On Tour (21 page)

Marsha and Andre made eye contact; she looked away first.

Mark said, "What are you saving it for, the tabloids? Come on you two, give us some details."

Marsha sighed and poured herself more wine. "Fine. It's not that interesting of a story. We were snorkeling away from the boat when it blew up."

"You're leaving out all the good parts, Marsha," Mark complained and turned to Andre. "Now tell me how you managed to get her to go snorkeling."

Andre smiled. "Who said it was my idea?"

So Andre was protecting Marsha now. Something had definitely happened on that island.

Marsha jumped in. "I lost a bet. That was it."

"What was the bet about?" I asked.

"Nothing important."

Yeah, sure. "So you're off the boat snorkeling, and?" Mark prompted.

"We were following a school of clown fish and ended up a lot farther away than we realized. Then there was a sound like a gun shot and the boat blew up. Probably some kind of timed device, because there was no one around for miles. Hadn't run into anyone for almost four hours when we went snorkeling."

"So you're out there in the middle of the ocean in your bathing suits with snorkel gear and nothing else?" I shuddered. I couldn't imagine how that would feel.

"Something like that," said Andre with a grin.

I looked from one to the other.

"Oh, just tell them already!" Marsha snarled.

Andre shrugged and made a throwing away the key gesture with his fingers.

"We were naked," Marsha blurted out.

Mark started to laugh. "No way!"

"Yes, way. The snorkeling wasn't the bet. Skinny dipping was." Marsha blushed like only a real red head could, from the neck of her shirt to the roots of her red hair.

"I guess the whole decorating question has been answered," I observed wryly.

Andre nodded. "Definitely."

"So let me get this straight," I said, leaning forward, "you get off the boat to go snorkeling naked and then it blows up. You have to swim to a deserted island and run around for two days naked?"

"Awkward, huh?" Marsha rolled her eyes.

"I guess. What did you do? Make clothes out of palm fronds?" I asked.

"You've watched too many episodes of Gilligan's Island. Palm fronds are sharp and pointy. You can't make clothes out of them. And no I couldn't wear coconuts as a bra, so don't even ask."

Mark was bent over laughing. "You got marooned on an island—naked! Oh, Marsha, I can't wait to read your report."

"Yeah, neither can anyone else at work. The only reason it isn't front page news is because the fishermen who found us sold the story to
People
. They were actually on their cell phones negotiating the deal on our way back from the island."

"She wanted to throw them overboard and take their boat." Andre motioned to Marsha; they shared a secretive smile.

"Yeah, but he pointed out we wouldn't be able to explain their disappearance."

"So what did you eat and drink?" I asked, fascinated by the whole island adventure.

"There wasn't any source of fresh water, but it rained a couple of times, and we got a little to drink that way. Having the fins and snorkel gear helped with catching a couple of fish."

Marsha added ruefully, "I'll never eat sushi again."

"Well, you're welcome to stay here tonight if you don't mind an air mattress."

Andre shrugged. "Not a bad idea. We could head out first thing in the morning."

"I'm not driving anywhere," Marsha said with a yawn. "So it's your call. Looks like I've got my snuggle buddy for the night," she cooed at Max. Max flipped over on his back and wriggled in delight. Oh, brother.

*  *  *

Andre and Marsha were gone first thing Sunday morning. Their relationship was still an enigma to me. Although they'd slept together on the inflatable mattress, I doubted there'd been any funny business. Not that a blow up bed was good for funny business. They seemed like a couple, but they didn't act like a couple. No kissing, touching, nothing. Max scored better than Andre had. He'd snuggled between the two all night.

Mark and I headed downtown for a late breakfast at Shacks. We were attempting to have an assassin-free day and had agreed to table the discussion until Mark received more information. We were, of course, on high alert. The previous night's discussion had me jumping at shadows again.

While we sipped coffee and ate sticky monkey bread, I suggested we get pedicures to relax.

Mark looked up at me. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, seriously. We could go to Nails2Go and get pedicures. I could really use a manicure too. My nails are a mess from all the guitar playing I've done."

"I've never had a pedicure before."

"I find that hard to believe. You look like the kind of guy who'd do a little self-pampering."

Mark frowned. "That doesn't sound like a compliment."

"All I'm saying is that you look like you take good care of yourself."

"I've had massages before," he hedged.

"But no pedicures? Why?"

He sighed. "Okay. My feet are really ticklish. I don't know if I could take it."

"They don't tickle your feet, silly. They massage them."

"Well, I guess I could give it a try." He sounded like he was agreeing to walk the plank.

Nails2Go was next door to Greene's Staffing. We were ushered into big cushy chairs with foot tubs by the tiny Philippine owner, Maggie.

"Haven't seen you for a long time," she said. "You still work for Carol? She here every week like clockwork."

I nodded, hoping we weren't going to play twenty questions through the whole service. Looked like she'd missed all the news about my recent escapades.

"This your boyfriend?" She pointed to Mark, who was rolling up his pant legs. He yipped as he put one big foot into the steaming water. "He cute."

She barked some orders in her native language, and a young girl came from a back room carrying a tray of pedicure implements. She set the tray next to Mark. He peered at them like they were instruments of torture.

"What's all that for?" he asked me.

I leaned forward. "Clippers, cuticle trimmers, pumice stone, files. All the normal stuff."

Mark looked doubtful. "They use all that?"

"It's his first pedicure," I explained to Maggie.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, he a pedicure virgin." She cackled, and all the girls around her joined in.

Mark glared at me.

"Yeah, and his feet are ticklish."

More laughter. More glares from Mark.

Maggie leaned over and tickled Mark's foot. "Tickle, tickle," she teased as Mark howled.

"I thought this was supposed to be enjoyable," he growled at me.

"I'm having a great time." I gave him a big smile and wiggled my toes in the hot, bubbling water.

The ladies got down to work, and soon I had manicured nails and toes in soft coral. Mark survived; although the pumice stone almost did him in.

"I can't believe I just paid for torture," he griped as we left the shop.

I hit his arm. "Don't be such a wuss. It wasn't that bad, and now you have nice soft feet. No more stabbing me with your talons."

"Hey, shouldn't we pick something up for your aura while we're here?" He indicated the door to Spellbound, the Wiccan specialty store on the opposite side of Greene's.

He was teasing, but I decided it couldn't hurt. Last time I'd been in was right before I went on tour. Maybe my aura needed a tune-up.

It was a slow Sunday. Sybil, the owner, gave us a smile as we walked in. A lady in a long, black dress and bare feet glanced up and then fled down an aisle. A couple of potheads were admiring a bong in the shape of skull. The smell of incense and patchouli soap hung heavy in the air.

"Hi Sybil." I gave her a wave. "Thought I'd better come in for a tune-up."

She stared at me for what seemed like a full minute. "Oh, my," she murmured coming from behind the counter. "What
is
that?" She walked around behind me.

I looked over at Mark. He crossed his arms and raised his eyes heavenward.

"What's what, Sybil?"

She waved her arms around me and poked at me without actually touching me. Like I was encased in a bubble. "That. It looks like your aura's been dipped in something."

The woman in the long dress dashed past us, giving a little shriek as she reached the door.

"What's her problem?" Mark asked.

"It's that," she pointed again at my aura with a distasteful look. "Her aura's just plain gross."

I sighed. I had a gross aura. Great, just great. "I've had a run of bad luck lately."

Sybil stopped staring at my aura and looked up at my face. "I'd say. I can't believe you're walking around like that."

"I can't believe I'm asking this," Mark said, "but how do you fix something like this?" He pointed at my aura.

"I'm starting a new job tomorrow. I've got to get this cleaned up. Carol will flip if something goes wrong." Okay, I'm generally not that into this stuff, but when your aura starts scaring strangers, it's time to take it seriously.

Sybil took a deep, calming breath and closed her eyes. "I might be able to help you, but it's not going to be easy."

"When is it ever easy with her?" Mark asked.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Mark said.

"I guess it means you really love me," I replied. In addition to the large black obsidian necklace which had to be worn against the skin and uncovered, Sybil smelted us with white sage, and instructed us to ground ourselves by hugging trees.

"I still don't understand why I have to do this too," Mark complained.

"If you want to continue to 'exchange energy' with me, then you've got to do it, or I will just get re-contaminated." Sybil had insisted Mark go through all the same aura fixing techniques. He'd balked at the matching necklace, but Sybil had found a steel and obsidian bracelet that he didn't object to.

We were now in the park at the most secluded spot we could find grounding ourselves by hugging trees. Seriously. We had ten more minutes of grounding by my watch.

"This is stupid." He dropped his arms. "We just got sucked in with all her mumbo-jumbo."

"Hug!" I ordered. "Did you see the way that woman in the black dress ran away from me?"

"She's a nut! And now we're nuts too." But he went back to hugging the tree.

I had to give him credit. Mark was a pretty good sport. I don't think there are many men out there who would hug a tree in public for the sake of their girlfriend's aura. Actually, the tree hugging wasn't bad. It was kind of nice. I leaned my cheek against the bark and sighed. I just wanted tomorrow to go off without a hitch.

We'd managed to avoid notice with the exception of a couple of long-haired teenagers who gave us the peace sign as they passed.

I heard Mark groan. A group of moms with kids in strollers and toddlers at their heels approached. They were wearing the current mom uniform of yoga pants and over-sized T-shirts and sipping over-priced iced coffees.

As they got closer, I heard one of the kids say, "Mommy, why're those people hugging the trees?"

"They must be protesting something," the mother answered. "Cheryl, have you heard anything about a protest in the park?"

They were standing in front of us now, looking at us like we were zoo animals. Cheryl shook her head. "I haven't heard a thing."

A woman in a baseball cap with a Jersey accent said, "I bet some developer wants to knock down all these trees and put up condos or something."

"Maybe we should help out. Show the kids what social activism is," another mother suggested.

I was trying to blend in with the tree, but it didn't work.

"Excuse me," said the Jersey woman. "Do you guys need some help with the protest?"

"No, no, we're fine," I said. "This is a quiet, peaceful protest."

The mom who was hip on social activism stepped up. "We'd like to participate. Just for a minute. To show the kids what being an active part of the community is all about."

She was so earnest. Oh, what the heck. "Sure. Just pick out a tree and give it a hug."

Mark groaned again.

"Come on kids!" the mom called. "Everybody grab a tree and give it a hug."

Now there were a dozen of us hugging trees. Hard to keep something like this quiet.

A group of college students stopped and asked one of the moms what we were protesting. "Development of protected land," she replied.

"No way!" one long-haired kid cried. "Dude, hug a tree, save the land!" he called to his buddy.

They started chanting:
Hug a tree, save the land
. "Brittany, get a pic of me saving this tree. Social media will set it free."

A group of Japanese tourists stopped and took pictures.

"This is getting out of hand," Mark called over to me. "Time's up. Let's go."

More college students arrived. The moms looked like they'd had enough social activism; the kids were whining for snacks. Mark and I stopped hugging and headed towards the front of the park.

"Hey, where are you going?" the Jersey mom called.

"Um—our shift is over," I said with a wave.

We passed a group of kids with hand drawn signs reading: HUG A TREE.

"Unbelievable," Mark said. "You single-handedly started a protest in the park."

"Ah, no," I said. "You helped."

Mark ran a hand through his hair. "It kills me to admit it, but you're right. How's your aura feeling?"

We turned onto Calvert Street, and I took a deep breath. "It feels good. How about yours?"

"Not bad." His voice held a trace of laughter. He reached for my hand and kissed the back of it.

*  *  *

Monday morning I awoke feeling great. Fears about The Spider's possible rival had faded. I'd had some good snuggle time with Mark and had gone to bed early. My aura was clear, and I was ready for my new assignment. Since I was part owner of the agency now, I guess it wasn't really an assignment, but I treated it like one anyway. Dress professional, show up early, act like you've got some sense, all things that many temps had problems with. Most of all I wanted to make Carol proud. She'd put a lot into this contract while I was off on tour. Now it was my chance to pull some weight.