3rd World Products, Book 17 (16 page)

Once my speed had pretty much maxed, I began using little motions of hands and feet to guide my ‘flight’. It didn’t take much at all to affect direction; extending only my fingers as a sort of flap caused enough drag to spin me around. I played with large and small motions until the south end of Ocala seemed to begin rushing up to meet me.

Calling up my board, I changed course northward and followed Marie as she led the way down to the restaurant. We were still a few hundred feet up when she veered toward a gas station. Taking my eyes off Marie to look ahead, I saw an overweight tall guy in a black t-shirt grab an equally overweight blonde woman’s arm and yank her out of a van’s passenger seat.

Marie landed behind him as he cocked a fist to punch the woman in the stomach. Leaning forward, Marie quickly slapped the back of his bicep hard to get his attention. When he whipped around, she planted her right sneaker in his gut. He doubled over, gasping for breath, and backed up a few feet to collide with the side of the van.

Without a word, Marie simply stood in front of him, her hands at her sides. The woman glanced at me and I gave her a little wave and a smile as I leaned comfortably against the sedan in the next slot.

Would the guy be stupid enough to attack a woman who showed not even the slightest fear of him? Oh, absolutely. Yes, indeed, he would. The dumbass launched himself forward with a loud grunt in an attempt to plant a fist in Marie’s face. She deftly slapped the fist aside, ducked slightly, and drove her knee into his gut as he roared past.

He gaspingly doubled over again before he reached the sedan and head-butted the driver’s door fairly hard. When he looked up at me, I uncrossed my arms to point a finger behind him. He turned to see Marie standing with her arms crossed and her head canted slightly. She wore a questioning sort of expression, as if to ask, “Well? What now?”

When the guy glanced at me again, I shook my head and said, “She doesn’t need my help.”

“But you’re with her?”

“Yeah, but this is her workout. She thought you were gonna hit that woman.”

Straightening a bit, the guy snapped, “She’s my wife!”

His emphasis on the word ‘wife’ led me to think he probably considered her a form of property. However people come to think that way, it takes more than a parking lot encounter to change their minds. I shrugged.

“Whatever. My ladyfriend is your immediate problem.”

The woman cowering by the van ventured a soft, “Please… If… If you hurt him, he can’t work.”

Marie had been standing there without much expression. Flashing instantly to anger, she rounded on her with, “That’s all you care about?! Whether he can work?!”

Cringing, the woman whined, “
We got four kids!
”

That’s when the guy made his biggest mistake yet; he lunged at Marie from behind. There wasn’t a doubt in my little mind that Marie had been watching him in some reflection or another. She ducked below his head-punch, spun right to ram her left knee into his ribs, and then her right foot moved to trip him as he staggered past clutching at his right side. He went down hard and fast, with no real chance to catch himself. His head hit the ground fairly hard just before the rest of him landed. Groaning softly, he drew his knees up and lay where he’d fallen.

I asked, “How long are you gonna keep at this, ma’am?”

Looking up sharply, Marie snapped, “As long as it takes.”

“Uh, huh. Then I’m going to lunch.”

She flared. “If we leave now, he’ll beat the shit out of her!”

“Yeah, prob’ly so. If not here, later at home. It’s their problem and you’re only making it worse by beating on him. Look at her, then think about why they’re still together. When she’s had enough of him, she can call a cop and move back home or into a shelter.”

“That’s not good enough!”

I shrugged, called up my board, and said, “In this society, that’s as good as it gets. See you later.”

Lifting away, I didn’t look back. She’d either stay and play or follow me; in either case, I was ready to find some food. I was barely halfway to the Firehouse Subs place when Marie pulled alongside. She flew in angry silence and remained silent until it was time to order her sandwich. The place was full of people and noisy, so I headed outside with my food and drink.

Marie followed and asked, “Why are we out here?”

“Peace and quiet. We can eat aboard the flitter.”

Chapter Twelve

A few minutes later we were a mile up and quietly munching our sandwiches when Marie said, “You didn’t seem too concerned about her welfare, Ed.”

“No point. They reverted to business as usual the minute you left. She probably begged you not to hurt him anymore. He’ll remember that and hate her for it. You didn’t just kick his ass, Marie, you damaged his ego. His self-image. In front of her. They prob’ly won’t ever get past that.”

In a flat, chilly tone, she said, “I couldn’t let him hit her.”

“I was about to stun him when you smacked his arm. He’d have fallen in the parking lot and wondered why. He might even have thought it was rage-related and tried to calm down, but that’s nothing to count on.”

“So why didn’t you stun him?”

“Cuz if I had, you’d be on my ass for interfering. Remember Wade Thompson? Remember how you almost went ballistic on me and bitched about it for a week?”

Marie sat straight and said, “That’s not the same at all. He…”

“Crap. It’s same enough. He was a macho asshole and he got in your face. Then he got in my face for being with you. I put him down because he swung at me. You acted as if I’d denied you the honor.”

She yelped, “You did, damn it! I’d been waiting for a good excuse and you screwed everything up!”

I chuckled, “Well, beggin’ yer ladyship’s pardon and all, but he tried to hit me before your grand little scheme panned out.”

Marie simmered for a time, then took a bite of her sandwich. After a sip of her drink, she said, “I still don’t like your attitude about what just happened.”

“Too bad. They became what they are over time, Marie. A fairly typical story would be that she was a high-school hottie and he chased her until she caught him. The way he sees it, he’s now stuck with a fat wife, four kids, bills out the ass, and a low-end job. You saw the van. You saw their clothes. You saw her. Tell me I’m wrong.”

After a pause she said, “That doesn’t give him the right to hit her.”

“No, it doesn’t, but that’s her problem, not yours. Having a hottie like you take him on and kick his ass in front of her just made things worse.” With a shrug, I added, “On the upside, that might bring things to a head sooner. Maybe even before the kids become  copies of their parents, but I doubt it.”

Another pause happened, then she stated, “So you think I screwed things up even worse for them.”

Pretending to give that some thought, I replied, “Nope. Maybe hurried them along is all. Or maybe not. She’ll do or endure whatever she has to in order to keep her meal ticket. He probably already knows very well he wouldn’t be any other woman’s first choice. Could be they’ll just settle back into their same old routine, whatever it is. For a while, anyway.”

We finished our meals in silence. I wadded my food wrappers and tossed them at the flitter’s hull field. Marie flinched hard at the sound and flash, seemed to give the matter some thought, and then tossed her own wrappers at the field.

Sipping the last of her drink, she said, “I like that. No trash. Does it work with cups full of ice, too?”

“Yup.”

She nodded. “Cool. What’s next? Where to from here?”

I shrugged. “More board time if you really think you need it. I don’t. You picked it up fast and nothing about it seems to scare you.”

“What about going underwater?”

“Okay. But Tanya could show you, if you need shown at all. You know the boards can do it, so it’s just a matter of trying it yourself.”

Marie shook her cup slightly and sipped some dregs, then tossed it at the hull field. It made a much bigger flash and bang that startled her again, but she recovered quickly.

Turning to face me, she asked, “Do you have something else to do today? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Shaking my head, I replied, “No and no, respectively. Fact is, I seem to be enjoying your company, ma’am.”

Her left eyebrow arched. “You sound surprised.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I am surprised. A little.”

Marie held her arch gaze for a moment, then relaxed in her seat and crossed her ankles as she said, “Me, too, really. I expected us to be fighting about something by now.”

“Can’t think of anything to fight about. Can you?”

She shook her head. “No. I haven’t forgotten you slept with my daughter, but it suddenly doesn’t seem to matter so much.”

I couldn’t think of a useful reply to that, so I sipped what was left of my drink and tossed the cup. It loudly turned to plasma and I checked my coffee mug. Still some left. I noticed Marie trying to use her cell phone and asked Galatea to let it work.

When Marie gave me another arched eyebrow at that, I said, “The default mode is ‘off’ when you’re aboard my flitter.”

As she dialed, she asked, “Isn’t that illegal?”

“You gonna call a cop now that it’s working?”

She grinned and held up a finger as she said, “Hi, Dan. Oh, pretty well, really. One o’clock is fine. Okay, thanks. Bye.”

Thumbing the ‘off’ button, she put the phone away and said, “You haven’t mentioned your thousand dollars.”

“Didn’t think I’d have to. Despite all your other faults, you always seemed fairly honest.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Smart ass. I still am. Let’s go back to the house. I have to let someone bring in a new fridge in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay.” I directed Galatea as Marie fished in her back pocket.

She said, “Your thousand,” and produced a folded envelope, which she handed to me.

I took it, said, “Thanks,” and put it in my shirt pocket.

Marie asked, “You aren’t going to count it?”

“Nah. Like I said, you always seemed fairly honest.”

Galatea set us down in front of Tanya’s apartment just as a bobtail truck with a company name on the sides entered the parking lot.

Marie commented, “He’s early.”

Did that need a reply? I decided not. As Marie opened the front door, I sent a probe to the truck. The driver and an assistant sat in the cab. After consulting a clipboard, they got out and went to the back of the truck, where the driver lowered a lift-type tailgate. I sent Galatea to hover above their efforts and walked to the truck. The guys had selected a tall cardboard box and moved it onto the lift.

Just to be sure, I asked if that was Tanya’s new fridge.

“Yes, sir,” said the driver, reaching for the lift controls, “We’ll have it in there in about ten minutes.”

I said, “I can save you some trouble,” and had Galatea field-grab the box and head for the apartment’s back yard. The guys freaked a bit as I explained that the glass doors were bigger than the front door, then followed the flitter on my board.

Marie opened the glass doors with, “I saw what happened. Are they coming up here?”

Directing the flitter to put the new fridge in the kitchen, I replied, “Hope so. If they don’t, we’ll be stuck with a big box and an extra fridge.”

Walking around the new fridge, she said, “No, just with a box. The old fridge was staying anyway. Tanya’s donating it to a food bank.”

“Would these guys deliver it?”

“I don’t know. We could ask.”

The front doorbell rang. Marie let the two guys in and they almost cautiously came into the kitchen. Marie asked if they could deliver the old fridge and one guy phoned the shop as the other unpacked the new fridge.

The answer he received was ‘no’; I could see that in the guy’s expression.

I said, “Tell him he can write a delivery charge off his taxes.”

The guy put a thumb over the phone’s mic and asked, “Is that true?”

“Should be. I used to donate computer repair time and old units that way.”

After a short discussion, the answer was still ‘no’. The guys set about disconnecting the old fridge. Once it was ready to move, I sent a field pad under it and slid it away from the wall, then used a similar pad to move the new one into place. The guys had danced back when the green field appeared. Now they yammered questions. I ignored them and moved the old fridge further out of the way.

The driver continued asking about the pad. I said that if he — an official fridge delivery person — couldn’t somehow arrange the delivery of the old fridge to a food bank, there was no reason to tell him anything about field pads.

He responded, “Field-whats?!”

“That green thing you saw.”

“Look, I don’t make the rules. I don’t break them, either. I like having a job.”

I shrugged and went to the kitchen table. To Marie, I said, “When they’re finished, we can deliver the old fridge.”

She nodded with, “Okay. Thanks,” and watched the other guy hook up the water hoses, then shove the new fridge back another foot or so.

The driver didn’t look happy, but he didn’t push the matter. After testing his work, the other guy pronounced the job done and gathered up remnants of the cardboard box. Marie signed a form and showed them out of the apartment.

Closing the door behind them, she turned to me and said, “The food bank would send a truck over, you know.”

“Let’s just take it to them.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll call them and set it up.”

Sipping coffee, I watched Marie read some numbers off the fridge while she used her phone. A fine-looking woman. Trim, tight, everything right. Intelligent. Courageous. But well-known for having a hair trigger and the personality of a badger when she was pissed.

Did I really want to mess with her? Watching her lean to wipe and read a label, then stand straight and sweep her collar-length hair back, I decided that some chances might be worth taking.

Putting her phone in a pocket as she came back inside, Marie said, “They’re making a spot for it now.”

“Good ‘nuff.”

I went to the coffee pot and used what was left to top off my mug. Marie watched in silence, then moved closer to briefly touch the glass pot. She said, “It’s cold.”