Really Unusual Bad Boys (8 page)

“N
ow, my good lady…”

“Please, Sekal. Call me Gladys.” The older woman smiled. “I've asked you many times.”

“Yes, my…Gladys. Are your rooms comfortable? Are you finding our table with good things to eat? Because if not—”

“Sekal, my rooms are wonderful. Why, I had an entire apartment back home that you could have fit just into the room I'm sleeping in now. And the food is wonderful. To tell the truth, I don't recognize a lot of it, but it tastes delicious and it doesn't make me…I mean, my stomach doesn't…”

“She means, she's not getting Montezuma's revenge,” Lois announced, walking into the great hall. “They're coming back, if you guys care.”

“Who?” Sekal asked, gazing deeply into Gladys's brown eyes.

“Your second-born and the woman who dropped out of nowhere? Remember? Any of this ringing a bell? And if you inch any closer to my mother, Sekal, I'm shooting you in the face,” she added irritably.

“Oh, now, you will not,” Gladys said, jerking back. Sekal
had
been kiss-close for a few seconds. She sighed. “I brought you up better than this, Lois. Behave yourself.”

“Yeah, well…” Lois walked over to a window, pulled back the heavy tapestry in front of it, and peered out. “Dad canceled all that stuff out. That poor kid. She looks whipped.”

“Exhausted,” Gladys translated for Sekal, who looked alarmed. “Of course she does. Think how strange this place was to us, dear, and we came from modern-day Earth.”

Lois watched the couple approach. Maltese was padding toward the palace in his puma form, and Lieutenant Anne was walking beside him, her head down, her arms folded across her chest. She looked desolate, to put it mildly. Maltese didn't look much happier.

“She got a room yet?” Lois asked without turning around.

“Yes, we have put her beside my Lady Gladys's room. I thought, the good lady being such a kind woman, she might help our visitor be settled.”

“Oh, Sekal…” Gladys breathed. “You're so nice.”

“Kindness to such a gentle lady is simple courtesy, my lady, and I would be kind to you, always.”

“Oh, Sekal!”

“Barf,” Lois said, still looking out the window.

 

“Ma'am, will you help me escape?” Anne asked dully.

The dark, curly-haired woman, who had been showing her where extra blankets were kept, slowly turned around. She was very pretty, about Anne's height, and was wearing a fern-colored robe. Anne was still in her uniform and, by the grace of God, would remain so. Those robes were more revealing than bathing costumes.

“I'm, um, not really the person to ask,” the woman replied. She had a pleasing Midwestern accent, neither twangy nor drawly, and it comforted Anne to hear another American speak. About anything. “See, I'm what they call she-who-will-be-queen. Um, that means if the king—God forbid—dies, my husband and I are in charge.”

Anne said nothing.

“So, um, I guess I could be considered one of
them.
Sorry.”

“Dear, it's not that we don't want to help you.” The older woman, Gladys, was still hard at work. She was an older version of Lois, slightly shorter and heavier, and had the same fox-like face and pretty eyes. She had bustled and fussed about the room, trying to make it perfect. It was a waste of time, in Anne's humble opinion, as the opulent rooms were as close to perfect as anything in creation. But it seemed to please Gladys to be busy, and so she rejected the first five coverings on the enormous bed, and was now smoothing out the sixth.

Now she turned to Anne, who was standing in the middle of the room feeling lost, and added, “We don't know how. We came here by accident ourselves. One minute we were driving, or…” She shot a disapproving look at Lois. “Anyway, we don't know how we got here. We don't know how you got here. So we couldn't help you get back. We don't even know how to get ourselves back.”

Her training prompted her to reply. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“But this place grows on you,” Lois said. “Seriously. I know that sounds like a load of shit…”

Anne gasped.

Lois blinked. “What? They don't swear in 1945?”

“Women of loose…um…that is to say…”

“Well, she
does
have a pottymouth,” Gladys said primly, and Anne laughed for the first time that day. Both of the women stared at her, so she cut off the inappropriate noise.

“Ma'am, you were saying how this place, this strange awful horrible place that is not my home and will never be my home, you were saying, ma'am, that it grows on you.”

“Uh, yeah. That's what I was saying.” She and the older woman traded a look. “Don't you, uh, like Maltese? I mean, aren't you weirdly drawn to him? Even if you're pissed about being here? Aren't you thinking about him right now?”

As a matter of fact, Anne was. Specifically, she was thinking about that long soft penis, and what it might look like if he—if he liked her. She was wondering how that dark pubic hair might feel if her fingers were tangled in it, and she was wondering if she'd lost her mind at some point today. In fact, it seemed a certainty.

“Did you never want to escape, ma'am?”

The women traded another look. Finally, the crown princess—she-who-would-be-queen or whatever—sat down on the bed. “Okay, Anne. I'm gonna give you the straight poop.”

“I appreciate that, ma'am.”

“And stop calling me ma'am. I'm Lois, okay? Just Lois. And don't call me princess, or your highness, or anything goofy like that.”

“Don't worry,” Anne said dryly.

That made Lois laugh, for some reason. “Okay. Fair enough. Here's the thing. I wanted to be a cop—a police officer? For years and years.”

Anne nodded. She could relate to that. She'd been born on a farm. Without the kindly intervention of World War II, she might have died on the farm.

“And I was, right? And I loved it. I never thought I'd love anything more.”

“You were a police officer?”

“Yeah, I was a lieutenant in the—”

“In the offices, right?”

“No.” Lois smiled. “I know what you must be thinking, but take my word for it…where we come from…” She indicated her mother with a nod. “Women can be cops, politicians, fly jets—”

“Jets?”

“—planes. They can do whatever the hell they want.”

There was a long pause, and finally Anne said, “Ma'am, that is a lie. That is not true.”

“Maybe in 1945, sunshine. But give it until the next century. I'm telling you, I carried a gun and I waved it at bad guys and got shot at and puked on
and
got paid for it.”

Anne smiled; she couldn't help it. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Excuse me,” Gladys grumbled, fluffing up a pillow. “It certainly does
not.”

“Where I am…I know it's wrong to be glad it's wartime, but my country needs me. Needs women. Because the men, God bless them, are getting killed. And finally we have our chance. We could get out of the kitchen. We could help. We could
fight.”
She looked around the gorgeous room. “And now I'm here. I—my country needs me. I can't stay.”

Gladys opened her mouth, but Lois shook her head, and the older woman didn't say anything. Lois continued, “Look, I totally know how you feel. I couldn't see past my job, either, right? But then I got hurt. And they wouldn't let me on the street anymore. I could still be a cop, but I had to do paperwork and answer the phone…like that.”

Anne shuddered.

“Right. And I put up with it. For a long time. And then I realized they would never, never let me do what I loved, ever again. And my parents were dead. I mean, my dad was dead. My mom was here. But I didn't know it. And I'd never been one to make friends, you know? So one night I killed myself. I took about a million pills and killed myself. Except I didn't die. I think.” She turned to her mother.
“Are
we dead, do you think?”

Gladys shrugged.

“You weren't doing anything that would kill you when you came here, were you, Anne? I mean, you weren't charging a nest of machine guns or anything?”

“No. I was on my way to language lessons, at the base.”

“Hmmm. Okay. Anyway. I woke up here. And Damon was waiting for me. And now I have a whole new life. A wonderful new life. All's I'm saying is, give it a chance. I mean, there must be a reason you're here. Even if you didn't do anything to get here. Right? Anne? Right? Mom, back me up here.”

“I thought I was dead, too,” Gladys said. “I was in a car accident…you know, a crash? And I woke up here. And my friends—the journeyers—found me. And I wandered around with them in the desert for a long time.”

“Like Moses!” Lois said brightly, then ducked as her mother threw a pillow at her.

“At first I was shocked and unhappy, like you, dear. Then I got used to it. And then I met up with my daughter. And now I'm—well, now I have many friends, and the king has told me I can stay as long as I wish, and my life is very different now, too.”

Anne was listening, but she was more horrified than accepting. They wanted to be here? They never tried to go back? But that meant that she…that she…

“But there's nothing for me here,” she said. She heard her voice tremble, and despised herself for it, but continued anyway. “Back home, they need me. Here I'm…what?”

Lois and Gladys looked at each other. “Well, there's no war or anything. Which is a
good
thing. But, uh, Maltese really seems to like you.”

“He doesn't know me. And I didn't leave the farm and join the Army so I could end up someone's wife somewhere
else.”

Lois coughed. “Awkward,” she said to the air. Then, “Right, well…um…anyway, maybe you could give Maltese a chance? To grow on you?”

“To
grow
on me? Like mold?”

“Okay, poor choice of words. Look, all's we're saying is, you're stuck here, right? Well, wherever you run to, you're still
here.
On this planet, or whatever it is. So why not stay in a comfortable palace with servants and a prince who really seems to like you, and just…give it a chance. Okay?”

“Okay,” Anne lied.

“O
kay,” Lois said, letting the curtain fall. She spotted Maltese lurking in the hallway, stomped over to him, put her hands on his broad chest, and pushed him back a few steps. “Uh-uh, Dr. Stud. You leave her alone.”

“Is she all right? Does she still weep?”

“No, and no. Look, she's all tucked in and ready to go beddy-bye, so just, you know, give her some space.”

His brow wrinkled. “Give her some space?”

“Look, I don't know if it's the dialect problem or if it's just that you're a guy, but back off of her, all right? Don't crowd? Get it? I mean, give the poor girl a break, she's kind of freaked right now.”

“But I wish to be near her,” Maltese said, sounding wounded.

“I
know,
Maltese, believe me, I totally get it, okay? But she's not like me, she didn't—I mean, she's got stuff she'd like to get back to. She's really missing her life right now and she's mixed up, and doesn't have a clue what's going on. Just give her a chance to get settled in.”

“As you wish, Lois.”

“Soooooo.
Turn around. Walk away.”

After a minute's hesitation, he did.

Lois massaged her temples. “I had to end up on a planet that's never heard of Advil.”

 

Maltese pulled himself up and swung a leg over the balcony, then landed lightly on the floor. He poked his head through the window, observed the lump asleep in the great bed, and sighed happily. Her scent was so pure, so delectable, almost like sweetmeats, and it was so strong it called to him. Why, his nose was telling him she was much closer than in the great bed, that's how strongly he was drawn to—

He heard a crash—inside his skull, oddly—and fell the rest of the way into the room.

 

“You get out!” he heard when he regained consciousness a few seconds later. “It's bad enough you've kidnapped me like the Lindbergh baby. But you're not going to sneak in here and rape me.”

“Rape you?” he groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. “You mean wape? Prepare nuts and berries for you and anoint you with oils?”

“No,
I don't mean
wape.
I mean—you know. When you have—uh—marital relations with someone who doesn't want to have marital relations with you.”

Maltese frowned. “You mean,
force
you?” he asked, appalled. “Never! Not in a thousand sunrounds!”

“So why were you sneaking in my window? And where's your ladder?”

He did not know ladder, so he addressed the other question. “I wished to see you,” he replied simply.

She flushed and brandished the other statue. He saw the room had at least six—perhaps not the wisest decorating move. “Well, don't do that! It's your fault I'm here. I don't have to like it—and I
don't
like it—but do
not
sneak into my room and spy on me, or you'll get a lot worse than one of these upside the head.”

“I only wished to see you were all right.”

“All
right?”
Her blue eyes bulged. “I am utterly not all right! I have to get back to work, have you not heard me say this before? There's a war, do you understand
war?
My country needs me and I'm…I'm stuck in something out of
Arabian Nights.
With people who can turn into leopards!” She was wild-eyed and brandishing the statue, which Maltese eyed with no small concern. “Isn't there someone in charge I can talk to? Who can send me back?”

“My father is—”

“Never mind,” she snapped, and glared.

“Perhaps…” he began, and hesitated. He did not want her to go. But he felt her pain, keenly. Perhaps…perhaps it was not meant to be? No matter how drawn he was to her? The thought actually hurt him, as if someone had bitten him in the stomach.

“Perhaps what?”

“Ah…” He rubbed his head again, but the swelling had already vanished. “When Lois came here, she wished for things. For one thing. Her footlocker. And it appeared. And often, when people appear, they can wish themselves back. As they can wish things from their world out of the air. So perhaps…”

“You mean, like Dorothy in the
Wizard of Oz?”

“I do not know Dorothy.”

“‘There's no place like home'? Like that?”

“I do not know.”

“Well, it's worth a try, right?” She set the statue down with a thump, clasped her arms around herself, shut her eyes, opened her mouth…then cracked one eye open and looked at him. “Hey. Don't look so sad, uh, Maltese, is it?”

“I do not want you to go,” he sighed.

She hesitated, then said, “I don't belong here. It's nothing, um, I mean, it's not personal…” He knew she was telling an untruth, that she held it very personal, but it did not seem courteous to correct her. “Well,” she finished awkwardly, “thanks for the advice.”

“You are welcome.”

“Okay. Here we go.” She closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Well, good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

She closed her eyes again. Then she swore, “Cross of Christ!” And opened them, and hurried across the room, and stood on her toes, and kissed his chin. He blinked down at her, surprised, but before he could grab her and do some kissing of his own, she scurried back across the room and shut her eyes again.

“All right,” she said. “This time I'm really doing it.”

“Good-bye.”

“I wish I was back at the base in New York,” she said.

Maltese looked at the floor, imagining a gold circle would appear and whisk her away, as one had brought her, but nothing happened.

“I wish I was back at the base in New York!”

Nothing.

She opened her eyes again. “Maybe
you
have to do it,” she said. “Because you—what did you call it? You wished me here.” She gestured excitedly. “Sure, that's it! You have to wish me away!”

“But I do not wish for you to leave,” he pointed out reasonably.

“Aw, shaddup! And wish me away already!”

“I wish Loo was back at the base in Noo Yorrrk,” he said.

Nothing.

She stamped a small foot, and the hem of her robe flapped. “You have to
mean
it,” she said.

“But I do not.”

“Arrrrggghhh!”
she screeched, and threw herself facedown on the bed. She kicked like a child for some time, then slumped against the bedcovers, exhausted.

He bent over the bed, and gently turned her over. “Are you well?” he asked with some concern. Her face was
very
red, and her eyes were leaking.

“No,” she sobbed.

“Do you require anything?” This was, he felt, a foolish question—the one thing she wanted, he was unable to give her. Still, politeness had been drilled into him from his days as a tiny prince, and such habits were ingrained. “Shall I fetch Lois or Gladys?”

“No.
Those two are useless to me. They
want
to be here.”

“It is not such a bad place.”

“Not the point. I finally had a purpose, I finally got out of the God-be-damned kitchen, and now I'm
here.”

“Do not cry,” he said, patting her ineffectually.

“I'm
not
crying,” she sobbed. “And stop touching my head.” She batted his hand away.

“Perhaps…” He trailed off. Again, an idea he wished he had not had. Again, he was powerless to deny her.

“What?”

“Well. My brother the good prince has shown me many times where Lois appeared. Lois thinks there are ‘thin spots' between our worlds. Perhaps we could journey there tomorrow and perhaps your wish would work.”

She stopped in mid-sniff and gaped at him. Then, slowly, “You'd do that?”

“I prefer not to. But I dislike seeing you weep.”

She sat up excitedly, her head banging into his chin. “Really, you would? We could go there and try wishing again?”

“Yes.”

She flung her arms around him and squeezed him with all her strength, which was puny, but he appreciated the gesture. He carefully squeezed back.

“I guess I misjudged you,” she said, releasing him. “I really appreciate what you're trying to do.”

“It is nothing.”

“We'll see about that,” she said, and grabbed the corner of his robe and wiped her face. Then she smiled up at him, and he saw that she had deep sweetmarks in the corners of her cheeks, what Lois called dimples. His heart nearly stopped, but he managed to smile back.