Maybe it should've dawned on me sooner that it wasn't smart to play 'who's
the bigger badass' with a self-proclaimed pirate in front of his crew.
Probably, that would have saved me the humiliation of being tied up and
slung over Sparrow's shoulder and carried back to his cabin.
He dumped me unceremoniously on his bed and cocked his head, studying me.
I stared back, thinking that this hallucination was really starting to get on my nerves. At least there weren't any dead bodies jumping out at me. But then again, there was no Pino's Pizza, either, and I was hungry.
Sparrow took off his hat and dropped into one of the chairs, spinning it lazily, so he could look at me. "So, love? What does the great bounty hunter have to say for herself?"
"Is it time for dinner yet?"
He chuckled softly. "You're all tied up and at my mercy and you're thinking of dinner?"
"Where I come from, dinner's the most important meal of the day."
"And that's New Jersey, as opposed to the old one in England, yes?"
In response, I rolled my eyes.
"And in New Jersey, women dress as men and are bounty hunters."
"Some of them. Others work in the button factory."
"But not you."
"I used to be a lingerie buyer for EE Martin, but they went out of business. It was a choice between the button factory, the tampon factory or working for my cousin, Vinnie."
"As a bounty hunter."
At least he didn't ask what a tampon was. "Bail enforcement agent."
"And your cousin thought this was a good idea?"
"Not immediately, but I threatened to tell his wife about the perverted thing he did with that duck and he saw things my way."
Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "Blackmail. Excellent. There's a bit of pirate in you, darling."
No doubt Sparrow wanted a few more inches of pirate in me. "Blackmail, shmackmail, it's not exactly a glamour job. I've been stalked by crazy boxers, had more cars blown up than I can count and seen more dead bodies than I care to remember. The only one who really approves of my career choice is my Grandma Mazur."
"Then why do it? Why not just get married and live a simpler life?"
I shuddered at the thought. "Oh, now there's an idea. My sister, Valerie, tried that and now she's divorced, living back home with my parents and trying to be like me. One of her kids thinks she's a horse."
"Sounds like a lovely family. I can see why you'd flee."
"I didn't flee! I'm here by accident. What? You think I'd actually want to be – what year did you say this is?"
"1689."
"1689," I repeated. "Why would I want to be in 1689? There are no doughnuts in 1689! This is some kind of torture!"
There was a knock at the door and Sparrow beckoned in the guy with the muttonchops. "Yes, Gibbs?"
"We found a few dresses what might fit the lady – er, bounty hunter, Cap'n." Gibbs laid a frighteningly large pile of fabric on the table next to Sparrow.
"Thank you, Gibbs." Sparrow grinned at the man. "Our lovely guest is inquiring as to the status of dinner. Would you be so kind as to have it brought to us?"
"Yes, Cap'n."
Sparrow waited for the door to close and then flashed his grin at me. "All right then, love, since we have a bit of time, let's peruse these lovely dresses, shall we?"
I almost told him that I didn't shave my legs this morning, when I remembered that the whole leg-shaving thing started in the Roaring Twenties and that in 1689, ankles were considered scandalous.
He held up a poufy peach number. "No, not your color."
Thank god. I was having flashbacks to my prom. Next was something big and blue that bore an uncanny resemblance to my Uncle Sandor's Buick.
"Yes," Sparrow beamed. "This is it. Looks lovely with your bonny blue eyes."
"You can't be serious."
"Absolutely," he said, cheerfully oblivious to my reaction, "this is the one. I'm going to untie you and you can go behind that screen and put it on."
"Can't you just leave me tied up?"
A/N
Thanks for all of the feedback. This wasn't really supposed to be more than a one-shot deal, but then I found myself wanting to play with some of the Stephanie Plum plot staples, from the whole 'badass' thing to Big Blue. I'm still pondering whether I can work Joyce Barnhardt into this....
I'm really glad so many of you are enjoying this. Doughnut, anyone?
He dumped me unceremoniously on his bed and cocked his head, studying me.
I stared back, thinking that this hallucination was really starting to get on my nerves. At least there weren't any dead bodies jumping out at me. But then again, there was no Pino's Pizza, either, and I was hungry.
Sparrow took off his hat and dropped into one of the chairs, spinning it lazily, so he could look at me. "So, love? What does the great bounty hunter have to say for herself?"
"Is it time for dinner yet?"
He chuckled softly. "You're all tied up and at my mercy and you're thinking of dinner?"
"Where I come from, dinner's the most important meal of the day."
"And that's New Jersey, as opposed to the old one in England, yes?"
In response, I rolled my eyes.
"And in New Jersey, women dress as men and are bounty hunters."
"Some of them. Others work in the button factory."
"But not you."
"I used to be a lingerie buyer for EE Martin, but they went out of business. It was a choice between the button factory, the tampon factory or working for my cousin, Vinnie."
"As a bounty hunter."
At least he didn't ask what a tampon was. "Bail enforcement agent."
"And your cousin thought this was a good idea?"
"Not immediately, but I threatened to tell his wife about the perverted thing he did with that duck and he saw things my way."
Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "Blackmail. Excellent. There's a bit of pirate in you, darling."
No doubt Sparrow wanted a few more inches of pirate in me. "Blackmail, shmackmail, it's not exactly a glamour job. I've been stalked by crazy boxers, had more cars blown up than I can count and seen more dead bodies than I care to remember. The only one who really approves of my career choice is my Grandma Mazur."
"Then why do it? Why not just get married and live a simpler life?"
I shuddered at the thought. "Oh, now there's an idea. My sister, Valerie, tried that and now she's divorced, living back home with my parents and trying to be like me. One of her kids thinks she's a horse."
"Sounds like a lovely family. I can see why you'd flee."
"I didn't flee! I'm here by accident. What? You think I'd actually want to be – what year did you say this is?"
"1689."
"1689," I repeated. "Why would I want to be in 1689? There are no doughnuts in 1689! This is some kind of torture!"
There was a knock at the door and Sparrow beckoned in the guy with the muttonchops. "Yes, Gibbs?"
"We found a few dresses what might fit the lady – er, bounty hunter, Cap'n." Gibbs laid a frighteningly large pile of fabric on the table next to Sparrow.
"Thank you, Gibbs." Sparrow grinned at the man. "Our lovely guest is inquiring as to the status of dinner. Would you be so kind as to have it brought to us?"
"Yes, Cap'n."
Sparrow waited for the door to close and then flashed his grin at me. "All right then, love, since we have a bit of time, let's peruse these lovely dresses, shall we?"
I almost told him that I didn't shave my legs this morning, when I remembered that the whole leg-shaving thing started in the Roaring Twenties and that in 1689, ankles were considered scandalous.
He held up a poufy peach number. "No, not your color."
Thank god. I was having flashbacks to my prom. Next was something big and blue that bore an uncanny resemblance to my Uncle Sandor's Buick.
"Yes," Sparrow beamed. "This is it. Looks lovely with your bonny blue eyes."
"You can't be serious."
"Absolutely," he said, cheerfully oblivious to my reaction, "this is the one. I'm going to untie you and you can go behind that screen and put it on."
"Can't you just leave me tied up?"
A/N
Thanks for all of the feedback. This wasn't really supposed to be more than a one-shot deal, but then I found myself wanting to play with some of the Stephanie Plum plot staples, from the whole 'badass' thing to Big Blue. I'm still pondering whether I can work Joyce Barnhardt into this....
I'm really glad so many of you are enjoying this. Doughnut, anyone?