Saber looked out of the bus window. Jamison Grady, the “money manager” he was supposedly guarding, sat on the outside. Grady didn’t want to be near an open window, but Saber would have to leap over him to defend him. He had a gun, a knife in his boot, and a telescoping baton in his other boot. He was helping Jamison “escape” from his gunrunning group. Jamison knew no one would expect him to be with an Asian man on a bus. The homophobic and racist views of Dyson Ranier, the group’s head, were clear. Saber had nearly been forced to sleep with an underage informant, but he claimed that he was gay, and got her out of there in one piece. Actually, his handler had gotten her out of there, and she’d turned state’s evidence. Saber billed himself as a gunrunner with knowledge of the drug business, contacts that the group used to get their guns, and to sell drugs to fund their crusade. Saber personally knew of at least three bunkers of illegal weapons in the desert. He’d help stock them with illegal weapons he’d fronted. He’d made so many gun sales, and received so much in bath salts and other drugs, that he’d actually gotten bored. And, in this line of business, bored was dangerous.

Grady was on the run because he’d made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong person —another male on the team. The other guy, Damian Yellan, had rejected the suit to the point of trying to shoot Grady. In fact, Grady had a hole in his shirt that had been put there by a .22. He prevailed upon Saber to save him. Grady had several USBs on his body, and the books, contacts, and more of the group. He’d actually recorded drug deals using “salts” for bath salts, “white” for cocaine, “black” for black tar heroin, and various other pills as well. They were transferred on the backs of Hondas and Kawasakis; not Harleys, because Jamison thought the “rice burners” were less conspicuous when making deals. He had a point. Drugs were also bolted under the chassis of trucks.

Both the ATF and DEA were involved in taking down this group. The FBI had turned them onto the group, and Saber was doing a favor for people who had helped him to find out who had run over his wife, Wraith. He regretted some favors. He’d spent two weeks destroying a child pornography ring first. Wiping these people off the planet (at least figuratively), by putting them in prison, pleased him to no end. But, he felt like scrubbing his own skin off, and taking his brain out and washing it, after pretending to be a child molester for two weeks. Then, he spent a week doing buys at a roughneck camp, which seemed a little bit like bailing out a boat with a sieve. They’d do some time, and go back and do the same damn thing when they got out of jail, hired to work in the exact same place.

This gun and drug-running racist group was a mess. There were people crisscrossing state lines, and he was the third infiltrator. He’d been brought in to cause a confrontation that would allow any key player to be spirited out. This one had fallen into Saber’s lap, almost literally, and none too soon. His wives were in the hospital, and he needed to be with them.

“Damn man,” said Grady. “I gave him my love, and he fucken-well shot me!”

“Keep your voice down,” said Saber. “And, to be realistic, he might have been trying to protect himself.”

“You think?” asked Grady, with hope in his voice. He was a small man, with a small nose, watery blue eyes, and nervous fingers.

“Play a video game on your phone,” said Saber. “It’s what everyone else does on the bus. Or sleep.”

“What should I load?” asked Grady.

Saber took out his phone, which he’d long-since cloned, and sent him to Google Play. “Download the free ones.” It was a silly statement, he knew.

In truth, the man had money squirreled away in seven different accounts. He’d been skimming for years, and would have eventually run afoul of Jamison, anyway. Saber had been doing quite a bit of digging. He had been ready to get the guy separated that way. Then, Grady had done something stupid, and they were now “on the run.”

“What kind?” asked Grady, running his fingers through his longish brown hair.

“Jewel? Mystery? Finding hidden objects? Puzzle? Dude, whatever you like. Maybe download one of each. They’re free.”

“Fuck,” said Grady. “Lots of choices.”

“Pipe down,” said Saber. “Relax. You don’t wanna make the people around you pissed off because you won’t stop talking.”

“Okay,” said Grady. “So, five is good?”

Saber knew his guy was talking way too much because he was scared. “Dude, you’re drawing attention to yourself. That’s bad. You wanna talk to me, then text me.”

“Damned chink,” said Grady.

Saber took out his knife, and put it into Grady’s ribs. “You call me that one more time, I’ll gut you like a fish, cover you with the blanket in my pack, and hop off at the next stop like nothing happened,” he whispered in Grady’s ears. “I put up with that from Jamison for money and contacts. You’re paying me to get you out, but a lot less than I’ve made from him. I’m not putting up with crap. It’s not good business.” He made the knife disappear.

Grady was absolutely frozen, and for far too long. He was tense, with his neck muscles standing out. He then downloaded a video game, and started playing it. Saber relaxed, and pretended to sleep.

They went west, and crossed into Arizona. They hopped off, and had lunch in a coffee shop. Saber’s handler, Thierry Martinez came in, sat down, and ate lunch with them. He had long black hair and dark eyes, and was wearing black jeans, a pale blue shirt, boots, and a ball cap.

He sat down, and slid an envelope under the table. “Plane ticket,” said Thierry.

“Thanks,” said Saber, finishing his pecan waffle. “Can you get this guy where you’re going?” He slipped an envelope with six USBs in it to Thierry, it contained all of the information he’d compiled —photos, websites, everything.

“Of course,” said Thierry. “The price is right.”

“Where am I going?” asked Grady, pushing around the sausages on his plate.

“You’re getting a whole new life,” said Thierry. Thierry had failed to finish the sentence. He smiled. “In federal lockup, after ratting out all your ‘friends.’”

All three men stood, and they filed out. Saber watched Thierry arrest Grady, and put him into a black SUV. He waved, and called an Uber. He went off to ship his gun and knife first, the ones he couldn’t take on a plane, in a specialized box. He gave the tracking number to his bosses, so Homeland Security didn’t freak out.

The plane flight didn’t take long. He barely had time for a tiny bag of pretzels and a Coke. He landed, and called another Uber. He went home first, and the cat attacked his feet. He laughed, petted her, and gave her a treat. He saw the strips of feathers on the floor, and was delighted. It was obviously Sigrun’s handiwork. He washed the stink of case after case off his body, and dressed in comfortable blue jeans and a T-shirt. He filed away his David Chang ID, and picked up his real one. He rode his bike to the hospital, but took a side trip to Sonic.

Sigrun saw him first, squealed, and then attacked him. He barely got the food on the tray before the drinks went sloshing to the floor. He held her gently, worried about her ribs, and felt her tears on his neck.

“I am so sorry I wasn’t here,” he said. He carried Sigrun forward, and managed to bend down to kiss Wraith. “My love, I am so sorry for your pain, and that I wasn’t here to help.”

“I get why,” said Wraith. “I’m really pissed, primarily at them. They knew I needed you and took you away from me. Did you get the baddies?”

“Several jobs, and all of them either went down or are going down,” he said. He put his finger to his lips, then blew on them.

“We’ll never speak of it again,” she said.

“Off, Sigrun,” said Saber, contradicting himself by holding her close. “I need to sleep with our wife.”

“I’ll lock the door,” said Sigrun, finally letting him go.

“Can we do that?” asked Saber, kicking off his motorcycle boots.

“Just did rounds, and I’m drugged up,” said Wraith.

He laid his summer-vented jacket over the ugly pink chair, and slid in with her. “How are we going to do this?” he asked. “Please, please… tell me what you want. I don’t want to damage you.”

In response, she grabbed his hand, and put it on her breasts. He pulled up her soft shirt, and gently sucked on her breasts. He put a hand down her shorts and she groaned.

“Keep your head still, baby,” he said. “Don’t damage yourself.”

He used his tongue on her breasts, then sucked each one. He used his fingers, and put them deep inside. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. He put his fingers deep inside, and made her come, again and again. He cleaned them both up with a helpful wet wipe, and gently held her.

“My turn,” said Sigrun.

She dragged him to the ugly pink chair, and then sat him down. She kissed his face and his neck, biting his ear. She put her hands down his pants, and grabbed him. She pulled down his jeans, and bit, sucked, and kissed him until he came. She cleaned them both up, and he held her for a long time.

He slid into the bed with Wraith. “How the hell did you get a single room?” he asked.

“Connections. Contacts. And the fact I’m an agent,” she said. He laid on his side and draped an arm over his stomach. He was terrified of jostling her.

“Let’s get the Netflix going,” said Sigrun.

“I brought Sonic,” Saber said.

“I love you,” said Wraith.

There were kisses all around, and cherry lime drinks, and cheese fries, and lots more. Sigrun unlocked the door before the next rounds were due. They sat and laughed, and watched action movies and giggled over the silly parts. They had their hands on each other, unable to stop touching, when Saber fell into an exhausted sleep.

“Sleep, baby,” said Sigrun. “I’ll watch out for both of you.”

“We’ve got to all of us exchange rings,” said Wraith.

“When you’re outta here,” said Sigrun. “And with our man back, that’ll be before you know it.”

“We have the coolest family,” said Wraith.

“That we do,” said Sigrun. “Close your eyes.” She put on a video on how to run your own business, and she made little feather toys while they slept.

Henry examined the feather toy. “Not my thing, but I’m not a cat.”

David held up the strand of leather with fake feathers sewn on, as well as soft, chewy, plastic knobs in various colors that were tied to the toy. “The workmanship is exquisite. Eye-catching colors; blue, maroon, yellow. Cats love them. The materials are cheap enough to make in bulk. I know of at least three crafters on the res that can do it. I do far more intricate work, so I wouldn’t be interested, but these could sell well online. By the case.”

“Well then,” said Henry. “What are you going to do about it?”

David stroked his cheek. “Have a crafters’ powwow, of course,” he said.

Sigrun brought the parts, and showed how to make it. Tracy Bonesta quickly picked up on it, and created one while sitting in front of Sigrun. Tracy was left-handed. Tracy had a square face, her hair back in a bun, nimble fingers, a ready smile, and an infectious laugh. She made two, then showed the others.

“How much you paying?” asked Tracy. “I can do this two hours a day, four days a week. Do a dozen to start, but once we get going, we’ll fill up a warehouse. You provide the materials.”

“Got a Las Vegas party company going out of business,” said Sigrun. “Bought fake, feather boas by the case.”

“Deerskin would be softest,” said Regina Moore. “But be a waste of good deerskin to use on cats.”

“Got a supplier for that,” said Sigrun. “Fake leather. Already dyed. And the soft plastic knobs are a part to a discontinued toy. Got ‘em cheap. I suggest paying you sixty percent of the final price.” She sighed. “The toys haven’t caught on that well. Only did orders for singles. I sent them to various large pet stores, but they haven’t replied.”

“Go to the boutique pet stores, groomers and the like,” suggested Regina. “It would be a good thing to sell them, brightly colored, on the wall by the cash register. Need a nice-looking cardboard card to attach it to, to catch the eye.”

“Feline Feathers,” said Sigrun, holding up the blue cardboard card with a white cat on one side, a tabby kitten near the bottom of the other one. “Got Alo to design it for me. They attach with simple twist ties.”

“Good,” said Tracy. “I hate cutting off that plastic stuff. And you can reuse the twist ties.”

“We’ll go with you,” said Regina. She stood up. “I’m finished with this one. Hand me one of those cardboard things and two twist ties.”

So, David ended up driving Regina, Sigrun and Tracy to several groomers and pet stores, and left the pretty cards and the attached toys. They took two into each shop, and played with kittens. David was shocked when Regina adopted two kittens, one a gold male with a white chin, and one a female; a gray tabby. And then they had to take the kittens to the vet. The vet loved the toy, and they gave him three. He put in an order, right then and there, for three boxes. Sigrun priced them at three dollars, per toy, and gave him a ten percent, bulk discount. They then used the kittens as examples with three more vets and boutique pet supply stores, and got sales in three out of four, before taking the well-loved kittens home to the res. Then, David took Sigrun back to the Big House to retrieve her Harley.

“That was fun, and unexpected,” said Sigrun. “Nice to get out of that damned hospital. If I never see another one, it will be too soon.”

David nodded. “For all of us, too. When is Wraith getting out?”

Sigrun laughed. “Yesterday, she says. The doctors and nurses want her out because she’s being bitchy. The last holdout, Dr. Friedman, the PT guy, he is gonna get overruled. We’re at the point that she can move around to the bathroom with a walker, and we can take her back and forth for physical therapy.”

“Let us know what we can do to help,” he said. They hugged. “And thank you.”

“For what?” asked Sigrun.

“For something that brings in a little more. A little more means a good winter. A little more means the bills get paid. A little more means they can stay in their own house. A little more means… so much. If they piece together enough of those ‘a little more’ things, they can make a real living, and can stay on the res.”

Sigrun wiped away the tears that sprung into her eyes. “I have been so wrapped up in Wraith, and Saber being gone, and trying to get my classes done, that in some way, that didn’t involve being there. One minute at a time, you know? And the medical bills are piling up. I want a way to pay for my own school, which is fucking expensive, you know? Pay my own way. My insurance sucks, got it through the school. Wraith and Saber both have government insurance, but they still had deductibles. Stuff the insurance refuses to pay. So, Saber gets taken away from us to go do the deal. Pay everyone off, and we do a little happy dance, you know? The Valkyries stepped in, said they’d help us fight the insurance company for what we need, showed us ways to cut costs. Lily is helping us with the books, took it over from me. The Valkyries will front us for everything, and we gotta pay it back. But, I hate it.” She brushed tears from her eyes. “My sisters shouldn’t have to pay. But then, we won’t have the power cut off or someone repossess our condo. I was living in Candyland, in a fantasy world. I forgot other people got it tough too, you know?”

David stepped forward and held her close. “I wouldn’t call it Candyland,” he said into her hair. “Just let it go.” She wept into his shirt, all the pain, and fear, and anguish, and suffering of the last months were now running out of her like rain from the sky.

When her sobs began to recede, he sang the sacred songs to her, and stroked her hair, the smooth bits, and ran his fingers over the braided bits. He took a tissue packet out of the back of his jeans pocket, and gave it to her.

He sang her down, and soon she was smiling again. “Thank you,” she said.

“Go, and don’t worry. We will find a way to help you pay the Valkyries back. And, it may not seem like it now, but I know Wraith. She will push and push and be back at work before you know it. It may not be what she did before. Her agency needs all kinds of people. Or, she may switch agencies. But, she’ll be bringing in a paycheck, not just her medical leave money. So, don’t worry. Let it go. You are three, and three people can do a lot.”

Sigrun wiped her eyes, then popped them open. “My medical sketches! Dr. Ho and Dr. Friedman say that I can use my sketches to help design 3D parts, artificial limbs, and all sorts of things!”

“Look into drafting,” said David. “And anatomy and physiology.”

“More medical stuff!” Sigrun groaned. David laughed. “But, you’re right. If I understand what I’m drawing, and how that can be applied to 3D printers… I can help people.” She looked up and smiled. “Really help people.”

“You already are,” said David. “Now, go. You’re exhausted. Get some sleep.”

“Yes,” she said. She hugged him again, and jogged to her Harley.

Henry came out of the house, and stood on the porch with him. “She okay?” he asked. He stood next to David, and put his arm around his waist.

“She will be,” said David. “She has a strong spirit.”

“So do we all,” said Henry. “Can’t really be one of us without it.”

“It would seem so,” said David. “Even the damaged ones heal around us.”

“Come in,” said Henry. “We have shredded chicken and fry bread, and fresh salsa.”

“Now you’re talking,” said David. He followed Henry into the house.

* * *

Lily interviewed Jaci Summers, a recent accounting graduate. Jaci had wild black hair, snapping black eyes, and golden skin. She had tiny hands and feet. She wore what would be appropriate if she was going to work at a small office —black pants, a short-sleeved black jacket, and a gold, silk shirt. Jaci had spent three summers working in an accounting office. That company had a split, its two partners in an acrimonious divorce.

“Where do you want to work?” asked Lily. “I can give you a desk here, or you can work from home.”

“We can rent a single room in an office.”

“I looked at some of those places for rent,” said Lily. “To be blunt, firstly, I’d rather pay you than the bill for that. The other, is that many of them have those open plans, or glass walls. I don’t want to see anyone, or for them to see me. I’m not a goldfish.”

“New trend,” said Jaci. “And, I can work in coffee shops. I have roommates, so working at home won’t work. You have kids, so here won’t work for me, either. I have a narrow focus, just love to get it done.”

“Would you want a fifty dollar coffee card, per month?” asked Lily.

Jaci laughed. “Nice perk. There are also on-demand offices. We can use it for when we meet clients.”

Lily laughed. “I don’t mean to put you down, but our clientele is primarily small businesses and motorcycle clubs.”

Jaci sat up straight. “I have always wanted a Harley. Don’t have the money. Don’t have money for my own apartment, either.”

“No commute,” said Lily. “Coffee shops, remember?”

“So, you have so many of them and you want to hire me?”

Lily laughed. “I have a client that keeps spinning off new businesses. Just had two —one to pay off debt, one that is a small business selling cat toys, believe it or not. I am surrounded by hard workers that are working hard to make a buck.”

“You could work with people online, on demand,” said Jaci.

“Yeah, but these are my friends and family. Trust is involved. I want to keep a sterling reputation. I will use people online, absolutely, especially during tax season. I refuse to lose sleep.” She laughed. “I get as little of it as possible, anyway. And, I hired someone, and she’s got enough on her plate, and we keep getting more work, so, you.”

“So, me,” said Jaci. “I’m liking the salary. Great for us ‘just-graduated’ types.”

“You come highly recommended,” said Lily. “I believe Jerry Phillips said to me, specifically, that you, ‘wouldn’t get your panties in a twist over working small businesses run by bikers.’”

Jaci laughed. “Sounds liked Jerry.”

“Denise recommended you, too. She seems to be…”

“Off,” said Jaci, going the diplomatic route.

“Good way of putting it,” said Lily. “Jerry doesn’t get what’s going on with her. I tried to warn him, but he kinda ignored me, said he’d stand by her.” She sighed. “Bad move. Loyal, kind, gentle, but it’s kinda like she’s swallowed some razor blades.”

Jaci nodded. “I’m not comfortable discussing this.”

“Good woman,” said Lily. “So, do you want to start today?”

“Aren’t you going to interview anyone else?” asked Jaci.

“Nope,” said Lily. “I need a badass.”

“I’m a badass?” asked Jaci. First of all, her new boss had called her a woman. Most of the places she’d been interviewed at had called her a “trainee” or a “girl.” “Badass” was just… cool.

“You are,” said Lily. “You survived working for people going through an acrimonious divorce while still keeping your clients happy and acting in a professional manner.”

“Thank you,” said Jaci. “So, I brought my laptop. Newly scrubbed, too. My hard drive got an error. I’ve got data backup, and work on an external hard drive, and a backed-up cloud drive.”

“Shut up,” said Lily. “First, sign this.” She handed over a slim folder, and Jaci signed her non-disclosure agreement, W2 for tax purposes, and her insurance paperwork. “I get insurance?” she said.

“You’re not an independent contractor, and I do expect that you will work thirty (plus) hours a week, and a lot more during tax season. So, you get insurance.”

Jaci sat there for a moment, trying not to cry with happiness. I am a badass, she thought. Badasses pull their shit together on their first day of work. With real insurance. She attacked the paperwork with a vengeance.

She opened her laptop, and they worked for a while. Jaci was relieved that Lily worked with easy-to-use software. She took on three businesses, got the books in order, and learned the banking passwords.

A loud wail interrupted them, then a second one met the first. “They’re up,” said Lily. “Go home, Jaci, and come back tomorrow at seven.”

“Seven am?” asked Jaci.

“These ones are up early,” she said. “I’ll get them fed, and we’ll give you more. You’re going to have plenty to do.”

“I can see that,” said Jaci. The two dogs followed her to the door, and grinned at her with doggy grins. She let herself out.

Run

Bannon woke up, stretched, and slid out of bed. He did his morning ablutions, read his meditation book, and put on his running shorts. His German shepherd, Pepper, a former military dog, was up and ready to go. It was barely turning light, the only time to run in Vegas in the summer. He stretched, then ran to the track at the high school. He jogged two circuits, then built up into a run. He ran, then sprinted, then ran, then jogged, then ran again. He thought of doing the hurdles, but he wasn’t a young man anymore.

He walked the last two, stretched, and said “Hello” to the coach, Tami Martinez-Myers. She was a brown-haired woman who was fleet of foot and always ready with a whistle. Tami challenged him to go up the stairs on his hands, and so they went up —and back down again. She started her run, and he waved goodbye.

He took the run home at a solid pace. He waved hello to Tom, the security guard. He got in the elevator, and went up to his condo. He’d gotten a great deal in more than one way. Gregory had helped Tito rehab the entire building, and he, wanted to buy an entire building. He bought it from Tito, and Bannon had then “stolen” Gregory. A man with those skills, working construction, even as a hobby… Bannon shuddered. He could have damaged those amazing hands.

Bannon went in, undressed, showered, and came out into the kitchen in only his boxer shorts. He beat two eggs in a mug, added shredded cheese and diced red bell pepper, and added Italian spices. He zapped it in the microwave, and took out his herbed, cheesy biscuits; just two. And three slices of bacon. The bacon was cooked in the microwave, and then the biscuits reheated. He added a pat of butter to each, and ate breakfast at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice. He ate quickly, rinsed the dishes, silverware, glass, and mug, and put them into the dishwasher. He brushed his teeth, dressed in light gray slacks, a blue polo shirt, and a vented motorcycle jacket. He put his gun in his hidden pocket, gave the dog some love, and headed out. Guys like him usually drove SUVs, but Gregory had turned him to using a Harley to get to work, and then the company SUVs could hang out in the garage until needed. He loved the control and responsiveness of the Harley, and the noise. He loved the noise.

He saluted the guard. Yancey was ex-military, and he also paid her to maintain his Harley in its mint condition. He rode in, parked in motorcycle parking (which was conveniently located near the elevator), and rode up to the third floor. Bannon got out, and his admin Jaime Choi rushed up. Jaime was a former lieutenant, admin to a General Harper, and seemed to think he was still in the military. He was also dressed in slacks and a polo shirt, but he had a sidearm. Bannon’s gun was hidden. Choi had his black hair in a military haircut. Bannon suspected he still wore dog tags.

“Sir,” he said, “You have two meetings. Fabian Darley is in One, and Travis Chalke is early, in Two.”

“Order breakfast for Two and put it on our tab,” said Bannon. He took the proffered folder, and stepped in to Conference Room One. Fabian Darley was sitting back, teacup in hand. He was blonde, with a square, ruddy face, and large ears. The man was wearing an aqua golf shirt and yellow slacks. Bannon praised his inner prissy self that had a full tea set on hand.

“G’day,” said Darley.

“Hello, mate,” said Bannon. Darley put his cup down. They shook hands, and then both men sat. “I hear you want to hire us for security.”

“Amazing Grace, she is,” said Darley. He was referring to Grace Alawa. She was an Australian Aborigine who made amazing music, with a guitar and a voice that could hit notes that only dogs could hear.

“She is,” agreed Bannon, easily. “She’s fifteen. Are you worried about a crazed fan?”

“Ever since that girl from American Idol…”

“It was The Voice, American version, and she was amazing,” said Bannon. “A natural singer. So, yes, we can protect her. Does she want to go to clubs?”

“Clubs?” asked Darley, stunned.

“We have under-twenty-one clubs where she can dance,” said Bannon. “There’s some pool ones where she can swim, too.”

“Hmm,” said Darley. “She’s here for a week, and only five performances, two each on two nights. So, yeah, she might like that. I’ll send a text.” He texted her.

“We’ll have limos taking her from place to place, armored,” said Bannon. “We can have women with her, too, that would make her feel more comfortable. We also have the possibility that we could investigate —of her meeting a singer or two.”

“Really?” asked Darley.

“We can try. No promises, so say nothing to her about it. Make sure she’s super-polite to them, especially if she doesn’t know who they are. They can still tell her things about the business.”

“Good,” said Darley. “Your price is a little high, but you’re helpful.”

“We have great service,” said Bannon. “And, you won’t have to go through layers of flunkies. You’ll be working with me. I’ll put my top female operatives on this one.”

“Excellent,” said Darley. The men shook hands. Darley’s cell phone dinged. “She says there’s one called Lemon Beach. She says that looks fun.”

“I’ll tell our operatives to book it. If she wants to see a magic show, or whatever, please let us know. And, we’ve got her rehearsal space booked.”

“Excellent!” said Darley. “Thank you. You’re a good sort, aren’t you?”

“We do try,” said Bannon. “Mr. Choi, my admin, will be in with the paperwork. Please do not hesitate to ask for what you want.”

“Thanks, mate,” said Darley.

“Fantastic doing business for you, mate,” said Bannon. They shook hands again, and Bannon stepped out.

“Yes, it was.” Darley smiled.

Choi zipped up. “Book Lemon Beach for our Grace,” said Bannon. “Full contract.”

“Good,” said Choi. “Travis Chalke refused breakfast. His entourage were nearly wilted. I slipped in some fruit and croissants, on the house. His entourage became quite happy.”

“Good,” said Bannon. They traded files.

“Mr. Chalke,” said Bannon, as he entered the conference room. He didn’t offer his hand, and neither did Chalke. Chalke had narrow raisin eyes, a doughy face that looked somehow unformed, a barrel chest, and wide hands with squared-off fingers. “You wish for a guardian?”

“For my ward,” Mr. Chalke said. “I am from Chalke, Tanner, and Danby. Our client’s name is Ryse. Ms. Ryse never married, and her family was killed in a…” The man visibly shuddered. “A poisoning. The father was angry with the mother, and inadvertently murdered six family members and family friends. Poisoned the wife’s favorite tea. Got the wife, too. Ms. Ryse was away at college, so she wasn’t poisoned. The poisoner drank his poison when he saw his youngest daughter die. Ms. Ryse was artificially inseminated some years later, and had a daughter. She worked for us, for a number of years. She became quite rich running our real estate investment trust, and made some investments. She died suddenly, heart attack. Her daughter is twelve. I am her ward.” He shuddered. “I have no interest in children. I do not understand them. She refuses —outright refuses, to go to boarding school! She says she will run away if she goes. She is twelve. She hates my home, my furniture. I do not know what to do.”

“I do,” said Bannon. “Leave it to me. I take it she has a trust, for education, and so forth?”

“Yes, of course,” said Chalke.

“Well, we will enroll her in school, and she needs a place to live, and a parent/protector, whenever she is not in school. We have several for hire, and they are all military trained,” said Bannon. “We will need guardianship papers for the capacity to choose a school, interact with teachers, get her proper medical care, and the like.”

“Excellent,” said Chalke.

“This is far past a full-time job,” said Bannon. “There must be more than one person to care for her, in case of illness of the… care provider. She also needs food, clothing, school supplies, and much more.” He knew the trust was for twenty million dollars and change, and would keep gaining in value.

“One hundred thousand dollars a year in salary,” said Chalke. “That is more than some CEOs make.”

“Plus life, and health insurance,” said Bannon.

Chalke narrowed his gaze. “Your employee would already have…”

Bannon cut him off. “For the child, of course. A policy that grows for her.”

“Of course,” said Chalke.

“And access to the trust, specifically for the child’s needs.”

“I will have my assistant, Sheila Banks-Monroe, set up payments.”

“Excellent,” said Bannon. “One more thing. What is the child’s name?”

“Sarah. Sarah Ryse.” He didn’t have the grace to look discomfited.

Bannon sighed inwardly. “Where is Sarah located?”

“She is downstairs in the car.”

“Alone?” asked Bannon.

“Of course not. She is with my driver.”

“My assistant, Mr. Choi, will bring in the paperwork at once. I will take the child off your hands, immediately. I’m certain you have a busy day.”

“Yes,” said Chalke. “A busy day. I have other concerns, you know.”

“I’m certain that you do,” said Bannon. He stood, and exited the room.

Choi bustled out of One. “I’m making copies for Darley.”

“Walk with me,” said Bannon. He gave Choi the rundown.

Choi made his face more and more impassive, until it was granite by the time the two men got to the elevator. “I’ll have everything done at once.”

“Make this ironclad,” said Bannon. “I can’t get custody away from him, but I want him to forget she exists, except when getting whatever cut he gets from the trust.” He sighed. “And get someone to watch him. I want to be sure he doesn’t loot it.”

“Done,” said Choi, as the elevator dinged.

Bannon figured that a limo wouldn’t be hard to find. He was correct; it was a Silver Cloud Mercedes. The girl inside had black hair that covered her face. She wore khakis and a black T-shirt. She was banging away on a cell phone.

Bannon stopped and talked to a driver. “I have permission to take Ms. Ryse. Please call your employer if you don’t believe me.”

The driver was a man with a bladelike nose and huge brown eyes with a chauffeur’s cap, who was working on his own cell phone. Bannon recognized the software; the man was making stock trades.

“Have you met Mr. Chalke?” asked the driver.

“I just came from a meeting with him,” said Bannon.

“Would you want to talk with him?” asked the driver.

“Point taken,” said Bannon.

“Are you going to take good care of Miss Sarah?” asked the driver.

“The very best,” said Bannon.

“I’m the one that put the bug in his ear about hiring someone to care for Miss Sarah,” he said. “Do better than your best, Sir.”

“I give you my word,” said Bannon. The two men shook hands.

Bannon opened the back door. Sarah looked at him, eyes wide. “Please don’t be nervous,” said Bannon. “I have several living situations for you to choose from. No boarding schools involved.”

She grabbed a backpack off the floor. “Give Mr. Singh your card. He’ll have my stuff delivered where you want.” She sighed. “Not much left. The bastard had the house sold before I got all of it out. All my furniture’s gone.”

Bannon handed over his card. Mr. Singh took it. “One lady I know is really good about making pods.”

“Pods?” asked Sarah.

“May I carry your backpack?” It was stuffed.

“Please,” said Sarah.

“The pods are bunk beds that are enclosed, to make a private space, with lighting, a little fold-down desk, a shelf, and cushions. They’re tall enough so you can sit up in them. A lot of teens I know like them.”

“Not a teen for five months,” said Sarah. “So, I really get to choose where I live?”

“And who you live with. I bought a condo building. Most of my staff lives there. I live there too. Most have three bedrooms. A few have two. I checked, and you can attend your current school, if you so desire.”

Sarah blew out a breath as the elevator dinged. “Good. I don’t want to leave my friends.” They stepped into the elevator. “It’s private, but not hoity-toity. No uniforms, exactly, just khakis and polo shirts. We can wear khaki shorts if we want. They hung out with me even when I got really sad when Mom died.”

The elevator opened. “Let me take you to a conference room, and you can make a decision,” said Bannon.

“Of parents?”

“Sadly,” said Bannon, as he led her to the small conference room; Three, on the side, “we can’t be legal parents. Just guardians. I can’t take away custody because he technically didn’t abuse you. But, we got you the best deal we could, and it gets whoever you choose paid enough money so the person can quit work, or change jobs if your needs change. You’ll have whatever you need, when you need it.”

There were three folders on the table. Red, blue, and green. Sarah opened each one. Two female operatives and a male, all young, healthy, and fit. “Where’s yours?” asked Grace.

Choi bustled in, tray in one hand, a folder in the other. “Sorry, Sarah. Had to print it out.” He put the tray on the table. “I’ve got both my assistants hopping, the legal aid and the contract specialist.” He handed her a yellow folder. “This one’s Bannon’s folder.” He put the tray down. “I took the liberty of having some Sonic brought over. Two blocks away, you know.”

“One of the selling points of the office,” said Bannon, amused. He and Sarah sat down.

“I got a cherry crush and a chocolate shake. Bannon likes either one, he’ll drink the one you don’t like. You were probably too nervous to eat, so I got you some cheese sticks and fries.”

Sarah took both drinks, and selected the cherry crush. She then took the Sonic bag. “Where’s your folder?” asked Sarah.

Choi schooled his face again, but both Sarah and Bannon saw the tears rush into his eyes. “I’ll get it,” he said. “Be right back.”

“Good choice,” said Bannon. “I’ll be second, a backup if you need me. He lives above me, actually. Makes fun of me for living over his boss. He’s married to Kat. Kat’s a man, by the way. They’ve been trying to adopt off and on for four and a half years. They’re saving up money for another go.”

“Well, then,” said Sarah. “Do you have house pictures?”

“I can do better,” said Bannon, watching Sarah demolish her cheese sticks, dipping them in marinara sauce before inhaling them. “I’ve got party pictures.” He took out his phone, and called up the Christmas party, held at Choi’s house. Most of them lived there, anyway. “Safest building in the world. Most of us are ex-military. Sold the bottom floor to a cop. Security’s our own people, making an extra buck. Incentive to keep your own condo safe, no?”

She played the short video. Kat was in a white dress, laughing. “Transvestite?”

“Works in a show. Awesome show,” said Bannon.

“Cool,” said Sarah. “Like RuPaul.”

Choi came back in with a folder, in red. Bannon took back his phone. “I’m going to check every signature on Mr. Chalke’s documents,” he said. “Twice.” He pulled out a chair, and pulled Choi into it. “Give the girl a minute,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll have lots to talk about.” He took his chocolate shake with him, and gently shut the door.

“Two,” he said. Lydia stood up from her desk and came over. “Chocolate shake,” he said.

“Bless you,” said Lydia. “Dotting all our I’s and crossing our T’s. On camera, I might add.”

“Good,” said Bannon.

Bannon said goodbye to Darley, and saw him to the elevator. Lydia sent in her minion Charles to clean up the tea set, and to prepare for Trellin.

Bannon entered the restroom, made sure no one was there, and made a quick call. “Kat,” he said. “I know this is early for you, but wake up. Your life is about to change. Get dressed, come into my office, and no arguing. Love you, bye.” He washed his hands, dried them, and came out. “Where’s Trellin?”

“In One,” said Lydia. “Coffees all around, black, no sugar.”

“Davy’s hopping today.” Davy was their barista. He also had a selection of sandwiches, croissants, and the breakfast food in the morning. He was fast, efficient, and the best way to keep a busy office supplied with drinks. The admins were super-busy and didn’t need to also fetch and carry.

“He is,” she said. She handed him a folder. “Good luck, Sir,” she said.

“I’ll need it,” he said. He took the folder and entered the conference room. “I am Bannon,” he said. “This is my company.”

“We spoke to Gregory,” said the huge, pink-faced man with red hair and a beard, adorned in a three-piece suit. Bannon expected him to have a pocket watch on a chain somewhere in there.

“You did,” said Bannon. He sat down, and poured himself coffee. “Gregory is onsite, and he should be here by the time our business is concluded.”

“Excellent,” said the man. “I am Dennis MacRoberts. Can you ensure our safety during our conference?”

“I can,” said Bannon. “Know that if someone wants you dead, they may try more than once, or use something like a bazooka or some other thing that is hard to see coming. But, we will have both hotel security and ourselves, and will have everything on visual and wired with our own system. We will have redundancies. All the operatives will be military-trained.”

“Excellent,” said MacRoberts. “Now, let’s talk price.”

“I believe Gregory already discussed that with you,” said Bannon. “If you want a lower price, you get less coverage. Period.”

“Some of these books are priceless,” said a woman with auburn hair and a much lighter suit in mauve, much more appropriate for Las Vegas.

The other two men had on light sweaters and pants. They must have been roasting. Bannon resolved to turn down the air conditioner in that office. One was cadaverous, and the other one was as round as MacRoberts.

“I have no control over the person that manufactured the climate-controlled lockboxes,” said Bannon. “I do have control over access.”

“Armed and armored,” said Gregory, entering the room.

Bannon stood. “I will leave you with your clients,” said Bannon. “You are in excellent hands.”

Gregory took his chair. “Now, gentlemen —and lady. Where were we?”

Bannon slipped out, coffee still in hand, and turned down the room temperature on the way out. Lydia was typing away, her fingers a blur on the keys. He had a moment, then.

The elevator dinged. Kat came out in full regalia. Her black hair was perfect, in a short, blunt cut. The makeup made her cinnamon skin glow, and brought out the blue of her eyes. She was wearing a pale blue top and a darker blue skirt. Bannon hurried to open the door, and let her in.

“The tissues are in my purse,” she said.

“Good idea,” said Bannon.

“I’m terrified,” she said.

“Relax,” said Bannon.

He walked her to Three, and opened the door. Choi had one of the tablets out of the box and plugged into the outlet strip in the center of the table. He was explaining what to download.

“Mommy Two!” said Sarah. Kat strode over, and hugged the girl. “Dad’s showing me some educational programs, and some games. I’ve never had a dad before. It’s kinda weird.”

Bannon slid the door shut, and wondered where the girl got her definitions of “weird” from. He grabbed a moment, and escaped to his office to answer some emails before the next meeting.

He didn’t have to see Chalke out. He was overjoyed. He was actually able to get seven emails out of his inbox, then he had a new appointment with a rugby team. The team actually needed protection from itself, as they tended to get into fights, postgame. He set them up with security and tickets to mixed, martial arts, cage fighting, followed by going to a pub that allowed loud singing, followed by a poker game, with drinks served by beautiful women, until dawn. The promoters were very happy.

Bannon was able to get twenty more minutes of emails out before being called to a luncheon with a client. Dani Everson was smart, funny, and had legs to everywhere, and liked to dress in business suits that made her legs look even longer in black, plum, or cherry. She was dressed in cherry today, her blonde hair smoothed back and caught in a silver clip at the nape of her neck, her black eyes snapping with intelligence and excitement —and more than a little mischief. Dani was an attorney, and a damned good one, an entertainment lawyer, in fact. The idea was to use Bannon and Gregory’s agency to avoid trouble, so she wouldn’t have to get her clients out of sticky messes.

“It’s Sheila,” she said.

Bannon nodded. Sheila was really Demi Kodasecker, a fourteen-year-old girl from a small farm in Australia. Her parents had made the difficult decision to move to the United States, because she could sing, dance, and play both the guitar and the keyboard. They were auditioning amazingly-talented women for her band, some backup singers, and some male and female dancers. Bannon handled security at the event. He (once again) thanked the universe for sending the Soldier Pack his way. His female operatives made Sheila feel fantastic with their quiet competence.

The mother was the problem. Mrs. Kodasecker had never been out of her small desert town. She wanted to shield her daughter from everything possible, but Sheila was now in a business full of sharks who saw her as a meal ticket, and wanted to sexualize her to sell more MP3s. Rather than letting her get chewed up and spat out, Dani wanted to get everyone on board to go indie. They would make far less money and be playing in smaller venues. They would also have to compete against those who had signed up for the label’s promotion machine. As much as she didn’t trust the record labels and their smooth words, Mrs. Kodasecker was terrified to take her daughter out of the juggernaut and take a path that could lead… nowhere. Bannon arranged for this meeting, in his own offices, to keep the girl safe, especially from hangers-on that would report back everything to the record company, and to get out of their clutches long enough to have a conversation.

“You look gorgeous,” said Bannon, and air-kissed Dani’s cheek so as not to ruin her red lipstick. “The sandwiches, waters, and all the rest are exactly what she and her mother like,” said Bannon.

“Thank you,” said Dani, allowing herself to be air-kissed. “Unfortunately, that’s the least of our problems. The record company sweetened their deal. But, they want more control. A lot more. And, they want to choose the makeup, the hair, the clothes, the songs. They have writers out to write songs for her, despite her being a brilliant singer/songwriter of her own. The machine will chew this girl up and spit her out, and she’ll be washed up in two years.”

“Her innocence is her draw,” said Bannon. ‘You’d think they’d go for that.”

Dani laughed, and sat, crossing her legs in a way that made Bannon groan somewhere, deep inside. “They’re not that intelligent. Cunning, not smart. And, they’ll keep her a little girl too long if they do go that route, which they almost never do anymore, and not let her evolve naturally.” She grabbed a cherry water, twisted off the top, and smiled a little shark’s smile. “I’m smart, and I know better than they do, just how to manage her. With the makeup artist she feels comfortable with, a fun look that’s not too sexualized. Her lyrics have hooks that had me singing them, all damn day.”

“Here they are,” said Bannon. They both stood.

“Mrs. Kodasecker, Sheila,” said Bannon. “Please sit.”

Jasperson, the girl’s current bodyguard, stayed in the room, just beside the door. Bannon knew damn well the woman could take the time to get a break while in their offices, but she was staying on point. Either there was some danger he wasn’t aware of, or there was a point being made. Or, it just made Sheila feel better. She wasn’t cutting him any looks with those ebony eyes, either, so he let it go.

Sheila was short, with blonde hair that waved to her neck. She had even features, tall ears that swayed back a little, slightly tilted chocolate eyes, and tiny hands and feet. She put her guitar against the wall in the corner, then sat down carefully in the cushioned black chairs.

“I’ve got…” started Bannon.

But, with a squeal, Sheila figured it out for herself. “Vegemite! How did you…”

“Got to keep the client happy,” said Bannon. “And, Las Vegas has a lot to offer, including vegemite.”

Mrs. Kodasecker was short and blocky, and her short, wavy brown hair was streaked with blonde from the actual sun, not a bottle. She had square hands and thin lips, making her look like an angry school teacher. She was actually a swim instructor, the real-ocean kind. She was highly intelligent, and she cast a firm gaze out of sharp blue eyes.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” she asked.

“Opportunities,” said Dani. “But first, lunch.”

They were all hungry, and dove into their food. Bannon ate a pulled pork sandwich and sour cream chips, and washed it down with a Mountain Dew. He was delighted to be eating real food. Many clients wanted to eat at incredibly expensive restaurants on his dime, and not the steak-and-potato ones that he preferred. He enjoyed good food, but preferred Ethiopian or Thai, to meals that took fifty-seven words to describe an entree. If they were being wined and dined, the Kodaseckers probably hadn’t had real food in a while, either. They ate like wolves.

Finally, they took turns washing up in the restrooms down the hall, and then they got to work. Dani gave a magnificent presentation. “This is going to sound insane,” she said. “But it gets us out from under the thumb of the record companies.”

“I’m listening,” said Mrs. Kodasecker.

“I’ve wanted to start an indie record label for some time,” said Dani. “I’ve got the funding, and I’ve got the chops to get the job done. I want to help you with production, marketing, and distribution, and you’ll be in charge of yourself. I can give you the help you need, but you won’t make nearly as much money as the record label can. This is a far more slow (but steady) progression. You also won’t have to bankrupt yourself by paying for a million-dollar video. Artists have gone broke doing that kind of idiocy. I don’t want you to be a flash in the pan. You’ll own your own profits, have partial ownership in the label. We’ll get other young women together, over time, and protect them from the meat grinder. Give far more creative control. We want to help you, not make you into something you’re not.”

“That sounds… interesting,” said Mrs. Kodasecker.

“We have Bannon to keep you safe,” said Dani. “And, you have the capacity via YouTube and online sales through our website —and your own to keep far more of your profits.” She went into the presentation, including the numbers. She kept it short, trying to keep anyone’s eyes from glazing over.

“So, Nayan Records will start with you as the centerpiece,” said Dani, addressing Sheila.

“No,” said Sheila. “I came in third, and that wasn’t due to incompetence. A magician won. And I did the tour. There were four other girls, amazing singers. I want them with me. We can stop this looking-for-a-band nonsense, then. Kelli does drums, and a lot of other instruments, too. Rennie does keyboard and is an amazing pianist. Wren is smart, strong, and we can trade off doing leads. And, she thrashes at guitar. Quinn is a singer-songwriter, like me. We talked about doing a band, but I got here first, trying to set things up so I had more power.” She turned her clear green eyes on Dani. “Here, I get the power.” She pointed at the table. “There,” she said, pointing out the window that caught the Vegas skyline in full glory, “I have zero power. Maybe I get to pick a song, or a hairstyle, but that’s just handing me something to make me shut up.”

“Yeah,” said Dani. “That’s exactly what that is. And, I’ve seen the entire show, beginning to end. I was watching you. I’ve already flown them in. They’re the ‘background singers’ and ‘band’ you’re supposed to meet later today.”

“You knew I’d say yes,” said Sheila.

“Wait,” said Mrs. Kodasecker. “I agree, this gives you more control, but you leave money on the table. A lot of money.”

“And a machine willing to take your daughter up, turn her into a sex goddess, and spit her out. She’s tough, Beyoncé tough, but she won’t last two years that way. I’ve seen majorly talented girls destroyed. Drugs, sex, and a whole lotta trouble.”

Bannon spoke for the first time. “I guard them, get them out of trouble. Try to prevent trouble if I can. But, I can’t prevent the sharks from eating you, one bite at a time. You may make money, even loads of it. If that’s your thing at any cost, then go for it. But, if you want to retain creative control, and prevent her from being mauled by the machine, then pick Dani’s plan. It’s up to you.” He stood up. “Either way, we will keep you safe.” He smiled, gave a little bow, and started to leave the room.

“Wait! Where are you going?” asked Sheila.

“We wanted to give you time to talk it over,” said Dani.

“I’ve made up my mind,” said Sheila. “This is a better deal. For me.”

Mrs. Kodasecker looked at her daughter. “This is your career. Playtime’s over.”

“I agree,” said Sheila. “Gloves are off. You can’t be there twenty-four seven. Dani can read every contract, looking for fine print, but in the end, they’ll own me, and my music.” She pointed at the table emphatically. “You taught me to see things clearly, and this is what I want. It has nothing to do with my friends, or wasting my talents, or anything like that. It is about control, and I want it.”

“Good,” said Mrs. Kodasecker. “I raised you right. Let’s create a record label, and give ‘em hell.” They all shook hands.

Bannon smiled. He was a silent partner in the record label. More clients, and less difficulty keeping them safe. He knew it may have been another client to start it up, but Sheila was just perfect. He liked Sheila and her amazing music too.

Number Six

Henry stood at the site. He was genuinely astonished at the amount of work Tito, Nico, and the Wolfpack had done. The house had been inspected, and was found to be a nightmare. They went through it with full plastic bug suits on, sold or gave away anything usable, filled up many trash containers with junk, and bulldozed the house. They carted off the waste, moved the cacti, and they made a huge pour onto desert land. They made a track, a garage with an office and storage in back, and another building for whatever they chose to make. He knew the Nighthawks would find a use.

He designed the curriculum based on getting a motorcycle license, per the state of Nevada. Then, he expanded it, with Bonnie’s help, to go into all things Harley. Maintenance, and how to begin a motorcycle club and keep it going, how to choose rides, even how to choose a kit to build or have it built for you. He went over to the people who ran the other motorcycle licensing class, and was highly impressed with their operation. He explained what he was doing.

“Catch” Lorenthal, who ran the program said, “Dude, we do these fifty weeks a year, barring high winds or some other shit. There are only so many spaces in our classes, and they’re full. So, have at it. Trust me, you won’t be taking business away from us. If you could take away some of our waiting list, then more power to you.”

So, the Nighthawks Harley Instruction Club was born. He talked with several local hotels, and when he found out that most of his clientele were coming from out of state, it shocked him.

“Bonnie,” he said, catching her with Specialist, Tea Rutan. They were knocking out a build. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“You gonna let me move in over there?” asked Bonnie. “Didn’t think I’d get kicked outta my own shop, but I’m real tired of doing three-wheelers, but Ghost and Killa love them. Can open up, add three new ones off da list.”

“Last case of tools came in yesterday.”

He was able to buy the tools from a bike mechanic’s widow. The mechanic had died doing what he loved —riding. He’d been on a ride in the desert when his big heart gave out. His widow was delighted that ex-soldiers would be using the tools.

“Good,” said Bonnie. “Let’s finish this build, Tea. Then we’ll get moved,” she said. “Get us some Nighthawks,” said Bonnie, pointing at Henry.

“Will do,” he said. “Did you want to go over the class list, or the schedule?” He was terrified of the next day, despite David’s repeated attempts to reassure him.

“Well, hot-damn,” said Bonnie, looking at something with her thumb, and while her other arm was wrist-deep in Harley guts. “Got two new ones. Didja get hotel space for them all?”

“Found a little hotel, not far from here, no casino in it. Nice place, even has a pool. And a hot tub.”

Bonnie laughed evilly. “They’ll be needing the hot tub,” she said, pocketing the phone, and turning her attention back to the bike. “Go on, git. I’ll call when I need help.”

“Okay,” said Henry. “See you later.”

Bonnie didn’t answer. Henry knew he’d interrupted a surgeon in her operating room, and slunk away.

He walked back to the Nighthawks’ clubhouse. Ivy was there with Danger. “I’m telling you,” said Danger, “Off-road is best. We loved the Great Divide trip, didn’t we?”

“Well,” said Henry, chiming in, “we’ve only got about twelve done. Almost twelve, Bonnie has her hands in the guts of one.”

Hu ran out of the back classroom and grabbed his arm. “I’m finishing off the project with Grace. Keep me from killing her, Grandfather!” Hu was back to finish off several art projects, get her violin which had normally been stored in the classroom, and finish off several projects with other students.

“You have a project with David, and with Ming,” said Henry. “And with Kurt, if I remember correctly. Your one with Grace should be nearly finished.”

“It’s drying, and it’s over, but she won’t let me back off and work with David,” said Hu.

“I’m on it,” said Henry. “And, off-road is a good addition to the curriculum across the street.”

“I’ll teach it,” said Danger. “Take them out to the desert.”

“Write something up,” said Henry. Hu had his arm and was leading him down the hall. “See you.”

Grace was looking mulish, her eyes on a collage, hung up and drying. “Cycle into your next thing,” said Henry, to Grace. “Get started.”

“I…” she said.

“No argument,” he said. “Hu, go finish the beadwork with David.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hu said, and scooted over to David. David helped her thread the needle, and they worked on the beadwork of Hu’s T-shirt (the one she’d learned to sew herself).

David pulled up two different math games for the math module. He sent them out, and smiled down at Grace. “Which game do you choose today?” he asked.

“Red,” she groaned. “Blue Too has us making measurements of the parking lot and using maps to create more spaces. Yawn,” she said, faking one.

“Red it is then,” said David. He waved at her standing desk.

Grace stared, slit-eyed at the collage of desert plants, then sighed and went to her desk. She put her tablet in its clamp, and began work. She kicked the jump rope tied up at the base of her desk savagely, but did the work.

“Thank you,” mouthed Hu.

“Anytime,” he mouthed back.

Grace was on a campaign to prove she’d changed, and that she was using her ADD tools to learn better, and to stay out of other people’s work. But, she was obviously having trouble with the adjustment.

Kurt ran over. “Can Hu help me with the painting now?” he asked, smock on, a worried furrow on his brow. “I don’t understand how she can use a palette knife rather than a paintbrush, and I want to watch her do it.”

“When the bell dings,” said Henry.

“I’ll code,” said Kurt. “I’ve got the blue guys to circle around the green ones.”

“Excellent,” said Henry.

He had no idea what Kurt was going on about. He had been designing his own science game for over a month. The boy wanted perfection, which was actually an impediment in this case. Henry had been teaching him to do to eighty percent, and then test on an audience. They would direct the other twenty percent. That would keep him from the endless not-finishing cycle he was often caught up in. His essays were brilliant, but far too long. They had to keep him to two to four pages, not write books, unless that was the assignment he chose.

Henry did a quick clean-and-declutter, and soon had things to rights. Even Grace had been putting things back in the labeled bins and boxes correctly, lately. Hu smiled at David, and David helped Hu carefully put away the shirt. David would help Hu complete it at home. The timer dinged, and the students finished putting away their projects and went for water, a bathroom break, and a stretch break. Then, the students either chose to return to their current project, or switched to another one.

Hu stretched, and went over to Kurt. He gave her a smock. She put it on, and mixed the paint onto the palette, until it stood up in grooves. Then, she painted with the tip of the palette knife, making both sweeping arches —and little dots. She sang while she worked under her breath, a little ditty about a plum tree. She kept changing the angles of the knife, applying the paint like frosting to a cake. Soon, she had an entire seascape, from the picture pinned in the top corner. Boats floated at a dock under a restless sea, moonlight tinging the edges of the waves. It was beautiful.

“Whoa,” said Kurt.

“You drew it,” said Hu. “Send me your designs and I’ll paint them. I’ll sell them, and give you half.”

“Done,” said Kurt, and they shook on it.

“Be careful,” said David into Henry’s ear. “Kurt will sneak away to become a Wolfpack member.”

“Fear not,” said Henry. “Now, he doesn’t need to. She will paint his work and make a mint.”

“Get this one something like it,” said David, flicking his eyes to Grace, whose pretended disinterest showed a world of jealousy. “She’ll be too busy making money to cause trouble.”

“Getting her to light up about something is the problem,” said Henry. “Once she finds her passion, watch out!”

“She’ll find two, and switch off from one to another,” predicted David.

“No bet,” said Henry.

Henry came out after herding Hu through another task. Xu Lan, an exchange student hired by Bao, so Bao could get more work done on her eBook business, showed up to teach the Chinese lesson. He took a picture of the painting and showed it to Ivy, who was sitting with Lily, going through the Nighthawks’ books.

“Wow,” said Lily.

“My other daughter,” said Ivy. “Still comes over all the time, bless her. Grace is trying to prove she’s not disruptive. I can physically see her trying to restrain herself.”

“Good,” said Lily. “What are you doing with that boondoggle?” she asked, pointing across the street.

“Making lots of money.” Henry called up the list of deposits.

“Four hundred a class?” asked Lily. “At that rate, good, but it will still take you ten years to pay off the cost of the demo and reconstruction.”

“And?” said Henry.

“Man has a point,” said Ivy. “If it’s your dream, go for it.”

“I will,” said Henry. “Plus, the Soldier Pack are going to get trained, create or fix their own bikes, and get paid for actual orders. Pay rent. If they want to stay and help run Harley camp…” His eyes grew vacant.

“Where the fuck are we going to house them?” asked Ivy.

“We need another apartment house to refurbish,” said Henry.

“With what money?” asked Lily, exasperated.

“Got a rich Texan, ex-military,” said Ivy. “Henry’s gonna ask Otto, isn’t he?”

Henry gave a quick nod. “And Stella in Martha’s Vineyard, also ex-military. And Gustav. Ex-military, from wherever the fuck he’s from.”

“Good,” said Lily. “Because we can’t take another hit. We’re doing fine on the school side, got a waiting list. Adding that new lady, Xu Lan, from China helped, and Renee Driver just got her teaching credentials, K-12. Her kid’s Kurt. Anyway, we are covered… for now.”

Ace entered through the door. Lily ran up and gave him an uber-kiss. “Wait, who’s watching the kiddies?” asked Ivy. She hugged him as well.

“Wolfpack,” he said. “Got certificates of completion of a babysitter course and all. Anyhoo, thought I’d take my wife to lunch before work.”

Ivy glared at him. “Got no one to take me.”

Henry snorted. “And I suddenly do not exist?”

Ivy smiled sweetly at him. “Steakhouse.”

“Done,” said Henry.

“Where are you taking me?” asked Lily.

“Italian,” he said. “Unless Ethiopian? Thai?”

“Graciliano’s place,” said Lily. It was a hole in the wall called Ponzio’s, and it had the best tortellini.

“Done,” said Ace. He grabbed his wife, held her close, and planted a kiss on her that melted her toes.

“Hey!” said Ivy. “There are children in the building!” Ace laughed. They left for their date.

Graciliano took one look at Ace and Lily who were beaming at each other, and he took them to a lovely table that showed off the tiny patio. He said, “Would you like menus?” as they sat. He knew better, but he had to ask.

“Caesar salad, dressing on the side, to share. Gnocchi with pesto, tortellini with Italian sausage and cheese —and the rose cream sauce, two little plates. Two Cokes,” said Ace.

“Perfect,” said Lily.

“It is so nice having a little time,” said Ace, as Graciliano bustled off to get their Cokes, water, and little squares of herbed bread with dipping oil.

“Lovely,” agreed Lily. “Bringing on Jaci brought in money and time. Smartest decision of my damn life.”

“And an admin,” said Ace.

“Esmi. Phillipines. Smart lady, with tons of accounting experience,” said Lily.

Their bread came. Lily cracked the black pepper over the olive oil, then she tore off one of the corners of the bread, dipped it in the oil, and groaned. “I love it here,” she said happily.

Ace nodded. “As do I.” They laughed, and ate. Their salads came, and they enjoyed them.

“I love Caesar salad,” said Lily. “So, how have you been?”

Ace laughed. “I do sleep with you, you know. And, fine. The Horror House is gone, and I got kicked off the site once the painting was done on all the buildings. Bartending is still fun, you know. Get to serve our people, so it’s good. Hear the stories, and the talks about trips. Hear Ivy hitting those notes.” He speared some romaine topped with grated Parmesan. “And you?”

“Henry needs to refurb another apartment building,” said Lily. “First, he needs to find one, and apparently some people specifically want to help out the Soldier Pack.”

“More incoming,” said Ace. “I feel like a dork. I didn’t think about that part. Just figured the old ones got jobs and moved out.”

“Much harder than that, I’m afraid,” said Lily. “First and last month’s rent, or first and security deposit, are legal in this state. That can easily be a thousand dollars or more.”

“Forgot about that, too,” said Ace. “Now I feel like an idiot.”

Lily touched his hand. “That’s the last thing you are. So, once it’s bought, I expect that I’ll lose you while you help out.”

Ace tilted his head. “Do you really see it as losing me?”

“Actually, no,” she said. “It makes you happy. You always come home singing. The babies love it. You sing and dance with them. They laugh.”

“Nonstop laughing,” said Ace. “They have the greatest laughs.”

“So, no. And, as I’ve already said, I’m getting huge segments of my work taken off me. Lots of little niggling accounts that were giving me fits. Jaci took to those like a duck to water. Even got Emma Phipps straightened out.”

“That woman needs to be straightened out,” said Ace.

Lily laughed. “She’s not that bad.”

“She hides vicious jabs in her compliments,” said Ace. “She’s a southern witch.”

“And, apparently, Jaci is her cup of tea. Turns out the woman grew up in Texas until she was twelve, so she lapses into Southern by accident when they talk. You should hear them. Seriously. They laugh up a storm. Anyway, she’s got the beauty supply shop orders running like clockwork. You know the inventory and supply tracking program I’ve been trying to train her to use, and she says she doesn’t want to bother her pretty-little-head thinking about? Well, Jaci went over, installed it, trained her and the staff, and now the woman won’t stop raving about it. Found all sorts of ‘missing’ inventory while they were at it. Turns out an employee was stealing it to use in her own home-based business. Jaci got the woman to pay back every dime, threatened to go to the police. Ms. Phipps was delighted. We got three new clients —or, actually, Jaci did, after that little scene.”

“Would have liked to have been a fly on the wall for that one,” said Ace.

“Hilarious,” said Lily. Their salads were taken away, and they were consumed by dividing up the entrees and eating like pigs.

After the meal, they both got affogato, ice cream covered by rich espresso. “I’ll be awake my whole shift now,” said Ace. “This is the strongest espresso —ever.”

“I need it,” said Lily. “I’ve actually got one more client to see before I head home.”

“Which one?” asked Ace.

“Tito and Nico,” said Lily.

“You know they split offices, right?” asked Ace.

“Yeah, but they only use one version of the accounting software. Things look good. I just want to run some numbers past them, get some feedback on an investment opportunity.”

“The only investments they make,” said Ace, “are real estate.”

“This is a real estate investment trust,” said Lily. “An REIT for short. There are two public ones and one private one they might like.”

“You can try,” said Ace. “But, they like liquid assets to be ready, to buy another building to rehab.”

“Now you sound like me,” said Lily.

Ace laughed. “Wish I did. You are the smartest woman I know.” They kissed, tasting espresso on each other’s lips. “Tonight,” said Ace. He grinned. “I think I can get someone to close for me. Be home by ten thirty.”

“You rascal,” said Lily, grinning back.

“Damian, the new guy, he’s after me for more hours. He’s closed with me a couple of times. Bet he’ll do fine with Bella.”

“Sound like a plan,” said Lily. They kissed again. Lily paid the bill, and they went out to their Harleys, laughing like children.

* * *

Ace arrived at the club just in time to get a beer delivery. He signed for it, opened the door, loaded the cart, and put the beer in the storage room, and several cases in the walk-in. He prepped the bar, from beer to limes. He said hello to Julio in the kitchen, prepped his fake beer bottle with apple juice, and prepared for a Tuesday night. Damian came in, and filled up his cart. He grumbled over Ace already having put in the ice.

Ivy came out and squawked. “Stop whining,” she said. “I bet if you asked very nicely, Ace might let you close.”

Ace nodded. “Thinking about getting out by ten,” he said.

“Not that I’m arguing or complaining,” said Damian, “but, where’s the fire?”

“His wife,” said Ivy. “Get you one of those, and you’ll be heading home early too. Like I am. You and Bella can close. I’m out by eleven myself.” She pointed a finger at him. “You both make the deposit, you hear?”

“Will do,” said Damian.

He had a slight build, but he did parkour, loved to run the city. So, he had strong arms and a strong back. He could lift three cases of beer at once, astonishing both Ace and Ivy. He had dark hair, cut in a military brush on top, with wide ears, and a huge smile. He could charm the pants off a lady, and often did. He worked days repairing bikes. He was building his own bike and couldn’t wait to join the Nighthawks.

“Good,” said Ivy.

She headed off to receive yet another liquor delivery. She sang under her breath. Ace laughed when he realized it was ZZ Top’s Tube Snake Boogie. He hummed the song himself. Soon, ZZ Top’s Best Hits Album came over the sound system. The band came in, set up, and did some of the most famous riffs and drum bits. Bella came in, and danced her way through setting up her smaller bar. Ivy came up, and they all shouted the lyrics to Sharp Dressed Man, Tush, and, of course, Tube Snake Boogie. The last one resulted in an actual boogie. The dancers dressed, got on their plinths, and danced in their boots, camisole tops, and black shorts. Even Cesar, Julio, and Delia came out from the kitchen and danced.

The doors opened, and they were slammed from the first minute to the last. Ace and Bella dealt drinks, the bar backs filled up ice and drinks, and the music pounded. Valkyries, Nighthawks, Iron Knights, Gearheads, and Soldier Pack were wall to wall, with the occasional tourist wandering in, looking to party.

Ivy called in more staff to handle the overload, and she was everywhere. She filled up bar carts, brought drinks to tables, worked in the bar pits, divided up the room into smaller segments for the extra cocktail servers, and (occasionally) danced on plinths. Valkyries and Nighthawks ran up tabs, and helped to bring the beers to their own tables. The music was hot. Skuld got up and sang Joan Jett’s, I Love Rock N’ Roll and I Hate Myself for Loving You. Lyrics were screamed, whiskey was knocked back, and the servers ran themselves ragged.

When he got a minute, Ace texted his wife to say he wouldn’t make it home… at all. Things were looking like a long night, on a weeknight. She texted back to say she had a pair of Wolfpack in the house, and she would be over to see him. She strode in half an hour later, looking like a black panther. She headed to him, grabbed him, and kissed him to the point where he was afraid she would jump over the bar and do him in the pit. The audience cheered, stomped, and demanded that he dance with her.

Ivy rushed over to take his place. He banished Renee to the other plinth, gave his wife a hand up, and the entire audience sang as they danced to Rick James’ Superfreak, then Guns N’ Roses’ Sweet Child O’ Mine.

She had her hands all over him, making him groan. “I gotta work, baby,” he said.

“It’s been a long time since we had a whole night out,” she said. “I’m paying the Wolfpack ladies plenty. We have the time, let’s take it.” They then did a Tube Snake Boogie, boogie.

Ace kept her from falling off the plinth with his arms, his fingers, and a very long kiss at the end of the next song. It was Meat Loaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light. He hopped down, and resumed bartending. The ladies danced to Uptown Funk by Mark Ronson. Ivy sang Respect by Aretha Franklin followed by more liberating tunes that made everyone get up and dance.

Ace’s hands were a blur, opening tabs and closing them, opening beer bottles, pulling down draft beers, filling up trays of whiskey. He kept things moving, even when Ivy and Herja went up for an acapella version of Sam Smith’s Stay with Me, silencing the house. Their voices weaved in and out. The ending was beautiful. Herja went to the piano. Lily stood, and went to the drums. She beat out the beat, and they sang Black Parade by My Chemical Romance. The band rushed up to finish off the song, with a rousing chorus. Everyone was completely stunned when the song died, then the sound of the applause reverberated along the walls. Ace was one of them; he had no idea his wife knew how to play the drums, especially for such a complicated song.

Ace took his break with his wife. They ate jalapeno poppers, and cheese sticks, and fries, and drank Cokes. They couldn’t hear each other over the noisy bar, with the band resuming with Led Zepplin’s Whole Lotta Love. They didn’t care. They fed each other, held hands, and smiled at each other. Ace kissed his wife, she kissed him back even harder, and then they stole a plinth and danced to AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long and Highway to Hell.

Ace went back to work, forcing his hands to move. They kept on until two in the morning, until Ivy finally said, “I’ve got four and a half damn kids. Get the hell out!”

They all cheered, called Ubers and taxis for those who hadn’t switched to sodas for the last hour, and Ace and Bella made the last drop and counted out.

“Get the hell out of here, lovebirds!” said Ivy. “Bella, you and Damian make the deposit. Hell, I’ll go with you. I think that’s… yeah, that’s literally the most money we’ve ever made in one night.”

“I can’t walk,” said Ace. He snagged two cans of Coke, and stuffed them into his pockets.

“You can ride, can’t you?” said Lily, dragging him toward the door.

“Always,” he said, and pulled her to him. He gave her a scorching kiss.

“No sex in the doorway,” said Ivy, on her way to get more bank bags for the cash. “Do it in the parking lot like normal people.”

They laughed their way into the parking lot. Ace found that Lily had parked her Harley right next to his. She grabbed him by his neck, and tried to stick her tongue down his throat at the same time she grabbed his crotch. He squealed like a little girl. She’d clamped down on his balls —hard. She let him go, then laughed.

“No fun if you damage the merchandise,” he groaned out, and kissed her again. She let go, then put her hand down his pants. He groaned. “Lily love, there are both cameras and Iron Knights watching this place.”

“Good,” she said, “An audience.” She rotated her hips, grinding against him.

“Oh my god,” he said, trying to breathe. She kissed his neck, and ground her teeth on his earlobe, just as he liked. He finally had to whisper in her ear. “Disengage, Miss Full Steam Ahead, unless you want me to come in your hand.”

She laughed, then let him go. “Follow me,” she said. She got on her bike and revved it up. He got on his, and followed her.

They stopped by Sonic to get some takeout. They got honey-barbecue boneless chicken and tater tots —and lime cherry drinks. They ate like wolves, then cleaned themselves up. Lily grinned like a loon, and rode out into the desert.

Hank’s Cabins were small, air-conditioned, one-bedroom cabins, rented by the night or the weekend. They sported king-sized beds, flat-screen TVs, and an entire book of delivery restaurants. Lily parked in front of Number 6 and hopped off her bike. She reached into her Harley storage, and came up with a backpack and a box. She took out a key card, swiped it, and got them in. The lights came on.

It was done up in Fairy Wonderland. There were tiny white and blue lights all over the walls and ceiling. He looked up, and saw stars hanging from the ceiling. The bed was round, but there were no mirrors on the ceiling, to Ace’s relief. He shut the door behind her as she put down her backpack and box. She turned around, and slammed him into the door. He let all the thoughts fly out of his mind. She mauled him with her mouth, and teeth. He managed to drop his jacket to the floor, and to get hers off. She came up for air, and off came her top, and his. He just let the clothes drop. She had his pants off and down before he could drop her leggings.

“No fair,” he said, then lost all breath as she knelt.

He slammed his head into the door in pleasure, and hoped they didn’t fall out of the cabin, and surprise any other guests in the nearby ones. She used teeth, tongue, and fingers to make him as rock-hard as he’d ever been. She hummed ZZ Top’s Pearl Necklace to herself as he came.

She cleaned them both off with a wet wipe from her pack, skinned off her leggings, turned him around, pushed him onto the bed, and crawled on him when he sat on the edge (with a thump). She had the fingers of her left hand in his hair, and her right hand was wrapped around his cock. He didn’t think, through his haze of exhaustion and sex, that he could get it up again, but her clever fingers had him standing up in no time. He managed to stroke her breasts in between groans. She rose up and slid down on him. He held her hips, but she chose the hard, fast pounding. He wondered if she was trying to break him. She came, screaming in his ear, making him deaf. She came again, and then he came with her a third time. She got off and cleaned them both up. He managed to stand up and stagger to his jacket. He took the Cokes, opened them in the tiny bathroom sink, and stumbled back toward the bed. They drank their slightly-cool Cokes, and he laughed.

“You planned this,” he accused.

“Absolutely,” she said. “We can’t get so busy we forget to spend time together. We are the happiest and most exhausted we’ve ever been, but we have to spend time with each other.”

She realized his Coke was gone, and so was he. He snored slightly, with his back against the padded headboard. She laughed, pulled back the cover, and maneuvered him, in-between the sheets. She put her head on his chest. He held her in his arms, and they slept the sleep of the (almost) dead.

“I’ve spent a lifetime guarding people who should have had someone guarding me from them.”