TYRANTS

It's the little things that kill...

Tyrants is a manuscript about gifted/cursed children with extradimensional powers that I’ve decided to set aside. I’ve started working on something else called InSects that’s more representative of what I wanted to accomplish here. Tyrants was intended to be Firestarter on steroids. It’s mostly garbage, but the chapter below is not bad (I think) & can be kind of read as a standalone piece.

This is being presented in media res, so….

***

Lyla was loopy. “Is this morphine or am I melting?”

“You are sweating like you stole something,” Charlee said, “but I’m pretty sure it’s the opiates.”

“Pretty is doing all the heavy lifting in that sentence.” Dr. Trask had to strain herself to sit up in bed. “I need to get a message to my partner.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that.” The homeowner’s handgun was still pointed at the ground for the time being.

Lyla squinted at the Sig Sauer before returning her attention to the host. “Well, I’m afraid it’s not up to you, Annie Wilkes.”

“I mean, I own the place, so it’s kind of up to me.” Mrs. Kano plunked her sidearm down on the dresser. It caused the coins to rattle. “You’re all over the news there, sport. Government contractor gone rogue. Accessory to the attempted assassination of the world’s most famous Tyrant turncoat. That’s the story the Scream Queen’s people are selling. Cassie Kemp’s Little Screamers are lighting your ass up on social. Don’t ever use the internet again.”

Pronounced white bandaging around Lyla’s left shoulder made her look like a southpaw who just got done pitching a perfect game. “I’ll worry about myself.”

Charlee began to chuckle. “I don’t give a shit about you. Sorry. I can’t have the authorities swarming my place. You’re all patched up. Once you can walk without fainting you and the boy are free to go. I’m not looking to hobble those efforts. Food, water, and lodging remain free until then—but no phones. You’re both welcome, by the way. I even kept the bullet for you as a memento.”

Dr. Trask was indignant. She raised her voice all the way to the rafters. “Why are you yelling? I’m not yelling.”

Mrs. Kano did a confused double-take over her shoulder through the open doorway.

“I wasn’t yelling,” she confirmed. “This is just how I talk.”

Lyla crossed her arms like a petulant brat. “Well, it sucks, and you should see a speech therapist.”

Timothy stood up from the chair beside Lyla’s bed and formed a protective barrier.

“That won’t be enough.” Dr. Trask stuck her chin out once toward the gun.

Nina entered the room and took a position next to her own adoptive mother.

“It also won’t be needed,” Charlee replied.

A Mexican standoff ensued for ten seconds.

Charlee finally pulled the ace in the hole from her back pocket and threw it on the bed at Lyla’s blanketed feet. “Care to tell me why you were keeping the boy collared like Cujo? Your answer to this question could be determinative, so I’d be careful.”

“I don’t think Cujo wore a collar.”

Mrs. Kano kept one eye on the woman. “Nina, could you go grab mommy’s long rifle?”

Lyla laughed. “I suppose I do it for the same reason a single mother in Traverse City has a Tyrant-proof panic room in her boudoir.” Her smirk gravitated toward the thinly disguised farmhouse door.

The homeowner wasn’t yet willing to give up the ruse. “Maybe I was forced to flee an abusive ex and now we’re living under assumed identities and I’m currently learning Krav Maga to prepare for when he inevitably comes to kill me. Did you even consider that possibility? Let me know when you’re ready to apologize.”

Dr. Trask blew air out of both nostrils.

“Okay, J. Lo. You bought a winery. Way to stay off his radar.”

Charlee was secretly admiring Lyla’s bedhead. Mrs. Kano kept it just as short on the sides but for some reason she woke up every morning looking like Moe.

Lyla lowered her eyelids when she noticed the woman’s attention start to drift. Her sarcasm was all studied effort. She found Charlee’s lack of engagement insulting. Dr. Trask snapped her fingers to regain the conch.

“Hey, skippy. My eyes are down here.”

“Sorry.” Charlee shook it off and stared at the ground for a few seconds like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

Lyla began to grin. She reached for the disabled Choker and attempted to reactivate it with no luck. “I think it’s irrelevant, anyway. Collar went kaput once I took it off the kid. Tool to recharge the thing is back in Langley.”

Nina took two steps forward into the room and held her hand out. “May I see it?”

The baton was passed between Tyrants.

Charlee’s daughter held each half of the open collar in separate hands like a wishbone. She closed her eyes and concentrated until her forehead crinkled.

Lyla thought it was really cute.

She was far more impressed when it pinged.

The green blinking light indicated it was ready for use once more.

“Fixed it.” Nina nonchalantly tossed the Choker back onto the bed and returned to her mother’s side. Charlee put a palm to the top of her crown and smiled.

It was tough to tell if Lyla or Timmy were more smitten with the girl.

“Even for a Tyrant, that’s something special,” Lyla confirmed. “And I’m pretty much the world’s foremost expert on the subject. Which means I know practically nothing.”

Charlee massaged the back of Nina’s scalp in appreciation. “She’s more than some piddling little Tyrant. She’s The Cure.”

“The cure for what?”

“For everything.”

Lyla looked Nina up and down. “If your daughter is so special, why do you feel the need to keep her under wraps? Trust me, Uncle Sam could use the help.”

“This country decided the polio vaccine required further research,” Charlee replied. “You’ll forgive me for wanting to protect the light of my life from an autopsy table. Last time I went into town they were jousting on motorcycles over milk.”

“It’s pretty much the same outside the city limits,” Lyla confirmed.

Charlee had an epiphany. “Where did you say you two hail from?”

“Virginia. We’re DMV all day. Why?”

Mrs. Kano grabbed the remote. The wall-mounted flatscreen across from Lyla came to life. CNN was still reporting on the massive train derailment in Fairfax County. Noxious chemicals. Citizens advised to stay inside their homes. Standard OPSEC.

The host gave her guest side-eye. “So, which is it—coincidence, curse, or complicity?”

Dr. Trask sat at rapt attention. Her eyes were darting all over the screen. “Maybe a mixture. Motherfu—”

Charlee didn’t let her finish the sentence. “They’re not allowing a train filled with hazardous chemicals anywhere near the central locus of our intelligence network.”

Lyla was growing more impressed with the woman by the minute. “Yeah, no, you’re right. A bullshit cover is required if you want something super smelly to stay under wraps. It’s deliberate obfuscation. They do that sort of thing.”

“No duh. My question is why?”

“I can’t say at the moment.” It was both literally and figuratively true.

The anchor transitioned from the train derailment back to Cassie Kemp’s attempted assassination. CCTV footage of her mechanized would-be murderer played across the screen. An FBI counter-terrorism expert was simultaneously offering his two cents about the mystery man’s potential motivation.

Charlee craned her neck toward the TV. “Are you two affiliated?”

Dr. Trask shook off the suggestion. “No, the robot and I are not related.”

“I wasn’t inferring a familial connection.” Charlee’s eyebrows started to scrunch. “Why in the world would you think he was an Augment? Those things manage the McDonald’s drive-thru and change adult diapers. They’re nowhere near capable of that level of wetwork.”

Her guest’s attention was briefly diverted from the TV. “Wetwork? Who are you, Tom Clancy? He pew-pew’d a finger gun at me from afar like a five-year-old and it felt like I got hit in the head by a Humvee. He’s definitely not human, and way too old to be a Tyrant. Oh, also, he had Erector Set beams for bones. Don’t let the trenchcoat fool you. Underneath the Gucci guy looks like the Shrike if he shaved off all the sharp angles. I’m a Harvard trained MD. I guess you’ll just have to trust my diagnosis.”

Charlee didn’t require any further convincing. “Any guess as to country of origin?”

Lyla couldn’t help herself.

“He was going by Ron, so, I don’t know—Rwanda, probably.”

“I’m hungry.” Timmy leaned on the bed to whine the words into Lyla’s ear.

Nina seconded the motion while tugging at her own appointed caretaker.

Mrs. Kano took the hint. “Do you care if I feed the kids? Maybe Tim could help us outside for a bit? Get some sun. You should rest for a few more hours there, Annie Oakley.”

“Your references really need work.” Lyla knew they were in no danger. “Thanks, yeah. I’m just going to watch this for a few more minutes before I nod off. Tim, it’s okay. Go with them.”

Charlee made intentional eye contact with her guest before she shut the door.

Lyla had no idea what was happening.

***

“What’s school like?”

“I’m home-schooled,” Nina said.

“Me too,” Tim confirmed. “I don’t have a home, but that’s what they call it.”

The little rascals were a few days into being best friends. Both kids spent the morning picking grapes by Pedro’s side. Pedey and his amigos were currently on lunch break. It granted the children a thirty-minute reprieve from the manual labor they loved.

Grand Traverse Bay was crackling blue a couple hundred yards ahead of them. The water was on low boil under the midday sun. Neither child could stop smiling.

“I like math and science,” Nina continued. “What do you like?”

“History, and geography. I want to see the world one day.”

The little girl held up her arms. “You can see the world right now. Look.”

He did. She was right. “Race to the water?”

It sounded like the best idea ever. “Okay.”

“Careful!” Pedro called out to the children with cupped hands.

“De acuerdo, Pedey,” Nina replied.

They didn’t slow until their toes touched sand.

The lake still hadn’t lost its luster for Timothy. It made him desperate to learn how to swim. He was splashing around up to his ankles when he restarted the Q&A for kids.

“Are you adopted? You don’t look like your mom.”

“You’re not supposed to say things like that. It’s rude.” Nina kicked at the waves, but she wasn’t mad. Her mom said Timothy was locked in a container his entire life. He needed help learning how to be a human.

“That’s what you were brought on this Earth to do, Nina. Help.”

Timothy dropped his head in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m actually adopted. I guess I killed my real mom when I was a baby. I don’t remember it, though.”

“I killed my parents, too—but it was totally by accident,” Nina emphasized. She began skipping stones across the gleaming lake surface. Timothy replicated the action. “Charlee and I aren’t related, but she’s my real mom. Is that what Lyla is to you?”

The Traveler sent his answer back to Nina in silence.

Timothy didn’t want to jinx it.

He was still hoping his wish might come true.

***

“So, my super special top-secret theory is that every Tyrant parent on Earth is going to have to make the ultimate Sophie’s Choice—snuff out your own soul, or allow the rest of humanity to die,” Charlee said. “The only way to ensure Tyrannical bullets stay in the gun is to institute a family separation policy at birth.”

Lyla looked disgusted from the passenger seat. “Oh, Christ. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“Did you not see my employee roster, dummy?” Charlee took her eyes off the road for a moment to return fire. “I’ve got immigrants coming out of my ears. I’m talking about what’s best for civilization. Goose and gander alike.”

Dr. Trask was intrigued but knew the suggestion was inherently flawed. “We don’t have a blood test for Tyrants. Whatever’s at work there is entirely extradimensional. Something beyond genetics. That much I do know. We’re going to need the most Mr. Fix-It Tyrant we can find to build that kind of machine and oh, fuck.”

The recognition smacked her in the face. She slumped against the door in defeat.

“Mmm-hmm.” Charlee nodded like a bobblehead at the windshield. “That little Gugu Mbatha-Raw clone I’m raising back home is going to take us to Alpha Centauri one day. She’s doing MIT-level mathematics in her head. A screening test for Tyrant kids should be a cinch. Draw up the specs, doc. Do your worst. She’ll forge the thing out of thin air. Watch.”

“I’ll probably have to FedEx you my da Vinci-like designs,” Lyla replied.

Charlee pretended not to be bothered by the prospect.

“This is admittedly the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.” Lyla firmly planted her fist in her face while she admired the passing scenery. “Other than Maui, but it’s still Michigan. Allowances must be made. We grade the Midwest on a curve.”

“We appreciate your benevolence, Duchess of the DMV. You know, not everyone breathlessly dreams of one day living in the Boston-Atlanta Metropolitan Axis. My backyard is a winery abutting Grand Traverse Bay. The east coast smells like a smoker’s cough. We’re here.”

Charlee parked her jeep outside the pharmacy. The ladies watched a couple of baton-wielding Unitarians chase one of Traverse City’s finest down the sidewalk.

In a totally unrelated coincidence, the police officer fleeing on foot was black.

Lyla arched a single eyebrow while swiveling her head to track their progression.

“Tell me more about this utopia you call home.”

Mrs. Kano killed the ignition. “I have a date with my daughter’s drug dealer.”

“Nice parenting, pal.” Lyla pressed her lips together and shook her head like a little shit.

“It’s just a precaution at this point. Can you entertain yourself for ten minutes?”

Lyla pulled the hoodie over her head and slipped on a pair of aviators to enhance her disguise. She was intentionally trying to look like Ted Kaczynski. “I’m going to go grab a Mountain Dew from the Circle K. Knock that one off the old bucket list. Then I thought maybe I’d take a stroll down your Fifth Avenue over here. Peruse the shopping district. Take in all the majesty.”

Charlee extended one foot to the concrete before stopping herself. “We actually do have a shopping district. Shithead.” She slammed the door shut without waiting for Lyla to exit the vehicle.

Dr. Trask paused until the woman was out of sight before initiating her own plan of action. It involved the purchase of a burner phone to go with her pop. She snuck behind the Circle K dumpster to utilize both devices.

“Gennifer Maxwell.”

“Hey, lady,” Lyla said. “It’s your husband’s work wife.”

“Oh, my god.” Gennifer shut her office door. “Lyla, where the hell are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m okay and I’ll be home soon. Tell Shawn not to worry.”

“Lyla, you’re wanted.”

“Yeah, I know. What else is new?”

Gennifer’s frustration finally boiled over.

“He won’t talk to me or tell me what’s going on. Will you talk to me? Please?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t talk about that.”

Lyla broke the SIM card and buried the evidence in the trash.

Gennifer Maxwell rang her DIA handler to deliver the good news.

“Last call to this line was from Lyla Trask. Run the number. You’ll find them.”

***

Nina was swirling thousands of fireflies against the moonlight over Lake Michigan. The brocades of golden stars skimmed the darkened surface and formed sparkling reflections.

Timothy began to make them vanish and reappear like the final bombs bursting in sequence during a Fourth of July extravaganza.

When the twin conductors concluded their arrangement, all five adults shot out of their lawn chairs and exploded in applause. Both children turned toward their captive audience and performed a practiced bow. The gesture was replicated from a dozen different Disney movies.

Pedro, Marcos, and Javier shouted a celebratory suggestion in unison.

“Cervezas!”

“Cervezas!” Lyla held up her Mountain Dew.

“Cervezas!” Tim and Nina joined in on the fun.

The children’s entreaty caught Charlee’s attention. She was already wagging her finger before she started to speak. “No, yeah, no. You can have root beer, if you like. Hell, have two. There’s no school tomorrow. I’ll play party mom.”

Nina grabbed a couple of Maglites instead. “Can Tim and I go play Luigi’s Mansion?”

Charlee approved the message. “Sure thing, babe. Just stay away from the water, please.”

“Promise. C’mon, Tim.”

The two ran off together hand in hand.

Lyla leaned over and whispered. It made all the blood rush to Charlee’s head.

“Tim can’t swim.”

“Well, Nina would never let anyone drown, so it all evens out.”

Dr. Trask considered the implication. After a few moments she thought of a follow-up.

“What’s Luigi’s Mansion?”

“They use their flashlights to capture ghosts.”

“That’s cute.” Lyla paused. “Not for real, right? I feel like I have to ask at this point.”

“No, this place is only figuratively haunted. It’s a shame, actually. I’m opening a tasting room next year. A spooky winery would have done boffo business.” Charlee waited for Lyla to stop snickering. “How’s your shoulder?”

“There’s a hole in it.” She took a quick look to confirm her findings. “I’ll be okay in a few days. We’ll be out of your hair in no time. I assume you’ll be happy to have the place to yourselves again.”

“You know what they say when you assume.” Charlee shot up from her chair so fast it propelled sand. Lyla noticed the discharge. “I’m going to open another bottle. Be right back.”

Lyla muttered under her breath as she walked away.

“I’m fine, by the way. Twit.”

Dr. Trask continued diagnosing the patient from a distance.

Twin spotlights sprayed the darkness in random dance club configurations along the waterfront. Nina pretended to spot an apparition up ahead and took off at a dead sprint. Tim was so blinded by love he would have followed her anywhere.

“C’mon. He’s getting away.”

For the first time since the two met, Tim pumped the brakes.

“Wait. Turn your light off.”

“What?”

Tim powered down his device and took the liberty on her behalf.

Cascading waves lightly crashing against the shoreline served as the sole soundtrack.

“Did you see something, Tim?”

“Look. Up. There.”

The Traveler jerked both their hands skyward. He flicked his chin simultaneously in the same direction to help guide the way.

A pair of twirling Ezekiel wheels were dancing in tandem a thousand feet above them. The inner rings of fire spun like a gyroscope as each rotating ball of light hung overhead in complete silence.

Nina giggled. “Oh. That’s just Larry and Lisa.”

The girl began signaling to the visitors in Morse code via Maglite.

H-E-L-L-O

H-I-N-I-N-A

“They’ve been married for millions of millennia. That’s a long time.”

Tim continued to stare slack jawed as the guests initiated a waltz in the night sky. The couple danced and spun in careful coordination. Up, down. Left, right. It was a bop. After a few minutes both children realized they were mimicking their firefly dance.

Nina’s friends were always watching.

“Are they aliens?”

“Kind of,” Nina confirmed. “But this is their home now, and it has been forever and ever. They’re ultraterrestrial immigrants. They live way underground. Beneath the ocean, even.”

Timothy still had concerns. “Are they here to hurt us?”

“No, never,” Nina assured him. Her smile widened as she stared. “They’re here to help.”

For a finale, the pair of elderly lovers took one another by the hand and began to pirouette toward the moon. They corkscrewed upward inside an invisible bottle. The tumbleweeds of whirring light gradually diminished into pin dots and then disappeared altogether.

“They’re going to help me fix the water.” The tide lapping at Nina’s toes served as a reminder. “It’s too warm. It’s not right. We’re all going to drown—but don’t worry. I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to fix it.” She began tugging her partner back home.

Tim pressed the wet concrete between his toes. “Have you always lived here?”

“My mom says I’m from somewhere else, but this is my home now. Just like Larry and Lisa.” The girl gave him a sheepish smile. Something had clearly been on her mind. “Can you teach me how to BAMF!”

Timothy Trainor had never been in a position to play coach.

“I can try, I guess. That’s the one thing I do really good.”

“Really well.” Her correction was polite. “And that’s not true. You’re great at lots of things. You just don’t know what they are yet. You’re way more advanced than I am at psychokinesis. I can only play parlor tricks. You can send stuff to oblivion and back. That’s way cooler.”

Timothy smiled with every tooth. He knew Nina was just being nice, but that was more than enough.

“Nina, how did you know their names?”

“Larry and Lisa? I asked them, silly.”

“You mean with the flashlight?”

“No. That’s just for fun.”

***

Tim and Nina retired to Charlee’s bed in exhaustion. The women were enjoying one last drink around the Kano family kitchen table before calling it a night.

“So, you went from angel investor to winery owner. I believe that’s called the ‘Trust Fund Shuffle.’”

“Hey, screw you.” Charlee launched a wadded-up napkin in her enemy’s direction. “My mom and dad were both chemists for Dow. We did fine, but their bank account isn’t the reason I got to Go Blue.”

“Lady, you told me yesterday that you’re Jew-Ayzh,” Lyla reminded her. “Your dad emigrated from Okinawa and your mother’s an Israelite. I’m not saying that’s the reason you got into U of M, but it wasn’t a handicap. The only thing that’s more advantageous is being handicapped.”

“You’re stupid.” It was intended as the height of irony by Charlee.

Dr. Trask didn’t give the faux-insult a second thought. “I’ve just never met a Jewish-Asian woman before in the wild. It’s a new one for me.”

“It’s been a new one for everyone since elementary school,” Charlee confirmed.

Lyla listened to the waves for a moment. She wondered how she missed this all her life. The good doctor was still staring out the window as she spoke. “Why did you decide to play Mother Teresa? You didn’t have to raise Nina. That was something extra. Hell, she killed your husband. Most rational people would have cut and run. I’ve just been wondering why you felt compelled to pay it forward.”

Charlee clarified the confusion for Lyla. “It wasn’t about raising her. It was about saving her. Trust me, I never had a maternal bone in my body before that baby came into my life. I know it seems crazy, but isn’t that part of being a parent? Embracing your nonsensical side?”

“For some people, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of those same people enjoy their Kool-Aid with a cyanide twist.” Charlee sniffed and sipped. “I love my daughter, but I remain childless in spirit.”

Lyla started to laugh. “That’s not a thing, lady. You can’t get half pregnant.”

Charlee’s expression didn’t betray a hint of humor. “Nina wasn’t going to be placed into a foster care facility after killing her mother and father. Best case, she would have wound up on an internment cruise. Worst case—”

“She’d have been with me in the lab back in Langley.” Dr. Trask put her head down. “You don’t have to say it.”

“I didn’t think it needed to be said.”

“Sorry, what were you about to say?”

The women let it hang in the air for a few moments in silence.

Charlee’s houseguest finally reverted to court jester. “Anyway, I’m sick of you breeders thinking you can put up a hotel on Park Place when you didn’t put down on this shit. You’re no longer one of our tribe, traitor. You chose to become a parent, which makes you a particular kind of person. The difference is I respect that distinction, and you people all look at the childless like we’re your children.”

“No, you don’t have a problem with parents at all.” Charlee raised her eyebrows and took a sip. “Look, instructions aside, skydiving isn’t something to be discussed. I don’t care if you jump out of a plane, and point of fact, it’s kind of a dumb thing to do. If you lose your life during the experience, that’s pretty much your bad. You signed up for that shit. But until you’re cutting through the air at 10,000 feet with nothing but a piddling little parachute for protection—”

“Oh, here we go,” Lyla sighed. “Hit me with the self-aggrandizement.”

“—you can’t understand the experience. There’s an element of personal sacrifice involved with being a parent that you objectively cannot comprehend. The reward you get in exchange will forever remain a Scooby Doo mystery to you as well. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Lyla put forth her most compelling counterargument. “I think sacrifice is a noble endeavor and worthy of acknowledgement. I do. I also think it’s a state of being we most commonly associate with the lamb. You can take from that whatever you like. I said what I said.”

Charlee blew a gust of air through her pursed lips. “Jeez. I confess I never carried one to term myself, but the experience of motherhood has been far from the horror show you make it out to be—and I say this as the parent of someone who has murdered people.”

The doctor clinked her tumbler of Mountain Dew onto the table with something approaching disgust. “There’s the difference. You all think that’s an endorsement of the exercise when it’s really a flashing red warning light. Parents act like unconditional love is a viable insanity defense, and it’s not. Those kids make you crazy. What’s really funny is no one thinks about the childless more than people with children, and we don’t think about you at all.”

“That’s kind of the point. You’re making us do all the thinking for you.”

Dr. Trask rejected the premise. “Christ. Nothing breeds condescension like birthing a baby. I have more subjective secondhand experience with child rearing than any topic on planet Earth. I’m surrounded by you plankton people. It’s nothing more than Roulette. The random idiots lucky enough to bet on black want to pretend like everyone walks away a winner, but it’s a total crapshoot. The house usually comes out on top. You know what the odds are at the casino, right?”

“If it’s any consolation, Nina was a murderous little brat our first couple of years together,” Charlee confirmed. “Her favorite character in Bambi was Man.”

Luckily Lyla didn’t have much Mountain Dew in her mouth. The thimble full of residue still lying in reserve was discharged via spit take onto the tabletop.

Both ladies were laughing as Charlee rose from her seat to acquire a Bounty.

“I’m not necessarily looking for a sperm dispenser next go round, anyway,” Lyla stipulated. “Sanity and good sex are the prerequisites over a penis.”

Charlee disguised her curiosity as she soaked up saliva slime.

“How long have you been bi?”

Lyla glared at her. “Did you just ask me how long I’ve been bi? Birth.”

After disposing of the trash, Mrs. Kano swirled her white a few times across the flat finish kitchen island like an activated air hockey puck. “Would you like some? I’m biased, but it’s pretty phenomenal.”

“I have no doubt, but I think my sponsor would say it was ill-advised.”

Charlee pulled her glass back by the stem. It suddenly dawned on her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so stupid. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You’re fine. We don’t wear sandwich boards.” Lyla held up her own green tinted vintage. “It’s why I do the Dew. It’s better than trying to remember which dick I did.”

“How long has it been?”

“Alcohol or the other thing?”

Charlee cocked her head to the side and smirked.

“5,497 days.” There was no hesitation, but Lyla did check the date on her phone. “5,498 days, actually. Now.” She slid the distraction away for the final time that evening.

“Can I ask what you were thinking the first time you saw me?” Charlee kept her eyes locked on the swirling Sauvignon Blanc.

“Oww.” Lyla said it with a straight face. She waited for Charlee to stop laughing. “How about you? What were you thinking the first time you saw me?”

“That it would be a shame if I had to shoot you,” Charlee acknowledged. “Sorry, but if a mouse farts within a hundred yards of Nina, I jump three feet. You were a potential threat. She’s my daughter. You would have done the same. You just don’t know it yet.”

It was Lyla’s turn to stare at her glass. “What about now? Would you shoot me now?”

“I’d shoot anyone who tried.”

A sizzling sound hovered in the air even though the room was completely silent.

“Kids are asleep,” Charlee continued. “Nina sends me telepathic snores.”

“Did you want to go to bed?”

“No, I’m good.” Charlee yawned and stretched as she said it. “My mattress is queen size. I don’t think the three of us would all fit. I’ll probably rabbit kick Tim in the head by accident and end up in Alaska. I think I’m taking the couch.”

Lyla bit her lower lip. It was insanely sexy. “No, dummy. I wasn’t asking if you wanted to go to bed with the kids. I was asking if you wanted to go to bed.”

She flicked her eyes over her shoulder at the appropriate door.

It was the currently unoccupied guest room.

Charlee looked like she was being handed a duffle bag filled with unmarked bills.

“Oh, umm—okay, I guess.”

Lyla smiled back in response. “Suddenly I’m having second thoughts.”

Charlee sharply exhaled a single time. She took three brisk strides toward Dr. Trask with her head down. Upon arrival she delivered an open mouth kiss to Lyla that caused her to oscillate in her chair.

Mrs. Kano stood tall in the aftermath to address any remaining indecision.

“Still having second thoughts?”

My favorite part is when Amy Grant puts her head on the hot guy’s shoulder to briefly daydream and the director immediately cuts to a shot of Ms. Grant & her “girlfriend.”

(And if you don’t think this music video is coded beyond belief—Google that shit)