Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 14: The Doctor

     Katie left the book store and went straight back to her hotel suite. She always kept a stash of burner cells on hand in order to make untraceable calls when needed, and she didn't want any record of contact between her and the psychologist who had worked on the Strange Animal project.

     She still wasn't sure what to think of O'Keefe. He was paranoid, sure—but she happened to know there were people watching him. Goofy though he was, he seemed a nice enough guy. Deception was a core part of her job—of who she was, even, she'd been doing it so long—but she almost felt bad having to deceive him. What was it about this poor hapless janitor that made her sympathize with him? Well, clearly he was more than just a janitor—his service record was proof enough of that. She wondered if she could get him to talk about his time in the navy. Obviously that was a secret he didn't want shared, if not even Labelle knew about it. Or were they involved in keeping the secret, too?

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 13: The Confluence

     "I don't give a damn about your stupid football team," Nita said. "Something strange is going on, and I want to get to the bottom of it."

     "So sorry," replied Mary. She grabbed the remote off the coffee table and shut off the TV. "What's the matter? How did you find that book?"

     Lewis sat back down on the couch without a word. Something was definitely bothering Nita, and it made him anxious. His head swam from standing and sitting so rapidly—he hadn't had this much to drink since before his nervous breakdown.

     "I know you don't want to talk about it, Mary, and I hate to pry," began Nita as she pulled the armchair around the coffee table to face them both. "But, I need you to tell me about your trip to the BMV yesterday. I know there was a guy—or some people, I guess—who got on your nerves. Tell me about them."

     "Why?" Mary was annoyed by the question. She hated when Nita got all schoolmarmish on her—especially since she was a year younger than Mary. "What business is it—"

     "This is important," Nita interrupted. "Honestly, Mary—I wouldn't ask if it weren't."

     "OK, fine—there was some guy in line that kept trying to talk to me. I tried to use that book as a prop—to keep myself looking busy so he'd leave me alone."

     "But he didn't."

     "No he didn't."

 

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 12: The Call

     "Why you think I would know of such things?" Katie asked, after several pregnant seconds of pause.

     "Well," Seth replied, "because you're from Russia. Isn't the government pretty much always surveilling everyone there?"

     "Is not always way things seem in American media."

     "How do you mean?"

     "You are thinking of Soviet Union," she said. "And not even under communists was it as bad as Americans always think. Or so my parents tell me. I was born in Soviet Union, but grew up with glasnost and under Gorbachev and Yeltsin."

     "But what about Putin? I hear he's a control freak."

     "Putin cares for power," Katie responded. " He does not concern about peasant goings-on and the like." They sat for a moment, sipping their coffees, before Katie asked. "Why do you ask this?"

     "Oh, no reason."

     "I think you have reason, but do not wish to be sharing." She pouted.

     "Oh, all right," Seth said. "I suppose I can tell you." He paused and looked around the café as though he were expecting someone to be listening in on them. He nodded to where Nita was sitting and whispered, "I think she might be listening to us."

     Katie turned to look. Nita was busy looking busy. "I do no think she has been paying us any mind."

     "Someone has been watching me. It's the government, I think."

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 11: The Thief

     "You know, I used to be a kleptomaniac," said Mary in the most matter-of-fact voice of which she was capable after five or six glasses of Scotch.

     "Wait," Lewis replied, "Serssously? 'Cause … because, that just does … that just doesn't seem like you. Like, at all. I mean, you're so … a … such a … so such …" Despite his usual reluctance to drink alcohol, Lewis had tried to keep pace with her drink by drink.

     "An uptight bitch?" Mary finished for him.

     "Well, no. I wasn't gonna say that!"

     "Of course you weren't," said Mary. "You're too nice for that. And, I think, you're too timid."

     "I'm not timid."

     "Yes, you are. You're a big ol' 'fraidy-cat, you are." Mary added, "You're afraid of everything."

      "I am not!" Lewis was indignant. "I'm just … don't like … I just don't like to make decisions, is all."

     "But isn't that just because you're afraid?"

     "Yeah," he replied. "But I'm … not … not scared of everything. It's just that … that one thing. Just … limiting my choices. I'm … not a coward, or anything."

     "Then prove it," insisted Mary. "Call me a bitch."

     "Why?"

     "Because you wanted to say it, but didn't have the stones."

     "No, I—"

     "Yes," she interrupted him. "Yes, you did. Admit it."

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 10: The Contact

     The late-September sun shone through a break in the trees, nearly blinding Katie as she sat in her car watching a group of young men playing disc golf. They were laughing and drinking beer, which was, she was fairly certain, illegal in the park—the beer, that is, not the laughing. Or the disc golf—though watching the way these men behaved gave her the idea that maybe it should be. Or perhaps that was just the effect the beer was having on them that made the whole lot seem so intolerable.

     A black convertible roadster wound its way slowly down the gravel drive. She flashed her lights just as it crossed her line of sight. The car pulled up next to hers, facing the other way and the driver rolled down the window.

     Katie rolled her own window down and, without looking at the man in the other car, sent a text to the number she's been given by Gavrilo. It read, "That you, Fritz?" She could hear a tone go off from the other car.

     The man sent her back a message reading simply, "Miss Cavell." Katie turned in her seat to face him.

     "Thanks for meeting me here, DuQuesne," she began. "I believe you have something for me from Gavrilo."

     "Yes, Miss Cavell," the man replied. He was a man of very dark complexion and slight build with a close-cropped hair-cut. He was dressed in a dark coat, black shirt and hot pink tie. He turned to Katie and regarded her through his reflective cop shades. "And I believe you have something for us, as well."

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 09: The Roommate

     "Why can't I come along?" Lewis was using his anxious voice. The one which usually got him his way where Nita was concerned. 

     "Because," Nita replied, "I really need time to focus." She wasn't having any of his guilt-trip tactics this time.

     Nita's was the kind of room that left one with a feeling that just another couple of feet in one dimension or another would make it work. It wasn't cramped, exactly, but it wasn't quite big enough, either—especially for two people to share. There was a queen-sized bed, a tall dresser, a bookshelf and a very old desk and chair. None of this furniture matched. The state-of-the-art flat-screen TV on top of the dresser certainly looked out of place, as did the pychedellic paint job and the posters featuring bands from the 1960s and '70s.

     "I can be quiet. I'll just sit," he said. "And be quiet."

     "No, you won't." Nita had had far too much experience with Lewis to believe him. "I know you'll mean to, Honey, but I don't think you're actually capable." She could tell he was about to get into one of his down moods. She really couldn't afford to babysit him tonight, though—she had far too much work to do.

     "But—"

     "Listen, Lewis," she interjected, before he could really get going. "This is really important to me. Besides which, I want you to do me a special favor." 

     "Wait." Lewis was a bit surprised by this development. "What sort of favor?"

Solitaire

We have no choice but to play the hands we're dealt. Sure, there are rules by which the universe runs, but at its heart a lot of life is just chance, indifference—chaos unending. But, there's one thing that is always consistent: you're always there, watching me. 

Whether I fail or succeed, you're there, looking at me, weighing my worth as a human being. That's right, I see you giving me that look: that knowing look, that condescending look, that judging look. Or is that a look of pity—or of disappointment?