Charlie's Confirmation
Narrowing her brown eyes, Charlie allowed her suspicious gaze to sweep the expanse of Graceland's living room. Rectangular and framed by a glorious view of the sea, all six agents shared the living room space, unlike the upper areas with their private bedrooms.
Because of that, odds would suggest that discovering covert activity would be more likely where the sneakies tended to gather. She hoped for some out of place folder or sticky note even which would provide a clue to shed light upon the secret shenanigans transpiring in the past day and a half.
Hmmm…
She bit the edge of her lip. Nothing looked amiss, unless the pocketknife normally Dale carried in his pocket counted. It lay on the edge of the coffee table, closed, but definitely out of place.
Maybe he had threatened to knife one of the roommates. A mental picture of a deranged Dale holding everyone at bay with his pocketknife caused her to pause.
Dale Jakes could justify his actions in a jury trial for several reasons, come to think of it.
Nah- even Jakesie could practice self control.
She dismissed that idea and moved towards the table, automatically picking up a discarded Hi C juice container which certainly belonged to Johnny. Who else in the house would settle on the couch with a juice box and sippie straw?
Catherine Demarco grinned at that. She secretly treasured Johnny's innocence and lack of innate guile and thought them the young man's most endearing assets.
Paige's hairbrush had fallen between the sofa cushion and sofa frame and Charlie dug it out by the bristles, not at all surprised to find two of her own scrunchies wrapped around the handle. Charlie sighed resignedly. When Paige first joined the house she had spent hours stewing over Paige's lack of responsibility, annoyed that Paige borrowed whatever she wanted or needed at will, and without asking permission. About the fifteenth time that Charlie tracked down one of her own personal possessions she treated Paige to a blistering lecture as she yanked her favorite blue sweater from where it lay tossed across Paige's bed. Through the entire diatribe the blond didn't interrupt or try to defend herself and finally Charlie just sputtered to a stop, anger depleted and victory won.
Then she noticed a single tear slipping down Paige's cheek and a wave of guilt flooded her. She hadn't meant to sound so aggressive and vicious, actually, but she was in the right.
Paige's lip trembled and Charlie's empathy directed her to move where Paige stood by her closet door.
"Come here, you," Charlie ordered softly, slinging the sweater over her left shoulder and pulling Paige against her. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, but look, if you want to take something of mine to use you need to ask me for it. Right?"
Paige, who had buried her head in Charlie's shoulder, nodded vigorously. Charlie felt a flood of tears dampen her neckline and automatically began soothing Paige by alternately brushing back her blond hair and patting her back.
When she felt the torrent slow she untangled herself and nudged Paige away from her, lifting up her chin to force eye contact. "Over, ok? This finished. You're a smart girl and you know with five roommates you've just gotta respect what belongs to others. By the same token, you deserve that respect from us, too. Got it?"
Paige nodded, and Charlie smiled softly. "I'm not mad, but we all have to pull our weight like with the chore wheel for group chores and keeping our own living quarters…" She paused and cut her eyes towards the ceiling. Paige's room resembled tornado alley pretty much all of the time. "Paige, we should also clean our own rooms, too."
Paige wiped her eyes and rewarded Charlie with a shy smile. "Ok, I can do all that."
She uttered it with such sincerity that Charlie laughed. "Good girl, Paige, and I really am glad you're here at Graceland."
From then on Paige tried hard to remember to ask permission, though most of the time it was after she had already taken what she needed.
Still, Charlie felt the showdown kinda-sorta had been a productive conversation.
The brush dropped from her hand and clattered against the end table. Charlie snapped back to the present, retrieved the brush and continued to scan the area.
Could a bit of paranoia have clouded her thinking?
Charlie pursed her lips and mentally reviewed several seemingly unrelated events which just screamed collusion and had set her on a path to seek answers. Paul and Mike whispering at the bottom of the stairs until they saw her cross the room signaled something, especially when Paul rubbed his chin and hastily moved to the kitchen while Mike jogged upstairs. Dale and Johnny had their heads bent over Dale's phone the evening prior, but Dale slid the cell into his shirt pocket when she appeared. Furthermore, Paige had insisted she needed to jet off to the local grocery store the afternoon before clutching a stuffed backpack, despite the fact that the refrigerator practically groaned with food.
Charlie strode into the kitchen and took the time to indulge in a panoramic view. Nothing appeared amiss.
A coffee travel mug sat alone in the sink and Charlie shook her head resignedly when she noted Mike had used a sharpie to print his name in bold letters across it. She could already visualize the conflict that brave play for ownership would incite. This particular mug belonged to a set of four gifted Johnny last year for Christmas, so no way would he permit Mike to sabotage it.
Charlie picked it up and reached for the sponge to smudge Mike's name. Better to head off trouble before it began. Somehow in this whole agents-come-together-and-live-as-a-family which defined Graceland, she had been relegated to a position of unofficial mother of the group.
Moms craved peace.
Charlie added some dish detergent and scrubbed harder. Mike and Johnny loved to squabble, and truthfully, they would respond to her only after a couple of attempts, whereas they shaped up a whole lot faster when Paul intervened.
Rinsing the cup, Charlie set it to the side to dry.
Yes, she might provide the maternal role to Graceland, but no one could dispute Paul Briggs provided the father figure.
Speaking of Paul- Charlie glanced at the clock and changed course. She would have to abandon her plan and put her investigation on hold.
Johnny had recruited all of them to help in his current assignment that very evening, taking down a small arms dealer who worked out of a downtown bar called The Volstead Act. Johnny and Paige had secured undercover jobs there- he, as a bartender, and Paige as a cocktail waitress.
The plan involved Dale and Mike showing up at the end of happy hour to stake out seats at the bar and on the club's dance floor. Paul and Charlie, on the other hand, were to act as a couple awaiting their table for an early dinner at the establishment's ritzy restaurant.
Thus, her sudden haste.
She hurried upstairs to shower and dress, then spent some time styling her hair, pulling it up on top of her head and then allowing soft tendrils to escape. She applied her makeup meticulously, a bit surprised at how excited she felt at dressing so formally for a change. Her dress was an emerald green with a halter closure, leaving her back and shoulders bare. It floated to just below her knees, and she slipped on silver high heeled sandals and dangling silver earrings to highlight the ensemble.
After twirling a slow pirouette in the full length mirror on her closet door she giggled with pleasure. She felt ooh-la-la gorgeous!
Quickly spraying a dab of perfume on both wrists she daintily descended the stairs. Paul had made it home because she had heard the shower run and knew that he too, hurried to dress. Indeed he had, she noted, because he stood in front of the picture windows, intent on witnessing the sun set over the Pacific Ocean.
She slipped up behind him and announced huskily, "I have an assignment to pick up a tall, dark, and handsome…"
Interrupting, he turned and she caught her breath. Though naturally a head turner, dressed to the nines right there in the living room, the man simply stunned!
"Handsome," she stammered. "Paul, I- I mean I didn't expect to find you in tails."
He shrugged his shoulders and appeared hurt. "I'm not pretty enough for you, Chuck?"
"Pretty? No, Paul, baby, you are scrumptious."
He raised an eyebrow. "The feeling's mutual, Catherine Demarco." Leaning down, he brushed a tendril of dark hair and then rubbed his palm down his cheek. "My oh my-you, my dear, simply melt my heart."
"Thank you."
"Oh, you're very welcome." He licked his lips and then abruptly moved from her and strode to the kitchen. Returning, he held out a dozen long stemmed roses and presented them with a flourish. "For you my lady in green," he bowed.
She sucked in an appreciative breath. "Paul, they're beautiful! I love yellow roses, thank you!"
He smirked.
"Let me slip them in water," she spoke over her shoulder, hurrying to rifle the cabinet beside the refrigerator to locate a vase.
Paul followed her and leaned against the refrigerator to watch the search.
"Perfect," she announced, holding up a cut glass vase before sliding it under the faucet.
As she cut on the tap she felt Paul's body slip behind her. He pinned her against the sink, his arms moving to wrap around her waist and his lips nuzzling against her neck. "Gorgeous girl," he whispered.
Charlie cut off the tap and loosened his hands so that she could turn and face him. She tilted her body back and tapped him under the chin to whisper, "Paul, not now- not here. They're all waiting on us at Volstead. Remember the op."
"No," he disagreed, softly touching his lips to her hand. "No, baby."
"Yes, Paul," she insisted, unable to keep a sudden huskiness out of her voice, "we promised we'd help Johnny."
Instead of responding he stepped back and used his finger to trace the outline of her lips.
She felt her body tremble.
Charlie Demarco had always acknowledged that in her lifetime no man had ever elicited the effect on her that Paul Briggs did.
His deep brown eyes hinted at more.
"Honey, our reservations got cancelled."
That shocked her. What about their part in Johnny's sting operation? "Cancelled, Paul, are you kidding?"
"Let me finish," he grinned, then admitted, "I never made them, so technically, I suppose I never cancelled, either."
She tried to absorb the announcement.
Paul watched her struggle to make sense of his cryptic explanation. "It's just the two of us, here, tonight, Charlie, dinner and dancing and whatever more your heart desires."
"Wait," she grappled for clarification. "Wait, is this why everyone's been so secretive around me lately?"
"If you are referring to the whispered confidences and covert plans spread over the course of the past several hours, then yes, Chuck, tonight's plan is why."
"Oh."
He narrowed his eyes. "Oh as in that news makes you sublimely happy?"
Her mind swam with the possibilities open to them, the house to themselves, the alone time, the hours of freedom. "How long before they come home?"
"The kids," Paul explained emphatically, "would not dream of returning to this abode for any reason in the universe this particular evening. In fact, they have made solid, alternate plans for the entire night, and we won't see their sweet faces appear again until midmorning tomorrow."
Charlie shifted.
"All night?" she whispered.
"All night."
"That confirms it then," she assured him, slipping her arms up and around his neck.
He shifted and smiled indulgently. "Confirms what? Confirms your innate suspicion and conniving thoughts that people in this house are sneaking around behind your back, Catherine Demarco?"
"Indeed yes," she smiled, "and it also confirms that you, Paul Briggs, will not only be my forever guilty pleasure, but that you, Paul Briggs, are the secret that controls my heart."