Saturday Morning Breakfast Serial

Saturday Morning Breakfast Serial

Good Morning --I will have you know that I'm having a seriously hard time trying to "switch gears" away from Celia and to Jo this morning. I'm right at the climax of the book. This is one of those times when "writing without a net" is really tricky. Usually, in a book or short story you've got several edit passes to catch problems. Here, there's just me and my admittedly faulty first run.But here goes.

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Georgie set explosives with a timer on the gate. It blew after we were through, and before any pursuers could get to us. It was more than a little alarming, him running around with explosives in his pocket. Useful as hell. But still alarming.

The gate didn't dump us in the yard next to my rooming house this time. Instead, we came out by the doors of a 24 hour drug store a couple of miles away. Which is how Georgie got the opportunity to experience public transportation.

He liked it.

Go figure.

"So, tell me about this partner of yours." Georgie reclined on the worn vinyl of the back seat of the bus. He was taking up enough room for several people, but no one complained. They took one look at him, shifted nervously, and kept their distance--casting the occasional covert glance, to be safe. Not that he'd done anything. He hadn't. And he was dressed well, too. It was a nice suit. Off the rack, but not cheap, it fit him well. He hadn't bothered with a tie. Probably just as well. I'm not sure the collar of his shirt was big enough to fasten around his neck without choking him. Still, even in a nice suit, he just had this presence of contained menace. Truth in advertising.

I told him. His reaction was predictable. "An' you put up with this shit?"

"It was better than going back to the Snake."

"Good point." We weren't speaking English, which earned us a couple of long looks. Until Georgie looked back. At which point we were pointedly ignored.

"So, what's the plan?"

"I take you back to my place."

That earned me a speculative look---which I immediately quashed with a look of my own. Still, he was smiling, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I'm supposed to be going to a wedding today." I looked out the bus window, and tried to figure the time based on the sun's angle. "Oh crap. I think I missed it."

"From what you were saying, doesn't sound like you missed much."

"Not really. But there's going to be political blowback for it." I sighed. "Maybe I can make it to the reception."

"Wasn't like you had a choice."

True. But that wasn't going to score me points with the political bigwigs. They didn't like that I had a past. They certainly wouldn't appreciate its coming back to bite me. I didn't tell him that, though. He'd get insulted, think I was ashamed of my past. I'm not. Which is one of the big reasons I get in so much trouble with the brass. They think I should be. I figure they're asses to think it and move on.

We reached our stop and disembarked. Georgie thanked the driver with a cheery wave. I could actually see the collective sigh of relief as we stepped to the curb. People.

It was a short walk to the boarding house, and a long three flights of stairs up to my apartment. I didn't mind. I'm in good shape, and my bedroom has a turret that gives me a panoramic view of the city. Nice.I knew there was somebody waiting for me long before I made it to the top of the stairs. So did Georgie. Being even more paranoid (and prepared) than I, he pulled a 9mm Glock from under the suit jacket, holding it discreetly against his pant leg, but with the safety switched off.

I nodded to George to cover me, and stepped out into the open to be greeted by my boss's assistant, Cail, dressed to the nines and feeling pissy. "Where have you been? I cannot believe you have the gall to miss the wedding. Have you no sense of propriety at all. Are you trying to annoy the heads of all three families? Because if you are, you're doing a fine job of it." I signalled that I was okay, and Georgie switched on the safety and put away his gun, stepping out of the shadows of the stairwell and into the hall.

"Who is this bozo?" Georgie asked.

"Who are you is a better question." Then to me. "Tell me you aren't stupid enough to have continued your association with . . ." he gave Georgie a look of distaste, "the criminal elements."

He wasn't frightened in the slightest. Which goes to show just how much of an idiot he could be. "You are going into that apartment, getting yourself presentable, and with me to the reception right now."

"No."

"Excuse me. Did that sound like a question to you? Because I assure you it wasn't."

Georgie was beginning to glower. I don't do a good glower. But I was losing my patience. Rapidly. It'd been a rough couple of days, and snobs like Cail just irritate the hell out of me.

"You are not going to humiliate your partner and tarnish her stellar reputation in a fit of pique."

That ticked me off. "Oh, so it's fine for her to humiliate me every chance she gets, but I'm supposed to play nice because she's got a 'reputation' to protect."

He gave me a smug look. "Precisely. I'm glad you finally understand the implications."

George hit him. Hard and fast, three times in rapid succession. Cail was down and out faster than you could say prissy asshole.

"Thank you Georgie."

"My pleasure. Really." He imitated Cail's voice perfectly on the last word, and it made me laugh.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my apartment key. Stepping over Cail's unconscious form without so much as a glance, George walked into my apartment and started taking a good look around. I stepped aside, waiting for the verdict.

"Nice. I like it. And with enough of a view you can see most trouble before it gets too close."

I smiled. I'd honestly found myself hoping he liked it.

"So, you gonna go to the reception or blow it off?"

I gave him a wicked grin. "That would depend."

His eyebrows shot up. "On?"

"Mostly on you. Do you feel up to irritating the hell out of a couple hundred snobs?"

He gave me a bland smile and a deadpan reply. "You do know how to show a guy a good time."