but not listening, to the more than heated argument that ensued between the two newest men in her life.

As soon as Sarge knew Rico was in no real danger, he let out some more choice expletives. Rico responded in kind and topped them.

Halfway back to his truck Sarge turned around. “You know, I’m the one that is supposed to be crazy. This freaking takes the cake. I can’t believe that Mr. Reserved would do something this stupid!”

Tell me about it, Rico thought, as he fought to maintain his equilibrium and keep from fainting.

Sarge turned away angrily and shot Joey a glare. “What are you doing with this crazy idiot?” he said tersely as he climbed into his truck and sped off in reverse. “I quit!” he yelled as he aggressively slapped the shift lever into drive and sped away.

“I’m asking myself that very question,” she murmured, starting toward the stranger that was her husband. “But … don’t call him an ….”

They didn’t see or hear from Sarge for three days after that.

Rico insisted on driving; Joey had no energy or inclination to argue the matter. The trip not only proved quieter than the drive there, if that was possible, but much slower and more tense.

Joey did everything in her power to keep from saying what she wanted to say, knowing it could rile him up. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t manage long.

“Why didn’t you let me fire my gun just now?” she murmured.

“What?”

“You heard, good and well,” she said, staring out her side window.

He unconsciously gave her a glare that if she had been looking his way, she would have whacked him good.

“Remember what it did to the plywood?” It was stupid to ask it. Joey never forgot anything—except on purpose. He couldn’t stay quiet either when he should have.

“So?” she retorted in a biting, Irish tinged tone.

He had asked for it after all.

“I’m crazy … not stupid.” He looked out his window to wait for a sure-to-come stinging rebuttal.

“That former employee of yours who just quit, thinks I’m one … and you’re the other.”

Joey’s last words faded away. The matter was closed.

Which one am I, Rico mused. He didn’t quit! What’s he whining about any way, I’m the one in pain. It’s better this way. I didn’t want to hire him anyways. Better than having to fire him. And anyway …

The self-deluding, self-talk continued the whole trip like a broken record. He was well on the way to believing his own malarkey.

For Joey, the fierceness of the deluge that had begun to pour on them was a useful distraction. The awe inspiring lightning streaks and ground strikes, some landing slightly too close for comfort, made her focus shift to the girls for some reason she couldn’t understand. Then traversing the rushing waters flowing through the numerous arroyos proved a little more distracting, taking her thoughts away from the girls again. Thankfully, Rico’s truck was heavy enough and the four-wheel-drive did its job, though barely.

The standard flash-in-the-pan southwestern thunderstorm came and went by the time the two drove up to the office driveway; nothing was worse for wear. But Rico did walk around the truck and grimace at a couple of dings caused by some fast moving logs in the water.

When they entered the office, Jennifer sensed that the two honeymooners were in no mood to deal with energetic youngsters. She literally grabbed the girls and dragged them out for pizza. It would be a very pensive dinner, at least for her.

Jennifer passed the time puzzled and concerned. They had just gone to the firing range. What kind of squabble could a couple possibly get into at a firing range? Maybe Joey out did Rico again, she was thinking. Or money came up. Who knew, she finally conceded.

 *     *     * 

Upstairs Rico gingerly undressed. Joey generously, but unceremoniously, started the bathwater for him.

“I’ll be in the guest room. Don’t go in there without knocking.” Joey said, more tempered than before.

“Joey,” Rico said softly, “You know it was safe. One day you’ll know that it wasn’t some macho thing. I needed to know for a good reason. But, I’m sorry. I should’ve found another way.”

Not exactly what she wanted to hear, it didn’t appease her. She was exhausted. Emotion, including anger, evaded her.

“On second thought, don’t even bother knocking. Just stay out of my prr … guest room altogether.” She looked at the ceiling as she spoke in a labored whisper and gently closed the door.

He shook his head and considered chasing after her; instead he gasped for air. He waddled to the tub and gingerly climbed into the steamy Epson salt bath.

Rosangelica didn’t see Joey slip into the prayer room. It surely would have garnered a question. Early evening prayer was only common for her during crises; usually someone else’s.

When Rico got out of the tub, three hot water refills later, it was already slightly past seven. In the mirror, he noticed a horrendous sight. It looked like his entire upper body was one large greenish-purplish mess. Fortunately, the pain was much less he expected—thanks to his morphine savior. Slow movements helped keep it a mere nuisance.

Morphine didn’t temper his troubled thinking though. He took three sleeping pills to force his extremely agitated mind to take a break. After some twenty-five minutes, he was fast asleep. He didn’t know what to expect from Joey the next day. For now, sleep would delay his knowing.

But not even sleeping pills could halt the varied, ever intensifying, incessant dreams that had begun to haunt him. These weren’t the usual fair of combat dreams. Though those were definitely bothersome, they no longer strangled his heart with lasting panic. The new nightmares were much more bizarre and scared the living daylights out of him. Joey’s prominence in them caused him to awaken many restless nights, drenched in sweat. Was there no end to the torture?

Meanwhile, at almost eight, Joey was still in the spirit, interceding for her two good friends’ souls—Jennifer and Jacob—and getting recharged for the next day’s challenges. Including what her husband could possibly conjure up next.

CHAPTER 24

“Joey, I’ve changed my mind,” Jennifer said, peeking into the imposing foyer. It wasn’t a fancy place, but it was a church—and she had avoided entering one since turning sixteen.

Joey, Rosangelica, and Tina stood at the front entrance to their church building, looking back at their indecisive friend. 

“Well, OK. It’s your choice, but yesterday you said you would come in for a few minutes. Here are the keys,” Joey said. With a kind but disappointed smile, she turned and, hand-in-hand with the girls, walked into the building.

Jennifer got in the car and started backing up. What am I doing at a church on a Tuesday night? These people are probably all zombies.

She glanced at the people going in. She didn’t remember people looking so genuinely happy at the last church she had attended. But, it was more than a frolicky kind of happy that she sensed. Even individuals walking in alone and of all ages had this glad, peacefulness about them; a genuineness. They didn’t look like zombies.

I thought it was just Joey and the girls who were like that. She slammed her open palms against the steering wheel. But, why did I open my mouth and say I would come? I can just see Jacob’s reaction when he finds out I went to church, and on a Tuesday! “Oh, no Jennifer, are you one of those Holy Roller freaks now?” he’ll probably say.

 She got out of the car and slithered in.

It was much more imposing inside the six hundred-seat sanctuary than she expected. It didn’t look that big from the outside. The K-12 academy she thought was part of the main building was actually a structure all by itself on the opposite side. She slipped into a seat in a row near the middle. It seemed, as she watched, that everyone was voluntarily bunching up into the front seats. That definitely wasn’t what she remembered from way back when. She did remember that Joey had said that a two-week crusade was coming; this was the start of the second week. She couldn’t recall what significance crusades held, but was very curious about what Joey and the girls were up to without her those many nights out of the past week. No doubt Joey’s lack of attention to his needs had contributed to Rico’s most recent acerbic mood.

The furnishings and architecture were as plain as could be. Jennifer thought it odd that the place wasn’t lavishly decorated. Yet, as she thought about it, she wondered why other church buildings were. The natural wood trim and minimal furnishings were rustic Mexico. The flowers and other added touches gave the sanctuary a warm ambiance all its own; some were silk and others real, all tastefully chosen. She would learn later that the pastors spent the members’ hard earned and freely offered money on more important things, like feeding the hungry and tending to widows and orphans.

Before she could sarcastically muse that the place was empty, by six-forty-five p.m. waves of people began rolling in. A man who sat across the aisle from her quickly managed to creep her out; as if the chills down her spine from just being there weren’t enough. She had told Joey she wouldn’t be at fault if the place burst into flames when she walked in. Joey had said that the place did that regularly anyway. Joey was strange sometimes, Jennifer had thought. 

Jennifer scrutinized everything with a fine tooth comb. It struck her again how people seemed so genuine with each other. They hugged and laughed and carried on. Still, a voice told her it was just a facade—an aspect of her childhood church days she did remember all too well. She shook it off; these people deserved a chance to prove otherwise. Perhaps things had changed.

Jennifer noticed the first two rows on each side of the church had signs that read, “Pastors Only Please.” She couldn’t believe Joey’s church had thirty plus associate pastors. When Joey came by she planned to ask about it. She was starting to feel reasonably at ease about being there. After all, everyone so far had been congenial, at least. They really did seem sincere … and normal. Well, for the most part.

“Hey, lady … you new here?” the man across the aisle to the right asked.

Jennifer politely smiled and nodded. Don’t edge him on, Jennifer! she thought. Scowl, growl, or something.

“I’m Bill. Billy Bob Jackson, some people call me.”

Get up and leave this place, a little voice screamed in her ears. She wouldn’t do that and insult Joey, but considered a seat change. Too late, a family sat down a few chairs away to her left; she was trapped! If she moved that way, the lady there would think she was interested in talking to her.

Dang, too slow! she chastised herself mentally. Then she remembered the man that had greeted her, the strange one. Her conscience wouldn’t let her be rude, as much as she wanted to, or even ignore the man, who, she thought, was more than likely, homeless.

“I’m …” Don’t do it! “… Jennifer …. Hi.”

Just as she suspected, he took it as a license and started yapping. “Look at this!”

He’s taking off his shoe and sock!

“Look at my foot!” He showed off the nice clean foot, changing the angle for her to see its fine form from all sides.

Yippee! she thought. But, it is a nice one, Jennifer caught herself thinking. You really ought to leave before you get infected.

“It’s new. I only had part of a foot last week,” he said.

Jennifer’s eye brow shot up. She looked again. The man gleefully wiggled his toes at passers by. It looked as new as a baby’s foot. Where does the prosthesis start? she asked herself. I don’t think organ bioengineering has advanced that much. Biology and anatomy was a fascination of hers.

The man answered her thoughts. “See, I didn’t have anything from here on.” The man touched his ankle bone. “A sheet of steel fell on it at a construction job, chopped it right off cleanly, boot and all. Haven’t worked in three years, ‘cause of the foot … and my, my … nerves … you know.”

That she could relate to.

Technology has really advanced, Jennifer marveled, still looking for the connecting point.

Then he dropped a bomb shell on her. “It started growing back last Sunday when this lady prayed over it. Truth be told, I was a little … well, more than a little … juiced when I got in the prayer line. Even told the lady I didn’t and wouldn’t believe in Jesus. Know what she said?” Jennifer shook her head and considered moving again. “She said, ‘I’ll pray that you’ll reconsider believing and calling on Jesus. For now, be healed and enjoy it.’ Can you believe that nonsense?”

Then the man stopped talking, just like that.

The man was about to put his sock back on when Joey and the clan reappeared from behind a door marked “Intercession.” Something about that word rang a bell.

“Hey, Bill! Let me see that foot,” Joey instructed in a whisper. “Look girls, remember this guy.” The girls didn’t bother to answer; they just covered their mouths in surprise. Jennifer knew they wouldn’t joke around like that in what they, at least, revered as God’s house.

The girls patted and hugged the guy then turned to Jennifer and loved on her too.

“Bill,” Tina offered, “You need a bath, today.”

“You’re absolutely right young one, I’ll do that today,” Bill quickly said to keep Joey, who made an upset face, from chastising her.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tina whispered to Bill, with a polite bow.

They murmured to each other as they squeezed into the seats next to Jennifer. Joey sat farthest from her. Then Tina stood and insisted that Jennifer move over so she could be next to Jennifer too.

Now the foot guy was a little farther away. That made Jennifer more comfortable, though not necessarily feeling peachy-keen, as Joey would say often. But just then, with all the commotion from Tina wanting to be close to her too, she felt more loved and wanted than she had felt in a long time. It dawned on her that maybe she had found home; perhaps in more ways than one?

Jennifer leaned over and asked about all the pastor’s chairs.

“Oh, we only have six associate pastors,” Joey said.

“So, who are all those well dressed men? I count almost forty. And those two … Catholic priests?”

“Twelve or so are local pastors, ministers, reverends, and what not. The others are from out of town. They’re doing a shut-in with our pastor during this campaign, and then some conference thingy next week.”

“I guess they’re all from your denomination, except the two?”

“Naw, this church doesn’t belong to a denomination. Some of those pastors are Baptist, some are Methodist, Lutheran, Catholic, etc.”

“But, when my father pastored …”

Joey’s expression changed only subtly. Jennifer had never given a hint about her family, much less about having pastor parents.

“He was shunned by those very people. They called us … bad things.”

“I hear that’s the way Las Cruces was even five years ago. But God has been setting pastors straight. The high price they pay for going unorthodox, or astray, cannot begin to compare to the manifest presence of God and anointing they enjoy; once their hearts let go of dead religious tradition, at least.”

Jennifer was sure there was a veiled message in what Joey was saying. Where does she get those terms from? Unorthodox? Manifest presence?

“Those that have obeyed and crossed the ungodly denominational walls have been seeing incredible things happen in their congregations. Some of the stoic looking pastors you see will be hucking and bucking before they know it. Just watch girl. But then again some won’t and will still be caught up in the Spirit; we’re all different.”

Hucking and bucking. Now there was an antiquated phrase. Jennifer didn’t have to ask what to look for; she knew it well. But she didn’t want a soul to know she knew.

“Any more questions, Jennifer?”

Jennifer shook her head.

“Maybe we can talk about those parents of yours … sometime?”

Joey hoped she hadn’t moved too early in wanting to know a little about her friend’s parents. She excused herself and left to roam about, shaking hands and hugging practically all in the sanctuary.

Jennifer just watched. She couldn’t tell if it was Irish passion Joey was sharing or something else.

When the singing started, Joey went back to her seat and sang along with everyone else. It quickly became apparent to Jennifer that singing was not one of the gifts God had bestowed on Joey.

At least Jennifer actually remembered one or two hymns they sang. Some Negro spirituals quickened her soul and memories. Even with some fond recollections coming to mind, she still felt uncomfortable, but tried to fit in by clapping along on some songs. She could hear Rosangelica and Tina singing next to her. Rosangelica’s voice reverberated in her ears; an operatic voice polar opposite of Joey’s. Moreover, the conviction with which her three friends sang was digging into her heart. She wanted to leave right then, but her feet wouldn’t budge.

Then smack in the middle of a chorus, the place became instantly quiet; the drum cymbals resonated ever so slightly, then profound silence.

A lady up front spoke loudly, “Behold, says the Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I Am that I Am. He that worships me must worship me in spirit and in truth. My children, this day I am well pleased with your worship. Three years ago I told you that you would see signs and wonders as never before. And last year I released upon you my latter rain. Today, I am well pleased that my children in this body have not turned to glory at gifts, signs, wonders and miracles, but to Him that gives them and does them. And you have done as my Son told you to, ‘Do not rejoice that demons are subject to you, rather that your names are written in the Lamb’s Book of Life.’

“I have come this day to be before my people who have turned from their wicked ways, and gone to the byways and highways to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ, making disciples; teaching them of my beloved Son, who died and is resurrected that all may have life, and have it abundantly. Do not believe for the signs and wonders you shall witness this day; rather believe I Am the I Am. And now my judgment is here for those in the household of faith whose hearts have waxed cold and continue in wicked ways and turn not toward me who created them. I shall start with pastors and leaders. Let he who has an ear to hear, hear. Thus saith the Lord of Hosts.” 

There was another moment of profound silence before a wave of applause literally shook the fan lights. Jennifer wondered what the haziness behind the choir was, less pronounced now than during the singing. It was like a transparent cloud that just hovered there. As the applause died down, Joey walked up to the front in response to her pastor’s subtle hand gesture from behind the podium.

Jennifer wondered what that was about. Joey had never mentioned holding any post in the ministry or pastoral staff. The pastor leaned down from the platform and handed Joey a microphone.

Joey spoke softly at first. “Tonight we will be doing things somewhat differently. To maintain order we will have those who want to testify of, or are still seeking, healing or deliverance line up along the outside aisles. The two lines will converge up there on the platform. Those of you who want a touch of the spirit, or are otherwise already overflowing, minister to others next to you and offer your own praises to the I Am from where you stand … or where you fall as the case may be.”

The crowd’s laughter caught Jennifer by surprise. An inside joke? She didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

“I’ll wait until the lines are fully formed and our pastor prays to get things rolling. Then I’ll tend to those remaining in place. After that I’ll come back here. Those who get in line, please allow those unable to stand for extended periods to move up in line, just so that any doubts don’t convince them to leave without the blessing God has for them. Pastor, seems like they’re ready,” she concluded.

The pastor offered a short, quite simple prayer. From what Jennifer could gather, it wasn’t supposed to be Joey’s night to minister, but it seemed God had a plan and Joey acknowledged the pastor’s urging to take over completely. This kept Joey from sitting next to Jennifer again. Otherwise, Jennifer would have been peppering her with a million questions about what was going on. She wasn’t about to expose her ignorance to the two girls next to her. They still seemed to think that the adults in their lives had all the answers; and had all issues nice and tidy.

Out of the six hundred plus standing-room-only crowd, almost a hundred, more or less, lined each side of the building. Jennifer concluded that the reason the lines formed on the sides was so visitors who stayed in their seats could see the platform … and the supposed miracles and testimonies to take place. She tried managing her cynicism, suppressing at the same time a faint recollection of things one could classify as miracle healings, that maybe she had witnessed as a child. 

Joey didn’t say anything else after the pastor finished the prayer. She just walked down the center aisle and waved her arms. She started to move toward the back of the church intending to stop to touch some people on their foreheads and ministering to people, as was the practice. Then she stopped, turned, and went back to the altar.

The pastor edged over and inquired. God told her He would be doing all the work from now on, she informed him. After a moment of puzzlement the pastor sat back and grinned. That sounded real good to him. He had stopped trying to figure God out three years before; now he just moved out of the way quickly. It didn’t matter to him who got the word from God first. And God would regularly tell him that though he’d prepared a wonderful sermon, He’d be taking over from there.

Minutes later, Jennifer watched utterly amazed and perplexed. Before she knew it, some people fell over on their sides, others jumped up and down, and others did both; many more others simply held their arms up in complete reverence. A translucent cloud of something rolled toward the back of the building.

Joey must have influenced these people somehow, Jennifer was thinking just then. She didn’t think so in a bad way, just that maybe the people didn’t want to seem unspiritual or something, and were maybe weak minded and needy. But Joey was now seated on the altar step facing away from the pews. She wasn’t even close to Jennifer or Bill, the other skeptic, when something akin to a paradoxically gentle, yet forceful, wind knocked them both off their feet.

What was that? Jennifer, clearly shaken, forced herself back onto her seat. So far they haven’t taken out any snakes, but I wonder if these are those people my parents used to warn me about.

She turned to watch Joey. It reminded her of her father who would go into trances at the altar, eyes open and not breathing. But right then she couldn’t see Joey’s eyes to know if that was what had her motionless. It was just so odd; so very odd … and strangely familiar at the same time. 

Then it became clear as day to her that other congregations in the town of her youth had considered her parent’s ministry like those very people. Attributions assigned in ignorance, like what she had just done. Guilt overwhelmed her.

Jennifer stood there dumbfounded as Joey finally rose to her feet and started toward the pews. Jennifer’s heart stopped when Joey stopped right by her and then looked right through her with piercing eyes.

 “Girls, did you fast all yesterday and today?”

They both nodded, Tina not so emphatically. She had only given her life to Christ a few weeks earlier, and all of this was still very new to her.

Fasting? Jennifer thought, cynicism making a quick comeback. How archaic.

“Are you sure?” Joey asked.  “I don’t want anything to go wrong up there.”

They nodded yes again. Joey signaled her young disciples to follow.

Jennifer sat when they left. Wrong? What is she talking about?

There was the matter of angelic and demonic forces Joey had purposely avoided discussing during some already lively interactions on spiritual matters. That was meat for another season—at least this was Joey’s thinking—meat Jennifer remembered more than she allowed her mind to bring to the fore.

Then there was the drastic change Jennifer had seen in Tina, the seething bitterness about life in general that often crept out without warning seemed to have faded away over just a few week’s time. Now, what had been a seriously broken little girl was before her, offering substance to what Joey claimed to be possible in anybody’s life; to anybody who went to the foot of the cross. But then again, people could heal and change that quickly when they wanted to. Couldn’t they? The pain of years of neglect and abuse of all kinds could disappear in a whiff, through self-will, right?        

            Most people went up to testify of a healing or miracle God had done for them the night before or as they entered the building this night. Others shared a revelation God had given them. Others went up merely seeking. Joey laid hands on some and just spoke a word to others while the girls prayed nearby. When it was a little child or a female their age, they stepped in to minister.

Some of the people shook strangely or broke into weeping when Joey touched them or simply spoke prophetic words to them; others gave no outward indication of anything happening. Some, God wouldn’t allow Joey to touch. Some got out of wheel chairs completely healed; others didn’t but received instructions from God on what to do to receive the healing he had already completed.

Jennifer couldn’t hear the interaction with Joey and those that didn’t get healed immediately and wondered if those were too heavy sinners; or maybe this thing was a hit and miss proposition?

She rose out of her chair to take a chance when she saw a young girl’s arm uncurl from a horrendously twisted state, something difficult to attribute to slight of hand. Hollywood couldn’t begin to manage special effects to match what she had just seen. The fact that Bill had edged over into the line on the right helped give her a little extra nudge. She got into the line on the left though.

Jennifer tried the fly on the wall thing. This is utterly ridiculous. Maybe even Joey doesn’t know she is being psychologically manipulated. Besides, I don’t understand how God could possibly love me, who …

Before her thought was finished and a muscle had twitched to turn her body toward the exit, she felt a tender touch on her arm. The person in front nudged her one spot forward, then another, and so on until she was facing Joey’s back. Joey was at this time gently touching a woman’s severely hunched back and began to prophesy.

“My child, your children and your children’s children unto the fourth generation have turned to Me through your love. Go and minister in joy until I come for my bride, soon, very soon.”

The lady didn’t appear to be repaired after getting up from lying on the ground. Jennifer had serious doubts. What was the use?

Joey seemed to almost faint when she tried to turn to the next person, who was Jennifer, standing behind her. Jennifer thought that maybe she was drunk, but she had witnessed this same anointing in her father.  He would often fall into a chair when it grew too heavy and continue ministering from there. She had secretly attributed it to stress.

Upon exiting the building, out of Jennifer’s view, the woman raised her hands to the sky and praised God with a shout. She did this seven times. Suddenly, she walked upright as gracefully as royalty. She hummed a brand new tune to a brand new testimony; another added to the many, many others in her humble walk with the Lord.

But Jennifer’s attention was glued on Joey.

“You are right my child, it is beyond your capabilities to comprehend how much I love you … even now in your rebellion. Know that I set you apart before the beginning of time. That which you came for Jennifer …”

Hearing her name startled Jennifer, and she tried to leave. Her question was about to be answered and she was fearful of the answer.

“… I give freely to you that you may protect he who I sent you to protect; a hard-hearted, conniving man, but beloved nonetheless. You shall dream dreams my child, simply trust me … and know that I AM.”

If that wasn’t enough, the girls were about to pour olive oil on her. She stopped them.

“Wait! Look, I don’t believe in this … anymore … OK. I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the ground.

Joey finally opened her eyes and looked at her friend. “It’s OK. God has freely given you healing and rest to your tormented mind. But, returning to him is totally up to you. Don’t wait too long.”

Jennifer couldn’t believe this meek and gentle person talking was the same woman who tossed men around like toys in her dojo. The girls were about to put their hands on their friend’s head, but Jennifer hit the ground first. She missed the flame-like redness and smoke all over the ceiling … at least with her natural eyes.

The fire department wouldn’t be responding to passersby calling in the smoke. Not unless someone from the church called in a natural fire. Three false alarms were enough. Besides, one of their department firefighters was there in church.

  * * * 

Back at the office, Rico worked from his bed all day and into the evening—the same evening and moment Jennifer was at church. Rosangelica had generously made him some sandwiches before leaving. He typed away on his laptop, nibbling sandwiches and gulping soda like any other day.

He wondered what the women were up to. Knowing that Jennifer had found relief from her torment would have warmed him, though he would have vehemently doubted the means. He would be sure to make a point of derision if he found out about it … if.

CHAPTER 25

The next day brought a bright, shining, should-be-chirpy kind of morning. But time was pressing in on Rico and he wasn’t thrilled. A tender, achy body didn’t help the crankiness; neither did two more pills. To add to the sour mood, it was past 8:30 a.m. and Jennifer wasn’t at her desk.

It was her rotation week he was sure. “Dang it, Jennifer, you making your own hours now, or what?” he mumbled, temper flaring.

Joey and Jennifer meandered into the conference room, just off the kitchen, yapping away and fired up about something. They didn’t notice Rico in the kitchen pouring honey into his tea. Rico heard Jennifer say something to the effect that it was an incredible experience just seconds before he came out to join them and have a talk with Jennifer. It roused his curiosity when she stopped her sentence short, looking at him wide-eyed, like a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Otherwise, he would have ignored the yapping; he had mastered that already.

“What was?” he inquired, managing a reasonable tone.

“What was what?” Jennifer responded, shooting Joey a look Rico couldn’t read.

“An incredible experience?” he asked, eyeing Joey as he gingerly lowered himself to a seat.

“Oh! Just something really enlightening I might tell you about sometime,” Jennifer offered reluctantly and followed Joey to the kitchen.

“Whatever, woman! We have an operation to carry out three days from now, on Friday. You’ll be on point.”

Jennifer gave him a look.

I need to brief you both, and Sarge, if I have too, he thought.

He wouldn’t get to it until the next evening though. He decided that facing Jennifer just then, considering his mood and Joey being around, was not a good idea.

Perhaps he was growing wiser with age. Maybe.

The phone on the receptionist desk rang once … twice … three times.

“Jennifer … the phone’s ringing!”

Rico’s annoyance rang clearly in her ears.

“You might want to get it! It might be important!” she said.

Her voice resounded in his head—just as calm and absent of concern as could be—and almost caused him to blow his top. This was very unlike the Jennifer he knew. Her job was her life. At least that’s the way things had been. Rico was missing little bits and pieces of what was happening around his world.

The phone stopped ringing and the answering machine picked up; the leave-a-message message was very professional, not that he cared.

“Jennifer, I’d like to speak with you … right now!” The bite in his voice made her brace herself for a chewing out.

“Yes?” she asked softly, stirring a cup of Joey’s lentil soup while walking cautiously around her lobby desk. She sat down gingerly.

Her voice might have been soft, but the be-careful-what-and-how-you-say-it look on her face quickly diffused Rico.

“Listen, we need to get something straight. I’m the boss here and if you want to change your office hours, that needs to go through me. At least inform me when you’re gonna start late … or whatever.”

“Of course, Jacob,” she acknowledged, a face and tone overflowing with sugar and spice.

Is she being condescending? ‘Cause …

“If … you would have read the sticky note on your desk, you would have known that I was going to be doing something this morning until about nine. And you can, just as well as anyone here, answer a phone every once in a while.”

Now there was a hint of a tart tone. It hurt his ears more than the condescension. He wanted her to go back to that. She didn’t oblige.

“Perhaps you don’t realize how heavy the phone traffic is getting,” she continued. “I might have to do this full time because when Sarge and I switch … this switching back and forth causes confusion. I think it’s time you stepped up to the plate and took control of the rudder for this company.”

The you really stung … and she wasn’t done.

“I think Joey has other more important commitments she would like to get back to.”

That was like a love tap given by a giant wasp. Rico looked on, wide-eyed and speechless. An employee had just dressed him down. Where could he find some salve? What could Joey possibly have going other than to serve her husband’s company? He searched for a reasonably diplomatic way to say … something. He kept thinking.

Joey strolled in and sat next to him—two against one, great. Now that he appeared wounded, surely his loving, protective wife would set the employee straight. 

“Did you hear what she just said?” Rico asked her quietly.

“Yes. Everything,” she whispered back as she looked at Jennifer, who was still a little flustered.

“She has good lungs … and good diction.” And from what I heard last night, perfect pitch.

Huh? Well, set her straight, Joey. “Did you know Jennifer felt that way?” Rico finally asked when Joey just sat there calmly, legs crossed, sipping something annoyingly, obviously choosing to say nothing—or at least taking her sweet southwest time.

When should I ask her to join the choir? I just know she’s coming back to the Lord; hopefully soon. “No … but, she made sense,” Joey said, snapping out of her important planning.

Two against one was right, but against the wrong one as far as he was concerned.

“About what? This  thing … about you having more important things to do doesn’t make sense!”

“Jacob, I … we … love you …,” Joey said, signaling with a wave whom the “we” included. She took a deep breath—the kind that usually preceded bad news. “… but, I have a newsflash for you,” she started saying in English, then finished in Spanish. “The whole world doesn’t revolve around you.”

The wasp nest dropped.

Narcicism. I’m not narcisistic! “You mean ... you do have more important things than to help me?”

He had aimed for manly indignation, but sounded more like a wounded puppy. Things weren’t going well. The bedroom refuge was calling.

“Just like Jenny mentioned. I’m going to leave it at that. Now what are you going to do to start deferring some of the tasks you’ve had me doing, as well as getting Jennifer some help?”

The women waited patiently and tried to seem unaware of the strain on his face and the gulps he was hiding. He summoned the military man in him and assumed control.

“Well, I have a solution for that. But I think that setting some goals and a developing vision for this company is what is really needed. If you help me with that complex part, I can construct a logistical plan to deal with the direction you guys think we should go.”

“We can do that,” the two women said, agreeably.

What? No victory celebration? No rubbing it in? Aren’t you going to gloat? Rico waited.

“I think that in reality we have ninety percent of it done,” Jennifer added in a chirpier mood.

How convenient that they had discussed the matter, or rather complained about it, already.

“It should be a simple matter of putting it in black and white and polishing it up. We’ve talked about the possibilities for this business so much, it’ll be a breeze,” Jennifer added, knowing her boss wasn’t going to chew her butt for speaking up.

And he found himself actually listening to her needs. It was a pretty good start.

“Could you give me a general outline by around eleven o’clock this morning then?”

The two nodded.

“OK. I’ll be out meeting with a realtor for something,” Rico said after a long silence. “Maybe play some golf.”

The two women seemed to have tuned him out, eyeing each other with knowing looks.

“I’m a little concerned about Tina,” Joey lamented, showing no indication she was getting up.

Rico had almost made his escape. It sounded bad already. He rationalized Joey must have been addressing Jennifer. It sounded like girl talk to him. He took one step. Jennifer gently hooked his arm and nudged him back down.

“Well, I’ll be out and about … grass needs mowing, toilet …” Rico said.

“She’s starting to develop and get flirty,” Joey said.

Rico stared at them, grimacing. The two women waited to make sure he correctly processed what they meant.

“Oh! I get it. Umm, and …?”

He had noticed that very thing the last time they had been at the pool. Rosangelica had nonchalantly commented, among other things, that Tina was going to need a new swimsuit. Rico forked over fifty bills for a new one after letting Rosangelica know that he had quite enough information already.

Tina had been aware of her changing body and would cover herself with crossed arms when an “un-cute” boy veered and steered too close. She had wanted to ask Rico for some cash but hadn’t because she was sure he would ask what it was for.

After Rosangelica’s comment he wouldn’t ever be asking anything of the sort, no matter the amount she asked for. If necessary, he would tolerate Joey’s muttering about spoiling the girl with ridiculous amounts of cash.

“And … Sarge’s son is beginning to notice, too. I don’t plan to interfere with what her foster mother, or her mother, allows her to buy, unless it gets any more on the sensual side than it already is. I gotta draw the line in this home somewhere,” Joey added.

“And you want me to talk to Sarge … or Junior?” Rico wanted to redirect the subject to real important matters. “Well ... anyway ... I, I don’t understand what this girl stuff has to do with running a company?”

Both women rolled their eyes and banged their foreheads with open palms.

“Like I was saying earlier, the world does not revolve around you or this company, Jacob! This is real life,” Joey said.

Her suddenly flushed cheeks didn’t bode well for him. The Irish tint of her verbiage made her point extra clear. And he really didn’t like it when she spoke his name like that.

“Ok! I’ll try and process this. Just give me time.” Rico aggressively rubbed his beard. “Since it’s not a crisis then, I think I can manage. This stage will pass … by … next week? Soon? Please tell me yes!”

The two women shook their heads and made unequivocal facial gestures. What planet is he on?

“And did I mention Rosangelica’s budding romantic love interest?” Joey had to add.

“I’m leaving for a five year TDY … tonight.” Rico put his hands to his ears and walked off to the kitchen.

There wasn’t anything like temporary duty assignments for him anymore, though he would have loved one then.

“Information overload! Information overload!” he mumbled.

The ladies could only laugh. It was true, but the details about Rosangelica could wait until later. Details they thought they knew. In fact, Rosangelica had no real romantic interest in anyone. She just loved to see Joey squirm. She was using one of her close male friends as a ruse to do just that; then again, the young man had great potential. She and her male friend had agreed to forestall romantic involvement until a serious commitment to marriage was forthcoming.

The concept was making a dent in the Christian dating scene, preventing many broken hearts and chattered lives. Rico would have told Rosangelica that it was an utterly ridiculous supposition. 

Likewise, as one would expect, the majority in the hunt for mate found it difficult to seriously consider being so different than even the majority in the faith. And Tina, struggling with leaving the world behind just when she was discovering certain feelings for the opposite sex, was no different. She made a cross with her fingers and shoved them forward whenever Rosangelica broached the subject. Rosangelica knew what kind of miserable pit her little sister was digging and was interceding fervently for her in her prayer closet. Tina had recently laid out an elaborate eloping plan to her wide-eyed big sister. Rosangelica didn’t know if the groom was even aware of the plan.    

Oblivious to all these deeper matters, Rico was kind of gelling with the family thing nonetheless. At least like the grease in a bowl of chicken soup. It doesn’t really mix together with the water, but together they sure taste great and work wonders on the soul. The interaction with the girls and other energetic youngsters brought much satisfaction, though the idea of getting in the middle of the girl things the women were discussing was less than inviting. He did like the fact that Rosangelica had seen fit to bring him in on the romance ruse. At least he was on the inside of something, he thought. And she thought she knew what she was doing.

Interesting as he found this man of the house thing, the well-intended efforts to be there for them taxed his stamina. This family thing was one thing he didn’t want to mess up on. But the company and other goal needed attention too. And now his energy levels day to day were becoming more and more erratic. The two disparate focuses began taking their toll.

“Will you guys be prepared to present at our first official company meeting, tonight at six?” Rico asked before leaving, already exhausted.

They nodded again, sure their part hadn’t gotten the necessary attention in his mind. But what were they to do?