Interlude (27 page)

Cal considered her question. What was she
getting at? Was this one of those weird tests that girls put their
men through? He put his pint down and said, “Anything. You already
know the power you have over me. I'm actually kind of scared of
what you might ask me to do, because I probably couldn't say
no.”

Karen looked at him. She was lost in her own
appraisal of what he had just said. What had she done to him to
make him like this? He was so confident and smart, yet he feared
his own self-control around her? Why did this please her? What
could she do to put his mind at ease? Perhaps she could use this to
have some fun with him instead!

Karen's long pause was already scaring Cal.
“Please say something. You're making me feel like I'm about to
regret sharing that.” He said.

“Baby, I would never do that!” She said. Her
words did little to comfort Cal. He could sense that she had
something planned. But what was it? She looked down at her phone
and began texting someone. After a few minutes of silence, she
looked up at him with a guilty smile. She seemed to be planning
something. But what? Cal regarded her cautiously as she spoke.

“Babe, I'm glad you told me. I actually had a
reason for not taking you to Ibiza. I was hoping you could take
care of a job for me?” She asked meekly.

“Like a, ahem, delivery?” He said, using air
quotes.

“Sort of,” She said. “I think you're ready.
Unless, that is, you don't want to. I don't want to force you into
something you don't want to do.” She said in a patronizing
tone.

Cal smiled at her and finished his beer.
“I'll do it.” He said finally. Karen's warm look of approval was
all the reason he needed. She beamed at him as their food came.
They ate in silence as Cal milled over what she would have him
doing.

He spent the afternoon with her before she
flew out. She drove herself to the airport against his insistence.
As he saw her off, she gave him a big wet kiss.

“I want you to come to Ibiza when you’re done
with your job.” She said. She nuzzled in his neck, inhaling his
smell as she spoke.
God, how did he smell so good?

“Sure, just tell me when and where.” He said.
He unloaded her wheeled luggage and pulled the little handle up for
her. “I'm gonna miss ya babe.”

Karen gave him a dark, passionate look as she
pulled him into a public make out session in the middle of the
airport. Cal ran his hand through her hair as their lips and
tongues took over communication. The world, their world, slowed to
a stop as they moaned and kissed in the busy place. Two teens
walked by and yelled, “Get a room!” They broke their embrace with
an awkward laugh.

“So, are you going to tell me what the job
is, or do I have to torture it out of you?” Cal said jokingly.

Karen smiled at him. “I don't know. The
torture part might be intriguing. Do you have any new ideas I
should know about?”

“Oh very funny,” He said. “I think you're the
one doing the torturing. You're in beautiful Ibiza, and I get to
run errands for you while you're gone.” He said, adding, “How long
will you be there anyway?”

“Just two weeks. And you'll be there most of
them. All you have to do is one little, teeny weenie job.” She
said. Cal was becoming suspicious of this job. Karen had that same
gleam she had when she was deliberately misbehaving. He gave her
his skeptical look.

“Alright, I guess I don't have a choice.” He
said warily.

“Good! I'll text you the instructions when I
board the plane.” She said, giving him one last hug before she
walked off.

Cal watched her until she stepped out of
sight. He sighed like a lovesick teen as he walked back to his car.
No Karen. He could already feel his heart sinking at the thought of
not being with her. He relished his life with her, but he was
worried about how infatuated he was. Could this be normal? He'd
always had trouble reading his own emotions since the Xanax
addiction, but he knew how he felt about her. His draw to her was
like a river coursing to the ocean. Only time could serve as an
obstacle to their relationship. Cal's felt his phone buzz. As he
unlocked the screen, he saw an email from a new contact:

Hey Cal!

I will be picking you up this afternoon to go
out to the California Valley. We have some computers setup at our
compound, and Karen said you would be the guy to fix them up. Look
forward to meeting you! Karen is always going on about how you two
met. Classic!

Alvaro.

Pacific Ironclad.

Cal exhaled in annoyance. This is the big
job? He could have stayed in his old life and done this! Why did
she want to pawn this off on him? He could have just taken care of
the computers before he left with her. He resigned himself to his
fate as another email buzzed in:

Hey baby! Did Alvaro get a hold of you? If
so, then you know what you need to do. Thanks for helping him out
for me. I'll think of a way to repay my little I.T. guy later:
)

-Love ya!

Cal emailed a response to her and Alvaro. He
wasn't really looking forward to a trip out to the California
Valley, but If Karen wanted him to do it, he knew he would. Hell,
she probably knew it too. After he made his way home, he changed
into a t shirt and jeans. If he was going to be hanging out around
bikers, then a tie and gray flannel slacks probably would make him
stand out.

As he was gathering up his things, there was
a buzz at the gate intercom.

“Hey Cal? Hello? This is Alvaro. The guy
who's gonna take you to the Ironclad compound.”

Cal buzzed the gate open. “Hey Alvaro, nice
to see you. Come on up, I'm just finishing getting ready.” Cal
pondered Alvaro's voice. He seemed to be more like an investment
banker than a leader of a ruthless biker gang. Cal chuckled at the
thought of rubbing elbows with the criminal element so easily,
especially when they didn't really seem like criminals at all. Cal
saw his truck pull up outside, and grabbed his bag full of I.T.
nerd stuff.

“Hey Cal, It's good to meet you!” He said
cheerily as Cal loaded his stuff in the bed of the truck. It was a
gleaming, new Ford F-250 that sat on gigantic, knobby tires. There
was a gleaming chopper strapped down in the back as well. As he
made his way up into the monster truck, Cal reached over to shake
his hand. The man looked nothing like he did in the picture Karen
showed him! Instead of biker garb, Alvaro was dressed in a button
down shirt and khaki pants. The real kicker was the argyle socks
and penny loafers. Cal failed to suppress his quizzical look as
Alvaro smiled broadly.

“I know, I know, I don't look like a real
biker. I found out that if you get pulled over dressed as a biker,
you get ticketed like one too. Dressing like this keeps everybody
happy. Besides, I just came from work, so this is technically my
other uniform.” He said in a pleasant voice.

“What kind of work do you do?” Cal asked.

Alvaro tried his best to sound rough and
tumble. “I'm a financial planner.”

Cal struggled to suppress a laugh, but he did
let loose a chuckle or two before regaining his control. “Not to
talk shop, but I recently moved over a retirement fund that was
being mismanaged. Is that something your firm handles?”

“In fact it is. We helped out a lot of folks
after the Enron fallout, and the Dot com bubble.” When you get a
chance, send me your portfolio and I'll have a look.” He said
brightly. Alvaro reached down to the center console and handed Cal
a drink in a Styrofoam cup. It was from one of those smoothie
franchises. Cal thanked him and pondered the odd circumstance. He
was in a giant truck, being driven to a compound full of bikers,
and he was conversing with their leader about retirement planning
while drinking a smoothie. Weirder things had happened as of
late...

As the drive to the compound wore on, Alvaro
would periodically check his phone for messages. His attention
piqued at one in particular, and he lifted his phone up to make a
call. Cal tried his best to glean what was happening from his side
of the conversation.

“Hey girl! No, not yet. Any time now
probably. We haven't done this in a while, so I'm a little rusty on
how it kicks in. Really? You don't say? Wow, I'll make a note of
that. Talk to-”

It was about then that Cal started feeling
odd. Everything in the cab of the truck was awash in colors. It was
as if everything around him had been run through some kind of Photo
shop filter. All of the colors seemed to be swirling and dancing
about like oil on a mud puddle. Cal reached his hand up to his
face, but the movement became an exercise in dexterity as he
attempted to touch his face again and again. The cars passing by
outside were more dynamic and colorful, as Cal's brain struggled to
make sense of what was going on. He looked over to Alvaro, who was
keeping one eye on the road while he watched Cal. When he spoke, it
was as if he was talking through a long, cement tunnel.

“Well, it’s time to tell you the real reason
I picked you up. We don't have computer problems. Our girl Karen
wanted you to be a member of our little band of merry men. You see,
it's a requirement to be able to sell goods to Pacific Ironclad.
Her dad did it, she did it and she wants you to do it also.” He
paused, looking at Cal's pupils as he drove. “She says you guys are
pretty serious, and she wanted this to be a way to prove yourself
too. As you might have guessed, that wasn't a normal smoothie. You
just got dosed with enough roofie to drop a horse. There's also a
bit of peyote and mescaline in there as well. It's a Pacific
Ironclad cocktail we mix up for the new guys.” He reached over and
patted Cal on the leg with a big smile. The lights and colors that
moved about made Cal's head spin. “Brother, you're gonna see shit
you've never seen before!”

Cal's eyeballs started to fail. The colors
seemed to be getting thicker, like smoke filling a small room. He
felt panic, but it was almost like it was contained somewhere else,
and he couldn't really register the emotion. He managed to mumble
so incoherently that he couldn't even understand what he said, and
then he passed out.

Chapter 11

Cal struggled with his limbs. It was as if
they were supposed to work, but they were shut down for repairs. He
looked around, troubled by the fact that he didn't know where he
was. All of the colors seemed to have gone away, but now he was
left with a useless body that wouldn't respond to his commands. He
remembered the lights and colors. Where did they come from? There
was a man too, a guy with a big truck. Where was he? He could see
someone in the distance walking toward him. He was outside, but who
was it he was seeing? As he struggled, he could see around himself.
He was outside, he was in a grouping of large metal buildings, and
he was seated in a chair. His feet could feel the ground under him.
It was hard cement. He tried moving the chair he was in. As he
looked around, he could see that his wrists were handcuffed to the
frame of the chair, as well as his ankles. How did this happen? The
figure in the distance was getting closer. He could see by the
silhouette that the person was female, and a rather attractive one.
His struggles against the chair had no effect. He realized that the
chair was somehow bolted to the cement. Resigned to his fate, he
waited for the female shape to come closer.

When she finally stopped in front of him, he
could see that she was wearing shiny, leather pants and a tight
tank top that showed her midriff. As she stared at him, Cal's face
was aimed right at her waist. She leaned in close, and whispered in
his ear.

“Welcome to Camp Ironclad, meat.” She lilted
quietly. The feeling of her raven black hair across his neck, and
her breathy voice in his ear, was bringing him out of his haze
quickly. All of a sudden, she pivoted on her feet and punched him
in the stomach! Cal reeled from the blow, as he fought against his
bonds and coughed. The woman laughed menacingly, as Cal tried to
figure out what was going on.

“Where am I?” How did I get here?” He asked.
Suddenly there were lights everywhere. Large flood lights blinked
on with an audible buzzing noise. He craned his neck to see his
surroundings. As his gaze turned to the ground in front of him, he
saw the words “INITIATION CHAIR” Spray painted on the cement in
front of him in large block letters. Uh oh…,

All at once, there were people everywhere. He
could see about twenty or so people, and possibly more out beyond
the reach of the floodlights. They all erupted in a cacophony of
noise and cheering as the raven-haired girl raised her balled fist
high in the air. Cal looked up just in time to watch her line up
another punch right to his head. This sent him askew in the chair,
as the handcuffs bit at his wrists. His head was throbbing, and he
could feel a welt growing over his left temple where her fist
connected. She smiled down at him and giggled like a school girl,
as she straddled him and sat down in his lap. She ran her nose
along his neck. It was then that he noticed that he wasn't wearing
a shirt. He found himself becoming aroused at this strange woman as
she gyrated her pelvis in his lap. His nipples were alive with
sensation as her hair brushed them lightly. All of a sudden,
another voice shouted from the crowd.

“HEY PRETTY BOY! ARE YOU MAKING MOVES ON MY
GIRL?!” A large man stepped out from the group. Cal took solace in
the fact that this man at least looked like a real biker. He
actually looked like a beard with nose and eyes attached to it. He
was wearing leather pants, a leather vest, and black cowboy boots.
It was Mitch, their gigantic lawyer.

“I can't make any moves man. I'm sort of
stuck here.” Cal said as the giant man stood over him.

“WELL, I GUESS YOU GOT ALL THE ANSWERS DON'T
YOU?!” He yelled right in Cal's face. Cal closed his eyes and
winced at the smell of the large man's beer breath. “WHAT DO WE DO
WHEN A GUY MAKES A MOVE ON AN IRONCLAD GIRL!?” He yelled to the
crowd.