Because ya'll are so swell (and mostly patient), lookit! Another chapter! This one is pretty sure compared to the last few, but it felt like the perfect place to end it so...
Just want to give another shout-out to everyone who continues to support the story. Your reviews and faves go a long way in encouraging me to keep plugging away at this thing. You all rock! And those who read and don't say anything, you rock, too!
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alley was rather proud of herself for the way she managed to get her emotions under control so quickly. Even though she was still flushed and shaky. Even though Throttle's kiss was still seared into her soul, she kept it together. She didn't pass out, and she didn't turn tail and flee back up the stairs to her bedroom, where she could hyperventilate in peace. She didn't even go after Throttle and attempt to choke him with his own tail when he finally got his feet under him and practically flew into Carbine's arms, the biggest grin she'd ever seen plastered all over his face.
No, she pasted the brightest smile she could muster onto her face and greeted the new arrivals as introductions were made by Stoker. She suspected she wasn't actually fooling anyone, and especially not Charley, who knew better. But at least they politely allowed her the dignity of pretending.
Aside from Carbine (whom Charley also hugged and greeted like a close friend), two others had come along. The second was Modo's nephew, Rimfire, whose rambunctiousness seemed on par with Vinnie's, although he possessed a much larger dose of good manners. Alley was hard-pressed to get him to not call her ma'am, especially since, according to Modo, they were around the same age. He was cute, though, the way he was so much like a mini-version of his uncle.
The third mouse was a stranger even to Charley and the guys. She was a pretty little female with coloring very similar to Throttle's, but her waist-length braid was deep sable, with a matching patch of fur covering her left eye and extending back to her ear, disappearing into her hair. Her eyes were pale blue, which surprised Alley; she'd assumed Martian eyes only came in shades of red and brown.
"The name is Gunner," the female announced with a smart salute. "I'm the general's second-in-command and her personal bodyguard."
"Since when did you ever need a bodyguard?" Vinnie asked in surprise.
Carbine looked annoyed. "It isn't my idea," she complained. "Seems like since I took over the Freedom Fighters, I've become something of a prime target for the enemy."
"There have already been three assassination attempts on her life," Gunner added, shooting her a droll look. "All of which came from within the ranks. You are not invulnerable, General."
"We caught the spy, though, so—"
"Yes, but where there is one, there may be more. Catatonian shape-shifters are not to be underestimated," Gunner cut in, sounding bored; this was clearly an argument she was long used to holding.
"Wait, wait. What's a Catatonian?" Alley asked, curiosity piqued.
"Another alien race," Vinnie replied. He wrinkled his snout. "Nasty buggers. Don't like 'em."
"Probably don't help ya go into uncontrollable sneezin' fits whenever one's around," Modo teased, earning a sulky glare.
"Ain't my fault I'm allergic to cats," Vinnie pouted.
"Wait." Alley raised both eyebrows. "They're cats?"
"Yep."
"Giant talking cats."
"They ain't the tiny, cuddly kind."
"Cats and mice. That's adorable." Alley held up her hand, grinning at Vinnie's expression. "And I gotta know, how are you allergic to cats? You're covered in fur!"
"Honestly, Alley," Charley sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"What?" Her eyes sparkled with humor. "It's a valid question!"
"Different kinda fur, sweetheart," Vinnie sniffed, crossing his arms.
"Well, darn. Guess buying a kitten is out of the question." She snapped her fingers in mock-disappointment.
"What I wanna know," Modo hastily cut in before a squabble could ensue, "is since when are Catatonians involved in this war?"
"Anyone can be bought," Stoker growled, clearly unhappy with the new development. "Seems like Plutark might be trying to expand its ranks."
"I'm not so sure Plutark has anything to do with this one." Carbine frowned, rubbing her chin. "We're trying to get more information, but our sources are stretched thin. I can't imagine what they would want, though. Mars has absolutely nothing of value that might tempt them to attack us. Not anymore, at least."
"Think the Sand Raiders might be involved?" Throttle asked.
"Or the rats?" Modo's eye glowed red for a second.
"That's what we're trying to figure out." Carbine sighed, rubbing the back of her neck in a tired gesture. "We sure could use you boys back on Mars. Especially you, Stoker." She shot an annoyed glance at her uncle. "You practically demanded us to come down here, babbling something about a secret project that might change the course of the war. Care to explain yourself further?"
"Yep." Stoker slapped his thighs and got to his feet. "How about we all head up to the kitchen. Alley can whip us up one of her amazin' dinners, and I'll fill you in on the details."
Alley's eyes widened, casting a hasty glance in Throttle's direction. He stood next to Carbine, her arm wrapped about his waist, his around he shoulders. Their tails were intertwined. They fit so well together. Alley's heart thumped, but not in the light, fluttery way it usually did whenever Throttle was in the room with her. It felt more like a sick lurch, followed up with a faint bout of queasiness. She hastily swallowed it down. There was no way she could be crammed into that tiny kitchen, surrounded by all those empaths, watching her crush and his girlfriend acting so cozy with each other, and not give something away. She wasn't a friggin' saint, damn it!
"I can't," she blurted in a moment of blind panic, receiving several surprised glances in return. "I got a text. From Chex. I'm meeting her soon. For dinner," she lied, backing up the stairs. She made a show of checking the clock on the wall. "Gotta start getting ready now, actually. Uh…" She nodded at the new arrivals. "It was nice to meet you all. Welcome to earth! I'll, uh, see you later." She turned and fled to her bedroom.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she growled to herself, pacing the length of the room as she typed on her phone madly. "Way to be subtle, moron! Like that wasn't as obvious as a train wreck!"
Her tirade was disrupted by a light tapping at the door. "May I come in?"
She was both relieved and disappointed to hear Charley's voice, unlocking the door and swinging it open. Charley entered and closed it behind her, regarding her cousin with concern. "You okay, Alley-Cat?"
"Right as rain!" she chirped, with a little too much cheer. She took a deep, calming breath, and shook her head. "No. Not really. But, I will be. I just … need some time to adjust, that's all. I'll get over it! Wouldn't be the first time I've been dumped, right?"
Charley shook her head, sitting on the bed and crossing her legs under her. "Throttle owes you an apology."
"Damn right, he does." Alley huffed, plopping down beside her. "I went up there, poured out my heart to him—and that right there was the dumbest thing ever—and then I told him we'd be better off just pretending it never happened. And instead of agreeing with me, noooo, he had to go and … and… Well, you saw what he did." Alley buried her face in her knees. "I called him my friggin' prince," she wailed. "How embarrassing is that?"
Charley laughed despite herself. "I admire you for holding it together as well as you did," she admitted, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "If it was me, I'd have just punched him in his cute little nose and been done with it."
"That would make me feel better." Alley sighed wistfully.
"So what's holding you back?"
"Um … Carbine would probably kill me?"
"You're probably right," Charley agreed with a chuckle. "She is one scary lady when she's pissed."
"…That does not help."
"Uh, sorry."
Alley's phone buzzed and she picked it up to read the message. "Oh, good. I'm saved," she breathed, slumping with relief. "That was Chex. She's working, but she gets off at five and will meet me for dinner." She gave Charley a pleading look. "Can I borrow your truck? I really want to get out of here for awhile."
"I can do you one better." The redhead grinned and pulled a set of keys from her pocket. "Meant to give them to you earlier, but I got a little distracted."
Alley's face brightened. "Priscilla's fixed?" she squealed.
"Yep. Got that last part in early and installed it last night. Thought I'd surprise you. Seems like you could use some good news for a change."
"You are the best!" Alley glomped her cousin in a big hug and hopped up to raid her closet. "Okay. Dinner … dinner… What to wear for dinner…?" she mumbled, pulling one outfit out after another.
Charley decided to leave her to it—Really, what was wrong with what she already had on? She would never understand her cousin—and headed out to the living room, where the guys were busily filling the new arrivals in on their latest adventures. She frowned when she saw Vinnie flirting Gunner, forcing back a twinge of unease. Vinnie flirted with everyone of the female persuasion. She should be well used to that by now.
She found Stoker in the kitchen, fixing a large pot of coffee. "I think Carbine might prefer tea," she informed him, pulling a kettle out of the top cupboard. "Luckily, Alley drinks a lot of it herself, so there are plenty of choices." She filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove to heat, fixing a shrewd gaze on the old general.
"What?" he asked after a moment, casting a questioning glance in her direction.
"So, ET phoned home, huh?"
He grinned. "I figured it was about time to let the Freedom Fighters in on my little secret. Spirits have been pretty low up there lately. News like this might rally 'em enough to keep hangin' on for a while longer."
"Hmmm." Charley pulled out several delicate teacups and no less than five different boxes of tea.
"Fancy," Stoker teased.
"Yeah. And expensive. And they belong to Alley, so I'll kindly ask you lunkheads to not break any of 'em, okay?"
"Sure thing, boss."
Charley leaned against the counter and crossed her arms, waiting for the water to heat. "So. Can't help thinking your sudden desire to share all your secrets coincides nicely with the opportunity to get rid of the competition for Alley's affections," she commented idly.
"Nope." Stoker didn't bat an eye. "More like preventative measures."
"For?" She raised a challenging eyebrow.
Stoker turned to face her, his expression serious. "That girl looks at Throttle with those come-hither eyes, projectin' all that interest without even tryin'. The punk's a sensitive empath. Course he's pickin' up on those signals. He's also a red-blooded male, and between watchin' you and Vinnie carryin' on, and missin' his own lady, he's probably feelin' that loss somethin' fierce. Eventually he's gonna crack an' start answerin' that siren call. Hell, he already almost did. And then the only thing that'll happen is all three of 'em end up hurt."
"And how do you figure that?"
"Throttle will lose Carbine, 'cause she ain't the type to forgive and forget so easily. Their relationship is tenuous most times; a betrayal like that'd demolish it, and Throttle will end up sufferin' for it."
"Even though he'll have Alley?" Charley asked softly. "You didn't see, Coach. What I walked in on earlier…" She shook her head, smile grim. "They're already way deeper into it than you imagine. You bringing Carbine here might've just done some serious damage to Alley's heart. He isn't a passing fling to her. And you have no right to interfere with their choices."
"I ain't interferin'," he replied. "I'm just forcin' his hand, so he will choose. Because you and I both know it's gonna come down to that sooner or later. Better sooner than later."
"And are you so certain he won't choose Alley?"
"He won't. Even if he wants her, he won't stay with her. Because I don't think he really loves her."
Charley pursed her lips, expression coy. "Not like you love her, is what you mean."
Of course Stoker ignored her accusation in favor of placing coffee mugs and condiments on a tray, leaving her to deal with the tea.
But he didn't outright deny it, either.
Alley stood in front of her vanity mirror and double-checked her hair, making sure the pile of ringlets perched atop her head was still in its proper place, a few colorful curls escaping to float whimsically about her face.
Hairstyle, check.
She turned to examine herself in the full-length mirror on her closet door, turning back and forth to watch how the frothy, pale blue sundress swirled delicately around her knees. The blue-checked, wedge-heel sandals and silver butterfly pendant nestled between her breasts completed the ensemble nicely.
Outfit, check.
Okay. So maybe she'd gone a little overboard on the clothes, but her wounded pride needed some serious soothing, and nothing made her feel better than getting all gussied up to go hang out with friends. Screw Throttle, she thought determinedly. Let him see what he's missing out on! I'll go out and have fun with Chex and flirt with cute guys to my heart's content! Stick to my own species from now on. Yep!
She nodded to herself, dabbing on the finishing touches of her makeup. She stood back for one last critical look, decided that perfection should not be messed with, and turned on her heel to flounce out of her room and down the stairs with all the proud dignity of a queen.
They were all in the garage again, and Charley was in the midst of dragging out an ancient grill as Modo and Vinnie piled frozen hotdogs and a few cuts of steak onto the card table.
"Hi, guys! Bye, guys!" she called, giving a cheerful wave as she breezed past, making a beeline for her bus before anyone could pull her into conversation. Her ego was more than a little gratified when she noted more than one jaw drop at her appearance. And not just from the males. Vinnie release a long, loud wolf-whistle that made her laugh despite herself. She cast a flirtatious glance over her shoulder—very carefully not looking at a stunned Throttle, who couldn't seem to pick his jaw up off the floor—before opening Priscilla's door and climbing in.
"I've missed my baby. Don't you ever break on me again!" she scolded, wrapping her arms around the lime green, shag-cloaked steering wheel for a brief moment, before placing the key in the ignition. "Please start, please start, please start," she chanted, and with a turn of the key, the engine roared to life. "Yes!" Her arms shot into the air. Then, remembering she still had an audience, she called out the open window, "Thanks, Cuz! Love you!"
She received an amused wave in reply and, as she carefully backed the bus out of the garage, she could have sworn she heard Throttle exclaim, "I thought she said she was goin' out with Chex!"
An hour later, she wasn't feeling quite so boisterous.
She'd picked a cute little sidewalk cafe to wait, not far from where Chex worked. It was only four o'clock, so she still had time to kill. Unfortunately, that also meant more time to think, and she couldn't help letting her thoughts shift back to Throttle and the way he had looked while holding Carbine in his arms. Two peas in a pod. A woman who knew him on a way more intimate level than Alley could ever imagine. And now, most likely, would never have the chance to discover.
She felt tears prick her eyes and, sternly reminding herself that "raccoon" was not a good look for her, blinked them back and pulled her phone out of her purse, deciding to distract herself with some mindless games.
Unfortunately, an even bigger distraction chose that moment to present itself, as a very large, purple-clad man sat heavily down in the cast-iron chair across from her, white-gloved hands folded under his chins as cold fish eyes regarded her shrewdly from behind the leering mask.
Alley gaped in shock, trying hard not to breathe; the stench rising from his body was unbearable, forcing several other patrons to hastily abandon their tables and threatening to wilt the small vase of wildflowers sitting on the table between them.
"Good day, my dear," Limburger oozed with his usual false charm. "You're looking quite fetching this fine afternoon. Waiting for a date, are we?"
*cough* Soooo ... I'm not trying to make Throttle out to be a jerk. Honest!
Or Stoker. Not tryin' to make him a jerk, either.
Men are just stupid. Especially when it comes to women. That is all.