Chapter 4 – Drinking Party

"Have you ever," Christian asked slowly, leaning forward in her chair, looking across a low coffee table to Artemus and then sideways toward Jim, "had to guard someone that you didn't want to protect?" She sipped at her glass, studying their faces closely.

Jim grumbled and exchanged a nervous glance with his partner. "Someone I wouldn't want to take a bullet for?" He said, sighing, "well, if you swear not to tell Colonel Richmond…"

"Yes," Artie said, waving his glace toward the dark-haired woman, "and I'll drink to that." He emptied his glass as everyone burst out laughing. "My turn," he announced, reaching for another champagne bottle on the table, "Do both of you…" he paused, winking at the girls, "have any strong dislikes for anything I might cook? Any foods that you really won't eat? Even if starving?"

"Really," Jim burst out, giving his partner a disgusted look, "that's your question? It's finally your turn again and that's what you thought of?"

"Yes, that's my question," Artie snapped, good naturedly, "and it's not your turn. And since I am still doing the cooking, I think it's an important question." He turned back to the girls, as they waited, patiently amused, for the discussion to turn back to them. "So, anything? Snails? Raw meat? Local vegetable?"

"I think I eat everything," Christian said, tipping her head to one side, thinking. "I can't think of anything…". She sat, twisted, in the wide wing-backed chair, her stocking feet tucked underneath her.

"No bugs," Lori announced, also emptying her glass. "I have seen people choke down food with bugs in it and no way," she said, shaking her head, waving a hand for emphasis. Jim chuckled next to her on the couch. "Otherwise, I think anything is fine."

"Snakes? Lizards?" Jim said, raising an eyebrow. He stretched, stifling a yawn, and positioned an arm along the back of the couch behind the blond woman.

"Not your turn, mister," Lori said, not answering him. She held her glass out to Artie, waiting for him to fill it. "My turn now." Jim snorted and held his breath. "Ok, how did you get this train? I want one too."

Jim sighed loudly, "another train question? Do you have some kind of issue about public transportation?" He paused as Lori glared at him, her lips silently saying, 'not your turn'. "Fine," he snapped, "I arrested a rich banker that moved around with this train, transporting stolen money, so it was confiscated by the Federal government. All this shit is his too; furniture, dishes, mirrors. Even his damn bed," he added, waving his wine glass at the walls as the girls dissolved into laughter, "though I put a new mattress on it. That seemed weird, I had to change it. But," he said, laughing now too, "you cannot go after people because they have something you want…"

"Says the man with a private train," Christian added into her glass as she emptied it.

"Oh, good one," Artie howled as Jim glared at her. His dimples gave away his amusement though. Artie jumped to his feet to refill her glass, thinking how she looked like a sleek black cat curled in a chair, looking at him with midnight blue eyes. The bottle was empty as she sat back in a chair again. "Excuse me, I have more cooling in the back." He hurried to the kitchen.

The group was emptying champagne bottles fast now, all attempts at manners and chivalry gone as they told stories, traded jokes and occasional insults, and learned more about each other. The men had removed their dinner jackets and neckties, unbuttoning neck collars and relaxing. The young women had removed heavy boots and sat with stocking feet tucked underneath them or propped on the coffee table, shirt sleeves rolled up, and strands of hair falling loose as they laughed and joked with the men. It had been Christian's idea to take turns asking questions to keep the conversation even, and to keep the men from bombarding them with interrogations.

Lori turned her pale eyes back to Jim and he added, "He was robbing from the bank of which he was President and a state government was involved so it got political. So we were sent after him. You should have seen Artie as an undercover bank inspector," he laughed as his partner re-entered the room with two more bottles of champagne. "He had everyone in a panic, pulling out paperwork, filling out forms while I found the evidence we needed. I thought someone would have a heart attack." He looked from one girl to another, "but this isn't all fun and games. We have to live here, running back and forth, transporting anyone and everyone. And animals like dogs, horses, and even an elephant."

"You transported an elephant?" Christian said, clearly suspicious.

"Is that your question," Jim asked, "because it's not your turn." His blue eyes twinkled at getting them back with a jibe. "And yes, we did."

Christian sat forward again, "no, I have another question planned so you go ahead first." Jim moaned and picked up a bottle, putting the cork puller into the cork. "Don't you have a question or are we skipping your turn?"

"Oh, no," he snapped, pulling the cork out and filling his glass. "I just want to refill my glass first. I expect a long and detailed answer for my question." He sat back on the couch and crossed his left foot onto his right knee, flinching slightly. Looking at Lori, he said, "ok, please explain to me how you two got this job as agents…in detail…from the beginning."

Lori held out her glass to him and waited while he filled it. Looking him in the eye, she leaned forward, "sure, I can tell you exactly how it started. I was with Julia Grant one day in the city when some guy grabbed her. Some guy she knew who thought he wanted to get," she paused, "shall we say, familiar, with her. So I smacked him off her. He then tried to get rough with me and I smacked him again and pounded him a little extra for good measure. Julia was upset so I took her home. She told her mother what happened, who then told dear old dad," she paused, taking a sip. "Then her father wanted to talk to me about what happened. So we had a long chat about how women should be taught how to protect themselves. The next time Julia went out to a social function, he asked me to escort her. So I did and eventually," she said, nodding to Christian, "we were both helping Julia and her friends. And then it spread into other females that needed protecting; daughters of various families." She sat back, "Colonel Richmond, at President's Grant request, offered to turn it into a more regular, paid position. We did some specific training about laws and how the Secret Service worked and here we are."

"You know Julia Grant personally?" Artie asked, obviously surprised.

"Really?" Lori snapped, turning to look at him. "That's what you got out of that story? That I am friends with Julia?"

"Ah," Artie said, unusually tongue tied. He sat back, physically retreating from the angry women as if mere inches would save him.

Christian broke in to diffuse her friend's anger. "All of us girls in the city socialize together. We have known Julia for a few years now. She is a sweet person, as is the whole family."

"Oh, ya," Jim said, making a point to agree, "President Grant is a sweetheart, right Artie?" He smiled back to Lori, trying to get her to talk again, "please, continue. How long have you done this work?"

Lori relaxed again, "almost two years now. This is our first assignment outside of Washington though. Usually we are just escorting women around the city, staying in hotels, going to dinner parties."

"Did you attend Julia's wedding?" Artie asked carefully.

"Yes, but as guests," Lori said, giving him an annoyed look again, "we didn't work that. We went as guests of the family since they didn't really expect any danger to her there."

"What? Not in the wedding party?" Jim said, feigning being shocked. "I really don't remember seeing you there," he said, a suspicious edge to his voice, looking at both of them, "either of you."

The two women exchanged looks with the two men, silence for a heart-beat, then Lori regained the story, "well we don't remember seeing you both there either. I imagine we were all dressed differently."

"You mean," Jim said, sarcastically, "you wore dresses? May I assume as a guest at the wedding you weren't dressed like this?" He made an obvious look up and down Lori's outfit.

"And what were you dressed as," Lori said, the pale eyes mocking him, "a waiter? Or maybe you were in the orchestra pretending to play an instrument?"

"Actually, Artie was in the orchestra," Jim laughed, "And I was a waiter. Not a very good one either. I keep ignoring people so I could walk around doing my job as security."

"But I wasn't pretending," Artie said, as he opened yet another bottle. "I was actually playing an instrument; violin actually. And who's question is it, officially. I have a question."

"Mine," Christian said as Jim started to protest. "I think you had a dozen questions on your turn, mister," she said, cutting him off. "But this question is for both of you anyway." She leaned forward, looking between them. "Do either of you speak other languages?"

Jim and Artie exchanged a tired glance, "you first," Artie said, sipping his drink.

Jim turned to her, "I speak some Mexican, enough to get by, and some American Indian,"
he added, as the girls gasped in surprise. "Southwestern tribes like the Comanche, Apache, Navajo," he sighed, "well, many of them anyway." He grinned at his partner, "enough to get by."

"Yes," Artie added, "like when's supper and have you seen my horse."

"Oh, very funny," Jim growled, still grinning. "Ok, go ahead…"

Artie cleared his throat, "Polish, Yiddish, German, French, Italian, and Spanish." He paused, enjoying the shocked looks on the faces of the two girls. "Working on Russian and Mandarin." He paused again, waiting for a response. "And English, or course."

"Of course," Lori said. "Wow. May I ask what Mandarin is?"

"It's a dialect of Chinese. There are many of them that are quite different." Artie paused again, then added. "Once you learn one or two languages, the others come more easily, especially French, Italian, and Spanish. Those are very similar."

"Oh, of course," Lori snorted inter her glass. Jim chuckled next to her, shaking his head, "I really don't see how you keep them all straight. I struggle with English." She pointed her glass at Christian, "though she speaks French very well."

Artie turned to the dark-hair woman with obvious delight, speaking in careful French. Christian smiled and answered back, hesitant at first. He spoke again, pausing as she laughed.

"Ok, enough," Jim said, feeling left out and suspicious of what they were discussing. "No speaking French in front of others. Besides there are only a couple of languages you speak that are useful for our work. They rest are admittedly useless." His partner's darker eyes turned to glare at him. "Such as Yiddish? Have we ever once been attacked by Yiddish killers? No, or Polish? So those two don't really count."

"Don't count?" Artie spluttered, "What are you talking about?"

"And we all speak English," Jim said, waving his glass for emphasis, "So that one doesn't count either. What makes that now? Six languages? And two you're still not so good at yet." He shook his head in obvious disgust. "No, really, only four useful languages."

Artie stared at his partner in dead silence for a heart-beat, "so you'd be ok if I stopped speaking English to you? Is that what you're saying?"

"Ha, ha," Jim said. "Four", he repeated, holding four fingers up.

Artie turned back to Christian, shaking his head, and said something in French. She gave a short laugh, champagne choking her, as her hand flew to her mouth. "Ok, my turn again," he said, in English now. "Do you two eat Lobster?"

"Another food question," Jim moaned.

"Yes," both girls said, nodding. Christian added, "But I can't help cook them. It's too cruel, poor things." Jim just silently shook his head.

"Ok, my turn again," Lori announced with glee. She turned to Jim as he let out another grumble, "and it isn't a train question this time," shoving his shoulder and knocking him over slightly. "Do you two have any brothers or sisters?"

"What?" Jim blurted out, spitting his drink. "Why? What do you need to know that for?"

"Because it helps know how people think," Lori snapped back, twisting sideways to face him on the couch, "or why they think. Or how they treat others in their general life." She paused as Artie said something in French behind her back, causing Christian to burst into hysterical laughter again. Lori turned slightly, her grey eyes glaring at Artemus over her shoulder.

"Older sisters," Artie said quickly, suddenly switching back to English, "four of them." He nodded toward Jim. "Two brothers, much older." His words snapped out in mock fear as his eyes twinkled with amusement.

"And is that useful information for you?" Jim said, tipping his glass to his lips, muttering.

"Yes," Lori said, smiling again and sitting back on the couch. She put her feet on the coffee table and looked from one man to the other, "it tells me you both are the babies of the family and were probably spoiled by your mothers. It might explain a lot of crap I am sure you two will throw at us this coming week or two." She sipped her glass, ignoring their looks, and nudged Jim's elbow with hers, "Your turn."

Jim let out a long sigh, looking into his empty glass, obviously thinking. He looked up, first at Christian, across from him, and then turned to look at Lori next to him, "Do you two have any talents that could be useful this week? Any special skill? Anything…" he said, slowly, "useful?"

"I think I already described my skill," Lori said, nodding toward Christian, "we both train in martial arts for self-defense and so that we can defend the people we protect."

"Train in martial arts?" Artie said, curious. "I thought you just yelled at men and hit them with your purse or something." He wiggled his eye brows at her as she turned back to him.

"Jujitsu," Lori said, "Kyusho Jitsu, specifically, which concentrates on the many pressure points of the human body. Want to try me?" Artie shook his head, holding both of his hands up in mock fear, though his smile looked a little nervous now.

"Not right now," Jim said sarcastically. "And you," he asked, looking at Christian.

"I don't think I want to tell you," Christian said slowly. "I don't think you two would understand what I mean." She looked nervously at Lori, who was grinning and nodding encouragement.

The guys exchanged a glance and both watched her carefully. Artie sat forward, instantly intrigued. "You have us curious now so you can't stop with that comment. What is this talent?"

"Ya, try us," Jim laughed, also clearly interested.

Christian took a deep breath and said, "I can make myself invisible."

Artie stared at her, in stunned silence, his eyes wide as his mouth fell open. Jim sat up, dropping his boot off his knee to the floor with a dull plunk. "Invisible?" He carefully set his stemmed glass onto the coffee table and rose slowly, looking at Artie, "I'm switching to whiskey. This could take a while."

tbc...