Elites

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Gina stares at me, utterly gobsmacked, across her kitchen counter. The wooden spoon she had been using to stir a delicious-smelling sauce now hovers near the small pot, dripping its bounty onto the stovetop. She doesn’t notice.

I wait, with droll amusement, for her to respond to my rather colorful description of the flash I experienced at the precinct. And wait.

I’m just about to cede defeat in our staring contest when a hiss comes from the stove. The sauce, now at a boil, is erupting over the side.

“s**t!” In the blink of an eye, her chef side reasserts control. She transfers the pot to an unlit burner, continuing to stir. The sauce accepts her attentions gleefully, and the bubbling subsides. With a huff, she tears a paper towel from a nearby roll and begins sopping up the mess.

I suppress a laugh. Gina, the consummate mom, is a pro at not using cusswords, so I can’t help but smile when the rare expletive escapes. Thankfully, Trina’s not here to call her on it. “Sorry. Maybe I should have waited till later to drop that bomb on you.”

She shakes her head, turns down the burner’s heat, replaces the pot on it, and continues working her magic on its contents. “You know, when I asked you about your day, I wasn’t expecting details of a flash straight out of a James Bond movie.”

“Tell me about it. Reliving this guy’s last stand in real time was…”

“Bat-nuts crazy?”

This time I don’t hold back the laugh. “Yeah, that.”

“Wow.” She grabs a cheap plastic spoon from a nearby box, samples her creation, and tosses the utensil in the garbage. “Hearing that story makes me glad I picked the door that read ‘quiet life’ when The Agency interviewed me. No offense.”

“None taken. So what do you think?”

Her brow furrows. “Seriously? You want me to tell you whether I think this Korean guy was an Elite?”

“Is that what the ones who can affect others are called?”

“That’s what my grandma, Rose, called them. Though if anyone in my family ever knew one, or knew someone who knew one, they never told me about it. So, I’m not sure how much help I can be.” She grabs another spoon. “Here, make yourself useful.”

As a rule, I never turn down a chance to sample anything Gina’s cooked up. She fills the spoon with sauce, blows on it a couple times, then guides it into my mouth. I immediately get the tang of lemon mixed with white wine, as well as a few other herbs I can’t identify. “What am I tasting?”

“A drizzle for a veal recipe I’m currently tweaking,” she says. “Thoughts?”

I let the taste linger on my tongue for a few seconds longer. “It’s terrific, but I think it’s missing something. Maybe a dash of onion powder?”

Her face lights up, and she grabs a small jar from her spice rack. After mixing in a few sprinkles, she takes another taste. “Good call,” she says, smacking her lips.

I fill another spoon and slurp it down. “Oh, yeah. There’s a winner.”

“You’re developing a palate. That’s wonderful.” She shuts off the burner, moves the pot to the back again, and makes a notation on a nearby notepad. “Thanks, Bax.”

“Anytime.”

Gina removes her apron and leads me to her sofa, where we sit. “So anyway, regarding your mystery man…tell me again why you think he’s psychic.”

“Just a feeling.” I picture the Korean’s cold, stoic face in my mind. “Jonathan called him ‘one of the most dangerous men in the world’. He held his hands out toward me, and it was literally like a switch had been thrown. All the strength just left my…um, his body. He was a sitting duck after that.”

She rubs her chin. “It’s possible, I suppose. But since I wasn’t there, I can’t render a judgement. Even if I could, this is way, way out of my league. You’re not planning on pursuing this case, are you?”

I don’t miss the motherly concern in her voice. “Hell, no. The cops didn’t seem to be getting anywhere, so they asked for my help, which I gave them. Where they go next has nothing to do with me.”

“Smart man.” She smacks my knee with her palm. “I was worried you were going to add ‘international espionage’ to your already crowded skill set.”

“What, you don’t think I could cut it as a superspy?” I give her a little eye-smolder while bringing my hands together in front of my face, finger guns locked and loaded. “Baxter. Bernard Baxter,” I add in a horrible British accent.

Her punctuated eye-roll tells me my self-confidence is misplaced.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I relent, putting one finger-gun against my head and squeezing the invisible trigger. “I think I’ll stick to making coffee for now.”

“Again, smart man.” Gina removes the tie holding her brown hair in place, letting if flow down just past her shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but having you next door gives me a great deal of comfort, and not just because you’re always there to look after Trina when things are hectic at the restaurant. Trina has asked a few times if we can knock down the wall separating our units so we can all live together.”

This brings a grin to my face. I can’t put into words how much having Gina and Trina in my life has meant to me. Nothing—not even the allure of becoming a dashing secret agent—could compare. “I could get behind that idea, but I doubt Ted would allow it.”

“Probably not. That reminds me, I need to ask him to fix our leaky bathtub faucet.” She digs her cell from her pocket and shoots off a text, which I presume is for our mustachioed property manager.

I use the brief silence to segue to the primary reason I came over. “So, is everything all set for tomorrow night?”

She sets her phone on the end table and faces me. “Just about. I have all the ingredients I need, and since I have tomorrow off, I’ll start my preparations as soon as Trina leaves for school.”

“Awesome.” I rub my hands together. “Piper says her dad, Angus, is as even-tempered as a man can be, but I still worry that when you’re meeting your daughter’s boyfriend for the first time, all bets are off.”

“You’ll do fine. Just tone down the snark and be the Bax I’ve grown to love.” She smiles.

“Good advice. Thanks again for agreeing to cater for us.”

Worry flashes through her dark brown eyes. “Well, don’t thank me yet. I’ve never made these dishes before. Fortunately, my old culinary instructor, Chef Bourque, was only too happy to give me some pointers.”

“I have the utmost confidence in you. Just let me know how much the tab was. I’m sure some of those items weren’t easy to get.”

“My pleasure. I love a challenge, especially when it comes to cooking. And I may have one other surprise for Piper’s dad.”

I blink several times. “What surprise?”

Her olive skin flushes. “I don’t want to say, in case I can’t come through. I should know by mid-afternoon one way or another. Are you working tomorrow?”

“Nine to three. I’m meeting Sheila after work so I can give her her present, but that probably won’t take more than an hour. Piper and her dad should be over by six-thirty.”

“All right then. Stop by when you get home so we can set up your table. I’ll break out the good china.”

Best. Neighbor. Ever.

Gina’s door is flung open and three preteen girls rush in, followed by a gust of frigid wind. Trina shuts it with a resounding thunk and tears the pink wool cap from her head, her little lungs heaving. Next to her, Cheyanne and Crescent draw in big gulps of toasty indoor air as they slide out of their thick, puffy jackets.

“Cold outside?” I ask, grinning stupidly.

Crescent gives me the stink-eye over the rim of her wire-framed glasses. “Like, duh.” She hugs herself and stamps her feet.

“Yeah, duh, Bax,” Cheyanne adds.

“Have you been out there?” Trina asks, rubbing her face with her mittened hands.

I nod.

“And you weren’t freezing?” Cheyanne points at my bare arms and thin white tee.

“I had that on,” I say, pointing to the Columbia jacket hanging on the seat I occupied earlier. “Besides, the cold never bothered me anyway.”

Cheyanne giggles at the reference to Frozen, by far her favorite movie.

Crescent’s glare intensifies. “Your jokes are getting worse.”

Trina smacks her shoulder. “Come on, Cres, just let it go.” Then she and Cheyanne lock eyes, grin hugely, and explode into song. “Let it gooooo, let it goooooooooo…”

Next to me, Gina shakes her head. “Now you’ve done it.”

“I regret nothing,” I reply.

Halfway into the chorus, Crescent claps her hands over her ears. “Jeez, stop, you guys! Every winter, it’s like you have a contest to see who can sing it worse!”

Cheyanne’s face falls. “We’re not that bad.”

“You’re not that good, either.”

“I’ll second that,” Gina says.

“Thank you, Ms. Forrester,” Crescent says, exasperated. “At least someone agrees with me.”

Trina opens her mouth as if to complain further, but instead changes the subject. “Mom, how long before dinner’s ready?”

Gina checks the antique pendulum clock on the wall. “About forty minutes.”

“Okay.”

The trio rush to the game console on the carpet next to Gina’s huge TV. Within moments, the girls are engrossed in a round of Super Smash Brothers and making little-girl small talk.

I face Gina, and we rise to our feet. “I guess that’s my cue to go. I want to get a jump on making my place spotless for tomorrow night.”

She nods in approval. I grab my jacket, shrug it on, and she leads me to the back door. “You’re gonna do fine, Bax. Piper loves you. I’m sure her dad will too.” She grins. “Especially after he sees what’s for dinner.”

I blow out a breath. “I hope so. It’s just…I’ve never had a relationship serious enough to warrant a ‘meet the parent’ moment, you know?”

“That’s the nature of the beast we call love.” She nudges my shoulder.

“And…the other thing we talked about?”

Gina averts her gaze for a moment, then clicks her tongue. “Don’t lose sleep over that, either. You got a peek into a world that I want no part of, and neither should you. We may be psychics, but that doesn’t mean we’re not entitled to lives that are just as boring as normal people’s.”

I laugh. “You know, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad.”

A raucous cheer erupts from the family room. I hear a “Got you, Mr. Ugly!” that I attribute to Trina.

Gina exhales deeply. “You think being a spy is tough? Try being a single mom.”

True, that. I honestly don’t know how she holds it all together. One of the many reasons I love her, and Trina, so much.

She leans in for a hug, which I return. I punctuate the embrace with a kiss on her temple. “See you tomorrow, G.”

“See ya.”