Carly was tired, Carly was hot, Carly manacled to Brenda Barrett. It was not Carly's day.

Carly had not had a "day" since Brenda, a returned-from-the-dead nemesis and over all pain in the ass, had dragged her into this mess.

She'd been sitting at a patio table outside Kelly's, enjoying a quite moment while the kids were inside making sundaes and shakes with Bobbie and Penny (containing things that would give Sonny apoplexy). Then Brenda had dashed into the courtyard looking around hurriedly.

Brenda proceeded to tell Carly a story about a mysterious man with a mysterious business card, a modeling agent sailing around on a yacht packed with beautiful models whom she was beginning to suspect were involved with drug running or prostitution. During the tale Carly'd figured that the Zirming character was probably trying to either hire Brenda's models into his little plot or hire Brenda as a scout for his sailing brothel.

Brenda, on the other hand, had asked for Carly's help in figuring out which—drugs or prostitution—was going on. Far be it from Carly to point out that it was usually both.

Carly'd urged Brenda to take the matter to Sonny or Mac but she'd adamantly refused. Brenda feared that Sonny would strike first, taking no prisoners. But what if she was wrong? The men would be "gone" and the women's careers would be ruined. But she couldn't go to Mac either because she didn't have any real legal evidence for him.

Finally, Carly had conceded and said she'd help Brenda, but only as far as getting evidence one way or the other, and she'd done it against her better judgment.

Sonny hated it when she pulled stuff like this. Not because he thought she was being stupid or crazy....well, not entirely. But because she was putting herself at risk, in danger. And what if something were to happen to her? If she were hurt, caught, convicted? How would he and their family survive without her? Anything that hurt her, hurt him.

Her heart clutched as it always did when she thought of how much he loved her. How much she loved him. What an astonishing miracle it was that they wanted each other. She knew how he felt and understood it because she felt the same when things would get dangerous with the organization.

Thinking of all this, she pondered how, she'd planned so carefully for their reconnaissance mission. All of which Brenda had thoughtlessly disregarded for six bloody, damn, freaking ounces of plum juice. The health and beauty merits of which she'd been forced to listen to in the form of long diatribes since the intrigue began. If Carly ever saw a bottle of organically grown, hand-squeezed plum juice she was going to smash it over Brenda's head...hopefully crushing her pin-sized brain.

Now there were two more pin-heads bickering outside there door. If they weren't the guards, and the guards hadn't heard them, then they soon would. The whole conversation made Carly want to cry. She felt as if she were about to inherit two more Brendas as the petty banter on the other side of the door continued.

"It's not my fault you don't know how to pick a lock."

"I know how to pick a goddamned lock."

"Stand aside, little girl. Let a realwoman show you how it's done." In moments the scratching resumed. Carly wasn't scared or even worried. She figured her not inconsiderable powers of persuasion could be employed to get these two fumblers to help them...especially if they had lock picks.

Soon the door clicked open and two strange women entered. One was wearing black combat boots that laced halfway up black legginged calves to meet a black windbreaker over a black shirt with an unruly amount of dark, curly hair pulled back and tucked through a black baseball cap. She was average height, curved, fair of skin, and pretty... just Sonny's type. Oye!. The other was a big, burly, chocolate skinned woman wearing black flip-flops, black miniskirt, a black halter top, and a black nit cap covering all but a single shock of her violently yellow-green hair. Beneath her arm was tucked a large black purse.

Carly looked to Brenda, who also appeared green; it was of the puke-pea green variety. "Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," the burly woman exclaimed and crossed herself.

"I don't suppose either of you knows where I can find Enzo Platz?" Carly and Brenda shook their heads at the white woman. "Thought not. Either of you jump a bond with Vincent Plum?" They shook their heads again. "Shit."

"Why not? It's the word du jour." Carly's witty quip sounded half-hearted even to her. Nonetheless Brenda shoved her with a shoulder. "Hey, you're the one who actually reads the damn things." Carly had been mocking Brenda since she discovered that she had the word of the day text messaged to her cell phone every day.

The newcomers, so stylishly dressed in this season's hottest colors, kept looking back and forth between them in bewilderment. "I don't suppose," Carly addressed them, "that you could do that with the door closed? I don't think you want the guards to find you."

"How do you know? Maybe we is the guards? Maybe you should be scared of us?" Carly and the white girl looked askance at her. Brenda looked slightly stupefied by horror.

The white chick closed the door. "Thanks." Carly said. "Do you want me to guess what you're doing in those get-ups or will you just tell me?"

"Like I said, chippy, we're security guards," the black one barked.

"And I'm Lisa Marie." Yup, Carly thought, a room full of Brendas.

"Nice to meet you Lise." Carly felt the situation deteriorating. The woman was infernally confrontational.

The white one raised a hand to steady her partner. "Maybe you two ought to tell us why you're here first."

"Easy," Carly said pulling her hands far enough out from behind her to show the cuffs, "I'm shopping for jewelry."

"I don't think those are 'cause of a citizen's arrest."

"Shhh. I have to think. If these two are the legal problem that they were taking care of where's Enzo?"

"Maybe they capped his ass," the black woman shrugged.

"Um, Excuse me," Brenda said in the most cultured voice Carly had ever heard her use. "I'm really parched"—Carly snorted, Brenda elbowed her—"could one of you try to find something to dink in the bar over there?"

The white girl warily made her way to the bar, giving Carly and Brenda plenty of berth should they try and charge her.

As she opened the door Brenda called out, "see any plum juice?" Carly rolled her eyes and if she'd had a free arm she'd have decked Brenda.

"Hey Steph, does she know you?"

It was at that exact moment there were loud call in the hallway and feet trampled by. They looked shockingly around the room at one another. The black girl dashed around attempting to hide between several objects and finding them too small for cover. The white one righted the cabinets she'd searched.

"The bed," Carly, whispered and began dragging Brenda towards it. They sat on the bed side closest to the door while the two in black hid as well as they could on the side farthest from the door. It wasn't much cover but it was the best they could do. Carly hoped to be able to keep them form venturing very far into the room.

Finally the door swung open to reveal a harassed looking man who then search the room from the doorway. Carly put on her best shocked and afraid face. "What's going on?" Her voice trembled. "What's all the commotion for? Is the boat ok?" She went from frightened to panicked. "Oh, God, are we going down? Please, please, ...I can't swim very well. And certainly not with these." She tugged on the chains.

"Ma'am," he said looking scared of her, "everything is fine. The ship is fine. There's just been a little security problem; we're fixing it."

"Don't you lie to me," she said working steadily towards sobbing wreck. "I've seen Titanic, I know what happens." She was nearly screaming by the time Brenda put in.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, why does everything have to be such a drama? He said there was nothing wrong. There's nothing wrong." Brenda looked at him—he was obviously ready to bolt, "tell her there's nothing wrong."

"There's nothing wrong," he said hurriedly, leaped across the threshold and slammed the door shut. In a moment the lock clicked back and nobody moved.