The Road to Glory (35 page)
RJ laughed. Everyone did that.
"I feel great," Leigh said in amazement. She reached out and laid her palms against RJ’s chest. She felt a heartbeat and her chest’s steady rise and fall. Then she removed one hand and placed it against her own chest and frowned. "My heart is beating? But I’m still dead?"
"Yes. And you eat and sleep and do all those things you did before. Only you’re not quite so ruled by your physical self. I’ll explain it all.
"And you’re dead too?"
RJ nodded and let out a slow breath. "For sixty years now. Though I was allowed a second chance at life with you when we went our trip. When you dropped me back at the diner our time together was finished, Leigh. I swear, I didn’t want to leave you. But I had no choice."
Leigh put her hands on her hips. "So that’s why you dumped me like yesterday’s trash? Because you were some sort of ghost?"
"I am no such thing." RJ looked aghast. "And just remember, whatever it is I am, you are too." Her face went serious. "I did what I thought would give you a life, Leigh. Because I love you. And for no other reason."
Leigh’s eyes narrowed. She reached out and grabbed and handful of RJ’s shirt, pulling them nose to nose. "We’ve got a lot to talk about. But this very second there is only question I have."
"Yes?" RJ asked reluctantly.
"Are we in this …" She gestured broadly. "Whatever you call it. Life or next life ... together?"
"Forever."
"Promise?"
"That’s two questions."
"Shut up."
"Gladly." RJ pulled Leigh into a crushing embrace and occupied her mouth with something far more pleasurable than talking.
Leigh moaned her approval at RJ’s choice and hoped it was one her lover would make for lifetimes to come.
Pete sighed. It wasn’t unmanly to shed a tear for true love, was it?
Flea jumped off his shoulder, and they both began strolling toward Pete’s car. Over their shoulders they heard Leigh exclaim delightedly, "I knew I could never love anyone who owned a piece of shit!"
Pete laughed. "I guess she finally got a glimpse of RJ’s truck in all its glory."
Flea padded along quietly, ignoring Pete and already thinking ahead to the next glorious time she could finagle two more squirrels into Glory.
"Maybe we should change the name." Pete opened the door and Flea jumped in, taking her customary spot on the dashboard.
She looked at Pete.
The big man rolled his eyes. "But everyone already calls it Mayberry! Why fight it? And no, I will not submit the request to you in triplicate. I don’t care what you say."
Flea licked her paw with an air of boredom and superiority that could only be possessed by a cat.
"Fine," Pete huffed. "But don’t blame me if you drown under a mound of paper work."
Flea closed her eyes for a short nap. They were serving liver at the diner tonight, and she wanted to be rested and ready when it came time to chow down. She had her priorities.
"And another thing …"
If Pete didn’t stop droning on and on and on, Flea was going to be forced to do something drastic. The last time that had happened the world ended up with the platypus. And that was
before
she’d really gotten creative and learned what antifreeze could do.
* * *
"So this is your brilliant plan?"
"We’re not currently being digested by Flea, are we?"
"No," the male groused. "I suppose not."
The male and female squirrels scampered across the hot roof of the garage that sat next to Fitz’s diner, heading for the forgotten hammer they’d seen from their nest. "The human female should really be more careful. Leaving a heavy object on a slanted roof could be dangerous."
"For our sake, you’d better hope so." The female plopped herself down next to the hammer, breathing heavily. "Okay, do I need to repeat myself?"
"No! I started paying attention after the fourth time you went over your instructions." He puffed out his chest. "I can handle this. No problem."
The female’s blood went cold at his words.
"Really," he insisted.
"Uh huh."
"Really!"
"Fine." She moved away from the hammer. "Hang your head over the edge and see if she’s still sleeping down there."
Her mate peered warily over the edge of the tall roof. "Yup. The fat cat is lying there sound asleep." He laughed gleefully. She was about to meet her maker.
The female shrugged. "So, push the hammer over the edge and squish her."
"It’s a brilliant plan."
She beamed. "I know."
I knew there was a reason I married him.
The male spit on his hands and began to push.
The hammer didn’t move.
He gave it a withering glare and then threw his scrawny back into it, grunting loudly. "I…" Grunt. "Can’t… move." Grunt. Grunt. "Move it."
"I can see that."
He stood up, sweat pouring off his furry brow. "Help me! I need your bulk."
"Ooooo, that sounds so sexy!"
He winked charmingly. "Later. After the felinocide."
The female began to push on the hammer along with her mate and little by little the heavy tool moved closer to the edge. Where it stopped.
The male burst into tears. "Why can’t any of our plans succeed? It’s not fair!"
The female uncharacteristically joined her mate and burst into tears too.
How much could one rodent be expected to handle?
"I don’t know!" she sobbed. "But let’s try one more time."
They both began to push with all their might, and magically, somehow, the hammer began to move. Unfortunately, so did Flea. At the last second the female tried to stop the hammer and change its trajectory. But she lost her balance and stood helplessly, teetering on the very edge of the roof.
"Help! Help!"
For a long moment her mate was paralyzed by fear. Okay, he was really deciding whether or not to give her a good shove. But figuring that it wouldn’t get rid of her permanently, he decided to save her. Sadly, he tripped along the way. The male fell straight forward and slammed into his mate, sending them both off of the roof and careening toward the ground at frightening speed.
"AHH!!" the tangled Ball O’Squirrel screamed.
* * *
"AHH!!" Randi sat bolt upright in bed, sweat dripping liberally from her face and neck. Panting and wide-eyed, she flicked her gaze around the shadow-filled bedroom.
Mac threw her hand across Randi’s lap. "Go back to sleep," she slurred tiredly, never bothering to open her eyes.
"I can’t." Her chest was heaving. "God, I … it was the most fantastic dream."
"That’s nice," Mac answered into her pillow.
"You were in it, but your eyes were the wrong color and you were a truck driver with a naked woman on the side of your truck." Randi looked down at her naked lover. "She was hot, by the way."
Mac only grunted.
"And I was a handyman in heaven or some other screwed up place where you go when you die." She made a face. That part had never been very clear. How pathetic. "And the squirrels from the park, the ones who spy on us, they were there too."
Mac lifted her head tiredly. Her hair was plastered to the side of her face, and she opened one eye to stare at Randi. "I told you to stop going to that park and talking to them. It’s creepy."
"It is not."
A pale eyebrow lifted.
"Okay, it is. But I swear they’re talking about us. I just know it."
Mac’s head flopped back down. "They’re rodents, Randi. They can’t talk."
"That’s what you think."
"Yes," she pushed herself up again and kissed Randi gently on the lips, smiling at the sweet contact. "That’s what I think. I also think that I’m going back to sleep and that you should too." She sighed.
No more burritos before bed for her.
Randi looked annoyed but didn’t have a real reason to argue. It was the middle of the night. "Okay. Good night, stalker."
"Don’t call me that," Mac mumbled softly.
Randi straightened their covers and glared at the fat, black cat with golden eyes that was lying at the foot of their bed. She sneered. "I hate you."
The cat purred happily.
"I don’t care if Mac did run you down with that godawful Volkswagen of hers," she grumbled petulantly. "You’re going to the pound tomorrow."
"Stop lying to the cat," Mac interrupted unexpectedly. "She knows it was you that hit her. Not me. And she’s staying until she’s healed. Go to sleep."
"Fine." Randi lay back down and pulled the sheet up to her neck. She glared at the feline. "Stop mocking me!"
"Randi," Mac warned.
"Okay. Okay. If she has to stay at least we can give her a name."
"I already did that this afternoon while you were calling all the shelters and cursing them out for not taking injured cats."
"Well, what is it?"
Mac rolled over and fluffed her pillow before closing her eyes again and groaning inwardly. She had to work the next morning. "Flea."
"AHH!!"
Unseen in the darkness, Flea just grinned.
THE END
:
Make sure to send your necrophilia comments to TN. I just know she’ll appreciate those:-) . Her addy is back up in the disclaimers.
Ummm… As I’m proofreading this final draft, I see this snarky little comment that my writing partner made
I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.
--TN
